#just a short eternity in the time prison | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sonotpattismith · 3 months ago

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while i'm here writing songs for you

pairing: musician!choso x childhood friend!reader word count: 10.6k content: childhood friends to lovers, everyone knows they're in love except them, jealousy, mentions of virginity loss, dying on the grunge choso hill, lil angst, fluff, smut, 18+ inspired by: bless the telephone by labi siffre

“Hah! Your old man’s gonna kill me.”

Through shut eyes, a freshly eighteen-year-old Choso bit back an amused grin as best he could as to avoid disrupting his uncle’s work against his face.

“Nah, he caught Yuji at a casino this week, so I’m the golden boy for the foreseeable future while he’s grounded.” The boy muttered with a small smirk. He did feel for his little brother, often sneaking into his room with his console to entertain him for at least a short while in the midst of his prison sentence. Still, he had to admit that his timing was impeccable— giving the older sibling the perfect cushion to fall back to when Jin sees what his son had done to celebrate his birthday.

“Shit, yeah, I almost forgot.” Sukuna mumbled with a tickled shake of his head as he gripped at his nephew’s forehead in concentration. “Let the brat know I’ve still got his money whenever my boring ass brother lets him off house arrest.”

“Choso!”

The boy was eternally grateful that his uncle wasn’t as jumpy as he was, the man tightening his grip around his head in preparation for his jolt of surprise at the sudden shout.

“Ohhh, I’d be more scared of your girl than your dad, punk.”

You had burst through the doors of the tattoo parlor like a bat out of hell, your breath heaving slightly with the expended effort of hauling ass all the way over here from the restaurant you worked part time at. After receiving a cryptic picture from your best friend of him sat in his uncle’s tattoo chair with that deceivingly sheepish smile on his face, you could barely concentrate on taking orders correctly the remainder of your shift. Huffing out a sigh, you spotted those familiar, black combat boots hanging off the end of one of the leather seats.

Choso didn’t bother to correct Sukuna’s labeling of you as his girl, as it was proven a wasted effort after years of telling him that wasn’t the case. It also didn’t hurt that the title made his stomach flip excitedly each time he heard it.

“Oh my god.” You gaped once you finally reached the chair he was laid at. Half of the deep burgundy, nearly black mark that was being tattooed across his nose was already finished, and you could already picture the crash out Jin Itadori would have when he laid his eyes on his eldest son.

Cracking one eye open, the birthday boy took in the sight of you, cheeks still red and puffing from the run you took to get to him. Underneath that first layer of shock though, he could see the barely disguised wonder in your eyes as you assessed the situation at hand. Sukuna paused his ministrations to give his nephew a break, and so that you could see the progress.

“What the fuck! Your dad is gonna kill you.” You laughed incredulously, stepping closer to get a better look. Choso was just glad that his face was already tinged red from the irritation of the needle so you wouldn’t notice how he flushed insecurely under your gaze.

It was his main reasoning behind the oddly placed tattoo, actually. Since he was little he could remember his face growing noticeably hot over the tiniest of compliments, looks, or touches. Maybe it was far-fetched, but he hoped the imposing mark across his nose and cheeks would draw the attention away from that little quirk of his. It also didn’t hurt that the stencil looked cool as fuck.

“Not if you’re with me, he won’t.” Choso suggested with a sly, hopeful smile on his face, and you quickly shook your head at him. His face fell into that pout he had mastered to use specifically on you. “C’mon, he’ll take it easy on me if you’re there, please!”

“It was bad enough having to be your human shield when you got your nose pierced, Cho— no way.”

“I’ll let you check my back for blackheads.”

It fell silent for a moment as you contemplated his offer.

“You two are fuckin’ freaks.” Sukuna scoffed in disgust beside you before dragging his nephew’s chin back to face forward to continue working. You winced watching the needle begin to pierce at his already irritated skin, and you found yourself instinctively slipping your hand into his to squeeze it.

“Does it hurt?” You grimaced, leaning a bit closer to watch.

Choso almost said no, because, truthfully, he had gotten used to the pain about half an hour ago, but he took note of the way you clutched at his hand to comfort him. His lips twitched nervously at the feeling as he closed his eyes once again.

“Uh— yeah, kind of.” He mumbled, taking the opportunity to lace his fingers through yours under the guise of having something to squeeze onto when he was in pain. His uncle watched the interaction with a deadpan expression, knowing full well that the kid hadn’t so much as flinched once since he’d sat down. Shaking his head with a quiet tut, he barely tried to conceal his amused smirk.

“What about you, birthday girl, huh? You getting some celebratory ink too?” Sukuna questioned, wiping at the side of Choso’s nose that he’d just filled in. You cringed as you watched the tiniest amount of blood trickle at the bridge of his nose.

“Don’t know, I think Cho took all the balls in this friendship.” You admitted with a defeated smile.

“Don’t be such a wimp.” Your best friend teased with a careful smile as he stretched his lower half against the stiff chair. The black sweater he was wearing rode up a bit, practically commanding the attention of your wandering eyes. There was a barely noticeable trail of dark hair leading down into the band of his joggers, and your lips parted as you tried to recall when the fuck that had happened.

The last couple of months in your friendship with Choso had been… getting a little difficult. You two had been practically joined at the hip since you were six years old and yelled at a group of first graders for not singing happy birthday to him as well after having overheard his dad wishing him a happy birthday that morning during drop off. For a while, the two of you would tell people at school that you were twins even though it was so clearly not the case, but six-year-old you and Cho were sure that you had everyone convinced.

He had always been a bit of an introvert, so you had been the greatest birthday gift he could have ever hoped for. So, the awkward boy stuck to your side from that day on. Wherever one was, the other was never too far behind, and this would now be the twelfth birthday you two would be spending together.

Choso had certainly been… changing though from that lanky little boy who would sniffle and cry each time you two parted for the day (as if you didn’t attend the same school). He had grown taller, his voice had dropped a few octaves, and these days you were finding yourself worrying about the timeline of your best friend’s happy trail. For a while you blamed it on the raging hormones that came along with puberty, but you were eighteen now and weren’t sure how much longer that excuse would hold up in your denial-filled brain.

This was just one more way he was changing, you convinced yourself as you anxiously waited for him to unlock the front door of his house, his nose and cheeks still glistening with the antibiotic ointment Sukuna had slathered onto his fresh tattoo. He would have never had the courage to do something so bold even just a couple years ago. You had to admit though, the odd choice of tattoo did suit him, emphasizing those tired, chocolate eyes of his so nicely.

It was silent in the Itadori house as you two crept in, scanning the area apprehensively with each step you took. You clutched at the back of his shirt, tugging him to lean down as you whispered into his black-studded ear.

“I don’t think anyone’s—”

“Happy birthday you—” Poor, sweet Jin Itadori’s shout of celebration got stuck right in the back of his throat as his eyes fell upon his eldest son, a lit up birthday cake still clutched in his hands. He blinked a few times as though there was possibly just something in his eyes, but the wide-eyed expression of anxiety on the boy’s face gave him away. “What in god’s name did you do to your face? Was this your uncle? Did he tell you this was a good idea because I—”

“It was my idea.” Choso corrected, not-so-subtly attempting to nudge you forward as if you would soften the blow of his father’s wrath, who’s honey eyes fell frantically upon you.

“Did you know about this? Please tell me you two are punking me or something.”

“She didn’t know.” He quickly defended despite the fact that it would have been a lot easier to share the blame. Rubbing at the back of his neck, he attempted a light-hearted smile. “C’mon, don’t I look—”

“You look like you’re about to be stuck working in that tattoo shop with your uncle the rest of your life because no one is going to hire you with that thing!” The man had begun pacing the length of the kitchen with the cake still in tow, shaking his head in disbelief before stopping to gape at his son in horror once again. “You couldn’t have at least waited until after prom? Graduation? All your photos— ruined! Oh god, I think I’m going to pass out—”

“Calm down, it’s not that big a deal— not like I did anything illegal, y’know like sneaking into a casino while underaged.” Choso attempted to distract him with a sheepish smile, stepping forward to take the cake out of his hands lest he really pass out. With his now free hands, Jin was tearing at the roots of his hair as he continued his frantic pacing, mumbling about not reminding him of Yuji’s recent run in with the law. “Besides, I’m not going to prom anyway.”

Now it was your turn to gape at the freshly-tattooed birthday boy.

“You’re not?” You questioned, desperately trying not to sound as dejected as you felt. Though you two had never talked about it, you had just assumed that you’d be going to prom together given all the other important milestone events that you had completed hand in hand. Hell, you had even been putting off an offer from a fellow classmate of yours with the impression that Choso would be asking you to be his date— platonically, of course.

“You’re not?” Jin echoed in horror, finally looking up from where his face had been shoved into his hands. The man didn’t miss the disheartened expression that flashed across your face despite your best efforts to conceal it. “Why not? You’re only a high-schooler once, Choso, don’t be silly.”

Perhaps his nervous convincing was a bit overkill, but damn it how he was tired of watching his clearly love-sick son grow older and older without growing any wits about him on what was going on right under his nose. After hosting years worth of playdates for you two as mere children, to encouraging his son to be a little gentler with you as you began going through those awkward years that plagued every pre-teen girl, all the way to having to watch with barely concealed frustration at the way you two fell into one another’s ebb and flow so gracefully without any semblance of self-awareness— Jin was sure that he was more excited than the actual seniors for prom to come around, eager to force you two into the most obvious of couple’s poses for photos before sending you off for the night.

“Why would I go to prom? You know I hate that kind of stuff.” He explained obviously before turning to see the settling shock lingering on your face. It made him blink a few times, brows furrowing in confusion. “I-I mean, are you going?”

“Um…” You stammered over your words, trying to suppress the flush of embarrassment that you felt creeping up your neck for having assumed that Choso would ask you to prom. He felt his heart in his throat, breath hitching in slight anticipation, because he was sure he wouldn’t have too terrible of a time if it was you he was going with, but the last thing he wanted to do was make things weird by asking you to be his date. “Y-Yeah, I was planning to go. Geto had asked me a few days ago, so—”

“You’re going with Geto?” It felt like his heart had fallen straight through his ass, and it took every inch of restraint in him to not begin banging his head against the dry-wall in a bitter rage, because why did he not think to ask you first? “I didn’t know you two talked like that.”

Jin wasn’t sure how much more of this he could stand to watch before he wrung his son’s neck out. He cleared his throat in an attempt to subtly get Choso’s attention and hopefully send some sort of telepathic communication to him, but he was far too focused on this Geto character that you had mentioned to get his head out of his own ass.

“We don’t really, but… he asked me, and I wanted to go.”

My god, does she have to spell it out for him? Did I fail somewhere along the way as a father that my son turned out such an oblivious hard head? Just ask her— ask her!

“Oh. Well… that’s good, I guess.”

Jin hoped to god that as Choso blew out half the candles on you two’s shared birthday cake that he was wishing for some common sense.

You two did the best you could to shake off the sudden awkwardness following the conversation about prom. At the very least, you two still had to give each other your gifts, so you figured that would cushion the tension. You followed him up the familiar path to his room where you had had Yuji drop off his gift for you so it’d be here when you two got back, biting down an excited smile.

“No way.” Choso gaped just seconds after opening the door. Stepping in to get a closer look, he quickly turned on his heels to stare incredulously at you. “No way— this is too much. I-I can’t take this.”

There leaned upon the side of his bed was a sleek black electric guitar— one he’d been keening over since the acoustic guitar his dad had gotten him damn near nine years ago now had mysteriously snapped at the neck. Okay, maybe it wasn’t so mysterious because you did tell Choso that climbing up onto his shoulders to get the spider that had been terrorizing his ceiling wasn’t a good idea, because sure enough as soon as the wretched thing moved an inch, you jolted back, sending both of you tumbling to the ground with only his poor guitar to break the fall.

“After all the fake flirting I had to do to rack up enough tip money for it? You sure as hell can take it.”

“Please, I can’t—”

“You can, and you will.”

His face was burning with the guilt of how much you had spent on him, but the glimmering shine of the fresh guitar in his peripheral was helping to soften the blow a bit. The boy’s fingers were practically twitching with the anticipation of getting his hands on the thing, but he stopped himself. With a shy smile shot your way, he crouched down to pull out a box that had since been hiding under his bed. You smiled eagerly before sinking down to sit criss-crossed straight across from him, your present filling the small gap left between you.

He laughed affectionately as he watched you struggle to pry the box open, deciding to put you out of your misery after a minute or so and tearing the cardboard apart for you. The first thing that caught your eye was a vinyl record— your favorite album that you had introduced Choso to a few years back. It held a tender spot in both of your hearts for that very reason, and its lead single had consequently been the first song he learned to play on his guitar all those years ago.

Even all these years later he could still feel the sting in his fingers that had yet to callous protectively against the instrument’s strings as he stayed up until the sun rose that next morning trying to perfect each chord so that he could play it for you when you came over. It was choppy at best, what with all the scrapes on his irritated fingers and the lack of sleep, but the dewey eyed look on your face made him feel like he was Jimi fucking Hendrix, only fueling his motivation to get better— to impress you. So, despite how his fingers began to bleed, he played it for you over and over again until you were satisfied.

The sight of the nostalgic album nearly made you tear up pathetially, but you pulled yourself together to beam up at him with all the light of a thousand suns. He flushed under your gaze, quickly looking down to push the box toward you again with a jut of his chin.

“There’s still something in there.”

Tearing your eyes from him, you pushed back the flaps of the box to get a better look, finding a far too expensive looking record player sitting at the bottom of the large box that he’d definitely been begging neighbors to let him clean their car or mow their lawn in order to afford. Gasping softly, an incredulous laugh bubbled up your chest as you shifted onto your knees.

“Cho, this is so cool!” You guffawed, fingers struggling to wrangle the turntable out of the damned box to no avail. Unable to fight back his smile, he moved to brush your hands away and grab it for you, setting it down atop his black comforter. Running your fingers down the glossy box, you looked up at him with raised brows. “You’re gonna come back to my house to help me set it up, right?”

“You putting me to work on my birthday?” He quipped with a smirk as he fell back against the bed, hoisting up his new guitar to rest on his stomach.

“I’ll give you the day.” You caved in mock resignation as you laid beside him, head shifted to observe the way he fiddled with the tuners. “New face tattoo, new guitar— your rockstar look is really coming together.”

“Yeah?”

“For sure— just missing some guyliner.”

His nimble fingers paused against the strings, lips pursing as he peered over at you. It was dead silent as a slow smile spread across your face— because you could practically hear the wheels turning in his head. It was only a mere five minutes later that you found yourself digging your fingers into his jaw to stop him from flinching away each time the eyeliner pencil drew a little too close to his iris.

“Sit still, dude.” You grumbled, stepping closer between his spread legs as he sat impatiently in his desk chair.

Huffing out a sigh, he tried not to squirm at your burning proximity. Your tongue was creeping out the corner of your mouth in concentration, and the hand that had since been on his jaw moved to brush the hair away from his forehead. He could feel the warm puffs of your breath fanning against his face, driving his legs to squirm against the floor, which seemed to be the final straw for your patience.

Choso thought his heart would leap out of his chest when you planted yourself firmly on his lap, your legs hanging over the side of his chair. His arms quickly fell to his sides as though weighed down by bricks, dangling limply as his fingers flexed apprehensively. Gulping anxiously, he tried not to focus on the way the fat of your thighs squished against him.

“Close your eyes, Cho.” You murmured quietly as you began working on his lids. He did so swiftly, eager to not have to worry about where to place his gaze.

“So, um…” The boy cleared his throat, trying desperately to get his mind anywhere else before he created a problem that would be embarrassing for the both of you. “You’re really going to prom with Geto?”

“Mhm.” You hummed simply, chewing on your bottom lip as you smudged the freshly placed liner with the edge of your thumb. Perhaps you should have said more, but you weren’t sure that you trusted your voice if you were to speak right now.

“Do you… I mean are you—”

“Look up for me.”

Cursing himself mentally to just get it the fuck together, he tried again as he did as he was told, warm eyes glancing up at the ceiling.

“I just didn’t know you liked him is all.” He finally got out as his pulse pounded against the fingers you had pressed against his jaw and neck once again. “You’ve always told me about stuff like that.”

With a tickled smile, you leaned back in his lap to narrow your eyes knowingly at him. Upon noting your silence paired with the way you had stopped your work against his eyes, he finally looked back down, and you had to bite back the delighted gasp from seeing the way the smudged, dark liner paired so beautifully with the rest of him, making his already mysteriously dark eyes that much more sultry.

“You’re jealous, Choso!”

“What? N-No, I was just—”

“You are so jealous that I didn’t tell you about Geto.”

“I’m not jealous!”

“You are!”

“Am not!”

He was so jealous, Choso determined as he stared up at his ceiling the dreaded night of prom. His fingers idly strummed at the new guitar that laid across his stomach, trying to get his mind off of the fact that you hadn’t even bothered to send him a picture of your dress. It had always been him that was the first to see your new haircuts, fresh manicures, and imaginative outfits, and it was eating him alive that for the first time in twelve years, another guy was going to get to witness that little spin of display you did each time you wore something you felt particularly pretty in.

It didn’t help that he’d already gotten an earful from his dad when he got home from school that day about the fact that he still hadn’t righted his wrong and asked you instead. Jin must have gone on for at least an hour about what a shame it was that of all the experiences you two had shared, one as important to you as this one would be hand in hand with someone else. For the first time since the start of your long-winded friendship, he was sharing you with someone, and Choso was quickly realizing that he was selfish— and unashamedly so.

The event had already been going on for about two hours now, and he was coming to terms with the fact that he wouldn’t hear from you tonight. The familiar notes of that favorite song of yours that he had learned all those years ago filled his ears as he began absentmindedly plucking at the strings under his fingertips. Ever so slowly, the melody began shifting into one he’d never heard before, taking its own shape as it filled his melancholy room with feelings of you, and how much he’d taken it for granted all those times he had you laying beside him as he toyed with the notes, telling him what sounded nice and what he needed to work on.

The notes suddenly screeched awkwardly as his phone began buzzing in his back pocket, yanking him from his pensive sulking with its imposing tune. Blinking a few times, he frantically tossed his hips up to wrangle his phone out from behind him, the head of his guitar smacking him in the face with the sudden movements.

He shot up out of bed pathetically upon seeing your name lighting up his screen along with a picture he’d taken of the two of you in the mirror a few months ago when you tried to give him red highlights. There was dye nearly everywhere except where it was supposed to be, yet you still beamed up at the mirror despite the red streaks covering your face and arms, gloved hands still tangled into his hair.

Clearing his throat, he quickly swiped to answer the call before it went to voicemail.

“Did someone spike the punch or—”

“Choso?” Your voice sounded hushed, but it still wavered ever-so-slightly against the sound of music blaring in the distance. The smile quickly fell from his face. “Do you think you could… come get me?”

“Y-Yeah, yeah, I’m coming. What’s going on?” He was barrelling through his hectic room to find any pair of shoes to shove on, nearly tripping over himself as he hopped toward the front door on one foot.

“Um… nothing, I just… really wanna go home.”

There wasn’t even the tiniest part of him that was convinced, but that would just have to be a conversation for later because there was a timid vulnerability and tremor in your sweet voice that he’d never heard before. Snatching his dad’s keys from the hook by the door, he was requesting your location before racing down the street. There was a slight possibility that he had run more than a few red lights on his way to the hotel that was hosting your school’s prom in the banquet hall. The car had barely come to a stop when he was flinging the door open to rush toward the bench you were sitting at out front.

