#like his shining eyes saying he's ready to die smiling | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bed-chemist · 3 months ago

Note

ommmmg can u write something with nicolas being a new dad x reader wife 🙏🙏🙏 maybe them visiting his family during a short trip and him being sooooooo daddyyyy 😭😭 after seeing him in those GH pic with this baby …. 🥵😮‍💨 i just need a dad imagines with him since there isn’t any

❝Juno❞

─⋆♡ summary: You’re married to Nicholas Chavez and you bring your newborn baby to meet his grandparents.

─⋆♡ warnings: pregnancy, postpartum depression, fluff, allusions to sex but no smut, Daddy!Nicholas Chavez, Y/N used a few times, 1st person POV. as always i’m always learning so correct me if i missed something!!

─⋆♡ an: based on this ask & shoutout to that person because this was super sweet to write. there’s no public info on his parents and i felt weird looking for it so here’s some Chavez grandparents content. since this may be your introduction to me, i do write in first person, just inserting Y/N. 2nd and 3rd person are absolutely insufferable to me and make me wanna die. with that being said, i’m glad there’s no shortage of those fics on this website. my masterlist is the pinned post on my profile and i hope you all enjoy this imagine! ★ ˙ᵕ˙ liv

The journey to Nicholas’ grandparents’ house is filled with quiet anticipation. We haven’t visited in a while, not since Colette was born. I can’t help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness at the thought of introducing Colette to her great-grandparents, Nick SR and Betty. Nicholas always speaks of them with such affection, often recounting tales from his childhood spent at their cozy home. They were instrumental in raising him, and their influence is deeply ingrained in who he’s become. Now, I’m eager to see how they’ll respond to our little family, especially to me as a new mother.

The sun is high in the sky as we pull into the gravel driveway, which crunches under the tires. The house is a charming, white colonial-style home with flower boxes beneath the windows, bursting with vibrant blooms. It looks like something out of a postcard—quaint and welcoming. Nicholas squeezes my hand as he turns off the car.

“You ready for this?” he asks, his brown eyes twinkling with excitement.

I smile, though my heart races. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” I respond unwilling to let his hand go for the last time.

I eventually gain enough strength to go a second without touching him. We both step out of the car, and I unbuckle Colette from her car seat, carefully lifting her into my arms. She’s dressed in a soft, pastel onesie with tiny flowers embroidered on the front. Her big espresso colored eyes, so much like Nicholas’, blink up at me as she squirms a little in my hold. I kiss her soft forehead, breathing in that sweet baby scent that always seems to calm my nerves.

Before we even reach the front door, it flies open, and Betty appears on the porch. Her face lights up in a radiant smile as she hurries down the steps toward us. She’s a small woman, but she moves with surprising speed and agility, her silver hair tied back in a loose bun.

“There she is! Oh, it’s about time!” Betty exclaims, ignoring Nicholas entirely as she comes straight for me and Colette. Her arms are wide open, and she pulls me into a hug, careful not to crush the baby between us. “You, my darling, look even more beautiful than the last time I saw you. And this precious girl…” Her voice trails off as she gazes at Colette with shining eyes. “Oh, she’s just perfect.”

I laugh softly, returning her hug. “I’ve missed you, Mrs. Betty and thank you.”

Betty steps back, her hands still on my arms, her attention fully on Colette. “No, thank you! You brought another little angel into our family,” she says, her voice thick with emotion. “You’ve made me the happiest great-grandmother.”

Nicholas, standing off to the side, grins as he watches the scene unfold. “Hey, Grandma,” he chimes in, clearly amused. “Good to see you too.”

Betty waves a hand in his direction without even glancing his way. “Yes, yes, Nicholas. We’ll get to you in a minute.” Her eyes shimmer as she reaches out to gently stroke Colette’s chubby cheek. “She’s absolutely precious,” she coos. “She looks just like Nicholas did when he was a baby.”

Just then, Nicholas’ grandfather steps out onto the porch, his tall frame casting a shadow as he approaches us. His blue eyes light up when he sees me holding Colette. “Well, if it isn’t our favorite girl,” he says with a warm grin, pulling me into a quick hug before peering down at Colette. “And look at this—another beauty in the family. You’ve done well,” he adds, giving Nicholas a nod of approval before clapping him on the shoulder.

“Well she is 50% of me so…” Nicholas’s twinge of jealousy for his favorite girls peeks out.

“Oh, hush, Nicholas,” Betty replies, waving a hand at him dismissively before turning to me again. “Come on, dear, let’s get you inside. You must be exhausted after the drive. And you must let me hold this precious girl as soon as you’re settled.”

Inside the house, the smell of freshly baked bread wafts through the air, mingling with the scent of herbs and flowers. The living room is cozy and welcoming, filled with family photos and knick-knacks that speak of years of love and memories. There are pictures of Nick as a little boy, his brother, and even one of us on our wedding day.

Betty leads us to the couch, offering to take Colette for a little while so I can rest. “She’s such a calm baby,” Betty remarks as she cradles Colette in her arms. “I remember Nicholas being a little firecracker at this age—always kicking and fussing. But you, my dear, are an angel, aren’t you?” she coos, her voice full of love as Colette blinks up at her.

Nick Sr. settles into an armchair nearby, watching with a contented smile. “Betty’s right,” he says, his voice warm. “Nick was a handful. Always running around and getting into trouble. I don’t know how we managed to keep up with him.”

Nicholas chuckles, settling beside me on the couch and wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “Yeah, I’ve heard those stories a few times.”

“I bet you have,” Betty says, her eyes twinkling. “But look at you now—such a wonderful father and husband. We’re so proud of you.”

My heart swells at their words, and I feel a wave of gratitude wash over me. It’s clear how much they love Nicholas and how deeply they cherish their family. Their affection extends to me as well, making me feel welcomed in a way that eases the nervousness I had felt earlier.

Betty carefully passes Colette back to me, and I can’t help but notice how her eyes linger on us—on the way I hold my daughter, the way Colette nuzzles into me. After a moment, she glances at Nick Sr., sharing a look that seems to speak volumes.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” Betty says suddenly, rising from her seat with a bright smile. “We have something to show you.”

She disappears into another room, returning moments later with a large, leather-bound photo album. She hands it to Nicholas with a wide grin. “These are pictures of you when you were about Colette’s age. I thought it’d be fun to compare.”

Nicholas takes the album and begins flipping through the pages, his eyes lighting up as he sees the photos. “Oh wow,” he says, pointing to a picture of himself as a baby, bundled in a blanket. “Look at that, she really does look like me.”

I lean over to see the photo, and sure enough, the resemblance is striking. Colette has inherited her father’s dark hair and expressive eyes, and there’s something about the way she smiles that’s undeniably Nicholas Chavez.

Betty beams. “She’s got that same spark in her eyes that you had. And those cheeks! I could pinch them all day.”

I can’t help but smile as Nicholas flips through more photos—Nicholas as a toddler, covered in mud from head to toe; Nicholas on his first day of school, looking serious and determined; Nicholas holding a toy sword, pretending to be a knight. It’s clear that his grandparents were there for all of it, capturing every moment with care.

“Look at this one,” Nicholas says, laughing as he holds up a picture of himself as a toddler, sitting in a high chair with spaghetti sauce smeared all over his face.

Betty chuckles. “You loved spaghetti. Still do, if I remember correctly.”

As we continue to flip through the album, Betty excuses herself and motions for me to follow her into the kitchen. I hesitate for a moment, unsure of what she wants to talk about, but her kind smile reassures me.

Once we’re alone, she turns to me, her expression soft and full of understanding. “I just wanted to tell you that you’re doing a wonderful job, Y/N,” she says, her voice gentle. “Being a new mom is hard, and it can feel overwhelming sometimes. But from what I’ve seen, you’re handling it beautifully.”