“What are you doing out here by yourself? Where’s Geto?”

But your eyes were fluttering around you cautiously, scoping the surrounding area with a shake of your head as your best friend pulled you up by your arm.

“Please, can we just go? I don’t—”

“Right— yeah, okay, come on.”

It was silent on the ride home save for your hushed request that he take you back to his house for the night instead. Cautionary side long glances were continuously tossed your way throughout the drive, and you could practically feel the concerned curiosity eating alive at him as your body faced the passenger side door. You were eternally grateful for the fact that the other two residents of the Itadori household had already turned in for the night when you two arrived.

Choso flipped the lights on in his room, carefully inching the door of his room closed so as not to wake anyone up. When he turned, he was finally able to get his first good look at you, and he was absolutely bursting at the seams to know what Geto must have done to fuck up a night with you as his date looking as ethereal as you did standing in the middle of his room.

You were sighing dejectedly as you tugged open his drawers to fish out something to change into, but Choso was still stuck by the door, eyes taking in each detail of your glittering makeup and intricately lined lips.

“You…” His words drifted as you turned your back toward him so he’d undo your zipper. “You look beautiful.”

You paused, head slowly turning to look over your shoulder at him with misty eyes.

“Thanks, Cho.”

Quickly working your zipper down, he turned to face the door as you stepped out of your dress to shrug on a pair of his sweatpants and a crewneck. His leg swayed anxiously while he listened to the gentle rustling of clothes behind him.

“Did… did something happen?”

Upon hearing the subtle creak of his bed as you sank down onto it, he carefully turned around. The bed dipped by your head where he sat himself, and you felt him absentmindedly begin pulling the myriad of pins from your hair. Flushing red, you covered your face with your hands as you recalled how your night had progressed, not caring how you were smudging your makeup against your hands.

“He… he just wanted to have sex with me.”

Choso felt his heart crack at your shaky explanation, the guilt he had been experiencing for not having asked you to prom himself returning tenfold. The bobby pin in his grasp bent between his fingers as he thought about how Geto had ruined what was meant to be a special night for you.

“That guy’s a loser, he’ll probably die a virgin anyway.” He attempted to lighten the mood with a hesitant, breathy laugh, but it died in his throat when you slowly sat up to look at him, your now loose hair falling messily in your face and tears brimming your eyes. His stomach dropped at the mortified expression scrunching up your typically cheerful face, and he gulped down the bile rising in his throat. “Oh.”

A sob racked your body as you moved to curl into a tight ball, your head resting against his tense thighs. His hands hovered over you uncertainly before slowly coming down to brush at the hair invading your face.

“So, you…” He couldn’t even bring himself to say it, the words tasting bitter on his tongue.

“I feel like an idiot.” You cried, fisting at his pajama pants. “I stopped him right after he— he put it… in, but—”

“It’s okay.” Choso cut off your embarrassed rambles, pulling you up to wrap you in a tight embrace. He wasn’t sure if he could handle listening to the details. “Did he stop when you asked him to?”

A heavy sigh of relief left him when you nodded against his shoulder. It was silent for a few minutes, your soft cries soaking into the fabric of his tattered, band t-shirt.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered dejectedly, trying desperately to get the image out of his head of you underneath of Geto with your makeup done up so prettily for someone who didn’t deserve it. He thought about how none of it would have happened had he just grown a pair. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask you to prom. I should’ve taken you, none of this would have—”

“It’s not your fault.” You interrupted, finally lifting your head from where it had burrowed into his neck to look up at him, your lip still trembling as your once pristine makeup smeared down your red cheeks.

As you stared into his dewey, warm eyes, you allowed your thoughts to wander to how your night might have ended had Choso been your date, how you had stopped Geto after the gruelling realization hit you that no hands felt as right against your skin without the gruffness of guitar-string callouses. Your stomach churned nervously, and you laid back down against his lap, unable to face him as the words came tumbling from your lips.

“I wish it would have been you, Cho.”

Choso’s heart sputtered to an abrupt halt— at least that’s what it felt like as your words sunk in. Slowly, he laid back against his pillow, careful not to jostle you in your spot against his thighs. Staring up at the ceiling, his mouth opened and closed a few times.

“Y-You mean as a prom date, right?” The question came out apprehensively, because, deep down, you both already knew the answer. You closed your eyes nonetheless, a final tear slipping down your cheek.

“Yeah, as a prom date.” Your lie came out barely a whisper as he chewed on his bottom lip.

“I wish it would’ve been me too. Y’know, your… prom date.”

It was the first time both of you knew that something had shifted in your relationship, though neither of you were brave enough to mention it the next morning when you woke.

That fateful night was two years ago now, and you had had ample time to come to the realization that perhaps you should have been more upfront with him, because Choso was now hundreds of miles away at an arts school with only a telephone keeping you two together.

It had been a difficult conversation with shifting eyes and unnecessarily guilty frowns, but when your best friend had broken the news to you that he’d been accepted into a different university than the one you’d be attending, you couldn’t have been happier that he was pursuing his passion for music. When he dropped the bomb that it was nearly six hours away— that was a tougher pill to swallow.

You two had been doing the best you could though— calling each other every other night and texting in between to make sure to keep up to date on everything university life had to offer you. Still, things would get busy sometimes, what with Choso’s occasional shows that he’d been playing with a local band in his college town, and your downright diabolical class and exam schedule. Things certainly weren’t the same anymore, but you desperately tried to cling onto him.

Additionally, in your absence Choso was reminded of just how much of a clutch you had been for him. He had never been the best at talking to others, relating to the types of casual niceties that seemed to connect people, but he had never had to until now because you had always been just enough for him. Sure, he had warmed up enough to his bandmates, but it was never the same— not when he sat alone in his room at night strumming melodies he only wished he would have played for you earlier when he still had the chance to do something about these things he was feeling.

On your end of the world, it certainly didn’t help that his band had grown a modest following, and it seemed that for the first time, the rest of the world was also beginning to notice Choso.

Choso, the one boys and girls alike used to veer away from in the halls at school because of his terrifyingly blunt, resting bitch face.

Choso, the one who spent the majority of highschool with limbs that seemed too long for his body until he grew into his own.

Choso, the one who, unless you were beside him, often took jokes too literally and ended up embarrassing himself each time he opened his mouth.

Choso, the one who you had stuck beside throughout each awkward phase and experimental hairstyle until he landed on the shag cut that suited him so nicely.

Choso, the one who had been receiving the nastiest of thirst comments under each of his band’s social media posts as the rest of the world caught onto what you had known all along.

And, god, how it stung to scroll through each one, but it was like you couldn’t look away, wondering with each username if he was enjoying all the new attention he was getting. You wondered how far he had leaned into this rockstar persona he had been dreaming of his whole life, if he snuck girls backstage and pocketed their bras as evidence of his conquests.

I mean, the guy had gone damn near his entire life without so much as a second glance from any girl he’d come in contact with— except for you, of course, and you underestimated just how deep his loyalty ran and how much he remembered who it was that had been with him through it all.

So, to hell with every creatively intricate thirst comment under photos that even had you contemplating starting a burner account to appreciate with the masses, none of them mattered despite all the nights you’d spent chewing at your fingernails with thoughts of what he might be up to. Each fan account could burn in hell though— because it was you he called as soon as he’d received the news that his band would be touring, opening for an indie band that you two had actually been fans of for quite some time.

“I wanna fly you out.” Choso insisted breathlessly, still winded from the sheer velocity at which he raced for his phone upon hearing the news. It made your heart stutter, because it had been now going on three years since you last saw him, your schedules never having seemed to line up just right. There were a few times when you had contemplated flying out to surprise him at one of his local, bar shows, but with your building mountain of school work, you’d had little to no time to get a job that could afford you the extra change at the end of each month to buy a plane ticket. At your silence, he huffed, and you could practically hear that damned pout from over the phone. “C’mon, our birthday is coming up. We used to spend all our birthdays together.”

Smiling wistfully at the memories of how easy you two once had it, you shook your head.

“Well that was before you became some heart-throb rock star, Cho.” You teased, fiddling with the hem of your shirt as you wondered if he still blushed so easily at little comments like that, and, if so, what shade his cheeks were at the moment.

“How am I supposed to be a rock star with no groupies? That’s just lame.”

“Oh, trust me, I’m sure you have a long list of contenders waiting in line. Have you been checking your instagram comments lately?”

This made him pause, the tiniest of knowing smiles creeping onto his face.

“No, but it sounds like you have.”

For once, it was you flushing that burning shade of red that once graced his cheeks so frequently, and you wondered when he’d begun reciprocating your teasing banter instead of just stammering through his responses while trying not to look you in the eyes. Shaking his head with a nearly silent chuckle, he decided to put you out of your misery, clutching his phone tighter against his ears.

“Let me fly you out, please? I know you’ve gotta break coming up. I wanna see you.”

So just three months later, though truthfully it felt like a year as you and Choso counted down the days until you would see each other again, you were on a flight courtesy of his now modest earnings from his band. And sure, it was no fancy seat with the luxury accommodations he just knew you deserved, but he felt so proud to know that he was able to do something for you. He had been waiting at the airport nearly two hours before your flight was actually supposed to land, flowers clutched in his clammy hands as he checked the time repeatedly.

Much to his frustration, your flight kept getting delayed, and, after the third push back, he had to begrudgingly resign himself to the fact that he wouldn’t get to be there when you landed, having to get back for sound check for the show tonight. After sending a long winded explanation text, he insisted that you text him as soon as you land as well as as soon as you got to the hotel and as soon as you made it to the venue, and— well, you got the point.

With all the sudden delays, you only had time to drop your luggage off at the front desk of the hotel, who assured you they’d get it to your room for you before you had to haul ass to the venue before you missed any second of Choso’s band opening. He had given your name to security, who had your pass waiting for you when you arrived and quickly led you toward a less crowded section reserved for the talents’ guests.

You were slightly winded from the nonstop moving you had been doing since you woke up this morning, but even with how spent you felt, you weren’t sure anything could have woken you up faster than the sight of your best friend on that stage after three years of not seeing him. Sure, the two of you had been keeping up with pictures and the occasional video call, but none of it did him justice— not with the way the boy you once knew had grown into such a… man.

The once lanky limbs that hung awkwardly at his sides had certainly filled out, emphasized nicely by the gaping muscle shirt he currently had on. His biceps flexed with each rip of his guitar as his grown out hair fell into his chiseled face. To your surprise, he had a mic situated in front of him and was occasionally offering back-up vocals that you were straining with everything in you to pinpoint amongst the rest of the music.

His eyes swept across the designated guest area, and you and your poor, weak heart nearly gave out upon realizing that he had begun lining them just as you did for him all those years ago, smudged out across his lids and adding a spine-tingling depth as they spotted you in the crowd. That earth-shattering smile lit up his face as he took in the sight of you looking up at him, because none of this success and fulfillment of lifelong dreams felt nearly as sweet without you being in the audience for him to impress.

Choso was breath-taking on that stage, commanding it with a confidence you had never seen on him before. It was a blur as the set went on, your shouting out the lyrics to the songs of theirs that you’d kept up with over the year, your already spent body expending the fumes of energy it had left to thrash around to the eardrum-crushing beat.

You found yourself anxiously checking your phone when his band finished their set and disappeared backstage, not knowing if you were going to have to wait until the end of the show to see him. Thinking back to the phone conversation you two had had months prior, and how you really were starting to feel like his groupie. The thought made you smile in amusement, shoving your phone back into your pocket as the main band came out on stage.

Your questions were answered just one song in when a pair of nearly steaming, sweat clung arms wrapped around your shoulders and chest from behind, squeezing you into an equally sweaty chest.

“Ew, Cho, get off! You’re soaked!” You tried to sound disgusted, but your delighted laugh deceived you, because you were sure that he could have been covered head to toe in blood right now and you’d still allow him to latch onto you as he was doing so ardently.

“What happened to being my groupie?” He shouted over the blasting music, surprising you when his lips met your cheek in a sloppy kiss. Even he wasn’t sure where he’d worked up the gall to kiss you, but maybe it was the fact that he’d spent the last three years regretting his inaction, and he’d be damned if he was going to let you board that flight back home without at least trying.

Hoping he didn’t see the way your cheeks flushed at the little stunt, you took note of the fact that he had yet to release you.

“Your groupie is gonna need a few drinks if she has to deal with your stench for the next hour.”

In typical Choso fashion, he quickly obliged your request, planting yet another kiss against your temple before disappearing in the blur of security and venue workers to find you something to drink. You felt like your head was spinning with his sudden forward shift in behavior, but you chalked it up to the fact that you two hadn’t seen each other in so long.

So, you didn’t question it when he came back with two vodka Red Bulls and continued to cling onto you the remainder of the show. He hoisted you up on his back when the crowd around you began to grow so you could get a better view of the band and didn’t care that you were screaming along to the songs right into his ear because you were finally here with him, and he could buy you drinks and give you front row seats to one of your favorite bands, and for once he thought that maybe he was brave enough to admit that he wanted something more with you after all these years of convincing himself that there was nothing he could offer you that’d be worth your while.

He was riding on the high of your giddy smile the entire taxi ride back to the hotel, unable to wipe that lovesick grin off of his face even when you asked him if there was something on your face that was warranting all the staring.

“I’m just gonna shower really quick, and then I’ll come to your room so we can order some food, ‘kay?” You explained while fishing out the room key that you’d received from the front desk earlier that day.

Choso’s brows furrowed as he pushed the respective button on the elevator and adjusted his guitar case over his shoulder.

“What do you mean? We’re going to the same room.”

Looking up from the inside of your bag, you stared at him with a slightly dumbfounded expression.

“You only booked one room?” You questioned with a fluttering gaze.

“We’ve always shared a room.” He explained obviously, making his way down the hall once the elevator doors opened. You could hardly argue with him on that logic, because you two had been sharing a room, hell— sharing a bed since you were kids. As you followed close behind him, butterflies churning in your stomach, you came to the conclusion that Choso had neglected to account for the fact that you two weren’t kids anymore.

Still, he had flown you all this way, and you had missed the endless nights you two would spend together watching horror movies until Jin would stumble into the room, exasperated as he asked you two to please turn down the volume or, better yet, watch anything else that didn’t have him jolting awake from the incessant sounds of blood-curdling screams emanating from his son’s room at ungodly hours of the night. Bonus points if you two had snuck Yuji in to watch them with you and had to shove him under the bed until their dad left the room lest he find out his youngest was watching movies far too mature for his age.

Yuji and Jin weren’t there to interrupt though, and you were currently hyping yourself up in the bathroom mirror to go out and spend the night with the man you’d known for fifteen years now. Looking down at yourself, you cursed at your choice of sleep wear that you’d clearly chosen before you knew Choso would be sleeping beside you. His old Metallica t-shirt had tiny holes in the shoulders and was discolored from so many years of wash cycles, but it was just so perfectly worn in, and it was a little reminder of him each time you went to sleep.

The tattered hem fell just above your mid-thigh, and you were once again punching yourself in the leg because why would you not pack any pajama shorts? Pants? A longer shirt? Literally anything other than your fucking jeans that you’d rather bear the humiliation for than wear to bed? Huffing out a final sigh, you hung up your towel before exiting the steam-filled bathroom outwardly displaying far more confidence than was actually present in your muddled mind at the moment.

“Shower’s open, Cho.” You informed with your eyes cast downward, shoving your dirty clothes into the respective section of your suitcase.

He looked up from the room service menu he’d been studying for the past few minutes, his heart nearly leaping out of his chest at the sight of your bare thighs that still glistened from whatever lotion you had slathered on after your shower, and oh god was that his shirt? His brain was short-circuiting on the spot, and he was so grateful that he was jumping into the shower now, knowing that knob was about to be turned to the coldest setting he could manage.

You sighed in quiet relief when the bathroom door shut behind him, thanking your lucky stars that he hadn’t mentioned anything about your choice of sleepwear— or lack thereof, hoping it meant that he didn’t notice.

Finally allowing some of the tension to fall from your shoulders, you looked around the slightly bougie hotel room, smiling at the sight of his guitar leaning against the wall. Taking the opportunity to be a little nosy for nostalgia’s sake, you unzipped the case and carefully pulled the beloved instrument out. It was hardly recognizable now, what with all the decals and stickers he’d adorned it with over the years, but it was that same electric guitar you had scraped up all your tip money to buy for him.

Humming fondly, you sat crisscrossed in the middle of the plush bed to fiddle with the strings, recalling all the nights Choso had spent desperately trying to teach you how to play, but you never could make good on his diligent efforts. You could only vaguely recall the chords to that first song he’d ever learned to play, the one you’d watched him strum what must have been hundreds of times for you. Pursing your lip, you tried to angle your fingers just right along the neck as you dug into the far corners of your memory.

“Your hand is too far up the neck.”

In your fierce concentration, you hadn’t even heard Choso exiting the bathroom. Not looking up at him lest you break your focus, you shifted your hand as he’d instructed.

“Here?”

He tutted softly, though you could practically hear the fond amusement oozing from him. After a moment, you felt the bed dip behind you, and your breath hitched as you felt his chest press against your back, and you suddenly didn’t feel as embarrassed at your lack of clothing since he hadn’t bothered to put a shirt on following his shower. His hands soon came up to close around yours, guiding them to the proper placement.

“Try now.” He instructed softly, tucking his chin over your shoulder to watch your movements.

Trying to control the way your fingers trembled with the feeling of the muscles he never used to have pressed right up against you, you tried again. When he let out a quiet hum of disapproval, you didn’t have the chance to ask what you had done wrong before he was scooching you back to sit in his lap for better access to the instrument.

“You’ve gotta spread out your fingers a little more.” Choso’s tips were falling on deaf ears, because his scent was enveloping you like a warm blanket, he was so warm pressed right up against you, and his cheek was brushing against yours as he adjusted your fingers.

As he had been telling himself since he saw you in the audience earlier for the first time in three years, he wasn’t that awkward boy anymore who was too scared to be honest with himself, and he knew better than to believe that the flush in your cheeks right now was from your shower. Smiling softly, he eased up his hands as you began to get the hang of it, only occasionally reaching up to correct your placements. You gradually allowed yourself to relax against him, your shoulders drifting back to fall along his broad chest.

“Do you ever think about that night of prom?” Out of all the ways he could have eased into this conversation, he wasn’t sure why that was what had come out of his mouth, but he was relieved when you scoffed out a light laugh.

“You mean the night I lost my virginity to Suguru Geto?” You shook your head at the once damn near traumatic memory, a bitter smile gracing your lips. “I try not to.”

It was silent for a moment, and just as he thought you had all but forgotten what you had said to him that night, you spoke up hesitantly.

“Do you? Y’know— think about it?”

“All the time.”

Your fingers paused against the strings, but a hushed whisper in your ear to keep playing had you jolting back into action, but your subtle squirming against his lap gave you away.

“Why the hell would you be thinking about that?” You mumbled, keeping your voice low as you desperately tried to maintain your composure.

“Because I can’t stop thinking about what would’ve happened if it was me instead.”

His hand came up to tighten your grip around the neck of the guitar that had loosened with the implications of his words, and you heard those familiar words falling from your lips just as they had from his three years ago.

“You mean as my prom date, right, Cho?”

His head shifted ever so slightly, and you shivered as his nose grazed against your temple. The hand that had been guiding your fingers over the strings drifted down to ghost over your bare thigh.

“Yeah, as your prom date.” He lied, just as you had that night. The pads of his fingers dug into the fat of your thigh momentarily, giving you the opportunity to push him away should he have been reading all the signs wrong. You didn’t though, you only held back the softest of whimpers when the metaphorical green light prompted him to run his hand further up, brushing back your already maddeningly ridden up shirt. “I think about how much of an idiot he was, what I would’ve done different.”

The way your comparably smaller frame was expanding and deflating against him in tandem with your labored breaths was making it hard for him to think, and he was sure his body was acting purely on autopilot.

“Like what?” You dared to whisper, not even quite sure that you were ready to hear his answer, but oh was he willing to give it to you.

“I would’ve told you how pretty you looked that night— because you did. You looked like an angel.” Choso rasped out against your ear, and his fingers were curling around the warmth of your inner thigh, just barely grazing against your rapidly heating core. Your fingers stuttered once again against the strings, and his other hand quickly came up to grip at the column of your neck, pressing you back against him. “Keep playing for me, angel.”

And you tried, hands trembling as they fumbled to find the right chords again.

“Did he touch you like this before he ruined your night?”

“No!” You gasped out desperately, arching against him as he pushed your panties to the side to collect the pooling slick at your entrance, using it to aid in the tentative circles he began working against your clit. “H-He didn’t touch me at all— ah!”

With a vexed tut of disapproval, Choso’s fingers dipped down to plunge into your sopping heat. His movements were choppy, and it was clear that he wasn’t sure what exactly you would like, but his focused gaze on your side profile as he studied each of your reactions told you that he was going to figure it the fuck out.

“I would have taken the time for you— I would’ve made sure you were ready.” His regrets were spilling past his frantic lips in a manner teetering on a whine as your head fell back against his shoulder. “Keep playing.”

“I can’t— I can’t, Cho.” You cried deliriously as his fingers began curling up in response to your frantic reaction. You were soaking through the underwear that had been pushed haphazardly to the side, and if you were more lucid you would have been embarrassed at the way it pooled onto the sheets below you.

At once, he had released the firm grip he had on your neck to push his guitar off the bed.

“Then come up here and let me show you how I would have taken care of you.”

Choso, with his eagerness to please and this newfound Herculean strength of his, didn’t give you the chance to comply with his request, because he was ripping at your flimsy underwear and shifting you around to face him. It was enough to give you whiplash, but the bruising grip he had around your waist assured that your balance wouldn’t fail you as he laid back against the unsuspecting hotel sheets and yanked you up to hover over his crazed face.

“Choso, y-you don’t have to—”

“I want to.” He pleaded, his lips glistening with an anticipatory drool as those puppy-dog eyes of his locked onto your core, and he was once again reminded of the fact that Suguru Geto had to be the dumbest man on this fucking planet. Craning his neck up, he couldn’t help himself as he dragged his hot tongue up the length of your folds, his strangled moan vibrating against you. “Mmph, sit— please.”

Leave it to Choso to not forget about his manners as he begged you to suffocate him between your trembling thighs. You complied, moving ever-so-slowly to lower yourself against him before he dug his fingers into your thighs and made you sit. Hunching forward, your forehead fell against the plush headboard with a choked cry as he all but unhinged his jaw around your core.

He watched through dazed eyes at the way your face crumpled with each symphony of pleasure that slipped past your bitten lips. There was no sense in dwelling on the past now, but he couldn’t help but feel so utterly idiotic for having been so blind all this time. It had always been there— in the lingering touches and the intimacy of trust that had forged between you two over fifteen years of falling back on one another.

Choso’s eyes rolled back as you rolled your hips against his tongue, momentarily blocking any passage of air through his mouth and nose, but, even with the clenching in his lungs that told him that he needed to breathe paired with the ringing in his ears, he thought he’d much rather have your weeping pleasure as the cause of death on his obituary, because any life where he hindered that impending high you were cravenly grinding toward wasn’t a life worth living.

His tongue dipped into your entrance for an exasperatingly brief tour before its pointed tip was dancing up to swoop under the hood of your already painfully sensitive clit. You squeaked out a pitched moan, nearly tumbling down if one of his hands hadn’t shot up to press against your sternum to keep you upright. A choked sob of pleasure shook your shoulders, and your hand flew down to tangle into the very haircut he maintained for so long just because you said it looked cute on him.

There was a sharp sting on his scalp as you yanked at the roots, the subtle pain at the hands of you nearly sending him to an early grave as his hips bucked up against the air. He was only met by the infuriatingly gentle friction of his sweatpants brushing against his leaking tip, but you were crying out his name and using him so sweetly with every craven thrust of your hips, and it was enough for him after all the sleepless nights he’d spent wishing he could have changed the past.

Evidence of you was dripping grotesquely down his face, dragging as far up as his nose that glistened proudly in the wake of your sloppy thrusts against him. His eyes were barely open by the time you timidly glanced down at him, half-lidded to match the dopey smile you felt morphing against your folds.

“Stop looking at me like that.” You murmured through burning cheeks as he leaned you back to sit on his chest.

“I’ve waited fifteen years to look at you like this.” His words were damn near slurred, but the sentiment remained the same. Brushing the dishevled hair from his forehead, you slid down slowly to straddle his waist, gasping tenderly at the feeling of his abs brushing against your sensitive clit, though your eyes never once left his.

With wanton eyes drifting down his pink-tinted face, his eyes drifted shut as he leaned up to meet the kiss he was sure he was finally about to get, but it instead landed tenderly on his forehead. A warmth spread down his spine, making his fingers curl tighter around your waist.

“Put me out of my misery already.” Choso whispered, but his actions deceived him as he reached up to keep you pressed against his forehead. Just as you slipped out of his grasp, lips dragging down the bridge of his nose until they ghosted over his. With a clouded gaze, he whispered against your lips, “Did he tell you he loved you?”

With a delirious shake of your head, you crashed through the tiniest of barriers that had been left between you.

“I love you.” He mumbled desperately against your kiss, hands sneaking up under your baggy shirt to graze along your spine. “More than just a— ah— a prom date. I love you.”

“I love you, too— more than just a friend.” You confirmed as you snuck your hand down between you to creep into his waistband.

He flinched away from you with a quick, hissing breath, reaching down to grip at your hand in record timing. Pulling away from him with a start, you blinked down owlishly at him.

“Oh— I-I’m sorry, I just thought you wanted to…”

“I do!” He sat up faster than you could blink to miss it. With that signature flush of his cheeks, he cast his gaze to the side. “Just… give me a little bit, okay?”

Raising a brow at his sudden timidness, you decided not to make it known that you had already felt the tacky wet splotch currently making a mess of his sweatpants. Saving him the wallowing self-pity you just knew he’d fall into for the rest of the night, you opted to lay beside him, tracing the tattoo that lined his nose absentmindedly as he looked anywhere but you. With a soft laugh, he finally turned his head to face you again after a moment of silence, smiling sheepishly down at you.

“Happy birthday, angel.”

Glancing over at the bedside clock, you noted with a cacooning warmth that it read 12:02 AM.

“Happy birthday, Cho.”

masterlist | requests | talk to me ❤︎

I love hearing everyone's thoughts! ◝⠀(ᵔᵕᵔ)⠀◜

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dorksiii · 2 months ago

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It's 3am, Im not sure if tumblr will bless this post in reaching the SMC fans but fuck it. We ballin. I have not stopped thinking about this tragic and toxic shadow milk cookie x reader idea in which SMC turned the reader, a student or teacher of some kind, to stone before he got banished but after he turned from hero to beast, all because he wanted to have her "romantically" wait eternity for him until his return from the witch's prison.

After the fall of the heroes and their kingdoms, the statue of the reader was set as a relic and was moved to Blueberry Academy, in which she stayed there as some sort of symbol of further pursuing knowledge. But I'm also thinking what if the statue reader has lingering magic of SMC and was instead kept as a safeguard to the mooncrystal prisoning dark enchantress cookie.

Either way, while the reader is unconscious about what happens outside her statue prison, she is instead conscious inside her mind. I wanna say like a coma sort of state. But in this mind of hers, she is re-living the time she had spent before SMC's fall and the fall of the milk kingdom and believes that nothing is wrong.

Yet, as her statue's lingering beast magic is being set off by outer forces in hopes of breaking the mooncrystal, the reader begins to see the truth in her situation by having "nightmares" of SMC's upbringing and the events that led to her eternal prison... or maybe just SMC's upbringing? Eventually, after the reader wakes up from a nightmare of SMC's official upbringing in taking over his kingdom and the world through deceit, she either hastily gets up in the middle of the night and takes a walk around town or she wakes up, head back to sleep after a glass of water and an unevent talk with PMC, but later in the day decides to take a walk to clear her head. In either scenarios she then encounters the light of truth disguised as none other than Pure Vanilla cookie dressed as a humble shepherd, with no soul jam in sight. So by bumping into this "shepherd" the light of truth leaves the reader with a hint.. "If you so desire to seek the truth behind your nightmares, head to the top of the spire where all forbidden knowledge lies"

Reader, confused but determined to see an end to her turmoil, heads to the top of the spire in secret. After successfully breaking and entering the spire of all knowledge, she begins to look around and soon finds the book of her answers. A book that tells the history of the fallen heroes, the first soul jam holders. While the reader flips through the pages, rapidly taking note of her situation and finding out the truth of her lover, once Pure Milk Cookie now Shadow Milk Cookie. She then goes into a sort of short spiral of horror until Pure Milk Cookie makes an appearance in front of her. I'm thinking they either have a confrontation in which reader reveals the truth and the sky shatters and falls all around her, freeing her, OR she confronts PMC, they fight it out, reader deals a heavy blow to PMC which goes all the way to the sky and shattering it which also frees her. Some sort of scenerio that gives "boss fight:final level" vibes

Reader soon wakes up fighting for breath and gaining mobility with pieces of stone all around her. And as she is finally relaxing and taking her new but real surroundings, she notices the real pure vanilla cookie in his regal attire with the soul jam of now truth holding his hand out to her with wizard, strawberry, and gingerbrave cookie beside him. And end scene! For now...

Keep in mind that while I am writing and mapping all of this out, I have NEVER, EVER wrote or even mapped out a fanfic in my entire LIFE. But the CRK fixation is on a whole nother level, and so I am walking forward with this fanfic idea with a blindfold and no direction of where to go. But I am bearing my heart to you all who took the time to read this idea of a crazy person and hopefully give me tips or pointer as to what works best and flows better for a more personal and heavy sense of connection and angst in reader cookies and Shadow Milk Cookies relationship in this AU, or to simply let me know if you'd like to read it! 💙🤍💙

#shadow milk cookie x reader #shadow milk cookie #shadow milk crk #x reader #cookie run kingdom #fanfic ideas #fanfic #3am thoughts #its 3am

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comesatimecomesashadow · 3 months ago

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wintery night w/ yan!capitano

・❥・

the snow outside fell gracefully, the wind carrying the small white particles with little to no effort as the blizzards of Snezhnaya went on. the cold reached the inside of the manor even though the windows blocked the brunt of the eternal winter from you. at times, it was easy to get lost in the eternal snow. especially when you were not used to so much of this weather.

as you gazed out of the window, parting the long, navy curtains just a little to peak outside at the blizzard, your husband stood at the doorway of the ballroom. he would often find you here in silence, he figured that maybe it helped you cope.

but he could be selfish at times, like now.

"Dove." he addressed, his voice oddly soft but still stern. you, however, paid him no mind and kept your gaze on the outside of the window. "What is it? .. Do you need something?" reluctantly, you shifted your gaze from the blizzard, to the storm in your own life — your husband.

though.. nowadays he seemed more like a refuge than a storm. but you had yet to give in.

the harbinger walked into the ballroom towards you. his footsteps on the lacquered wooden floor resounded throughout the room. a year ago you would have stepped back, this time you found yourself almost anxious to be in his arms.

"You've been distant as of late." your husband was never one to beat around the bush. like his sword, his words pierced any and all doubt from your mind. "Are you perhaps missing Natlan?"

with a sigh, you glanced back at the snow outside. such a lonely sight.. "It is much colder here.. I am unfamiliar with it." being the observant man he was — and your husband as well — he knew your words had more meaning than you led on.

"if you are cold, you need only come to me for warmth. for i shall provide you with any and everything you desire." his words were like obsidian. unbreakable, completely trustworthy. in just a short year of his life, he managed to make himself seem reliable, despite the fact that you very well knew the truth of who he was.

but in this lavish prison, who else were you to rely on — if not your very own captor-turned-husband? who else was supposed to tend to your every ailment and whisper words of reassurance when you felt hopeless? who else was to be the fire that cradled your shivering form as you struggled in this foreign environment?

who else was to soothe the aches of your heart..?

capitano could sense your resignation. it had been a long time coming, he was starting to wonder just when exactly you would give in and change the way you viewed him. reluctantly, you stepped away from the window, the navy curtains closing as you made your way to him.

without a word, he welcomed you into his arms. you laid your head against his chest as he cradled you in his warm embrace. his arms were less like a rope that suffocated you and more like the inviting arms of a husband concerned for his lover.capitano had been waiting for this moment, he had been patient in his pursuits. and as the saying went: good things did in fact come to him. for the first time, you returned his embrace and he could feel the way your body craved him.

his warmth. his touch.

capitano held you close and softly ran his hand over your hair while holding you. "i will be your warmth in the blizzard, i shall never leave you." with these words, you found yourself almost able to drift off the sleep in his arms.

while his touch consumed you, like a fire to a field of grass, you found yourself forgetting about the blizzards outside. suddenly, they didnt matter as much. they faded to the dark corners of your mind..

where you would never once think of them again.

・❥・m.list

(sorry im making so many drabbles im 2 tired to make an actual post TwT)

#jume fics #capitano drabble #capitano genshin #il capitano fluff #il capitano x reader #il capitano #capitano x reader #capitano fluff #capitano angst #yandere #yandere capitano x reader #yandere capitano #genshin #genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin capitano #capitano

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hiraethwrote · 1 month ago

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contents : gn!reader but written with f!reader in mind, angst, no comfort, established relationship, manga spoilers!!, character death, reader is unconscious/passed out, grief and loss, reader is kind of in a depressive epiosde, depictions of an anxiety attack?, no use of y/n — wc 1.2k

god, it felt as if though it had been an eternity since you’d been able to indulge in the simple privilege of caressing the man you loved.

however, the genuine bliss of seeing him again was short lived as the higher ups did not allow it to be anything more than a brief reunion.

they really did hate you that much — the way you had a tendency to wholeheartedly disagree with them on a regular basis, and never keeping quiet about it either.

that “rude mouth of yours” was punished in the pettiest way possible, by doing the one thing they knew would cause you the most turmoil — separating you from satoru.

“your abilities are needed elsewhere,” they’d argue, a cruel satisfaction to their voice as you were once again sent out of town for missions. and what could you do? refuse to save people in need because you couldn’t stand not sleeping safely in the embrace of your other half?

arguing would only give them more reasons to punish you even further. or worse. punish satoru.

three whole months without seeing him before the conflict in shibuya started — and even then the higher ups found it fitting to situate you and satoru on opposite sides of the city.

but once the news of satoru being sealed in the prison realm reached you, there was nothing the higher ups could say or do to control you. even they knew that.

there was only one thing on your mind — freeing him. you barely slept, you barely ate, getting him back into your arms being your sole concern.

and finally after nineteen days, he was back where he belonged. though only for a moment.

the palms of your hands were running hot against his skin, placed on each side of his face, forcing him to direct his cerulean blue eyes on you. after all this time, the sensation felt almost too good to be true. he was actually standing in front of you — this wasn’t one or the countless dreams you’d had during your time apart.

what you wouldn’t give to stay like this forever, just you and him in each other's arms. to live a life where neither of you were adorned with outer-worldly powers that had you both be run to the ground with duty and responsibility.

but you knew the world would never be as kind as to grant you more than the mere idea of such a life.

“but i just got you back,” you whispered meekly, the words breaking apart as you simultaneously tried to swallow your sobs.

for the entire time he had been trapped, you had been the only thing on his mind. it was only the thought of you that had kept him from losing grip on reality when he was stuck in that hellhole.

and now, finally standing in front of you again, you were still the only thing on his mind — he tried to conceal his own sorrow, so visible in his eyes, by plastering that charming smile of his that always had your shoulders relax. there was just something about it that felt like home.

“hey,” he spoke softly as his hand came up to cup your jaw, hunching forward so only you could hear him, and at the same time shielding you away from the modest crowd of worried onlookers. however; you could still feel their sympathetic looks stare right at the two of you. “we found our way back to each other. we’ll do it again.”

that was the first and only time satoru had lied to you.

you felt it when it happened.

time stopped, and the world turned quiet.

that’s when you knew — satoru was dead. and the path that had always lead to him, that had always been so clear, just simply vanished. gone.

no one allowed you to see him at the scene. you tried, every cell in your body fighting to be next to him, but being forcefully pulled away.

then everything turned black.

suddenly your eyes opened.

you took a deep, shaky breath — it was weird, like you had finally reached the surface after fighting your way through a lonely abyss for weeks.

then you became aware of your surroundings, the cold bedsheets swallowing you as you recognised the room that now felt so alien.

frozen still in the fetal position, your eyes locked on edge of the other side of the bed — had it always been so far away?

god, was this all real? you weren’t just waking up from a nightmare? was he really gone?

you stretched your arm forward, your hand trembling as you dared let it graze the empty spot next to you were satoru was supposed to be.

you couldn’t explain it, but it was almost as you could see him — your eyes trailing the imaginary silhouette of his body that used to rest beside you, always lied on his side to face you.

early mornings spent lazy in bed for hours, neither of you wanting to leave and face the day that waited you. you would both grunt and moan disapprovingly, complaining about how the second you left the safety of your bedroom, you would be requested from every corner.

now you would give everything to complain about it again.

never again would your mornings be adorned with that soft tug of his lips. never again would his big hands pull you into his chest so you could bask in his warmth.

this was the life you had to get used to now. one without him.

you never thought you would have to face that reality, yet here you were.

you only realised you had started to cry when you heard a soft tap on the door. it echoed obnoxiously in your sensitive ears, followed by a voice you knew you recognised — but you were racking your brain trying to pair it up with a name, ultimately failing.

“are you awake?” a female’s voice sounded muffled through the door.

you opened your mouth to answer, but no sound came out. you tried clearing your throat, but still your throat was too soar for any words to be spoken.

the door creaked open, a sliver of bright light burning your eyes as it peaked through. once adjusted to the light, you recognised the face as shoko.

“hey,” she said in a whisper, “want me to bring you some food?”

“shoko-“ your said, voice cracking immediately.

once she heard you speak her name, it dawned on her you were actually awake, not just the shell of a person you had been for the past few weeks.

“is it real? is he really gone?” your hoarse tone broke her heart, rushing over to you and not hesitating to pull your head into her lap.

you hands clutched onto her arm, fingertips digging into her flesh as it would somehow erase the intense pain that rushed over you like a tidal wave.

shoko desperately tried to hush your gut wrenching sobs while stroking your hair. every muscle in your body tensed up, causing you to hunch further into yourself.

“it’s going to be okay,” she whispered over and over, at loss of what to say or do — she knew nothing would even start to suffice, the gaping black hole left in you was simply too big for anything to heal it.

he was gone.

and he wasn’t coming back.

an : hea in her satoru feels? hea writing angst? seems like 2025 is very similar to 2024 so far

tags : @sad-darksoul . @madaqueue . @gdamnackerman . @toadtoru . @harperluvgojo

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euhla · 1 year ago

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i said, “do u think u’ll kill for me one day?” (yes, of course i will, my darling)

dottore x gn!reader. lyric from national anthem (demo). mentions of killing or murder / possessiveness / mentions of dottore’s real name / pet names / cursing / slight ?? yandere / ooc ( kinda soft dottore ). english is not my first language !