I feel a lump form in my throat at her words, the unexpected kindness bringing a surge of emotion. “Thank you,” I say quietly. “It’s been… challenging at times. I have moments where I wonder if I’m doing it right.”

Betty reaches out and takes my hand, squeezing it gently. “Those moments of doubt are normal. Every mother feels them. But you have such a natural way with Colette. She feels safe and loved with you—that’s the most important thing.”

I nod, blinking back tears. “It’s just… sometimes I feel like I should be able to do more. I get so tired, and Nick’s been amazing, but…” I trail off, stopping myself from revealing my biggest insecurities.

Betty’s eyes soften even more. “It’s okay to ask for help, dear. You don’t have to do it all on your own. If you ever need anything—advice, a break, someone to talk to—you can always come to me. I’m here for you, and so is Nicholas. We’re all family now,” she offers.

Her words wrap around me like a comforting embrace, and for the first time in a while, I feel a sense of relief. “Thank you,” I whisper, grateful beyond words.

Betty smiles and gives my hand another gentle squeeze. “You’re doing wonderfully. Just remember to take care of yourself too, okay?”

I nod, my heart swelling with appreciation for this woman who has welcomed me into her family with open arms. As we walk back into the living room, I feel lighter, the weight of my doubts lifting just a little.

Nicholas looks up as we enter, his eyes softening as they meet mine. “Everything okay?” he asks, his brow furrowing slightly in concern.

I smile, feeling a warmth spread through me. “Yeah,” I say softly. “Everything’s perfect.”

As the afternoon fades into evening, Betty leans forward with a warm smile, her hands clasped in her lap. “It’s been so wonderful having you all here today,” she says, her eyes soft as she looks between Nicholas, me, and Colette. “Why don’t you stay the night? It’s been far too long since we’ve had a full house, and we’d love the chance to spend more time with you.”

Nicholas turns to me, his voice gentle as he asks, “What do you think? We don’t have anywhere to rush off to, and it would give me a break from driving back tonight.”

I hesitate for a moment, weighing the offer. I think about Colette’s bedtime routine, the packed bags in the car, and my own exhaustion. But as I glance around at the warmth of the house, Nick’s grandparents’ eager faces, and the calmness that seems to settle over everything, I feel myself relax. It’s been a long time since we’ve had a change of scenery, and the idea of spending more time here—surrounded by family—sounds like exactly what I need.

“That sounds wonderful,” I say, smiling at Betty. “Thank you. We’d love to stay.”

Betty’s face lights up, and Nick Sr. nods with a wide grin. “Perfect,” he says. “We’ve got the guest room ready, and I can set up the bassinet in the guest room next to it. It’ll be like old times, having a little one in the house again.”

Betty stands, already making her way toward the kitchen. “I’ll put some tea on for later. You two make yourselves at home.”

Nicholas squeezes my hand, a smile spreading across his face. “See? It’s going to be a nice, quiet night—just us, Colette, and the best grandparents ever.”

The evening unfolds comfortably from there. Betty and Nick Sr. share stories about Nick’s childhood over cups of tea, their voices light with laughter and nostalgia. As the night deepens, we finally make our way to the guest room. It’s cozy and inviting, with a soft bedspread, and warm lighting.

Colette falls asleep easily after nursing, making for an easy bedtime routine. Nicholas and I kiss her on the forehead goodnight once we’ve got her situated in the bassinet. We separate briefly to prep for bed and when I’m finished, I crack open the door to the en-suite bathroom.

Nicholas looks up from a script, setting it to the side of the bedside table. My feet patter over to him and he pulls back the duvet for me to climb in. “I’m so tired,” I note as I slide between the sheets.

He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me closer to his body. “I know, baby. Maybe my grandparents will watch her in the morning so we can sleep in,” he theorizes lowly, but I can still feel the bass of his voice rumbling from his chest into my back.

I sigh, letting my eyes flutter closed. It’s been an emotional day, and I’m ready for sleep. “It’s okay if they can’t. I love you,” I whisper.

“I love you too, Y/N,” he breathes out with his lips kissing my ear one last time.

My body lets me drift into sleep, hearing nothing but Nicholas’ breathing and the faint sound of crickets outside. But that peace is eventually interrupted by the familiar sound of Colette’s soft cry filling the quiet room.

I blink awake, momentarily disoriented, unsure of where I am. The dimly lit room feels unfamiliar, and for a brief, groggy moment, I can’t remember how we ended up here. But then the memories come rushing back—the visit to Nick’s grandparents, Betty’s kind words, the warmth of the evening.

With a heavy sigh, I sit up in bed, my body aching with fatigue. I haven’t gotten nearly enough sleep, and Colette’s cries, though soft, feel like they’re pulling me out of the little bit of rest I’ve managed. The sheets feel cold, and for the first time tonight, I realize Nick’s arms aren’t wrapped around me as they usually are.

The bed dips beneath me, and I hear the soft thud of feet padding across the floor. “Shit,” Nicholas mutters under his breath as he comes into view. I lift my head, watching him groggily fumble with the baby monitor to turn down the volume.

His chocolate tinted eyes meet mine in the dimly lit room, his face softened with a sleepy smile. “I got it, baby. Go back to sleep,” he murmurs, his voice thick and gravelly.

I don’t resist as my head falls back onto the pillow. Nicholas tucks the duvet around my shoulders, his touch warm and reassuring, and leans down to kiss my forehead before slipping out of the room.

As my eyes flutter shut once again, I can’t help but feel immense gratitude for him—for understanding, for seeing me. Nicholas has always been an amazing partner, but since Colette was born, something has deepened. Maybe it's the way he’s embraced fatherhood, those tender daddy traits emerging in him day by day.

I don’t know how long I drift in and out of sleep before the bed dips once more. This time, I turn over to face Nicholas, only to find him kneeling on top of the duvet, cradling Colette in his arms. He gently rocks her, and his brown eyes, full of apology, meet mine. “I'm sorry, babe,” he says softly. “She’s hungry, and I checked the fridge and my Grandma must’ve given her the rest. We’re out of pumped milk,” he gives his valid reason for disturbing me.

With a tired sigh, I push myself up, scooting back against the headboard. “It’s okay,” I reply, motioning for Nicholas to hand Colette to me. “It’s not your fault I don’t pump fast enough for her.”

Nicholas shifts closer, still kneeling, his eyes warm with reassurance. “It’s not your fault either, baby girl,” he says tenderly. “You’re doing everything right. She’s just got my appetite, that’s all.”

Nick’s words bring a smile to my face as I take our little girl in my arms, feeling the love and support that radiates from him. Colette’s small body relaxes the moment she’s nestled in my arms, and I adjust my position to help her latch on. Instinctively, her tiny mouth finds its way, and I feel that familiar pull as she begins to nurse. The room is quiet now, save for the soft sounds of her feeding and the gentle rustle of the duvet as Nicholas shifts beside me, sitting back in his spot where he just laid.

The weight of exhaustion still presses heavily on my body, but there's something calming about this moment—something intimate and grounding. Colette’s little hand rests against my skin, her tiny fingers curling and uncurling as she nurses. Despite the tiredness, I feel a sense of peace wash over me.

Nicholas watches us, his expression soft and filled with admiration. He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair away from my face, his touch tender. "You’re amazing, you know that?" he whispers, his voice barely more than a breath in the dark.

I smile faintly, my heart swelling at his words, but before I can respond, he continues, his eyes never leaving mine. "I don’t tell you enough how much I love you... both of you." His gaze flickers to Colette, his eyes warm and full of adoration. "Watching you with her... seeing how strong you are, how much you give every day. You’ve made me the luckiest man in the world, Y/N."

His words sink into me, wrapping around my heart like a warm blanket. The weight of my earlier guilt begins to lift, replaced by the quiet assurance that I’m not alone in this. We’re a team, navigating the highs and lows together.