You know that Dottore, or your boss is a mad man who does as he pleases—at least that's what people think. But he always acts a little differently to you, which clearly shows favoritism. An act of favoritism that is certainly not left to some other people.

Other people try to take advantage, by asking you to make dottore do something. The most common thing that happens is when they ask you to beg dottore to release their newest prisoner (?) that became the subject of Dottore's experiments who is either their family or friend or partner.

And of course, you’re not happy with it.

You are not a tool to fulfill their wishes. And they were merely just strangers who suddenly came to ask for help, without repaying.

You are pissed.

But also scared at the same time.

Just now you came out of the room called the ‘sacred’ dottore's office. But a stranger who you guess is a new worker just by looking at his impolite behavior, suddenly grabs your arm and takes you somewhere.

“What the heck?!” You yelp. Ignoring the fact that the stranger's hands were shaking violently.

The stranger is now facing you. While his hand was still gripping yours tightly, to the point where you were in pain. "P- please help me!"

You let out a harsh sigh. "No, i won't help you. Thanks to your very impolite behavior.”

“W- w- wait! What do you mean?! This is urgent, and you must help me!” The audacity, you curse him in your mind.

“I said no!” Those three words managed to make him angry instantly.

“You—you should know your place! Is it because you managed to tempt The Doctor with your body and face means you can do whatever you want?!” You winced at his words, it felt like you were being stabbed by a knife, even though you know that it's all not true.

“If you will not tell that crazy man to free my friend—I will cut off your head, and present it to him.” You just looked at him in disgust thinking that he was a strange man. A disgusting strange man.

“Fuck off!” You yell at him.

Long story short, you managed to release his grip. But you couldn't help but notice the bruise on your wrist. You are increasingly annoyed and decide to end all this in an ‘inelegant’ way; using your heels, you stomp on his feet full of revenge. It should hurt a lot, you think.

And when you saw his reaction of pain and screaming, you immediately ran as fast as you could. Your body feels like it's on autopilot when you subconsciously search for someone you know too well— A tall and pale skin man, with light blue and slightly wavy hair, which makes anyone know his identity. And makes anyone afraid and even begs for mercy.

And there he was, standing straight with his hands behind his back like always.

“—tore,” Your breath hitches but tries to reach for his name.

“Dottore!” The man— Dottore looked at you quickly, as if he had been looking for you all along. He opened his arms, making room for you to fall into his embrace again. And you (will) happily return to his arms.

“Zandik!” You call his name once again, as if it were a spell that could make you happy for eternity. “Yes, dear?”

He lifted your chin, making you look up at him. His hand moved to wipe away a few tears that had fallen. Ah, since when have i cried? Why did i cry?

“What happened?” His calm voice made you shudder. You tightened your grip on his white lab jacket. And you know it won't cause him any pain.

You shake your head. "Nothing happened."

“Something happened,” His other hand, covered in a glove made especially for him, is now cupping your cheek. And his other hand, stroking your hair. “Am i right?”

The words are reluctant to come out and get stuck in your throat. You were too afraid to answer, too afraid to imagine what would happen to that stranger.

Silence enveloped the room. You only feel warmth, whether because of the heater in the room or because of Dottore's touch.

Knowing there would be no answer from you, dottore sighed. He placed you to sit on his desk. The desk was a little messy because of the papers, but there was still a place for you to sit.

Dottore's head lifted so he could see your face and what expression you were wearing right now— scared, with traces of tears.

His hand again rose to cup your cheek, then traced every curve on your face that he thought was beautiful. The touch felt strangely soft. Knowing that it was a touch from The Doctor— someone who had killed many people in order to achieve perfect experimental results.

And when he was about to hold your hand, he noticed something. A bruise on your wrist, a fucking bruise. That somewhat pissed him off.

“Who did this to you?” You can easily tell that he is angry, by the way he talks and the questions he asks.

“It’s— it’s just a random bruise i got—” “Stop lying.”

You were silenced quickly.

“You’re always been patient when other people try to take advantage of you,” Dottore's calm voice was whispery. If he knew about it all along, why did he continue to comply with your request?

Dottore closed his eyes for a moment, trying to connect the dots. “Someone asked you for help again? And you refuse, then they gets angry?” You nod.

“Is it a new employee?” You nod again.

“Tell me about them.” You told him straight away.

Dottore nodded. He noted it in his mind.

Out of sudden, you cupped Dottore's face. Cold, is the first thing that comes to your mind. Everything about him was cold, and so was his skin. You saw his pale face, but you couldn't guess what expression he had behind his mask.

As if he could read your mind, he took off the mask that covered part of his face. He put the mask right next to you.

“You’re not angry?” You ask, breaking the silence.

“Why?”

“Because i touch you– i touch your face.”

“Foolish question. Absolutely no.”

Dottore's hand covered yours that was touching his face. Maybe dottore can see your cheeks are a little red right now. Maybe now that stranger is scared right now that you managed run away.

You kissed Dottore's forehead as a thank you.

“I'll take care of it quickly.” And you can't imagine what experiments Dottore would do to the stranger.

#konstelasiv fanfic #dottore x reader #dottore fluff #genshin dottore x reader #dottore x you #dottore x y/n #dottore x female reader #il dottore x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin scenarios #genshin impact imagines #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin fluff #genshin dottore #genshin hcs

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tf-kinky · 3 months ago

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Vince was consumed by an obsession that bordered on madness. His roommate, Charlie, was the unwitting object of his fixation—his feet. But Charlie, ever the straightforward and unassuming guy, had no interest in Vince's peculiar desires.

In a moment of reckless desperation, Vince decided to take a highly experimental drug he'd heard about, one that promised to turn him into any inanimate object he wished. With his heart pounding and his mind racing with the implications, Vince muttered his intent and felt the world around him warp. His body contorted, shrank, and reshaped into a pair of black slides. He lay there, now just a pair of slides in Charlie's room, waiting for to be worn.

Charlie returned from his outing, in need of a quick change of shoes. His eyes glanced over the slides, and without suspicion, he stepped into Vince. The moment his feet made contact, Vince's new reality was nothing short of a living hell. The smell was overpowering, a potent mix of sweat and the day's grime. Then came the sweat, relentless and soaking, turning Vince's new form into a swamp of discomfort. But the pain was the most excruciating—every step Charlie took was like being crushed underfoot, a constant, grinding agony that made Vince's previous life seem like a distant dream.

Charlie, oblivious to the torment beneath his feet, walked around, getting ready for his evening. He paced, he lounged, he even danced a little to the music playing in the background, each action amplifying Vince's suffering. Hours passed like this, with Vince enduring each moment, wishing he could scream, but only able to exist in silent agony.

Late into the night, when Charlie finally decided it was time to sleep, he removed Vince, put him in his footwear cupboard. With no room for Vince to revert back to human form, tthe drug's effects should have worn off, Vince realized with growing horror that the transformation was now permanent.

The drug, within the confines of the cupboard, had solidified his fate. Vince was now, and would forever be, Charlie's slides. Each day brought the same routine—Charlie would wear him, the weight, the odor, the sweat all part of Vince's eternal torment. He was no longer Vince, the person, but an object of utility, his existence reduced to suffering beneath Charlie's feet.

Vince's new life was one of endless pain, his desires turned into a cruel, unending reality. Every step Charlie took, Vince felt the weight of his choices, a reminder of the folly of his obsession, now his permanent, torturous existence.

Five months had passed since Vince's life had been irrevocably altered. The slides, once a simple, black pair, were now a testament to the wear and tear of constant use. The material had frayed, the soles were worn down to nearly nothing, and the smell was a diabolical pungent reminder of their daily journey through Charlie's life. Vince, trapped in this decaying form, had endured every moment of it, his consciousness a prisoner to the relentless cycle of pain and degradation.

Charlie, finally noticing the sorry state of his slides, decided it was time for a change. He was unaware of the living nightmare he had been walking on for months. To him, they were just another pair of shoes that had reached the end of their lifespan. One evening, after a long day, Charlie decided to clean up his space. He gathered the old, ruined slides along with other trash and carried them down to the basement where the trash compactor was located. With no sentimentality or hesitation, he tossed Vince into the compactor, thinking only about clearing out clutter.

As the compactor hummed to life, Vince felt the crushing weight descend upon him. The initial pressure was like nothing he had felt before—far worse than any step or the confines of the shoebox. The machine began its work, compressing everything within, including Vince. The pain was beyond what he had known, a sensation of being squeezed out of existence, his very being compressed into nothingness. In those final moments, Vince's consciousness, already stretched thin by months of suffering, began to fade. The slides, his prison and his identity, disintegrated under the relentless force of the compactor. With each mechanical grind, Vince's awareness dimmed until there was nothing left—no pain, no scent, no Vince.

Charlie, upstairs, was already forgetting about the slides, moving on to other tasks. The trash was taken away, compacted, and disposed of, ending Vince's existence without fanfare or recognition. The experiment that had once promised transformation had instead delivered an eternal sentence, concluded by the mundane act of throwing away trash.

And so, Vince's story ended—not with a bang, but with the quiet, mechanical closure of a trash compactor, his essence lost forever in the detritus of everyday life.

Charlie bought a new pair of slides the next morning, although he couldn't understand why these new slides were significantly less comfortable. He may discover the transformation drug one day, and realise what happened to his roommate and discover humsn material makes the best transformation material, although he forgot Vince's name ages ago.

#inanimate tf #inanimate transformation #tf #transformation #permanent tf #permanent transformation #shoes transformation #slides #slides tf #slides transformation

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seellove · 11 days ago

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Could You Stay a Little Longer // drug dealer!sukuna x reader

Masterlist

Chapter 3 // (6.4k words) // Explicit - 18+

\|/ AO3 - Chapter 3 | << Chapter 2 | Chapter 4 >>

You're pursuing a master degree across the country, but are currently back in your hometown housesitting for your parents. They've told you all about their undesirable new neighbor, but when you start to get to know said neighbor, you realize he isn't all that bad. Your controlling boyfriend won't let up on you and you grapple with enjoying the company of this drug dealing neighbor boy, Sukuna. Nothing about this is going the way you planned, but is it so bad to let yourself be treated well for a change?

The cultural setting for this is technically economically depressed, rural USA where good paying jobs are hard to come by and there's not many opportunities in small towns, but it could really be anywhere that meets this criteria!

Content Tags/Warnings Throughout Work: Reader and Sukuna are mid 20s, mentions of recreational drug use and drug dealing, mentions of abusive/controlling/manipulative relationship (not Sukuna), could possibly be considered cheating depending on your interpretation (not Sukuna), angst, smut, fluff, time skip, prison time, happy ending trust!

Day 5 - Continued

“This is a collect call from an inmate at the Southeastern Regional Jail, press 7 to accept.”

No.

No no no no!

Your heart plummets as you stare down at your phone. You want to press it and find out it’s someone else, but you also can’t bring yourself to proceed knowing you’ll hear his voice on the other line.

His voice. The man you gave everything to last night, who you fell in love with in five short days.

The one whose arms wrapped you up as you fell asleep, envisioning the rest of your life together.

It can’t be over already.

The message repeats, breaking you from your existential crisis. You have to accept it, it’s time to wake up from the dream and face reality.

“Hello?” you say cautiously after pressing 7.

You hold your breath, heartbeat thundering in your ears as you await his voice because deep down you know it’ll be him.

Moments later, you hear his voice saying your name, and it all but shatters you. Your heart disintegrates into a thousand pieces and you feel light headed, realizing you stopped breathing when you accepted the call.

“Hey baby,” his deep voice says again, “you there?”

Fuck.

“Sukuna. I’m here,” your voice is so shaky, trying to keep your composure but your body just doesn’t want to cooperate.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get those donuts. And that you had to wake up alone. To this.”

His voice is so tender and it hurts even more as he continues.

“I don’t have a lot of time, maybe another minute, but obviously you can see I got arrested.”

“What happened?”

“Long story short, I came up on a wreck in the river, a mom with two kids. You know how these backroads are, so narrow and easy to over correct. Anyways, I stopped to help and I guess when it was all said and done, cops searched my car and found some stuff. Enough to probably put me away for a while. I’ll be arraigned tomorrow morning, already called my lawyer and everything.”

“When can I see you? I need to see you,” you feel the tears starting to drip down your chin like soft dew collecting on leaves in the humid morning air. They slowly fall, a sign of your world, your future as you know it, slipping from your grasp.

“You’ll be able to get out right? It’s not too bad, just a little slip up right? People go to jail all the time” you stutter, feeling the panic starting to mount.

“Should be able to see me after the arraignment. Contact the jail now, it needs to be 24 hours in advance. Should let you come in tomorrow afternoon.”

You put him on speaker and text all that to yourself because you know you are barely absorbing anything right now.

“You’ll get out though right?,” you say again, noticing he didn’t comment.

He doesn’t respond at first, instead the empty silence seems to last for an eternity as you wait with bated breath.

“I will, but I don’t know how long,” he finally says, his soft tone doing nothing to assuage your worries.

“I have to go, come tomorrow, we can talk more, and…well, I really wanna see you. Dying to actually,” he says and you swear you hear his voice shake.

“I will, I’ll be there,” you try to choke out. This time is precious and you can’t waste it crying.

“Hey tomato girl?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really sorry.”

The call cuts off without warning, his voice still echoing in your mind. A voice you wish you’d heard more of. You don’t even have a voicemail to replay, relying on your memories alone.

You now regret losing that one precious night together. If you’d have known your time would be cut short like this, you’d have spent every waking second with him up until now. Soaking up his soft kisses, his strong embrace, the endless puns and jokes he annoyed you with. Everything you took for granted.

It has to be some sick joke the universe is playing on you. You’d only been his girlfriend for what? Twelve hours? You guess you still technically were. No one else knows though, which is odd considering he’s someone you’d actually be happy to introduce to people. You are all alone in carrying this information, there’s no one to talk to, no one knows he exists in your life.

Your parents know him, but you can only imagine their reaction if you told them he was your boyfriend…oh and by the way he got arrested today.

Burying yourself in the sheets, you can’t hold back the tears anymore. They quickly turn into full blown sobs, your body visibly shaking from their intensity. The stark unknown of it all is paralyzing. After all your talks of dreams and plans to be together, all you see is nothing, no light at the end of the tunnel.

People go to jail all the time though, surely it wouldn’t be more than a month or two. A year at most. Sukuna does have a record, but it seems like it never really landed him in a cell for that long. He had a lawyer, he said, they’d surely help get him out.

Also, he said he had been helping someone! He was a Good Samaritan! And got punished for it. Wasn’t there some kind of trade off that could have happened?

Your mind is a mess and you won’t be able to calm down until you talk to him tomorrow. For now you might as well try to eat something and take care of the house chores.

Walking into the bathroom you are met by your neck littered with the evidence of last night. He was a menace in bed, and not in a bad way. You’d lose track of how many times he’d made you cum, probably more times than the last year as a whole. His stamina was insane and even when he couldn’t get it up, he resorted to his mouth and fingers, never leaving you hanging.

It was the most memorable night you’ve ever had.

Maybe the last one for a while depending on how this all shakes out. You can’t imagine wanting someone else. You’d wait for him…right? You had to, you were together, he was worth waiting for. Leaving him behind when things get tough is the weak way out.

You leave to go back home in two days. You hope to God you’ll have some answers by then, but something tells you that you won’t. It’s more likely you’ll go back, no one will know anything about your relationship with Sukuna so you’ll suffer in silence, and you’ll have to rely on sporadic calls from jail.

Maybe you could become friendly with his lawyer, or his friends and family. The more you consider it, the more insane it sounds. No one in his life knows you exist, you feel you have no right to know any information over those he’s known the longest.

What you have is real though, there’s no doubt in your mind. Everyone else however wouldn’t understand how you both could fall in love in mere days, hell you don’t even understand it, but you believe that this all happened for a reason, and you believe in the love between the two of you.

Would they label you a gold digger? An opportunist? Someone only after the drug king’s money? If his parents could have heard his plans, they’d see it was so much more than that. He wanted to be better, he was going to be better.

As you start to doom scroll on your phone to try and pass the time, you come across a post from your cousin. Then you remember he works at the jail! It’s one of the few decent paying jobs with good benefits in the area so he’s been there since graduating high school.

He should be able to at least give you some information on what to expect. You find his contact and call him.

“Hey cuz,” his warm voice greets you from the other line.

“Hey there, how’s it going?” you ask, relieved to hear a familiar voice right now. You grew up together and have always remained close, even when you moved away.

“Oh the usual, just working to live,” he laughs. “You in town right?”

“Yes, that’s actually kind of why I called. I, um, oh shit, sorry,” you stutter, suddenly scared of divulging what was going on.

“Are you okay?” he asks, concern lacing his voice.

You mute the phone, taking a massive breath to try and compose yourself to keep the panic at bay. For some reason talking about it makes it more real and causes you to fracture all over again.

“I-no, not really. Look, if I tell you some stuff, can you promise to keep it between us?” you finally muster out.

“Umm, yeah. Ha, well depends,” he says with a nervous laugh. “Did you do something illegal?”

“No! Nothing like that. Personal stuff. You promise?”

“Yes, hit me.”

“Someone I’m close to got arrested this morning. He’s in Southeastern…where you work,” you force out.

“He? Is it someone I know?”

“Yes, it’s a guy. He’s…my boyfriend…or at least was, not sure how all that works when someone gets locked up,” you chuckle, “I don’t think you’d know him, he’s my parents neighbor.”

“Oh shit. I’m-wow, I don’t know what to say. I’m really sorry you are going through this. Have you been able to talk to him yet? Normally once you get processed you are able to start making calls.” You can hear the empathy in his voice, and it makes you want to cry all over again at the thought of someone being there for you.

“He called a little while ago. I don’t really know what happened, he didn’t go into many details.”

“How are you doing with the news? Are you okay?” your cousin asks.

You start to choke up, unable to stop the emotion from bubbling up again. Fuck it though, he won’t make you feel bad.

“No…no I’m not. I’m devastated. I’m also scared. I have no idea what is going on, no idea what is going to happen, and all the unknown is killing me. Can you tell me what is going to happen?” you say between sobs, struggling to get the words out.

“Oh sweetie, I’m so sorry. I think that’s a normal response to someone close to you getting arrested. Been in this job for years now and I’ve seen all kinds of responses. All humans react differently, so what you are feeling is valid, just know that.

Now to what happens. Well, he hopefully contacted a lawyer once he got processed. Tomorrow will be the arraignment at the courthouse. That’s where the charges are presented and you reply whether you will plead guilty or not guilty. It’s also where bail would be set. His lawyer will be there with him. You said you don’t know the nature of the crime?”

“Just know it’s something with drugs. He’s got a record, that probably makes it worse right?”

“Maybe, drug charges are sometimes federally mandated depending on the amount and nature of it. And if it’s been multiple offenses, it could double the sentence. Once the charges are presented, they’ll know pretty quickly what kind of time he’d be looking at.”

You have no idea how much he had on him. Why the fuck did he have drugs with him anyways! You wish you could kick Sukuna right now…you might actually kick him tomorrow. What the fuck was he thinking!

“Okay, I don’t love that, but at least I have an idea of how this is going to shake out. What’s it like visiting someone in jail?”

“It’s pretty simple. You get searched and go through a metal detector, then get brought down to a visitation room where you wait until the inmate is brought in. A guard will be in the room and you basically sit at a table and talk. It’s not all dramatic like in the movies with someone in chains in a sterile room, that’s maximum security type shit.”

Interesting, so you’ll be able to be in the same room as him.

“Can you have physical contact? Like hugging and kissing?” you ask, a little embarrassed. All you want is to be pulled against his chest and feel his strong arms wrapping around your back.

“Yeah, it depends on the guard how much they allow. I can find out who’s on duty tomorrow and tell them to take it easy on you.”

You’re starting to feel a little better about everything. Sukuna’s got a lot of money too, maybe he’ll be able to get out on bail! You’re not sure why you keep trying to convince yourself of these things, but it gives you hope until you can talk to him tomorrow.

You shoot the shit with your cousin for a little while longer before hanging up, collapsing on the couch and staring at the ceiling.

It’s dark out, you didn’t even know you’d been on the phone that long, noticing the pitter patter of rain on the roof. At least it helps to make everything seem less hopeless and empty, providing background noise to focus on.

Even as you lay your head on your pillow that night, the sounds of rain falling through the leaves outside helps quell your racing mind.

A fitting end to the day, even the sky was grieving now that you had no more tears left to fall.

Day 6

You settle into the plastic chair the guard directs you too. The room is nothing special. Two other similar chair and table setups sit staggered in the room, the ceiling feels low, a vending machine hums in the corner, and there is very little natural light from the small windows along the wall.

You chat up the guard for a bit and you find out he’s a good friend of your cousin which you are thankful for. He told you to just behave and not to do anything suspicious and he’d leave you both be for the most part.

The chair is super uncomfortable, but then again you figured comfort wasn’t high on the list of priorities for a jail. Guess you were lucky to have a chair at all.

Anxiety and anticipation are clawing at your insides. You are ecstatic to see Sukuna, but also terrified at learning more about the situation. Since last night you’ve been deluding yourself into this headspace of if you don’t know what’s happening, you won’t feel as bad.

At least you’ll finally have some idea of the situation going forward, even if it’s bad news.

The door opens and his tattooed face and crimson eyes are the first thing you notice. Then it’s the exhausted look on his face and his hunched over figure in the orange jumpsuit as a guard holds his wrist cuffed behind his back. He lights up when he sees you, shooting you a grin that threatens to melt you into a pool under the table. It’s taking everything in you to not launch yourself across the room to jump into his arms but protocol said to wait until the guard gets him situated.

Also, those face tattoos in his prison attire makes him look even hotter as he moves across the room. Even through the loose clothing you can make out the outline of his chest and arm muscles. Obviously it’s not the scene you want to be witnessing, but you can’t argue that your man looks hot. Maybe a good Halloween costume idea in the future?

The future.

What does that look like? It’s easy to envision your ideal life together, but every daydream gets derailed by an unknown force that makes everything go blank in your mind. The anxiety won’t allow you to see past this no matter how hard you try.

The guard passes him off to your cousin's friend who waits for the other guard to leave before removing the handcuffs. He whispers something to Sukuna, likely the same spiel that you got about leaving you alone on the condition that he doesn’t try anything stupid.

Sukuna turns, walking towards you. Once he approaches, you stand up and throw yourself against his chest, wrapping your arms around his back, hands barely touching due to his large stature. Burying yourself into the scratchy jumpsuit material, you dig your fingers into his back, squeezing him with everything you have as if making sure it's really him standing in front of you.

You finally pull back and realize his chest is now damp from tears you didn’t even know came out. All you were focused on was holding him and touching him again while your body had this silent somatic response.

“Fuck you Sukuna! What the fuck were you thinking? What the fuck happened?” you choke out as grief overwhelms you. He just cages you against him, earning a chuckle in response as you sob into his chest.

“It’s not fucking funny!” you try to slap him but he’s just too strong.

He leans back, staring down at you and hits you with that adorable boyish grin, pulling your chair out for you and gesturing for you to sit before he takes his spot on the other side.

“Don’t cry, we are together now. It should be a happy time,” his voice is soft, wiping away the tears from your face.

“Well I was not happy to get a call from jail. Now tell me what fucking happened.”

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you. I guess all the blood got trapped in my dick from the night before, and there wasn’t enough left for my brain,” he laughs, taking your hand in his, planting a kiss on your knuckles.

“That’s not funny! This is serious!” you try to stifle a giggle, but it’s just impossible not to do that around him. You are glad he’s acting like his normal self, so carefree even in the face of tragedy.

“Oh okay. Well, the other theory is that I had a bad case of post nut clarity and was like, I have to get away from this girl before she absolutely consumes me. Jail is the only place that would keep me from seeking you out,” he smirks again, leaning back his chair with his hands behind his head.

The smug look on his face and the way he’s leaning back and spreading his legs across from you is so damn hot. The combination of tattoos and prison attire make him look like a true bad boy.

“You’re absurd,” you roll your eyes and smile back at him, fluttering your lashes.

“Fuck you’re killing me sweets,” he bites his bottom lip, looking at you through lidded eyes that are darkening the longer he sits there. The intrusive thought of him bending you over and fucking you on this table is infiltrating your mind and you can’t be bothered to shut it down.

“Hey you are the one riling yourself up over there,” you tease, earning a playful scoff from Sukuna.

“However, I bet you’re thinking the same thing I am right now,” you continue in a low voice, pressing your thighs together as you feel yourself slipping even deeper into the fantasy. This is not what you expected to happen, but there is something about him mentioning last night that is making your thoughts devolve into those moments with his breath hot on your neck, his fingers digging into your hips as his veiny cock dragged along your soft walls.

“If it involves this table and me being balls deep inside of you, you’d be correct,” he murmurs, giving you an almost predatory look as he licks his lips, eyes darting around the room before locking back onto your face.

“Oi guard!” he suddenly whips around, “can I touch my girl in here?”

You feel yourself heat up in embarrassment at his audacious question. This is the opposite of behaving!

“The clothes stay on and you stay in your seat, inmate,” he responds with an amused look.

“Oh so I can reach under this table and-“

“No. You can kiss, and hold hands above the table. That’s not what kind of visit this is,” he chuckles.

“Fuck man, that’s brutal,” Sukuna turns back around with a pout, adjusting his pants as best he can.

“I know, I’m sorry. All I can tell you is to try to get on the list for conjugal if you want to do that,” he says from across the room while Sukuna sulks, chin resting on his arms on the table.

“What’s that?” you ask.

“A visit where you get an apartment to yourselves for 24 hours on the prison grounds. As you can imagine though, there’s a lot of prisoners and only one unit, and everyone wants to go for the same reason.”

Oh. You feel odd being so open about sex in here, but fuck it, at this point you don’t really have a lot of options and surely this guard was used to dealing with sexually frustrated inmates.

“Fucking you all night and then getting locked up immediately after is a special kind of hell,” Sukuna whines and the guard just laughs, walking back to the other side of the room.

“Tell you what, I’ll give you some time while I take a piss. Ryomen, hands to yourself, stay in your chair, and clothes stay on. Miss, you can move around. You speak of this and I’ll make sure she never comes to visit you again, and I’ll certainly make sure you never get chosen for conjugal.”

Sukuna’s eyes practically pop out of his head as he processes what the guard says.

“I won’t say a word,” Sukuna’s voice rises in excitement, bolting straight up, eyes locked onto you as the guard handcuffs his arms behind the chair.

“Woah, freaky,” he snickers as the guard leaves.

“Your time starts now,” he says as he shuts the door.

“Oh my god, pleaseeeee come touch my dick. Jerk me off, stroke me, rub me, I don’t even care, just fucking touch me. I neeeed it,” Sukuna is whining again, pushing himself back away from the table.

He sounds like a pathetic teenager begging his girlfriend to feel him up for the first time and it makes you snicker as you move your chair next to him. It’s not hard to find his dick from the tent his erection is making in his pants.

He hisses and tries to stifle a moan as you grab him through the fabric. He’s so hard, no wonder he’s throwing a fit. You grip him tightly and start pumping your hand along his clothed length.

“Fuck baby oh my god,” Sukuna mutters as his eyes roll up to the ceiling before squinting shut.

“Can you finish in a minute?” you give him your most sultry tone as you start to move faster.

“Mmm, gonna fuckin’ try. Feel like a fuckin’ virgin right now. So sensitive,” he groans.

Sukuna starts bucking his hips up to meet your hand, his breaths getting heavier as he exhales deeply from his throat with each thrust.

You’ll try to help him out as best you can. Leaning against his neck, you give your best attempt at something similar to phone sex.

“Yeah? Thinking of me riding you? My cunt so tight and wet around your cock? Tits in your face bouncing while I take all of you soooo deep, ass clapping against your thighs.”

Sukuna moans again, hips jerking faster as you leave a trail of your hot breath on his neck.

“Fuck Kuna, keep going. Right there! Oh god Kuna, gonna cum all over your cock, grip it so tight and you better cum deep inside me. Won’t waste a drop baby-“

“Fuuuuuuckkkk” Sukuna emits a deep growl from his throat as he starts jerking in his seat and throbbing in your hand, clearly cumming in his pants. His eyes are squeezed so tight and jaw clenched so hard you swear he’s gonna break a tooth.

He’s gasping for breath as you let go of him, head hanging down against his chest before sitting back up to plant a soft kiss on your cheek.

“Ohhhh, my god. I fuckin’ love you,” he grins, a flush spreading across his face as you move back to your side of the table. He looks like a kid on Christmas morning. You’ve never seen someone so elated over a handjob through their clothes but hey beggars can’t be choosers right now.

“Alright, times up!”

The guard comes back. He doesn’t say a word, just uncuffs Sukuna again and moves back to the other side of the room as if nothing ever happened.

“Sorry you have to sit here now with your boxers all dirty,” you whisper.

“Goddamn don’t apologize, I’ll sit in my cum stained boxers for three days if it means you’ll touch me,” he laughs.

“Crazy boy. But now I want some answers. What happened when you left the house and what happened at the arraignment earlier?”

Sukuna drags his hands down his face, clearly not excited to talk about this.

“Was trying to avoid this conversation honestly.”

“Sukuna, you were gonna keep me in the dark?”

“No! Not my intention. I just feel like you are gonna be disappointed in me and you aren’t going to like where I take this conversation.”

You’re a little confused what he means by that, but you settle in to listen, nodding at him to keep talking.

“When I left your place, I had the bright idea to take the product I had in my house and pass it off to one of the subordinates nearby since I was going to the donut shop anyways. I was serious about leaving that world, so might as well jump start the process.

So, as I’m driving, you know the bridge over the river after that section of sharp curves in the road? Well, I came out on the other side and saw a car in the river. I called the police, told them what was up, and went down to try to help.

Long story short, it was a mom and two little kids. I pulled mom out first and told her to go to shore, then swam down and pulled the kids out one by one. One window was open thank god, they were just panicking though as the water was filling up.

I told the kids to hang onto my back and got us back to shore. Everyone seemed okay, just in shock and terrified of what had happened understandably.

Guess while this was happening, cops showed up and ran my plates, realized I had a suspended license, searched my car, and got arrested on the spot. A wild turn of events honestly.”

You stare in disbelief as he talks. That has got to be some of the worst luck you’ve ever heard. He did such a good thing, he could have kept going and left them to die. You’d probably still be snuggled up in bed together if he had.

The selfish side of you wishes he’d kept driving, which is kinda fucked, but the dark part of your mind can’t help it.

Sukuna is a good man though, and he’s paying the price for this series of unfortunate events. You both know he did the right thing and are glad he did save those innocent people.

“Why didn’t you just wait for someone to come to your house and get that shit ughhhhh,” you groan, burying your face in your hands.

“I don’t know. If I could go back I’d have never left your bed,” he says softly, propping his head up on his hand, elbows resting on the table. “You just looked so peaceful and cozy I didn’t want to drag you out of there.”

You just stare at him, eyes glossy as you both hold back the tears. So much regret, everything could be so different if he’d have just stayed put.

“And the arraignment?”

He sighs, looking down at the table to collect his thoughts before looking back up, trying to keep himself composed.

“Not good tomato girl, not good at all,” his voice is quivering and it seems like he’s fighting against losing it by forcing a smile across his face.

“Drug trafficking charges. Five years minimum. No bail. Lawyer said with my record might be more like seven to ten years.

You swear the earth stops spinning and your vision goes black. Your heart plummets to your stomach, suddenly feeling nauseous and dizzy.

That’s so long. That’s way too fucking long.

You feel physically ill and stifle a dry heave which turns into trying to choke back a sob. You can hear nothing, everything muffled as if you were six feet underwater. Sukuna’s lips are moving, but you have no idea what he is saying.

Cold.

You are freezing, body shivering as you slip into shock. Ears ringing, breath trapped in your throat, unable to replenish the oxygen in your lungs.

Strong hands shake your shoulders, jolting you from this state as if you’ve been drowning and you’ve been pulled from the water. Everything seems bright, the hum of the lights seems louder, and you gasp for breath.

Sukuna is in your face, hands on your shoulders. He was the one shaking you.

“Just breathe, in….out…. No, look at me, look me in the eyes not past me. Breathe with me.”

His crimson eyes slowly come into focus as you try to concentrate on replicating his breaths. Still trembling, you reach up and grip his arms, attempting to ground yourself and come back to earth.

Sukuna’s worried look morphs into one of relief as he realizes you are okay. Well, as okay as you can be after learning your boyfriend might be in jail for the next ten years.

“It’s okay, it’ll be okay,” Sukuna’s soft voice coos, thumbs tracing circles where his hands rest on your collar bones.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s okay, I had the same reaction when I met with my lawyer yesterday.”

You both sit in silence, staring at the floor. You wish you could just wake up from this nightmare; grab his arm and walk out the doors together into the warm sunshine. Instead you feel like you’ve both been capsized at sea, grabbing onto something to keep from totally drowning…except for you wind up in two different currents and slowly drifting away from each other.

Maybe you’ll end up in the same place depending on the currents, or maybe you’ll end up on opposite sides of the world. Either way, you have no control over the outcome.

“You can continue,” you eventually force out.

“My trial date will be in about a month or two. Lawyer fought to have it expedited to get it over with. That’s where I’ll learn the actual amount of time. I know I can’t fight the charges, but we want to get the sentence reduced as much as we can. He’s hopeful I’ll be eligible for parole. Gonna try to share the story of my plans of going back to school and doing an apprenticeship, how I want to be better, how I don’t deserve to be locked up for that long since I want to turn my life around,” he tries to sound hopeful.

His arms drop down to cup your hands, large hands swallowing up yours as he squeezes them. A serious look appears on his face and he sits up straighter, staring intently into your eyes.

“Don’t wait for me.”

“What?” your heartbeat is pounding in your ears again, unsure if you heard him correctly.

“Don’t wait for me. You heard me tomato girl.”

You don’t even bother trying to hold back the sobs as the floodgates open.

“N-n-no! Sukuna! What? Why would you say that?” you stutter through the anguish plaguing your entire being as you feel your throat closing up all over again.

“Shhh, it’s okay. You deserve to live a good life, a normal life. Not with a felon behind bars. I’m not worth putting your life on hold for a third of your life. Cuz that’s what it would be, we’d be in our mid to late 30s when I get out.”

“Well then we’d still have the other two thirds of life to enjoy together! I-I can’t. I can’t forget you, I could never,” your whole body is shaking and a splitting headache is starting to surface from the constant crying.

“Do you not want to be with me?” you stutter, lip trembling as you try to hold back your emotions to speak.

“Of course I want to be with you! Fuck girl I want nothing more. But you’ll move on from this, it’s only been a few days. It hurts now, but over time it’ll get better. I just want you to be happy and I feel like you will be miserable watching me rot in here for years.”

“Okay but you don’t get to tell me how I’ll feel Sukuna!”

“You should try though. I won’t know any different since I’ll be locked in a cell. I don’t want to be the reason you look back and regret spending these years waiting for my lousy ass.”

“Are you trying to break up with me? Because if that’s what you want, you need to just fucking say it,” you feel anger bubbling up now. It feels like he is stringing you along with this weird pseudo idea of wanting you but also telling you to go live as if you weren’t exclusive.

He swallows hard, trying to maintain his stoic demeanor during this conversation. He knows if he falters, you won’t listen. As it is, you're fighting him. He won’t be mean, he won’t use anger or threats to force you away. You don’t deserve that. He’s already put you through enough. Sukuna just hopes you sit back and think about what he’s saying.

“I-I can’t. No,” Sukuna mutters. “I guess what I’m saying is that I’m not expecting you to be loyal to me during this time. Just know my heart is yours and if I get out and you are waiting there for me, I’ll be the happiest man alive. But if you aren’t and I see you living a fulfilling life with someone else, I won’t come pester you and blow that up. You won’t even know I exist, I’ll never bother you again.”

Of course he wants you to wait for him. You’re the love of his fucking life. If things were reversed he’d be furious if you tried to suggest something like this.

His selfish desires want you to come visit him every week, talk on the phone every day, and try to get this conjugal visit the guard spoke of because god knows he’d fucking tear your ass up for 24 hours even though he’d probably be shit in bed after being celibate for months or even years.

But doing all that would fuck with your emotions, keeping you from moving on and living your life. He doesn’t want you to put your life on hold because he had to go and be a piece of shit and blow it all up.

Guilt is weighing heavy on his heart, all those promises he put in your head just a day ago that he would no longer be able to keep. It feels like he strung you along even though he had no idea he’d hit rock bottom like this. He wants you to cut the line, he doesn’t want to drag you down with him.

“I can’t make you do anything, but I implore you to try to see where I’m coming from. I won’t be upset, I’ll understand,” he continues.

You respect him and sit quietly, running through the scenarios in your head. You know you want kids. Waiting until your late 30s wasn’t what you had in mind. How would you answer people if they ask if you’re single? Tell them no, that you’re waiting ten years for your man to get out of jail?

Yes. Yes you absolutely would! He has his wishes and requests but you have agency in this too. You can make your own choices and live how you want to. If waiting for him is what you want to do, there’s nothing he can do about it. He’s made it clear though that he’d immediately find you when he’s out. How you spend your time until then is up to you.

“Five minutes.” the guards voice sounds from the corner.

Fuck!

The panic is coming over you again. You have to be strong though, you can’t waste these precious seconds.

“If I write to you will you write back?” you ask. “It doesn’t have to be romantic, just like pen pals. Can you do that for me?”

“Sure, I’ll do that,” he agrees. To him it’s a decent compromise, probably hearing his voice and seeing his face would just make this harder for you to get over him.

“Alright, let’s wrap it up you two.”

You both stand up and you hug him tightly, inhaling his scent one last time, fingers tracing and squeezing every inch of him, trying to memorize the curves and feel of his body, knowing you’ll forget over time. You’ll both age and grow into different people. A lot can happen in 5 to 10 years.

“I love you Sukuna. Forever. Wish you could’ve stayed with me a little longer, but I’m thankful for the time we had. I’ll always remember it.”

“I love you too. Always will. You’re a strong and amazing woman, I know you’ll be successful wherever life takes you.”

He gets cuffed once again, but leans down one last time to plant a soft kiss on your lips. A parting gift that you’ll try to remember for as long as you can.

He’s guided away and looks back at you, his crimson gaze locking onto yours one final time.

One last sentence lingers on both of your lips, the words you both couldn’t bring yourselves to say for your own reasons.

I’ll see you on the other side.