"I love you too," I murmur, my voice thick with emotion as I glance down at Colette, her soft breaths steady against me. "And I’m so grateful for you. I couldn’t do this without you."

Nicholas leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead, lingering for a moment as if sealing the promise of his words. "You’re the best mom, you know that? And she’s lucky to have you," he murmurs, his lips brushing against my skin.

I close my eyes, soaking in the warmth of his presence and feeling the steady rhythm of Colette’s nursing. In this moment, the exhaustion, the doubts, and the guilt of my postpartum depression fade into the background, leaving only the love we share—the love that brought Colette into our lives.

Nicholas settles back into bed beside me, his hand resting gently on my leg, a silent reminder that we’re in this together. And as Colette’s soft suckling continues, I let myself fully relax.

Once Colette finishes nursing, her tiny body grows limp in my arms, signaling she’s drifted back to sleep. I carefully adjust her, cradling her small frame against my chest. Nicholas is still sitting beside me, his hand never leaving my leg, his eyes filled with the kind of tenderness that makes my heart swell.

“Do you want me to take her?” Nicholas asks softly, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

I nod, and with practiced gentleness, he scoops her up and places her between us on the bed. Colette barely stirs, her little hands curling up by her face as she nestles into the space between us. The sight of her lying there, so peaceful and content, brings a soft smile to my lips. My body involuntarily slides down and I stoke her cheek with the back of my finger.

Nick lays down with his head propped up in one arm, the other sliding around me. But as I gaze at Colette sleeping peacefully between us, a small wave of anxiety creeps in. What if we roll over onto her during the night? My breath hitches slightly, and I turn my head toward him.

Nicholas immediately senses my concern and shifts closer, his hand coming to rest gently on my cheek. "Hey, don't worry," he says softly, his voice reassuring. "I’ve got her. We’ve got her. I won’t let anything happen." His thumb brushes against my skin as he speaks, his gaze steady and full of calm. "I’ve read up on this, remember? She’s safe with us. We’re light sleepers, and we’re both hyper-aware she’s here. I’ll make sure we’re careful."

I nod, though the worry still lingers. Nicholas leans in closer, his breath warm against my ear. "You won’t roll over on her. I won’t either. Trust me, baby. And if you’re still worried, I can take her back to the bassinet,” he assures me.

I glance down at Colette, her tiny chest rising and falling, completely at ease between us. There’s something comforting about her being so close, something I don’t want to give up. "No," I say softly, shaking my head. "I want her here with us. I just... I get nervous sometimes,” I admit to him, the concerns laced with my postpartum depression symptoms.

"I know," he murmurs. "But you’re not alone in this. We’re doing it together, okay? She’s safe. We’ll keep her safe,” he promises.

His warmth and the calm assurance in his voice help to ease the anxiety a little, and I let out a slow breath. I snuggle closer to him, nestling my head in the crook of his neck. "Thank you," I whisper.

Nicholas kisses the top of my head, his hand stroking Colette’s tiny arm before returning it to my waist. “I used to dream about this,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “You, me, and a baby… just lying here like this, all together.” His eyes shine in the dim light, filled with a quiet wonder. “I’d imagine what it would feel like, how perfect it would be. But this... this is even better than I imagined.”

His words sink deep into my chest, filling me with warmth. I glance down at Colette, her chest rising and falling steadily between us, and I feel a wave of contentment wash over me. “I’m glad too. It’s everything I didn’t know I needed,” I whisper back.

Nick’s thumb rubs gentle circles over the exposed skin on my side, and for a while, we lie there in comfortable silence, both of us watching Colette sleep. I feel the weight of his arm around me, the warmth of his body, and I can’t help but think about our future—about the life we’re building together.

After a while, I glance up at Nick, my voice soft but curious. “Do you ever think about… having another one? Another baby, I mean.”

His reaction is immediate. His brown eyes light up, the glint of excitement undeniable. He grins, that boyish, playful smile I fell in love with, and there’s no hesitation in his voice. “Oh, absolutely. I thought one of you was cute, but two though? Didn’t think I could handle it. But now that I’ve experienced it, I want three of you as soon as possible,” he rambles.

I laugh softly, both amused and surprised by his enthusiasm. “Three of us, huh?” I ask to clarify he’s not drunk on love.

“Yeah, babe,” he says, his hand moving to stroke Colette’s tiny hand before trailing over my arm. “We could start trying as soon as possible. I mean, why wait? We make great babies together,” he jokes and I stifle a laugh to not wake up our sleeping child.

His grin turns mischievous as he leans in closer, his voice dropping a little lower. “We could even try out some freaky positions this time… you know, spice things up.”

I roll my eyes playfully, shaking my head at him, though my heart flutters at his words. “That’s all you, God bless your dad’s genetics,” I tease, eyeing him with a smirk.

Nicholas chuckles, clearly enjoying my response, but there’s a seriousness in his eyes too—a real desire to keep building this life together. “I’m serious though,” he murmurs, his hand moving to rest on my waist. “I want more of this. More of us. I want a whole bunch of mini versions of you running around, driving me crazy in the best way.”

His words hit me in a way I wasn’t expecting, and I feel a flush of warmth spread through me. I lean closer, letting my fingers trace over his arm. “You’re really ready for another one, huh?”

Nick’s gaze locks with mine, intense but full of love. “Yeah, Y/N. I don’t just want another one. I want a whole football team of kids with you. As soon as you’re ready,” he says firmly.

I bite my lip, considering his words, feeling the quiet excitement bubbling up inside me. “I might just let you lock me down tonight,” I tease, my voice soft but playful.

His eyes darken slightly, that same spark of mischief flickering in them. “Oh, baby, don’t tempt me,” he murmurs, leaning in to press a lingering kiss against my lips.

I pull back slightly, laughing against his mouth. “Let’s not rush it,” I whisper, even though my hormones are raging at the thought. “But... I do love the idea of growing our little family,” I add to soften the blow of sex denial.

Nicholas grins again, his arm pulling me closer as Colette sleeps peacefully between us. “Then let’s make it happen,” he says softly. “One more baby… and then another after that, we can talk again. I just know I want it all with you. Every first word and every first day of school, my love.”

I smile, resting my head on his shoulder, letting the warmth of his words and the future he envisions wash over me. “One step at a time,” I murmur, though the idea is already taking root in my mind, the thought of more little ones filling our home with love.

As we lay there, cuddling around Colette, the future feels wide open—and incredibly full of promise. The room is quiet, the soft hum of the night surrounding us, and as we lay there, I feel the steady rise and fall of Nick’s chest beneath my palms.

“Goodnight, baby,” he whispers, his lips brushing against my ear. I smile softly, my body already succumbing to sleep as I whisper back,

“Goodnight, Nicholas. I love you,” I murmur, never getting tired of reminding him.

“I love you too,” he replies, his voice full of warmth and certainty. “Both of my girls.”

With that, the last thing I feel is the warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of Colette’s breathing between us, and the overwhelming sense of love that wraps around the three of us, pulling us into the soft cocoon of sleep.

The next time I stir awake, it’s to the feeling of the sun shining on my face. Nicholas’ familiar presence is next to me, his body relaxed as he leans back against the headboard. I can feel the steady rhythm of his breathing, the slight rustle of pages as he quietly reads. For a moment, I let myself enjoy the comfort of having him close.

But something is wrong.

I don’t feel Colette.

The tiny body that was nestled between us is gone, and in an instant, a wave of cold panic floods my chest. My breath catches, and my heart starts to pound, my worst fear bubbling to the surface. Oh God, did I roll over her? Did we…?

My eyes snap open, and I sit up abruptly, frantically scanning the bed. My hands reach out, patting the mattress in blind desperation as my breath quickens. Where is she? My mind spirals into worst-case scenarios, and my pulse races faster with each second I can’t find her.

Nicholas looks up from his script, his brow furrowing as he notices my panic. “Y/N, baby, what’s wrong?” His voice is calm, but I can hear the concern lacing his words.