<< Chapter 2 | Chapter 4 >>

Masterlist

taglist: @clp-84 @zeunys @aquaberrydolphin @nynxtea @yuujispinkhair @ssc7514 @sukubusss @scorpiosugar @kiixonmm @xlilycoco

#sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #jjk x reader #sukuna x you #jjk #jjk smut #sukuna smut #jjk x you

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pauli-writes · 6 months ago

Text

warnings: probably not lore accurate, shackling prison

pairing: dan heng x vidyadhara!reader

author’s note: i got the xianzhou on the brain, im sorry if this is bad i just needed to write something to get rid of my writers block :,)

eternity.

a state to which time has no application, timelessness. the concept of eternity was almost unthinkable to short life species such as humans, everything had a beginning and an end for them. but long life species view time differently, for them eternity was a feasible concept, yet equally as unreachable. whenever one thought they had reached it, they’d die or get reborn anew.

you have wished for eternity as long as you could remember, but you knew even if it would claim you, you would be reborn, doomed to repeat this endless cycle for millennia to come with no memories of your previous life.

and so life moves on, and yet you remained unmoving, as the shackling prison of the xianzhou luofu has been your home for the better part of this amber era. every day you looked wishfully at the dark walls of your cell, imagining a life outside of the prison, the life your other self had lived on the luofu.

but not everything was awful.

you had a friend once. his cell was next to yours, you never saw his face, but you could hear his voice, the screams and whimpers he’d let out when he had a nightmare. it wasn’t that unusual in the prison, but to you everyone else’s voices were scrambled and distant, and yet you could hear his so clearly, the anguish with in it, that one day you couldn’t take it anymore and asked him what he was dreaming about in an attempt to satiate your own curiosity.

“what are you always dreaming about?”

there was a prolonged silence followed by the soft rattling of chains. you assumed he was shackled to the wall just like you were.

“i think i’m remembering things from my previous life…” he spoke, but he sounded unsure and shaken up by his nightmare.

you frowned and shook your head, “that’s not possible.”

he didn’t reply after that. the two of you went back to being silent, for weeks you didn’t bother talking further. you were pretty sure he hated you, still eternity was so far away so you decided to try talking again.

“so, what did you do to end up here?”

he didn’t reply again, but you didn’t care, you needed to talk, to distract yourself from your prison, so you just continued. “i don’t really know, but i think my previous self did something bad.“

there was another pause and you believed this conversation to be another dead end until he spoke softly, “i think mine did too.”

your eyes widened as you heard him speak and you felt yourself smiling for the first time in a while. “i’m reader by the way...”

“dan heng.”

you paused for a moment, the name stirring a sense of familiarity inside of you. was it possible that… perhaps, perhaps not. all you knew at that moment that company was a momentary reprieve from this prison. so, you continued occasionally talking to your new friend, commiserating in your shared misery of being chained up for something you don’t really remember doing in the first place.

you were usually the one to initiate the conversations, dan heng wasn’t much of a talker you quickly figured out, but you mostly only spoke to him after you could hear him having a nightmare. but you were surprised as he spoke up first one night.

“do you know something about imbibitor lunae?”

you paused, a feeling of familiarity washing over you from the word, but nothing concrete came to mind. “it sounds familiar, but i don’t remember…”

“i see.” he replied, sounding disappointed. it made you sad that you couldn’t help him out, but you didn’t dwell on it.

“why are you asking me?”

silence filled the air once more, you could hear the chains rattling from his cell. “i… had a dream. i heard your voice. you said those words.”

“you have strange dreams.”

“you don’t?”

you looked to the ground, trying to recall the last time you had a weird dream, or even a dream. but you couldn’t remember, you slept so little that you definitely would have remembered a dream or strange dreams. “no… i don’t dream.”

“then you’re even stranger.”

you thought for a moment, “maybe…”

time continued passing outside of the prison and just as you found a moment of respite and comfort with the fleeting moments between you and your friend, they were ripped away from you in an instant like a cruel cosmic punishment. you didn’t see anything, but you heard the hushed voices, the whispered names and titles as the chains were loosened and the doors opened.

dan heng, dan feng, imbibitor lunae, the high elder of the vidyadhara…

those names meant something to you once upon a time too, maybe they would again…

#honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x reader #hsr x gender neutral reader #hsr x you #honkai star rail #hsr x y/n #hsr dan heng #dan heng x reader #dan heng x you #dan heng x y/n #dan heng

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missshirophantom · 7 months ago

Note

I love your yandere Sebastian Solace so much <3 could you make a request on him having female reader in his shop after kidnapped the reader from her journey on getting the crystal to escape the place where she is forced to stayed in his shop- Where nothing but some noisy other prisoners/people could disturb his time with being with only your presence. When one of prisoners flashed him of the flashlight she took the opportunity to escape the shop without alerting Sebastian of her leaving due not wanting to risk getting caught (sorry if this doesn't make sense)

From the author : hello! I'm glad of that. It took a while, but it's done. I apologize if there is something wrong in the written request or if I misunderstood something. I hope you don't mind that I came up with the name of this one... Stories, yes. And I hope you don't mind the slight rigidity typical of yandex. content. I apologize also if this is short or a little concise, I was in a hurry when I wrote this, plus I was busy writing one story that I finally finished. Have a nice read :D

Warning : female reader, references to bondage (not really), mention of slight isolation, threat of fracture and amputation of a limb, possessive behavior, yandere.

Number of words : 1856

I Warned You

A lot of things have been happening in your life lately. The time before you were put in jail does not matter. Whether you were actually imprisoned for a crime or not. The important thing is that in the end you agreed to the offer of a certain company Urbanshade. All you wanted was to finally get out of this prison, especially when the woman was not living very well there.

However, you never even allowed the thought that this seemingly simple matter would turn out to be so dangerous.

Meetings with these... Creatures that have left you with nightmares. You didn't even think then that it could be worse than just being in jail. At least there was some respite, but here you're just in eternal fear for your life.

You weren't exactly sure what attracted one of these creatures named Sebastian, as he calls himself. Especially when you came to his store several times for, most often, a first-aid kit.

So that didn't explain why he kidnapped you and kept you in his store. It was especially frustrating that you were pretty close to that damn crystal and the long-awaited freedom. Literally a few steps away, and then you lost consciousness before you woke up in a man's store.

You were afraid to do anything. More precisely, you tried, but Sebastian's threats were sufficiently eloquently that you did not think of doing anything to his satisfaction.

Compared to what happened to you in prison before, being here is not a bad thing. If you think about it optimistically.

There was food, albeit mostly raw meat, and canned goods from the warehouses of this base. There was also a soft, very soft, place to sleep. And a little entertainment in the form of reading the documents that Sebastian allowed you to take and talking with him.

What you definitely didn't like, and even scared, was the almost constant attempts of a man to bite you. He also kept you wrapped up with his tail all the time when you were sleeping or "annoyed" him when he was busy. You didn't know what it was about, and even if you did, you wouldn't be able to do anything about it.

And you also hated when he used handcuffs to keep you in his "lair" while he went to get supplies. Even when you behaved well, he did it anyway, deliberately not believing you and mocking you. Which was true, but your wrists hurt because of the uncomfortable position and even turned a little red where the metal rubbed against your skin.

You reluctantly accepted it.

An attitude, but definitely not a position.

You were afraid of what Sebastian might do to you if you did run away, but damn. You were so eager to get out and finally get freedom, despite the fact that your last attempt was unsuccessful, and the scar on the back of your neck still hurt. A reminder of your "misconduct," as a man hissed in your ear during his bad days. And then there's the daily mockery...

Even his "good" attitude towards you does not cover what is here, especially with him, is unbearable.

But subconscious fear, as well as those memories of your past escape attempts, made you freeze in place when you stood next to the ventilation hole open to customers.

About the customers...

These are the days that allowed you to exhale a little, because it was at such moments that Sebastian's close attention and obsession were less, because he was distracted by the prisoners who bought things from him. And it also lifted your spirits a little, because you could talk a little with those prisoners who did not treat girls disgustingly.

It's good that your abductor did not interfere with this, even if he frowned and became more intrusive after the person left.

You fidgeted a little in your seat while you were sitting on one of the iron boxes, looking bored at the book in your hands, which you reread for the third time. Sebastian brought you this book from one of his outings. The plot was not bad and you even liked it, although after each re-reading, the book turned out to be quite boring. And not only because you already knew the story.

You listened out of the corner of your ear to the mumbling of a visiting prisoner who was fiddling with his research, greedily looking at some of the things being sold in Sebastian's bags.

As far as you remember, this person lacked literally several dozen studies to buy this. It could be seen that they were clearly in distress.

You put the book aside, raising your head.

Sweat broke out on the man's face as they rummaged in all their pockets, desperately looking for more research, but not finding it, began to sweat harder. At the time, Sebastian was looking at them maliciously, folding his two arms over his chest, clearly enjoying the discomfort of the prisoner.

You frowned quite a bit at this. Suddenly, a rather unexpected thought came to your mind: what if?..

It is at this second that the man pulls out a Flash Beacon and pulls the trigger, clearly hoping to steal the right thing in this way.

And at the same moment, when Sebastian's angry and painful scream rang out, you rushed to the vent and crawled through it.

You acted on pure instincts, moving as if your life depended on it. You could hear an even louder, angry scream as you ran out of the hallway, followed by the sound of a gunshot.

You didn't remember how long you ran like that, but you had to run as far as possible, especially when you acted so impulsively and did not report this action to Sebastian in any way... Although, if that had happened, he would have handcuffed you to a pipe or a staircase railing... But you just wanted to feel freedom at least for a short time, even without resuming the path to the crystal.

Your legs barely held you up and hurt a lot from the sudden and prolonged running, which almost made you stumble. You were breathing heavily, almost hoarsely, leaning against the wall. Gradually, as you catch your breath, you begin to fully realize what you have done.

Damn it, what have you done?

What is the chance that in this case Sebastian will not give you a very strong punishment? And then he will move with his magician to another place so that it will be harder for the prisoners to get to him, and also so that you are not familiar with the situation?..

Although it was not this that scared you more, but what kind of punishment a man would apply for your impulsiveness ...

You swallowed nervously, involuntarily looking down at your legs, which were trembling after running... Or maybe from fear of the unknown.

You started when you heard a noise in the next room and ran again, as if your life depended on it. Which was not far from the truth.

You heard a very familiar angry growl behind you, which caused you to accelerate, panicking, looking for a place where you could hide from danger. In the next room, you find a small overturned closet among other furniture scattered throughout the room, and hurry inside. You clamped your hands over your mouth, curled up in a trembling ball in the corner of the furniture.

You held your breath when you heard another crash and thud, but it was all in this room.

— Where are you, little fish? — The voice was full of growls and hisses, quite far from human speech and literally inhuman.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying not to move a muscle, when you heard the sound of a body sliding on the floor, as well as the way the furniture moved, almost breaking under the force of the hybrid's claws.

— Do you remember I warned you not to run away? Or have you forgotten that?! — there was another sound of furniture moving, but this one, apparently, flew into the wall. Dangerously close to where you were— ah, I knew you were dumb, but to be so lovely?

You tried not to flinch or sob at his tone and noise as he broke furniture next to you, clearly venting his anger.

— Should I break you or amputate your leg so that you stop thinking about escaping, huh?!

You shuddered weakly, shrinking into a ball from his threat, barely breathing through the tears that silently flowed from your eyes. Of course, you guessed that something would be determined, but... No, no, no...

— If you come out now, I won't do anything to you, little fish, — the tone of the voice dropped, and the hissing was not heard so much now.

But for some reason it scared you even more, which is why the instincts in your body made you freeze in place. You've never felt so terrified, even when you almost ran away the last time. You felt like a real prey next to a large predator, ready to attack and eat right like that.

Because of fear, time seemed to freeze for you, as well as all the noise that began to move further and further away from you, indicating that Sebastian was moving away from your hiding place. You were still trembling, barely able to move for the first few seconds, when you realized he was gone.

It took about a few dozen minutes before you could move, when the paralyzing fear began to subside from you. By that time, all the noise had stopped and it was terribly quiet.

It bothered you a lot and you were afraid to open the closet door, but you couldn't sit here for a long time because of a little claustrophobia and fear that the hybrid might come back and find you.

You wiped the tears from your cheeks with a trembling hand, exhaling raggedly and hesitantly and very slowly unlocked the locker door.

At the same moment, your hand was intercepted and you were literally yanked out of hiding with your scream.

You saw your own frightened reflection in Sebastian's inhuman eyes. A sob escaped your lips, breaking the silence, then a terribly quiet voice was heard:

— I. Warned. You.

#pressure roblox #yandere sebastian solace x reader #pressure roblox x reader #roblox #sebastian solace x reader #yandere oneshot #request #requests #yandere requests

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starqueensthings · 11 months ago

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We need to talk about Echo (and by talk I mean screm). S3 E13 + 14 Spoilers!

FRIENDS, I'M GOING TO EXPLODE. I need to talk about Echo for a minute. We need to talk about Echo for a minute, because he has spent the last two episodes in the absolute thralls of complete and total danger, and I personally don't feel like there's been enough of a celebratory uproar for me to be satisfied with the level of appreciation and love that man deserves. (Remember when Hunter ran face first into a colossal exhaust pipe and we all collectively lost our minds because it was so impressive and so sexy? Remember when Tech drove a speeder really fast through a tunnel and we all fainted? I'M A TECH GIRLY. IT WAS ME! I FAINTED!!) but, Y'ALL, Echo deserves that right now!! And for all eternity!!! Because he is wholly submurged in the harrowing potential of torture and execution, and he didn't even bat an eye to put himself there. My awe of him is all-consuming, so please forgive me if this rant reads as nothing but incoherent screaming.

Echo haters (first of all, we can't be friends....) come on this journey with me! Let's back pedal to the beginning of the last episode (13). He stole an imperial shuttle. Let me repeat, he stole an imperial shuttle. And not just an attack shuttle. Not just a lil one-pilot transport. Bro somehow stole a Rho-class medical transport, which is very large, obscenely conspicuous, and very easily tracked. And, to use his own words, it was "the best he could do on short notice." The man stole a shuttle on short notice. ON SHORT NOTICE? HELLO, HOW DID HE DO THAT. WHY AIN'T WE LOSING OUR COOL ABOUT IT.

Next stop on this I-love-Echo journey through my mind: not only did he provide his brothers transportation in the complete void of their own (RIP havoc bb), but he also came equipped with intel and clearance codes, and, as Rampart stated, those things change DAILY. Echo somehow procured top secret imperial clearance codes, and a fkn SHIP, within hours of the Batch requesting his help. Not to mention, the ship had yet to be reported missing (which means it was only-freshly commandeered), and the clearance codes worked. Of course they did. Echo never fails. Never doubt Echo. "Echo's on it."

Choochoo, next stop! Once they arrived on that station orbiting Coruscant, and made their way to the control room (lookin sexy as heck in his armour-au-noir), he broke imperial encryption, hacked into the Imperial database, almost instantly found them the location of a ship departing for the prison that holds their daughter Tantiss, AND THEN DIDN'T EVEN HESITATE TO CLIMB ABOARD AND STOW AWAY.

He didn't even remotely have a plan, or have time to make a plan. He didn't know who or what else would be on board that mysterious vessel. He didn't know where it was going other than the name of the fkn mountain (which has proven to be nothing but unhelpful thus far). He just ARC-troopered his way through that crowded hangar, dodging aggressive astromech's and inconsiderate loader droids, shirking from the perspective eyes of highly trained commandos, and snuck his way onto a heavily guarded, extremely unknown science vessel. Then, of course, he wasted no time, hacking into the ships control system (may I gently remind- there were at least three pilots and an officer prepping the ship for jump and closely watching all aspects of its controls), disabling the proximity sensors without being detected, and then seamlessly covered the troopers absence by pretending to be him (which we all know is what should have happened on Serenno but... hindsight is 20/20.)

So... SO.... now we're at Episode 14. Here we at fkn terrified station because HULLO ECHO IS ALONE ON A SCIENCE DIVISION TRANSPORT; we have literally seen them carry around Zilo beasts in that shit. What the heck else could be on there that they don't know about? Literally anything. Because THEY KNEW NOTHING before attaching themselves to it. Echo knew NOTHING before sneaking onto that thing and creepin' around. Thank heck he didnt come across a fkn fresh wave of slither vines ok?

NEXT, Echo shoots (not stuns- lol) a sassy fkn droid (they had it coming, not sorry), then another trooper. AND THEN discovered his only option for departing the ship once it enters atmosphere is going completely undercover, because (in true "we improvise everything" CF99 fashion that gives me heart burn just thinking about it), they had zero fkn plan to get off the ship. I will repeat: completely undercover. On Tantiss. COMPLETELY UNDERCOVER ON TANTISS. NO COMMS, NO BACK UP, NO RECON, NO PLAN, BARELY ANY GEAR, and I would just like to stress... no neuro brace. He left his neurobrace on that ship. Left it. LEFT IT AND TOOK A HAND INSTEAD. PLEASE FKN SEDATE ME.

We can't leave this station yet... This I-love-Echo train needs to linger at this point for a sec because I think it's lost on some people how wild this is. Echo without his neurobrace is huge. It's a bigger deal than Echo without his armour. Armour is, in the grand scheme of things, inconsequential (one can find more- see Howzer). Echo's neurobrace is not armour, it's a computer and it's so so so crucial to how his mind processes information and events. Don't forget, the Technounion HIJACKED HIS BRAIN. They took every memory from him and manipulated it for their gain. Pruned it, tweaked it, blanched it, poached it, turned it into scrambled eggs, and then fkn ate it up and used it to defeat their enemies (Echo's family- I'm sobbing). They implanted him with an unfathomable amount of information; they changed the way the neurons in his brain fire in relation to stimuli. That neurobrace is so so critical for him. Now, we know he can operate well enough without it, we saw it in the last episode of the TBB arc in season 7 of Clone Wars, but... please.... to what extent? We don't know what an extended time without that neurobrace looks like for him... especially when all other aspects compliing his surroundings foreign, unknown, and dangerous, and that scares me.

AND NOW HE'S ABOUT TO RUN AMOK IN TANTISS with Emerie who, (I'm sorry) is wishy-washy as heck (who are you loyal to!!!!! What is your history!!! Are you trustworthy and what are you looking to gain!!!), trying to adopt a collection of Jedi children whove spent maker-knows how long playing space tetris, WHILST ALSO ATTEMPTING TO LOCATE AND ESCAPE WITH HIS BROTHERS UNDER THE EYE OF THE GALAXY'S SECOND MOST DANGEROUS MAN.

So yes, short of d-d-d-di... can't say it... short of THE WORST CASE, Echo has made the ultimate sacrifice to save not only Omega who is literally the only person we've seen able to make him truly laugh, but all the clone brothers that he's been desperately trying to locate and rescue. His bravery and determination are literally unrivalled, and he did it while feasting on nothing but humble pie because that man wouldn't know arrogance if it danced naked under his perfect nose.

Okay so welcome, we've finally pulled into I-Love-Echo station. Before departing the ride, please stand and do a hip hip hurray for the miracle that is Echo, including but not limited to, everything he's done, is doing, and is willing to do for other people.

#starqueensemotionalbreaksdowns lol #long post #the bad batch #tbb #bad batch #tbb spoilers #the bad batch spoilers #the bad batch season 3 #the bad batch season 3 spoilers #bad batch season 3 #bad batch spoilers #bad batch season 3 spoilers #tbb season 3 #tbb season 3 spoilers #starqueensedits #tbb echo #echo tbb #bad batch echo #echo bad batch

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ilium-ilia · 1 month ago

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In Limbo

simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader | mafia!au | masterlist

Chapter Twenty-Two: say cheese

tw: non-con mention

On Valentine’s Day, Simon wakes you up the way he always does—with a kiss.

Tender lips on the apple of your cheek, he draws you into the land of the living as he cradles the back of your head with the palm of his hand. You smile; quiet and soft. He wishes he could take the pad of his thumb and trace the curve of your skin forever. To engrain it into his epidermis until he has it memorized; a new scar on his heart for him to bear for all eternity.

When your eyes flutter open, his throat feels tight. Even in the dull sunlight that seeps through his window, they shine so bright. Their illumination trumps that of any star in the sky; the twinkle of all the precious gems in the world.

“Morning, Si,” you whisper.

He melts—cotton candy caught in water, he dissolves into nothing just from your voice alone. You see it in the widening of his pupils, dark voids swallowing him whole. You lean forward. A gentle embrace between lovers, you kiss the tip of his nose before moving to his lips.

Once again he realizes that yes—in fact—he certainly could live like this.

Simon has nothing special planned for the holiday, but he tells you he’s taken the entire day off. Despite how busy Terminus gets, especially as Valentine’s Day has fallen on the weekend this year, he says he’d much rather spend the day with you; that he wants to make the most of the otherwise useless occasion now that he has someone to share it with.

Now that he has someone to love.

For breakfast, both you and Simon cook together. Dancing around the kitchen, you hum little tunes to yourself while you season your egg mixture for omelets. He often finds himself staring, or even standing behind you with his hands on your hips, swaying to the made up melody that reverberates on your vocal cords. It’s a simple waltz. A loving pas de deux.

Both of you eat with spines curved forward as some brainless programme drones on the television. His weight next to you grounds you. It is the first time—in quite a while, you think—that you can sit and enjoy a meal for the sake of the food. Not in a rush to get to work, or between patrons. Nor is it simple mush you’ve whipped up for the mere sake of feeding yourself. This must be what it’s like to live, you think. Enjoying food with the person you love. Sitting in silence as your molars grind together.

“Do you wanna go on a walk?”

Simon’s voice is still murky and warm when he asks his question as his wet hands place rinsed dishes into the washer. You hold a glass of water up to your lips as you sip—much to Simon’s content. He dries himself off on the towel by the stove before leaning against the counter.

“A walk?” you repeat.

He nods. “Reckon some fresh air would do you some good.”

“You’re… okay with that? You know, me going out in public and all?” It’s an insane question to ask out loud; as if you’re some prisoner here. As if you need Simon’s permission to do anything.

“Course. You’ll be with me,” he says decisively.

Your lips curl around the cold glass at your mouth before you lower it to the counter next to you. “Okay… yeah. A walk sounds nice.”

Your winter coat has you feeling overdressed in the uncannily warm February morning. Sunbeams swaddle you with loving fingers as you step foot out of Simon’s car. The drive was short to the park at the edge of the neighborhood. Swarms of families line the pavement and playground as parents push their children on swings and dogs play fetch with their owners. Laughter bleeds through the air like the crackling of fireworks. Sharp, jovial mirth.

Simon’s hand is heavy against your low back, even through the padding of your coat. He leads you towards his left side, putting himself between you and the street. Smiling, you tug on your left ear. The distant chatter and screeching is muffled, but Simon’s voice cuts through the noise clear as day.

“Been scrapin’ up a bit of extra cash these last couple of weeks. Should have enough to pay off Marco here in a couple of months or so,” Simon shares. His tone is casual and soft, but you catch the slight grit of his teeth when he says Marco’s name.

Nodding, you let your eyes wander to the blurry faces that line the park. Colorful children’s coats stand out against the otherwise slate, sunbleached grass and equipment like lost dots of confetti. “You still haven’t told me what else you’ll have to do to get him off my back,” you remind.

“You don’t have to worry ‘bout that, sweetheart.” You move in the corner of his eye—head whipping to the side, disgruntled brows furrowing. He offers you a quiet smile as he slips your hand into his and pulls you closer to him on the pavement. “I promised you I’d take care of it. Take care of all of it.”

“Yeah, but you’re being secretive about it. It’s got me nervous,” you admit. You swallow down the nervosity clawing at your throat and squeeze his hand in an attempt to jest. “It’s not anything weird, is it? They’re not gonna make you eat something gross or anything?”

Humoring you, Simon chuckles. “Depends… how gross are we talking?”

Mulling your thoughts over as if you have to sincerely contemplate the foul idea, you hum. “Maybe something like, a putrid rat? Or maybe a cockroach.”

“Eating a cockroach is much harder than what I’ll have to do,” Simon deadpans.

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience,” you scoff.

It takes everything within him to hold back his smirk as he shrugs. “Tommy and I were wild lads.”

Your giggle sounds in perfect time with the jocular shrieks of the children on the playground. Shaking your head, you kick at the stray rocks in front of you on the pavement. “Oh, I can’t tell if you’re joking or not. I’ll try not to think about that next time we kiss.”

“Might still have an arm or a leg stuck between my teeth.”

“Simon! That’s gross! That’s so, so gross!”

Battle cries interrupt your repulsive conversation, forcing both yours and Simon’s neck to snap to the side. There are about six young children, ranging from five to nine racing across the field, each swaddled in coats and scarves stylized into bandanas. Some carry toy swords. Their grey plastic sports a wicked curve, while others carry fat sticks. One of the kids—the largest of them all—fixes his eyepatch as he points his weapon to some imaginary destination in the distance.

“Bring me that horizon!” he demands, his voice growling as deep as his prepubescent throat will allow.

Chuckling, Simon squeezes your hand as he leads you along to continue your walk. “Odd thing to shout.”

“Odd?” you echo. “He’s quoting one of the best movies of all time!”

“Which is?”

“Pirates of the Carribean, of course,” you state, matter-of-fact. “Jack Sparrow says it toward the end of the first movie. You know, that’s how Aelin got her nickname. From that movie, I mean.”

Having piqued Simon’s interest, he looks at you from the corner of his eye. “Oh?”

You open your mouth, lips parting with a grin—but then you stop. Heart lurching, mind reeling; you realize you’ve unlocked a terrible memory. One you’ve tried to shove away. Not for your own sake, but Aelin’s.

Still, you see her. Cheeks stained with mascara, snot running from her nose which she rubs on the sleeve of her jumper. She’s white-knuckling a bottle of beer, something cheap and sour. The scent rolls off of her in reeking waves, smothering that rosewater sillage you’re so used to with her.

It hurt so bad, she says. Sitting there on the toilet. I felt so fucking useless.

Her voice slurs. Each word bleeds into the next, her tongue too fat in her mouth to enunciate properly. Her accent thickens. She sounds like Sean.

I remember when it happened with Adam. Bastard left me to deal with it alone, but not John. He held me the entire time in the bathroom… he fucking cried with me.

You don’t know what she’s talking about. She refuses to say it outright. But when she mentions her ex-fiance, you recall the first time you ever met him. Dressed in black, eyes bored and jaw grinding, annoyed with the funeral services and still holding Aelin despite it. She looked different then, at her father’s funeral.

Stomach swollen. Skin glowing.

He told me it wasn’t my fault. She takes another swig. You have half a mind to tell her to stop, but you keep your lips sealed. It feels like my fault.

“Or are you not allowed to tell me because you’ll have to kill me afterwards?”

Simon’s voice pulls you back into the present, and you push those rotting memories aside to shoot him a tight smile. Everything feels too warm. His hand in yours, the coat on your torso.

“She was… really upset about something one night,” you cautiously explain. “She invited me over when John was at work one night to talk, and she was just… pissed. Had been drinking for a little while before I got there. So I sit and talk with her as she drinks, and she’s… well, she’s crying and stuff. But the more she drinks, the better she feels, and she goes to take a sip but she’s already drank every bit in the bottle and… Well, she looks at it and asks me where the rum has gone.”

“Was she really that far gone?” Simon chuckles, though you can hear the restraint in his voice.

“Oh yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her like that since,” you nod. Then, a fit of giggles begins to bubble in the back of your throat. It claws, pounds. You raise your free hand to your mouth as if you can hold them at bay. “Wanna know the best part about it all?”

“Hm?”

“She wasn’t even drinking rum. She had bought a six pack of Madri and was drinking that instead. Oh, it was hilarious. We both burst into laughter,” you say, unable to hold back your mirth any longer. “But she quoted it just like Jack Sparrow did in the movie, so I started calling her Sparrow, and then it just shortened to Row over time. I dunno, it’s dumb, but we have fun with it. And really, it’s payback for her nicknaming me Chip.”

It’s hard for Simon to hold back his chuckle as you recall the story. It hums—rattles in his chest like caged bees yearning to burst free. “Does this mean you’ll have to kill me now that I know too much?”

“Of course not,” you playfully roll your eyes. “Just… don’t repeat it. Really, Aelin is embarrassed about that whole night.”

“Your secret’s safe with me, sweetheart.”

When the park runs out of pavement for you to tread on, you and Simon continue to persist. As you perambulate through quiet streets, you eventually end up in a hidden alley. Dated cobblestone streets create dark outlines besides each building. Some sport creaking wooden signs held up by chains that wave in the wind as if luring you inside. There is a soft whimsey to this place. A gem hidden amongst the steel muck of London.

For a while, you stick to window shopping. Thrift stores, jewelry shops, exotic tea stores; it's the entirety of the world condensed into one tiny street. You’re reminded of Christmas shopping with Simon—of your small fox keychain. Though you haven’t entered your trashed apartment in ages, you still lug the item around with you. As it rests in your coat pocket, your free hand slips inside to pet the faux fur that lines the fuzzy critter’s body.

It’s the bakery that truly catches your attention.

A large window looks out upon the greying streets, but as you gaze into the building, it’s as if you’re transported into a realm of fantasy. Bakers with dusty aprons hunch over tables as they knead and braid dough. Glistening razors slice along the soft tops to score them in shapes of vines, and it parts like split flesh. Sourdough bread cools in racks that line along the window, enticing potential customers with their impressive display of weaved loaves. There are turtles, bears—

—a fox.

Your voice does not ask to enter, but your eyes do. Simon gladly makes the detour into the shop where the two of you settle on sharing a loaf of pumpkin shaped sourdough bread and a bowl of cheese dip. You huddle in the corner next to the window where you watch people meander about. Families enjoying the day, lovers with weaved fingers, lone strangers smoking on corners with their heads down.

Once your stomachs are full, you and Simon return to the car where the young children playing pirates have vanished back home. The ride back to his house has you feeling airy—as if your body might detach from the earth and float off into space at any moment. He was right, you realize. A walk really did you some good.

You’re quick to shoulder your coat off the moment you're through the door. Tossing it onto the hanger and kicking your shoes off your feet, you make a beeline to the couch where you cuddle in the nest of blankets you’ve gathered over the course of the last few days. Lazy days, full of cuddling and watching movies and stolen kisses. Simon straggles behind, movement unhurried as he plops his heavy body next to yours.

“Movie time?” he asks.

“Only if we get to watch the best movie ever,” you stipulate. “I have to educate you, saying as how you didn’t even recognize the quote at the park.”

Chuckling, Simon concedes and begins to tap away at the remote as he flicks through various streaming services. Pulling the blankets over your lap, and tossing some onto his for good measure, you begin to burrow. Legs curled, head on his shoulder—

—your phone rings.

It vibrates. Obnoxious and greedy. Huffing, you stretch yourself out in order to retrieve the item from your pocket, and you look at the screen with blank eyes as the caller ID lights up.

Incoming Call from Bee

Eyebrows narrowing, you try not to think about the reasoning for this call as you answer and raise it to your right ear. “Hello?”

“Hey. Uhm…” Bee’s voice crackles through the speaker, her vocal fry evident as she sighs heavily. Voices bleed through the speakers; they’re distant and fuzzy, as if the room is packed with people. “Look, I don’t want to worry you but I’m just gonna come out and say it, but someone was looking for you here at Sapori just now.”

Just like that, the nadir of your day has arrived. I approaches with sharp teeth and glowing eyes that crinkle with a sickening grin. Your throat grows tight at the question on your tongue—you already know the answer.

“Oh,” you say stiffly. “Who?”

“I don’t know, he didn’t give his name, but he was a right arse,” she explains. “Barmy bastard stormed in like he owned the place and was asking for you. Nonno got frustrated with him, and called him a creep and told him to get out of his restaurant. That even if you did work here, he wouldn’t let you talk to him. It got pretty ugly. Certainly ruined the Valentine’s Day cheer.”

Head rising from Simon’s shoulder, he freezes as he watches you sit forward. “Is everything okay? No one was hurt, were they?”

“Hurt? What, no. I mean, things got a little tense but the guy ended up leaving eventually when he realized he wasn’t getting what he wanted. Which was… well, you, I suppose.”

You swallow. “I’m so sorry that all happened.”

“It’s fine,” Bee dismisses. “Everyone’s okay. But there’s one other thing. Before he left, he threw something onto the ground. It’s an envelope, and it’s addressed to you. Some sort of letter, I reckon. That’s mostly why I’m calling. Nonno told me to throw it away, but it didn’t feel right having all this happen and you not knowing about it. I don’t know, I don’t mean to scare you, but I’m worried about you, Chip.”

Everything spins. Event Horizon ripping you to shreds, wolf nails tearing through your skin—you are caged. Hidden away in a shining, safe enclosure, but the world still rages outside. Marco still moves. He still lurks.

The only reason why you’re still safe is because he hasn’t gotten bored enough to bite through the lock.

“I can throw it away for you if you want,” Bee continues.

“No. No, that’s okay. I’ll—erm—be by to pick it up later, okay?” you interject.

“Sure thing. And Chip… you’re safe, right? You’re not in any trouble or something?” she asks cautiously.

You force a smile on your lips only so that your tone softens. “Of course. I’ve been staying with Simon, so…”

Content, she hums. “Bring him with you to Sapori. Seriously. It’s smart to lug a dog like him around when there’s freaks wandering.”

The line dies. The silence that follows acts as the kindling to immolate you. Flesh bubbling free from your skeleton, your eyes pulse in your skull as you try to calm your racing heart. Simon’s hand rests on your knee; he squeezes it, forcing you to look at him.

“What is it, baby?” he asks, voice low.

“Marco was at Sapori.” It erupts from your throat. You have to force it out, or else you might not say it at all. “Bee called to say that he left me a… a letter, or something. I dunno, it sounds- I dunno. It’s weird. I don’t feel good about this.”

“Is he gone?”

“I think so, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he was waiting around for me or something…”

Unable to stand the sight of it any longer, you place your phone on the coffee table and attempt to suck in a deep sigh. Your lungs stretch. Tissue expands, blood vessels bulge, and then you let it go.

“I’ll go get it.”

Your head snaps to the side to look at him. “Si, I dunno if that’s a good idea.”

“If he’s makin’ threats to you, I need to know about it.”

Shaking your head, you fight the urge to lower your face into your hands. “He’s been threatening me for years, what good does knowing the specifics do?”

Simon rises from the couch, and the space next to you feels impossibly empty. You stare up at him as he begins to wander around the coffee table, and eventually you push yourself to your feet too.

“It keeps us prepared,” he rationalizes. “It’s nothin’ sweetheart. I’ll grab the letter, then come straight home.”

His words are unwavering. Each syllable is confident, and it lures you into believing him. And you do believe him—you just aren’t sure you trust anything else around you.

“Promise?” you demand.

Simon nods. “Promise.”

You kiss him—gentle lips on stubbly cheek. “Please don’t do anything stupid.”

The drive to Sapori takes twenty minutes, but Simon makes it in fifteen.

The door nearly swings off its hinges from the patrons that flock in and out of the building. Incessant. Never-ending. Candlelight dances through the window to greet him as he squeezes his broad shoulders through the frame. All it takes is a quick glance around the room to realize he’s underdressed. Donning a pair of faded jeans and a simple coat does not come close to comparing to the half suits and business casual attire of every other man in the building.

A new host greets Simon with a wary smile. Built just as tall and broad as a flag pole, he scratches behind his ears with gritted teeth. “Can I help you?”

“Simon!”

Bee emerges from the crowd with fat, heart-shaped earrings dangling just above her shoulders. She nearly tramples over the host in order to get around the counter as she shoves her order book into her apron pocket.

“Where’s Chip?” she asks.

“She stayed home,” Simon says gruffly.

Bee nods. Her eyes nervously flicker through the small crowd waiting outside the door. “That’s probably for the best. That fucker who was in here earlier really gave me the creeps.”

He hums in agreement. “She said you had a letter for her?”

“Well, it’s certainly not from me, but yes.” Her fingers expertly retrieve an envelope from her pocket. The corners are rounded, dulled down by the contents of her apron, but he sees your name written with a heart next to it. “I just hope everything is okay. We’re all worried about her here, especially Bruce.”

Simon relieves her from the wicked object. It feels heavier than it looks. Bulky. He slaps it against the palm of his hand. “She’s alright. I’m makin’ sure of it. Thanks for this, love.”

He decides he’s not going to wait until he gets home to open it.

As the door locks engage on his car, he keeps his head ducked low in the driver’s seat as he begins to rip through the envelope. It’s a buttercream yellow, and it smells noxious. Intruding. Like mint.

There’s a card inside. Rose pink blinds him as he slides it free, and he’s greeted by art of a large heart with an arrow shot through it as thorned roses dance around the edges. Special delivery is printed inside of the heart with an overly swirling cursive font—the brazen audacity of it has Simon feeling his pulse in the side of his neck. His thumbs dig into it like he’s peeling an orange, and several items slide out of the card and into his lap.

It reads:

Missing you an awful lot these days, babe. I really wish you’d talk to me. You know I can’t stay mad at you forever. I know you’ll come crawling back to me soon. You always do.

Until then, I’ll have to settle for these pictures. They’ll get the job done for now, but it’s nothing close to the real thing.

Love,

Marco

Hands resting against the steering wheel, Simon looks down. Strewn upon his lap are countless photos. They’re professionally printed—the film reflects the nearby sunlight, but it’s not enough to blind him from their contents. They’re pictures of you. Some close, some far. They span from different time periods, each of them recording your life for over the last decade.

There’s one where you’re in your apartment standing next to your window. The blinds are mostly closed, but it’s not enough to fully hide your body as you’re undressing. Shirt pulling up over your torso, the only clothing protecting your dignity is your bra. Another one shows you when you were a kid. Sixteen, if he had to guess. You look so young—baby faced and dressed in your uniform with your bag slung over your shoulder.

And then, on the very top of the pile, there is you with tears in your eyes as you sit in a rickety old chair in the center of a caliginous warehouse—Marco stands in front of you, grinning as he holds your hand around his eager erection.

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#ilium writing #sr ilia #in limbo #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #female reader

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urrmomzfavorite · 1 month ago

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PAC: YOUR Aura

✨💖 Heyyy cuties! 💖✨ Don’t be shy, take a little peek at my other posts—you know you wanna!

Pile One: You are a magnificent sun, a bright light shining in every room you enter. Yes, you are! People stare a lot at you, but you don’t notice since you’re in your own world. It’s hard for you not to command attention. I don’t think you’re aware of the magnetism you exude. Stop selling yourself short and please recognize who you are. You are a phoenix, constantly rising from its ashes—an eternal fire, an eternal spark. You’re downplaying yourself, and I need you to go to the mirror, actually look at yourself, admire your beauty, listen to your own voice, and be kind to yourself. Give yourself some grace. Self-care is important for you to keep up, Pile One; otherwise, you get drained by all the people pulling on your energy. Alone time is necessary. Just know that you are the son/daughter of Ra—you will rise again and again and again because you will never stop shining, no matter how hard you try to hide. It’s time for you to step into the spotlight.