“Colette,” I breathe, my voice barely a whisper as the fear clutches at me. “She’s not here, Nick. I—where is she?”

Nicholas immediately places his script aside and sits up, reaching for me. His hands find my shoulders, grounding me. “Babe, she’s fine,” he says gently, his voice steady, though I can see the alarm in his eyes as he realizes why I’m panicking. “Grandma has her. She came in earlier to take her so you could rest. She’s with her now, probably showing her off to her knitting group. Everything’s okay.”

I stare at Nicholas, the rush of adrenaline still coursing through me, but the words slowly sink in. Colette isn’t in danger. She’s not here because Betty took her.

I let out a shaky breath, pressing a hand to my chest as the fear begins to ebb away. “I thought… I woke up and she wasn’t there. I thought we—” My voice falters, not even wanting to finish the thought.

Nicholas pulls me into his arms, holding me close. “I know. I’m sorry. I should’ve woken you to tell you, but you looked so peaceful, and I didn’t want to disturb you,” he apologizes profusely.

I nod against Nick’s chest, the tension finally loosening from my body as I cling to him. “I just… that’s what I’ve been afraid of, rolling over her in our sleep,” I admit.

“I know,” Nicholas murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “But I would never let that happen. I swear that to you,” he adds.

I take a deep breath, letting the warmth of his embrace steady me. My pulse slows down, and the overwhelming panic that had gripped me starts to dissipate, leaving me feeling drained. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have freaked out.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Y/N,” Nicholas says, his hand gently stroking my back. “You’re a mom. It’s normal to worry, but I’ve got you. I’ve got both of you.”

I pull back slightly, meeting his eyes that are full of understanding. “Thank you,” I whisper, my voice still shaky but filled with gratitude.

Nicholas smiles softly, brushing a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “Get some more rest, okay? Grandma’s got Colette covered.”

I nod, feeling the last remnants of panic finally fade. I glance at his script beside him and give a tired smile. “You’re memorizing lines this early?” I pry.

He chuckles. “Just passing the time until you woke up. But you come first,” he vows.

I sink back into the pillows, the warmth of Nicholas beside me a comforting presence now that the fear has passed. As I close my eyes, the world feels right again. Colette is safe, Nicholas is here, and I let myself relax fully for the first time since waking up. The panic has faded into the background, leaving only the steady hum of reassurance from my husband beside me.

#nicholas chavez x y/n #nicholas chavez one shot #nicholas chavez #nicholas chavez x reader #nicholas alexander chavez #Nicholas Chavez fluff #nicholas chavez imagine #daddy!nicholas chavez #dad!nicholas chavez #husband!nicholas chavez #nicholas alexander chavez imagine #nicholas alexander chavez one shot

647 notes · View notes

irishmammonagenda · 11 months ago

Text

Death is a Debatable Thing-Obey Me x Reader

Summary: MC died 😱 and reincarnated as an angel, as per usual; chaos ensues. Word Count: 6.9k Warnings: Mention of Death, Cursing, Torture (mentioned, no torture happens) Michael is featured heavily in this, I just made up a personality for him, I don't play NB a lot (it makes me too sad) and I think he shows up there so if this is different to how he's portrayed there then L for me. Everyone except Luke was written as and can be read as Romantic(/platonic if you prefer)You can read Michael as Romantic, but I wrote him more Platonically.

post dividers from @saradika-graphics on tumblr (their dividers r really cool check them out if u havent fr (sorry for tagging you btw i just wanted to give credit)

"Absolutely not." You say, looking at your new found wings. "I did not die just to be reincarnated with the ugliest clothing I've ever seen."

"Would you have preferred to have been reincarnated as bare as Eve was in Eden?" The man you'd come to know as Michael. His dark skin shone in the blessed light of the celestial realm, his thick curly hair was pinned back in such a delicate fashion you wanted to unpin all the ornaments in it. Your fingers twitched at your sides.

"Isn't that against modesty rules or something...?" You paused, Simeon was an angel, he essentially had his ass out at all times anyway. Whore.

Michael stares at you weirdly, before playing with one of the loose strands of his hair, pulling the tight coil until it was completely straight before letting go and letting it spring back up again. Now you really wanted to mess up his hair. Just to annoy him.

"So anyway..." You start, sitting on a cloud that you fall through. For a moment you think you're about to pull a Lucifer and fall through the sky, but you manage to grab onto something and pull yourself up. That something is Michael's ankle and he's laughing at you, wiping a tear from ruby red eyes that shine just like that of his fallen brother.

"Stop laughing at me! Anyway, when can i go to the Devildom?" You inquire, watching Michael's face turn stern. He glares down at where you're lying, still gripping his ankle

"You're not returning to the Devildom anytime soon." He says sharply.

Your breath hitches. "Why not?! I have to let the brothers and Dia and Barbs and Sol and everyone else know I didn't die!"

"You did die. Why do you think you're an angel." Michael sighs, "and no. You're not letting them know you've returned."

"Why not?!" You repeat, outraged. "No offence though MC, but you´ve just died." "So?" You reply with indignation. "So," Michael says in a mocking tone, pitching his deep voice up high before letting it fall down the octaves once more. "You're barely able to walk on clouds or do anything yet. Letting you down to the Devildom is the equivalent of sending a baby bird into a den of lions."

"But...they'd protect me." You said softly, Michael's tone softens as well, laying a gentle hand on your shoulder.

"They'd also over-protect you, they've just lost you. I don't think you're ready for that smothering just after your death."

You nod. Michael's soft expression turns devious, "Plus, this way, you have plenty of time to think about how youre going to scare my broth-...the brothers and everyone else whilst proving you're alive...well an angel..."

You grin too. "Amazing point Mr Michael."

He plays with his golden locks again, an idiosyncracy. "Anytime" He grins before beginning to walk again, you grab onto his ankle tighter. "Oh and Mc?"

"Yeah?"

"Call me Mr Michael again and I'm shaving all you hair off. And trust me. Angel hair does not grow back." He smiles evilly. You shudder.

Well it turns out Michael is a fucking liar.

After being a little bit too bored during your second month of being an angel and first month of learning not to fall through the clouds in Michael's private garden that consists purely of clouds and a singular harp he stole from some poor Irish Deity, you go bored and snipped your unnaturally long angel hair up to your waist. You didn't want to go too short just yet.

In the time frame of a week you learnt two things.

One: Angel hair does grow back, maybe a tiny bit faster than human hair, and Two, Michael was babysitting the harp. Turns out the Deity was called the Dagda and he was visiting France on holidays for some reason, poor man, having to go to France and deal with all the French People there. Turns out he left the harp in Michael's hands, something about Fomoranians not being smart enough to see this one coming.

You just nodded and slowly backed away. Michaels red eyes followed you. He and Lucifer had to be twins.

Another day passed. The more you thought about it, the more Michael and Lucifer had to be twins. After having cut your hair to just below your shoulders, you found a piece of unnecessarily fancy parchment paper and a quill on Michael's desk

Holding the black quill in your hands you felt a sense of familiarity wash over you. Was that?....

No fucking way.

Michael was using one of Lucifer's feathers as a quill. You cackled.

After much deliberation you'd realised you could not write with a quill, but also that you were very good at ripping paper and making blotches of ink on said paper with a quill.

You decided to snoop in Michael's desk for a pen, instead you found a drawer titled, 'LUKE ONLY' in cursive letters, the label was stuck to the drawer so obviously you opened it.

Colouring books, letters written by Luke from the Devildom, Report Cards, Crayons, Drawings, and a pack of stickers were left in the drawer, a notepad lay next to it, Michael's cursive handwriting all over it 'Activities to do', it had things like 'Bowling' and 'Baking' and 'Gardening' and 'Teach him how to knit' and 'Arts and Crafts' and 'Prank Jesus' and 'Take him to Human Realm Cinema' and and anything else really. You cooed, your ivory wings rustling happily.

You grabbed a crayon and began to write.

WHY MICHAEL AND LUCI ARE TWINS one; same eyes two; both evil three; both hot four; satan is basically luci's son if you think about it and michael has blond hair too, if luci and michael are twins that means that blond hair is in the gene pool and thats how satn has blond hair even though luci has black hair five; both like wearing dramatic cape coat things six; both of them baby luke seven; they ha

"What are you doing?" Michael asks, startling you, and ruining your next point of 'they have hands', "Why is my drawer open?" He grabs the parchment from you, reads it and bellows out in laughter.

"We are twins you could've asked." He smiled, "also put the crayon back thats Red and Luke likes colouring in Teddy Bears red."

"Yessir."

You were a master conspiracy theorist.

In the end, you and Michael had decided on visiting the Devildom for 'diplomatic' reasons, but upon seeing the glint in his eyes it was probably more for 'dicklomatic' reasons seeing as he's an utter dickhead.

You had a veil covering your face, seeing as you were still kind of legally and widely believed to be dead.

You know, the usual.

You walked behind Michael, attempting to kick at the back of his knees, it never worked sadly. You took a deep breath as you reached the RAD council room doors.

Michael grabs you by your shoulders whispering into your ear. "Now remember MC im going to use you as a bargaining tool, so keep that veil on till i say so, got it?" He grins.

You nod, knowing that 'bargaining tool' in Michaelish translates to 'im bored and want to see a dramatic reunion'

Michael opens the doors.

You walk in with him but stand at the door awkwardly, steeling yourself so you don't immediately run into any of your idiots' arms.

Luke apparently had the same idea, as when he saw Michael, he let out a happy 'yip!' kind of sound similar to a puppy's and then ran from where he stood beside Simeon and Solomon into the Archangel's arms.

Michael catches him happily, petting his head as the young angel nuzzles into his hair, blabbering on about who knows what. Asmo takes a photo of it, everyone else stares with varying levels of fondness, awkwardness and 'meh'.

Sadly for you however, once Simeon is done greeting Michael, and Michael is now distracted by Luke introducing him to Barbatos who is apparently the 'bestest baker in the world!' (you could agree with that sentiment), Simeon walked over to you, his serene smile on his face.

"Hello, I'm Simeon, forgive me for asking, but do I know you? You have a familiar aura."

You shake your head.

"Oh, never the matter" Simeon smiles, "What's your name then. my friend?"

You clear your throat and put on a deep american accent, "Rupert...Pleasure to meet you...Simeon.."

"Are you sure we haven't met before?"

"Certain." You say in the same ridiculous voice.

Simeon nods, he excuses himself after Solomon calls him over, you turn to glance at Michael who is carrying a now sleeping Luke in his arms and gently stroking the boy's golden hair while stressing out Lucifer with questions. Satan looks on with a smirk on his face.

Glancing around the room you see similar scenes, Mammon and Levi are playing a game on the latter's switch, Asmo, Solomon and Simeon are talking, sometimes glancing at you. Barbatos and Diavolo were watching Michael annoy Lucifer, with both sometimes adding their input, causing Michael to laugh loudly then stiffle it, so as not to wake up the sleeping baby in his arms. Beel and Belphie were near the others but still off in their own twin world, Belphie was awake and watching Michael bully Lucifer from where his head laying sleepily on his twin's leg.

Raphael, Thirteen and Mephisto had been sent out on a top secret mission the day before, Michael had said it was because he didnt want to die and also did not want his death to be put in the RAD Newspapers, especially a picture of him that was less than flattering.

Even though everyone seemed joyous, you noticed an air of sadness, like something was missing. Looking at your old seat in the student council you see the amount of flowers set on it.

Against your better judgement, you walk towards it. Not noticing a few pairs of eyes following you.

When you reach your former desk, you notice a photo of you framed, it was you and everyone, a family photo, everyone was either in their demon, angel or reaper forms, you wore really cheap red horns with a halo you shoved on one of them whilst also wearing an old reaper robe. It looked ridiculous, you loved it.

"Enjoying yourself? Rupert.~" a honeyed voice startles you. Asmo, although, somethings in his voice, maybe anger, maybe suspicion.

"Uhhh.." You say in your fake american accent.

"I'm Asmodeus, avatar of lust.~ Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Guess so." You shrug Americanly, thankful once more the veil covers your whole face.

Asmo's eyes have some hurt in them, he seems...catty, probably because you, who he thinks is a random stranger is just standing at his dead loved one's desk.

You open your mouth to say something, but no sound comes out, especially not when another familiar voice is added to the mix.

"Well hello. I don't believe we've met before. The name's Solomon. You must've heard of me."

Oh shit.

"Oh...I have, briefly! Hello Solomon, my name's Robert." You say in your fake deep american accent voice.

Asmo tilts his head, "I thought your name was Rupert?"

Shit.

"Oh. Yes" You quickly bullshit, "My name's got the hyphens, Robert-Rupert." You avoid eye contact despite the fact you have a veil covering your face that only lets you see out of it, so the sorcerer and demon can't even make eye contact with you, even if they wanted to.

This was getting awkward.

"You seem very familiar Robert-Rupert." Solomon says, you did not like that crafty smile.

"I get that a lot." You nod before walking away.

You walk towards Michael who, has a now awake but sleepy Luke in his arms, he sits on one of the sofas in the council room beside Simeon, with Barbatos, Diavolo and Lucifer facing them on the other sofa. Atleast you'll be safe from Solomon over here. As you walk, you notice Satan, Beel and Belphie have left. Either Lucifer was going to get pranked or Lucifer was going to get pranked but not as prankily because Beel unknowingly made puppy-eyes. Mammon and Levi were bickering quietly in a corner (shocking they could do it quietly) about who won the lat round of Devilio kart.

When Michael saw you approaching he waved you over, beckoning you to sit down in the empty space beside him, "This is an angel I'm currently training, their name is.....Steven."

Simeon tilts his head "I thought their name was Rupert?"

Michael clears his throat awkwardly.

You make your voice the deep horrible American accent, "My full name is Robert-Rupert-Steven...it's hyphenated."

Michael nods aggressively.

Lucifer, Simeon, and Barbatos side-eye eachother. Something was going on here.

"So, Robert-Rupert-Steven," Barbatos begins, his polite smile a little jagged at the edges, "I saw you at MC's desk earlier, how so?"

At the mention of your actual name, everyone there tenses up, Luke, thankfully is too sleepy to have realised, Michael quickly stands up with the small angel in his strong arms, knowing if he heard the conversation about to occur he would be upset, "I should probably go, give this one a walk around to wake him up a little. Simeon, would you like to come with me?"

Simeon nods, Michael and Him leave the council room, with Luke sleepily holding both of their hands and walking slowly along with them.

Now you were stuck with the Prince of the Devildom, the Scary Butler and the Scary Single-Dad. All of which haven't realised that it's you, and all of which thinking you are a random stranger.

"Well, Robert-Rupert-Steven?" Diavolo asks, his friendly demeanor the tiniest bit strange,"What captivated you to go towards MC's desk."

"Who's MC?" You decide to play it dumb. Bad decision, seeing as all three stiffen, Barbatos' being the most unnoticeable.

A very long 3 hour conversation went by, wherein, Diavolo, Lucifer, Barbatos as well as a certain Mammon and Levi who joined 10 minutes in, and an Asmo and Solomon who joined 12 minutes in talked about you, for 3 hours straight.

'AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.' was an accurate reprenstation of your mental state actually.

The urge to just rip your veil off right there was almost stronger than the urge to dropkick Maddi anytime you remembered she existed. Keyword being almost.

You just about made it out of the council room with your life. Now for your master plan. Scare the absolute shit out of the Anti-Lucifer-League. That'll get them back for never listening to your amazing prank suggestion of leaving random origami swans around the house in random spots. It was genius!