✨💖 Heyyy cuties! 💖✨ Don’t be shy, take a little peek at my other posts—you know you wanna!

Pile Two: Pile Two, you are oozing confidence. You are sensual, delectable, magnetic—a lot of people want to own you, tame you, make you a novelty caged in a gold prison. It’s truly odd how people are attracted to your power but only under the guise of overpowering it. They’re silly souls who get lost in your shadow, trying to find a way to chain you. They don’t understand that you can’t imprison a free spirit. I encourage you to bask in your darkness and let it consume you. You are a storm entering people’s lives; wherever you go, somehow people’s truths are revealed, nasty or not. You trigger lots of souls without even noticing, but it doesn’t matter—this isn’t why you’re here. Your path is unique in itself. Follow your intuition, and you’ll find your purpose.

✨💖 Heyyy cuties! 💖✨ Don’t be shy, take a little peek at my other posts—you know you wanna!

Pile Three: Pile Three, I’m getting major Klaus from The Umbrella Academy vibes. LOL, I fucking love that guy. You are a leader—people want to follow you, they stop to hear you, they ask for your opinion. Does it get tiring? You naturally seem to sit in a position of authority without even noticing. It’s a lot of King of Wands energy. People admire your vision, your ideas, because they know you’ll go far, and they want to be able to tell others they were part of your journey. Riding off your success? Crazy. Anyway, you have a lot of influence; you just need to get out of your head. Believe in yourself and confront your fears. Only then will you have a better concept of your true self. Random note, but a lot of people have crushes on you. A LOT.

✨💖 Heyyy cuties! 💖✨ Don’t be shy, take a little peek at my other posts—you know you wanna!

#tarot reading #tarot cards #tarot #tarotblr #tarotcommunity #pick a card #pick a picture #pick a pile #astrology #spiritual journey

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jezabelle9299 · 9 months ago

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Caretaker S.R x fem!Reader

Reader is hired as a live-in caretaker for Diana. Describes when she accidentally flooded the apartment, but I kind of mess with canon and plot. Could kind of take place after prison other than that. Diana ships Reader and Spencer. Reader is a graduate student in an online program.

C-Ws: Diana slaps reader, descriptions of alzheimer's and schizophrenia, Spencer is not used to people trying to take care of him and thinks he'll scare away reader.

(I've worked in a memory care/assisted living facility, and have a few relatives with alzheimer's and schizophrenia. But this is based on my still somewhat limited experience. And I have no medical experience, mostly just hospitality and comfort based work)

You had finally gotten to the address the agency gave you, after waiting a short eternity in the Washington traffic. It was a live-in caretaker job of a woman with schizophrenia and alzheimer's, living also with her son who traveled often for work. Your contact at the agency said the son, Dr. Reid was very nice and was ok with your slightly more limited experience. You buzzed and after a little while the man you assumed to be Dr.Reid came to the door.

“Hi, you must be Ms.Y/L/N from the agency, I’m so glad you’re here.” He looked both shocked and relieved, like he thought you wouldn’t actually show up. While you were trying not to notice (Or at least trying not to show) that you thought the doctor was particularly gorgeous. But he would not only functionally be your employer, but also a sort of roommate. Plus you really wanted this job, you were a little new to being a live in caretaker after working in assisted living facilities since high school. You were in a grad program now, one you were completing online that allowed you to have caretaking as your career.

“I’m happy to be here! You must be Dr.Reid?”

“I am, and this is my mother Diana Reid.” He gestured to the woman on the couch, who had yet to even look at you. I mean you were kind of invading her house, so you couldn’t blame her. But you were determined to make her like you, I mean this job is a huge opportunity, and as you were new to the city the live in position was a two-birds-one-stone situation.

“Hi Ms. Reid, I’m Y/N, it’s lovely to meet you. Your son has told me so much about you.” You gave her a nervous wave as you walked in front of the couch, still attempting to give her space while being in her line of sight.

“I’m sure he has. I don’t need a stranger hovering over me.” She then stormed into the adjoining room, shutting and locking the door behind her. Dr.Reid attempted to chase after her, finding the door locked from the inside and calling out to her.

“Mom, please just meet her! You’ve chased off every other nurse from the agency!” he got no reply, and solemnly turned back towards you. He was exhausted, dark circles under his eyes and he looked utterly dejected.

“I’m sorry to waste your time, I understand if you’d like to leave.”

“I’ll stay, unless you’d like me to leave.” confusion and hope clouded his expression, you weren’t giving up that easy.

“That was just a first meeting, I get that she doesn’t want me in her space, but she might warm up to me. Plus, one of the best ways for me to get to know her right now is through you.”

“Oh my god, thank you so much. Today is one of her worse days, she’s not usually like this I swear.” He looked elated at the fact you didn’t leave so you knew you were getting the job. He just needed the help too much, and you were determined to get this woman to like you. From what Dr.Reid had already told you over the phone, she seemed like a wonderful woman you’d actually really like to know. She just had to not hate you first.

“It’s ok, just a bad day. I totally understand she’s upset. Why don’t you and I talk until she comes out?”

“Yes, here have a seat, and I’ll grab you some water.” He hurriedly cleared some books off the couch so you could sit, disappearing into the kitchen and returning with a glass of water a few moments later. While he was gone you pulled your work notebook and some pens out so you could take some notes.

“Thank you Dr. Reid, that’s really sweet.”

“Of course, and you can call me Spencer.”

“Alright, really quick just like my experience and such, I’m sure the agency told you most of it. I’m a little new to being a live-in caretaker, but I have experience at a couple assisted living facilities. I’ve taken care of a few family members with schizophrenia as well as alzheimers so I have experience with that as well. I’m a graduate student so I’ll work on some classwork during times when your mother is resting but it’s all online so it shouldn’t interfere with anything.”

He nodded along patiently as you basically read him your resume, and then responded in kind. “That all sounds great, I travel as part of my work so I may be gone for a few days to a week at a time, but it should never be for too long, and as this is a live-in position I’ll leave a card you can use for anything you or my mother need while I’m gone.”

“That’s very kind, thank you. So, could you run me through a regular day for your mother? Just all of it, the activities she likes, medications, food times, all that good stuff so I can be prepared, and not change her routine too much.” You bounced back and grabbed a pen to start taking notes to help you remember all of the information.

“Absolutely, yeah. Does this mean that you’ll take the job?” He looked so full of hope at the sentiment.

“If you’re offering, then yes I’d love to. I can start whenever you’re ready.” He lit up and pulled you into a hug you were not at all prepared for. He smelled really good, which was only made more noticeable by the sharp inhale you took in surprise of the gesture.

“Oh. Hi.” You couldn’t think of anything else to say during the hug to cut the tension you were feeling. He clearly took this as discomfort and pulled away.

“Sorry, I jus- Thank you. That is amazing, thank you so much.”

“Of course, I really need to thank you for the opportunity. I look forward to getting to know your mom.”

You talked about different logistics, as well as him giving you a short tour of the house before you had to leave, before Diana would re-emerge. You started the next day, with Spencer there to start to ease the transition in the morning. After he left you and Diana, confident that she was having a good day, he headed for work.

Diana did not have a good day after getting some rest after lunch. She needed to take one more medication, but when she woke up, she didn’t remember you. At least not as you the person her son hired to take care of you, she thought that you were using her son to get information on her. She thought you were there to manipulate the both of them, so when you offered her medication she wouldn’t take it.

You did all you could do, you waited. And then after a short window had passed you gave her a drink with her medication in it, which after she drank, she realized it was the medication. She called you a fascist, and then unfortunately, slapped you. This wasn’t the first time a confused elderly person had gotten physical with you, so you attempted to keep your professionalism in tact. She ran to the bedroom, and you sat against the wall, reading to her from a collection of poetry Spencer said she loved.

When you went to check on her and she was safely asleep, you continued cleaning the mess from the previous day. A small flood spread through the apartment, damaging several books and leaving towels littered around the room after Spencer had collapsed from exhaustion about the time you finished unpacking for the night. Spencer came home about the same time, to towels freshly in the wash, and you attempting to start repairing the books. You had a friend who was a librarian, and between a phone call with her and extensive research on the internet you’d made some progress. Books were spread out around you, in various states of drying and re-drying. You only noticed when you heard the door shut that he had come home, not hearing the key turn in the lock like you thought you would.

“Hi.”

“Hi, uh-what are you doing?” He was carrying a leather satchel that he was now setting on his desk, and he shoved his hands in his pockets. His brow cocked in confusion as he looked at you.

“Oh, I noticed the books that got damaged, and your mother is still resting so I thought I’d get started on the drying process. I promise I asked my friend, she’s a librarian so that I wouldn’t make it worse.”

“Wow, that is really sweet, thank you Y/N. I really appreciate it.” He was walking closer to where you were sitting on the floor in the living room, carefully avoiding the spread-out books.

“How’s mom doing? Did the rest of the day go alright?” He turned on the lamp by the couch, before moving a few of the books to sit. You had just started talking about his mother’s day, when his expression completely changed. He noticed the small mark on your face, and sprang off the couch, moving to the floor near you.

“What happened?” You didn’t realize what he was talking about immediately, looking down to see if something was wrong you hadn’t noticed. When he gestured toward his own cheek, you remembered.

“Oh yeah, Diana woke up from her nap after lunch and she got a little confused. She thought I was someone else, and that I was trying to get information about her. She slapped me, but it’s really no big deal. She just got confused is all.

“No. No, that most certainly is a big deal.” He said it firmly, like there was no room for argument. But you jumped to yours, and his mothers, defense.

“It’s really not. It’s common when alzheimers or dementia patients wake up not knowing where they are. She didn’t mean anything by it, I read to her, through the door, that poetry collection you mentioned yesterday. I think she liked it, and she felt better after she took her meds, she at least got some more rest.”

“That’s great- but I don’t want you to feel trapped here. If something isn’t alright, you can tell me, and I would understand if you wanted to leave.” You nodded to let him know you understood, and then followed it up with leaning back against the front of the couch and a small smile.

“You know if I didn’t know any better I’d think you were trying to get rid of me.” Your attempt to lighten the mood was not really helping.

“No!-Believe me, that is not what I was saying. I really appreciate you helping my mom and I out, but I just want you to be here because you want to be.”

“Well thank you, Spencer. But it’s really ok. It doesn’t even hurt, I promise.” You made a small cross-your-heart motion to convey the truth of your sentiment.

Now, why don’t you help me with these books, while I switch out laundry.” you pat him on the shoulder as you walked by. The first time the two of you had touched since the hug he thought had made you uncomfortable. His sweater was soft under your skin, his shoulders firm. But you kept walking, you were on the clock after all.

When you walked back you started gathering the restored books to put back, and tried to get back to work related conversation, or at least tangentially related to work. “Alright, towels are in the dryer, and I’m sorry I can’t quite figure out what your system is for these books. Could you point me in the direction of where these go?” You gestured to the small stack in your arms, and he immediately got up.

“It’s a combination of the dewey decimal system, and a little bit moved around based on sentimentality, I can put these away. Thank you again for helping me dry them. I know it’s not really in your job description.” Ok has no one helped this man? He is very over appreciative of the little things, and he looks like he’s scared you’ll run away any second. It’s sweet, but my god.

“I like to be helpful, and there was also a little selfish motivation. I was curious about your taste in books. I mean you have so many, I had to be a little nosey.” You kind of attempted to add a flirtatious tone, but you were still hoping this crush would go away. This was a job, and it would be nice if you didn’t get overly attached to him. Although it was a little late for that.

“I don’t know if i’d call it nosey, it’s nice that you’re curious. What did you think?” He was looking between you and the floor, while blushing. Maybe he liked you too. Wouldn’t that be nice.

“I mean I’m no profiler, but I can take a guess.” He had told you about his job and what it entailed as it required him to be gone for long periods of time. So you kept the flirty undertone, somewhat under the guise of silliness, as you two moved closer together, whether consciously or otherwise.

“I think you read A LOT. Like more than I probably could in a lifetime, and since I know you don’t exactly have excesses of freetime, you have incredible reading comprehension. Speed reader maybe? And some were in a few different languages, so maybe a linguistics major in college? Could be your doctorate. Also the style of the books is contributing to the apartment both functionally and as a decoration. They’re as much comfort objects as they are entertainment. So if I had to guess, you were a shy kid who read a lot.”

“Alright, not bad at all. Although my doctorates are in mathematics, engineering, and chemistry. The languages are easier because I have an eidetic memory. I am a speed reader, as our subconscious minds can process significantly more than our conscious minds.” There was one part consciously left out. He couldn’t have forgotten, he told you so himself. But you couldn’t resist, you wanted to know him. More than accomplishments and accolades.

“And the last part?” He looked upset, and you regretted asking it. It must have really bothered him, really been over the line.

“Yes, I was a big reader as a kid. I was a prodigy so making friends wasn’t easy, and I’m sure you noticed I’m kind of- well- odd.” odd? I mean interesting, or extraordinary sure, but odd wasn’t the word you’d use. It felt so…negative.

“I don’t think you’re odd. The prodigy aspect makes sense though, especially since I know you have 3 doctorates instead of the 1 I assumed you had. Also, if it makes you feel any better I’m kind of speaking from experience. I had more books than friends when I was little too.” You were sharing a small smile as you stood near the wooden shelves, until you heard the bedroom door open, and you stepped away from each other, gaining back the space you lost.

“Hi Diana, did you sleep ok? Is there anything I can get you?” She gently shook her head, confused, but piecing it together as she woke up.

“No, thank you. Spencer, who's your friend? Is she- is she your girlfriend?” She spoke in a hushed tone for the last part, like it was a fun secret between the 3 of you.” He looked like an embarrassed teenager, as he turned toward his mother.

“No, mom. This is Y/N, she’s taking care of you, you guys spent the day together?” She started to understand, but kept giving Spencer a look like she didn’t quite believe him.

After you cooked dinner, something Spencer also tried to convince you wasn’t necessary. Seems like he wasn’t used to being taken care of. You cleaned the kitchen, giving Spencer some time with his mom before you all resigned to bed. You didn’t cross paths again for a few days, with Spencer leaving before dawn for a case.

When he returned a few days later, after many call and text updates on his mothers condition (that occasionally strayed to more personal topics of your life, but you wrote it off as him being polite) he found you and his mom sitting on the couch, like the best of friends flipping through her scrapbook as she told you stories from Spencer's childhood. It was a good exercise to keep her mind sharp, as well as helping her feel more comfortable with you.

“Hi Spencer, how was work?” He looked confused, and he was moving cautiously like he didn’t want to disturb the fleeting moment of happiness. His mother was happy, and the woman he had an ill-advised crush on were spending time together. In his home. It was perfect.

“It was good, it looks like you two had a good day?” His mother nodded her approval, and gestured for him to sit down.

“We did. Your mother read me some of her favorite books. And I didn’t know you could do magic! We were just looking through her wonderful scrapbook.” You directed the last part to Diana, wanting her to know how much you appreciated her trust. Spencer had the same embarrassed teenager look he did the previous day.

“I’m glad you’re home Spencer, but it is late and I’m going to go get some rest.” His mother got up from the couch, and gave him a hug goodnight. Once she had disappeared back into the bedroom, you turned your attention back to Spencer.

“There’s a plate for you in the fridge if you’re hungry by the way.” He still looked surprised, like he couldn’t believe you’d cook for him when he wasn’t even home.

“Thank you, I have to finish a little bit more paperwork, but that sounds wonderful.”

“It’s really no problem, I hope you like it. But before you start your paperwork, I’d like to request a magic trick.” He seemed perpetually confused. And he was. He couldn’t believe you, so happy, so sweet, and so kind. You wanted to see his dorky magic tricks and fix his books and talk to his mom. He knew you were being paid, but it wasn’t that much. Not enough for most people to go this far above and beyond. This was all you.

“You really want to see my magic?”

“Yeah, I’ve never seen a magic trick in person, that’s really cool. And it’s a little easier to practice inside than the trapeze.” You both laughed, and his blush grew even deeper. He grabbed a set of cards from a prized spot on his bookshelf, part of the very small space not crowded with actual books.

He offered the cards, fanned out to you and asked you to pick one. You picked the ace of hearts.

He pulled the 2 of diamonds, looking confident for maybe the first time since you met him. “Is this your card?” A part of you really wanted to lie. He looked so happy, but you just muttered a quiet no. He tried again, looking confused as to how he got it wrong the first time. This time he pulled the 6 of clubs

“Is this your card?” You shook your head and he flipped through the deck, cards still facing down. Looking through as if something was missing, his brow furrowing as he did. You could see the moment realization struck, it was as if a cartoon lightbulb appeared over his head.

He leaned toward you and your breath hitched. Once your faces were so close you could’ve leaned forward and made contact, he pulled the correct card from your hair. And when he held it up for you, he smiled when you lit up.

“Is this your card?” He spoke a lot quieter now, and he moved the little bit of hair that had fallen into your face during the trick back over your shoulder. When you thought you’d explode if he stayed this close without moving any closer, he did. His stubble grazed your face as he connected your lips. His were a little bit chapped, but they still felt soft the way he moved them. He sighed when he pulled away and you were worried you did something wrong.

“I shouldn’t have done that. I’m so-so sorry.”

“Why? I mean I know why the situation isn’t ideal, but why are you sorry?”

“Because you are currently relying on me not only for employment but for a place to stay, and I shouldn’t have just put that pressure on you. I lost control, and I’m so sorry. I understand if I made you uncomfortable.” He sat back down on the couch, but this time you followed him. You really liked him, even though you’d only known him a couple of days.

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable. I don’t feel pressured, and I didn’t kiss you back because I’m currently staying in your house. I kissed you back because I wanted to, I’ve been wanting to kiss you since you hugged me when I accepted the job.” He finally looked back at you, with those big brown puppy dog eyes, and you grabbed his hand.

“Really? Are you sure you want that?”

“Certain. Spencer, I really like you. And if you like me too, then we can talk about how that would work logistically. We could figure something out. If you don’t want that or don’t feel the same way, we can forget about this. We never have to talk about it again, and we can just keep it professional.”

“No!” He rushed out, his voice cracking a little. He cleared his throat, straightened his posture and started again. “I don’t want that, I do like you too. And I definitely want to figure this out.” You squeezed his hand and smiled. He liked you too. It felt so high school, but that made you want to either squeal with joy, or tackle him onto the couch.

You settled on a cool neither, instead giving him a kiss on the nose as you got up from the couch. And he watched you, hesitantly letting your hand go, like he thought you said all that just to leave.

“We are definitely having that conversation…tomorrow. You haven’t eaten and, cute as you may be, you look like you haven’t slept in days. So we will finish this tomorrow, whenever you’re ready.” You pulled his plate from the fridge, placing it in the microwave so that he could eat something. He looked at you like you were the sun, the moon, and the stars.

“You think I’m cute?”

“Yes Dr. Hot stuff, I think you’re cute. I thought we just went over this?” He blushed even more at the doctor comment. You looked at each other until the timer snapped you out of it. You set the plate on the table and wished him a goodnight, as you moved to the guest bedroom. You couldn’t sleep, you were so excited. But you wanted him to be in the best possible headspace, this was a big decision.

When Spencer finished his dinner and his paperwork he moved to the master bedroom, still buzzing with excitement. When he closed the door his mother stirred. She spoke quietly, still half asleep.

“Spencer, you really should take Y/N out. I think she has a little crush on you. And you deserve someone who can take care of you.” Then she drifted back to sleep, but Spencer was still beaming.

#dr spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fandom

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