Breaking into the House of Lamentation was always easy when you knew that Mammon hid his emergency house key behind the garden gnome that now you saw it....kind of looked like a really bad rendition of Michael. With its dark skin, A DnD-esque robe and, a horrible smiley face painted on it, and the worst crime of all, bright yellow, almost neon hair, and also a princess tiara.

You almost cackled.

Taking the key you slowly open the door to the kitchen and sneakily sneak in. Sadly for you, it was they key to the kitchen door to the outside of the back of the house, which meant it opened in the kitchen, and since it opened in the kitchen, you awkwardly waved at Beel, who was having a midnight feast.

Beel tilts his head. "You're the Angel from earlier. What are you doing here?"

You once more, fake your Robert-Rupert-Steven voice and say, "I have Materials for the Anti-Lucifer League as they've suggested."

You are such a good liar.

"Oh," Beel nods, normally he wouldn't let a stranger into the house, but something felt...familiar...and safe with you. "Okay then, do you know where you're going?"

"Yes."

Beel nods, and goes back to eating the pudding labelled 'MAMMONS: BEEL DONT TOUCH THESE'

After much searching, you do not find the Anti-Lucifer-League, but you do unfortunately, open the door to Lucifer's office. The place where Lucifer currently is.

He looks up immediately on guard. You are not prepared to die a second time,

"What are you-" He begins, in demon form and standing up.

You interrupt him, making 'woooooh!' sounds and waving your arms about, and in your Robert-Rupert-Steven voice, you say "Wooooh! I am the....ghost of christmas past!...Woooh! and I am..." You pause, not noticing your Robert-Rupert-Steven voice has began to slip away, and your natural one has taken its place. "I am here to tell youuuuu.....to woohhhh! Take breaks more! Woooh!....and not overwork yourself! Woooh!"

Lucifer pauses, the danger in his eyes fades into disbelief. He knows that voice. He's spent the better part of a year listening to recordings of that voice and praying to his Father for the first time since the celestial war for that voice to return to him.

"..MC?.."

You've been found out. Quickly you put your Robert-Rupert-Steven voice back on, except it's gone up 12 pitches. "Who's MC?! Haha! What a weird thing to sa-"

You don't get to finish, as Lucifer pulls your veil off. His breath hitches upon seeing your face.

Your covers been blown. All because you pretended to be the ghost of Christmas past. Great.

Lucifer immediately pulls you into a hug, arms tightening around you, as if he's afraid you'd disappear. He chuckles, wiping tears from his eyes, his frame shakes. "I thought-thought I'd lost you forever...I always thought your face was angelic...-...it's fitting."

You hug him just as tightly.

But ever the menace, after about an hour or so, you look up at the Avatar of Pride, "Say, Luci?"

"Yes, my dove?"

"Wanna help me prank the rest of them?"

"Perhaps...I might help with...some setups..." He pauses, "You are telling Barbatos outright though."

You shudder. "Of course I am. I don't have a second deathwish."

Lucifer's grip on you tightens slightly, you kiss his cheek in apology. "Sorry," You grin, "Too soon?"

"Try again in another century dear."

The next day, the first thing you and Lucifer do is travel to the Demon Lord´s Castle.

Barbatos greets you in the Entrance Hall, "Oh, Lucifer," He nods in greeting at the eldest of the brothers (second eldest actually, seeing as Michael enjoys bragging that he's older by a whopping total of 2 minutes) he turns to you, who put the veil back on, "And Robert-Rupert-Steven, Welcome to the Demon Lord's Castle, although, I must ask, why you have shown up today?"

In your Robert-Rupert-Steven voice, you accidentally, against your better judgement, and rather impulsively state; "I'm here to assassinate Dia-...volo."

A portal opens, dragging you through it, and you land in the feared rumoured dungeons. Barbatos follows gracefully, now in Demon Form. Leaving a sighing Lucifer in his wake in the Entrance Hall. He decides to just journey to Diavolo's office and discuss things related to work. Barbatos wouldn't hurt you when he found out it was you so he really had nothing to worry about. Maybe you'd finally learn to stop joking about assassinating Diavolo, especally when other Noble Demons were around at Balls.

Sadly for you, you were now alone in Barbatos' Dungeons. Now what's scarier than being alone in Barbatos' Dungeons? Being alone with Barbatos in Barbatos' dungeons.

Time to run away.

As it turns out, running away isn't very easy when magic chains pin you to the wall. In your panic, you blurt out, "You know, I'd rather you pin me to the wall haha!" in your normal voice. The fear forcing your horrible puns and jokes to slip out.

Barbatos, who had been approaching menacingly calmly with a torture device pauses so fast it gives you whiplash. (Better than getting whiplash from the whip he was previously holding.)

In some display akin to a cockroach kind of squirming about after you crush it, in your chained up state you manage to twitch enough that you were able to pinch a piece of your veil's fabric just enough that it falls to the ground.

Immediately, the magic chains fall away, strong arms catch you as you stumble. "Hi Barbs..." You say breathlessly.

Barbatos looks like he'd seen a ghost. (You were an Angel, thank you very much.) After your death he had tried and tried to pull a you from another dimension. It would never work, some force stopped him each time. (To be fair, it was probably your jealous ass. No way in Diavolo were you being replaced by yourself from another dimension.)

His bottom lip trembles, much like the rest of his body, as he leans in, "May I, my dear?" You nod, giving him your consent as he kisses you so gently, as if he feared you would break or fade away.

He murmurs apology upon apology for the fact he had no doubt frightened you, he couldn't risk a threat to Diavolo, your 'death' had left him a little...tethered and emotional.

You close your eyes and kiss him again, now noticing you're in the kitchens and not in the spooky scary dungeon.

"Wanna bake cookies? Like we always used to do?"

Barbatos nods softly. "You do have to tell Lord Diavolo you're actually alive though, little lamb."

Your eyes light up. "We could make a cake! And hide me inside it!"

Barbatos sighs, but looking at your puppy eyes, he agrees. Gently he picks a stray ivory feather from your wings, making them rustle at the touch. Devil...you looked angelic.

Baking with Barbatos was always fun, but sadly he did not agree with your attempt at throwing flour at him.

"MC?" He catches your attention, bringing an ungloved hand to caress your face, "Have I ever told you that you shine brighter than all the stars in the Devildom?"

You blush and try to cover your face when he turns away to add more eggs into your batter only to find flour on your face. That sneaky bastard! Psychological warfare is illegal. And that sure felt like it.

It was on.

Apparently it was only on for you though. Though you did get a speck of flour on Barbatos' apron. That was a win, especially if you ignore the fact that your face and apron were covered in the white powder, which you were ignoring! So take that Barbatos!

In the end, the cake was beautiful, Barbatos helped you into the cake, and cut out a you shaped hole out of the layers made.

He then helped you out again, and the Flour War began again only this time with icing.

Hiding in a cake is quite a fun experience. Especially when you can take bites of your hiding space. Yum yum.

You feel Barbatos' wheeling of you stop as he reaches Diavolo's office, he knocks on the door, and as you requested, begins to film on his DDD (you had to promise the video would never get out of your hands.)

Diavolo sat alone, Lucifer had had to leave an hour before, Beel had went on a rampage in Hell's Kitchen again apparently.

"My Lord, I feel you have been feeling down, so here is a treat." Barbatos says, "And as a special treat, I will allow you to cut it yourself." He nods at Diavolo who you can just picture has stars in his eyes as you hear the demon butler walk to a corner of the room, still filming.

Diavolo brings the knife to the cake, as it cuts into it, you grab the blade and pull it forward. Upon hearing Divaolo's confused murmurs, You peek through the tiny hole the knife made, seeing Diavolo distracted, tilting his head like a child and asking Barbatos what he should do now.

You however know what you should do now.

Quick as a flash, you shove your hands through the cake, reach for Diavolo's arms and pull him in face first.

You didn't even care if it was probably treason. Diavolo's suprised screaming and Barbatos' slight surprised chuckle was so worth it.

It was worth it for Diavolo even after 4 hours, as he held you in his big arms, whilst the both of you were still covered in cake. Barbatos, the traitor, snapped photos of this and sent them to Lucifer.

On a great note, Diavolo agreed to help prank the rest of the brothers with you, much to Barbatos' dismay. (The butler was definitely going to help you with a certain sorcerer, however)

After a night and day at the castle and a very extensive bath, you recollected your veil, and snuck out (read: Barbatos and Diavolo waved goodbye to you and gave you some left over cake for the journey home) of the castle, you began your walk to Purgatory Hall.

Michael was staying there, and you needed to tell him everyone's reactions so far.

It was also a Saturday, meaning that Solomon would be out in Sorcerer's society meetings all night and morning.

When you got there you made use of the tree there and climbed up it until you saw something in Luke's room. You paused your climbing and looked in through the window.

Two figures were in the Young Angel's room.

As Luke lay tucked in in his bed, cuddling the dog plushie that Mammon had given him at a carnival last year that he claims to have thrown away, Michael and Simeon sat on his bed, the nightlight on the boy's bedside table created a gentle glow that the two elder were using to read the storybook strew across both of their laps aloud, they appeared to be acting it out ever so slightly. When Luke finally drifted off. Both Angels kissed his forehead then dimmed the nightlight down slightly, dim enough where it wouldn't hurt the boy's eyes but bright enough that the dark wouldn't scare him if he woke up in the middle of the night, keeping the curtains open for added light.

You cooed silently, your white wings rustling.

Snapping out of it, you scale across the wall before finding the spare room Michael was staying in and breaking in.

"Hello Motherfucker." You greet the Archangel.

"You couldn't pay me to fuck your mother."

"Harsh. And here I was about to tell you my escapades..." You sigh dramatically. Michael immediately smiles sweetly. Buttering you up. You cave.

After about an hour of Michael laughing at you specifically, and then changing your contact to 'ghost of christmas past' the bastard finally fell asleep.

Feeling thirsty, you snuck downstairs into the kitchen to get a drink, and also a sharpie so you could draw a mustache on Michael's face. Not bothering to put your veil on seeing as no one would be awake anyway.

As you filled up a glass of water and leaned against the kitchen counter drinking it, lost in your own plans, mainly of who to prank nest and how to do it.

You don't hear the little pitter-patter of feet until it's too late.

"MC?" A sleepy Luke stands in the doorway in cat themed pajamas no doubt gifted to him by a certain someone, he holds his dog plush loosely as he rubs his eyes with a tiny fist.

He walks slowly towards the cupboard, pouting sleepily when he realises he can't reach it, you immediately grab his favourite mug,(the one with the red tractor on it) knowing to put milk and some sugar in it before placing it in the microwave for 2 minutes.

Luke walks over to you still half asleep, resting his face on your side, you bring him in for a hug. "Simeon said you went to a happy place after you left, he always got sad when I asked when you were coming home..."

You bite your lip and speak softly, "My flight got delayed for a little while," You lie. Luke didn't need to know you died, Simeon hadn't told him in the best of ways to shield the young boy, that worked out in your favour.

You catch the microwave before it beeps, taking the warm milk out and stirring the hot-spots out of it before handing it to Luke. With his teddy now in the crook of his elbow, he sleepily took the mug before putting his tiny hand in yours.

"C'mon Luke, let's get you back to bed." You say softly, he nods tiredly.

"Will you tuck me in? And read me a bedtime story?" He yawns quietly.

"Of course."

After closing his curtains and tucking Luke in, he snuggles up to you and you read him a bedtime story, after drinking his warm milk, he falls asleep quite quickly, so do you.

A mistake, really. Seeing as in the morning when Simeon comes in to wake the small angel up and sees you there he lets out a shriek very out-of-character for him.

A shriek which wakes both you and Luke up.

Luke smiles toothily, "Oh Simeon! MC came back last night! Did you not see?"

Simeon collects himself, "I must've been asleep Luke, why don't you get dressed then come down for breakfast? Michael and I made pancakes. M-MC, why don't you come downstairs now?"

Luke nods and gets up dutifully.

As soon as you leave the room and Simeon is sure you're both out of the earshot of Luke, he pulls you into a hug which you return.

"I thought I'd lost you.." He breathes out softly.

"Me? C'mon Simmy...you know I'd never let death keep me." You laugh, he laughs breathlessly.

"I suppose not...." He captures your lips in a soft innocent kiss before leading you downstairs, hand-in-hand.

When Michael sees the two of you he offers you a pancake, far too casually for Simeon's taste.

Simeon looks between the two of you and glares at Michael. "You knew about this."

"Haha! Funny story actually! I need to go help Jesus! He's gone and ventured into another desert!" Michael laughs nervously before booking it, only coming back when Luke appears, knowing then he's safe from Simeon's wrath....

....for now.

You took out your super serious napkin and crayon that you stole from Diavolo (read: Diavolo gave you) and crossed out Simeon's name.

Your list was now as follows:

Purgatory Hall Simeon Solomon House of Lamentation Mammon Levi Satan Asmo Beel Belphie

For Satan and Belphie, you could knock out two Anti-Lucifer-League Birds with one stone. It felt a little mean to prank prank Levi and Beel...Mammon and Asmo were debatable, but you were going all out on Solomon. That'll teach him to turn you into a sheep that one time 2 years ago.

After careful deliberation and planning, (20 seconds of thinking.) You'd decided to sneak into the Sorceror's society and jokingly attempt to assassinate Solomon, and maybe fully assassinate Maddi if she was there. Not maybe, definitely.

Veil over your head, you walked in, when the sorcerer guards stopped you, you just pretended to be Michael then walked further in. Apparently they were terrified of the Archangel. Damn this society needs better sorcerers securitying it.

After stealing schedules you realised Solomon would be in a meeting right now with a bunch of no names. Oh well.

You crept into the meeting and attempted to plunge the butter knife Barbatos' gave you from the castle kitchens specifically for this in his neck, knowing he'd dodge. "This is for the Sheep Potion you Rat Bastard!" You screech like a Bean Sídhe. After half a millisecond of shock and slight anger, Solomon realises who it is behind the veil, laughing he grabs the arm you're holding the butter knife in and drags you into his lap, gently ripping the veil off of you and giving you a peck on the forehead, before he turns to the shocked and slack-jawed sorcerers that looked older than he did. "Sorry all, my adorable partner," He puncuates the word partner by pulling you closer to him, "missed me a little too much. and has-" He kisses you on the lips passionately for a moment, leaving you very much breathless and him very much chuckling, "-strange ways of showing their affection."

Bastard.

Some time into the meeting you whisper, "How are you not more shocked?"

"Well Robert-Rupert," He whispers teasingly back to you, "Remember that binding spell we did back when you were alive? It never broke. I knew the moment I saw you."

Your heart stops. "Did you tell anyone else?"

"I debated telling Asmo, but I suppose you wanted to on your own terms." He teases.

"I should've tried to stab you with a sharper knife."

Solomon laughs, "Oh and MC my love?"

"Hmm?"

His eyes glint predatorily, "You look absolutely ravishing as an angel. I can't help but want to corrupt you..."

You bury your face in his chest to hide your blush.

Bastard.

On the bright side, now a rumour that Solomon the Wise and Michael the Archangel are secret lovers has spread around the Devildom. You're counting that as a win.

Purgatory Hall Simeon Solomon House of Lamentation Mammon Levi Satan Asmo Beel Belphie

After your encounter with Solomon, you'd decided learning to just hide your angel form was the best course of action. Luckily it was fucking easy and you could've done it ages ago. Strange how Simeon and Luke never mentioned it....meh. You're pretty sure Luke just thought Michael thought you were super cool so he made you an angel. You weren't telling him anything otherwise.

´Satan and Belphie watch your fucking backs.´ was the pedal note of all your thoughts currently, you´d snuck back into the House of Lamentation, thankfully Beel was not in the kitchen, he was at Fangol at this hour.

Walking through the halls stealthily, you heard whispers as two sets of feet seemed to enter the room at the farthest end of the hallway. Lucifer´s room.

You fucking caught them.

No time to be caught in Lucifer´s room, seeing as if you were there long enough and Lucifer caught you, you would not be leaving for a good while.

So you crept up to the attic, the official Anti-Lucifer-League headquarters, you climbed the pillars to get on the roof and you waited.

Sure enough, ten minutes later, snickering could be heard coming up to the attic. Satan opens the door, letting Belphie in, both brothers in various fits of sniggering as they walk into the room.

"He'll never see this one coming!" "This is our best one yet."

From your place on the attic ceiling, you spot Lucifer filming on his DDD from the shadows of the doorway. Of course he found out about this.

"Of course it's our best one yet!"

You swing down off of the ceiling beam, swinging lightly upside down. "And you didn't invite me?" You pout.

Satan and Belphie scream, clutching onto eachother, before noticing that it's you and running to pull you down and clutch onto you instead. You notice Lucifer chuckle and put his DDD in his pocket before leaving. Traitor.

You cuddle into your two Anti-Lucifer League Brethren, maybe this wasn't so bad. (Of course it wasn't, you loved your idiots.)

Safe to say, you didn't leave the attic for a long time. Apparently people need time to process that you're not actually dead. What madness.

House of Lamentation Mammon Levi Satan Asmo Beel Belphie

You had long unentangled yourself with a sleeping Belphie and Satan, making sure to leave a:

it wasnt a dream dont worry lads im alive.

note on their chests just in case.

Sitting in the attic with your napkin and crayon in hand, you ripped the Purgatory Hall part off of it and used the back of it for that note, you scanned through the list. You should save your First Man for last, so your next options were Beel, Asmo and Levi.

Seeing as you've shown yourself to Belphie, it's only natural your gentle giant is next.

Watch your fucking back Beel. Literally

Speaking of, it's been a few hours, Beel should be coming back from Fangol practice any moment now.

As was routine at this point, you crept through the House of Lamentation's halls and quickly ran into Beel and Belphie's shared bedroom.

As Beel walked into the room, his Fangol bag slung across his chest and a pile of after Fangol snacks in his hands, you braced yourself, made a run for it, anf landed right square on his back, arms around his neck to keep from falling.

"Oh hi MC!" Beel hummed cheerfully, before his eyes widened and he dropped his snacks. "MC?!"

"Hi!"

Quick as a flash, Beel maneuvers himself in 'dying cockroach you in Barbatos' dungeons part two' and grabs you into his arms.

"I thought you died..." He said, smelling your hair as he cuddled you.

"I did. I just came back as an angel."

"Really?" His breath hitches, "Can I see?.."

You take a deep breath and your wings and halo pop out, he strokes them gently.

"You're beautiful..." He whispers, enraptured...."I think...out of all of Father's creations over the years since the celestial war...you're the most precious...."

He speaks softly, always the gentle giant, the moment lasts for just a moment, before the moment, like all moments do, has passed. Beel's stomach rumbles and you giggle.

"You should eat your snacks, Beelie.."

"They always taste better when we share." He nods seriously.

House of Lamentation Mammon Levi Satan Asmo Beel Belphie

Levi or Asmo? You bit your crayon in thought then immediately made a face. Crayons did not taste nice.

Speaking of things that did not taste nice, you remembered that one time you tried to eat Levi's controller because you were bored.

Levi it was!

You had to time this perfectly, waiting in the shadows until Levi went down to get a snack, you snuck into his room, saying the answer to his password out of pure habit, before sitting on his gamer chair and maneuvering it in such a way he would not be able to see anyone on it from the door.

When Levi walked into his room, a bag of crisps in hand, he took a few steps before you swung around "Boo!" and he screamed. Dropping his crisps.

After convincing him you were infact not a ghost (Unlike Lucifer's), you sat with him in your arms, watching anime, and getting caught up on the new episodes released.

You cuddled up to him in his bathtub that night. You grinned evilly. This gave you an idea.

House of Lamentation Mammon LeviSatan Asmo Beel Belphie

It was no secret that Asmo bathed a lot. Funfact, Angels can hold their breath for 30 minutes!

As Asmo was busy picking out which pajamas he wanted to wear after his bath, you tiptoed behind him and slowly got in his bath, hiding under the bubbles.

It took a total of five minutes before Asmo closed the door to his bathroom and got into his bath, this was your chance! Reaching out, you grabbed his foot and pulled him under.

He screeched, when got back above the surface of the water, he grabbed your hand and pulled you over.

He squealed this time, hugging you tightly.

"Oh MC darling!~ I thought you were...well never the matter~...." He punctuated each word by kissing your face all over, leaving you squirming in his grasp out of embarassment. "How naughty!~ Sneaking into my bath like that...~...not that you arent always welcome my lovely!~"

"A-asmo," You say, your clothes soaked, though you couldn't find yourself caring. "Asmo, I love you..." your voice is soft and the Avatar of Lust coos.

It was a nice night.

Time for your final victim. Your First Man. Feeling nice, you decided not to do something too mean.

Painstakingly, you made a trial of grimm from the front door to your First Man's room, more specifically; to his bed. The plan was to hide behind the door and jumpscare him while he was busy collecting the grimm.

Unfortunately for you, seeing as you weren't sure when Mammon got off his modelling shift, you'd finished far too early, and since you and Asmo were up the entire night, you were quite sleepy.

Surely a little 5 minute nap wouldnt hurt?

You woke up hours later to a sobbing Mammon on top of you, cuddling you in his arms like his life depended on it. It seems you'd falled asleep on his bed, more specifically in his nest.

In the nest you would normally sleep in while alive. (While Human technically, seeing as you are alive, just not human.)

You bring a hand to his snowy locks, he sobs harder. Like his brother, kissing all over your face softly, "Thought I lost ye' forever Hum'n" he gasps for air, his sobs quieting down, "Though' you were gone....I prayed ev'ry nigh'...." he says, voice barely above a whisper as he strokes your cheek, looking into your eyes. "I prayed ta Fath'r ev'ry nigh' since ye' died...that he'd bring ye' back te me...."

"And he did..." You say just as softly, bringing your hand up to wipe the tears from his eyes, sharing a soft kiss with him. As always, your greedy lovable bastard would want more, and you'd want nothing more than to give them to him.

And the next day when you told Michael you'd be staying in the Devildom he cheered, then told you to include him in this 'Anti-Lucifer League business' because it 'seemed fun'.

Wow. Now you knew where Satan got it from. Poor Lucifer, he just barely got away from Michael in the Celestial realm, and now he has to deal with Michael 2.0 in the Devildom.

Satan and Michael really were kind of similar....maybe it's a good thing they've only met in passing.

Moral of the story kids. Death sucks, don't do it. If you do do it, reincarnate. Bam! Problem Solved.

This is the longest ever fic I've ever wrote and probably does not make a lot of sense so I apologise for that. I also apologise for any ooc behaviour i'm still learning how to write characterisation😔✊

also i love thinking of Michael being a father figure to Luke and its very obvious

1K notes · View notes

pacofprunes · 6 days ago

Text

nobody gets me, you did

more of a ramble than a drabble, tbh. small warnings just angst, mentions of drugs, reader is holding onto a shit relationship, toxic relationship, drinking,

MARCH FIFTHTEENTH

makeup was something that when you first met su-bong, you were worried that if you never wore it around him again he’d never wanna be seen with you. but the moment you finally saw him, bare face glowing after around a month of dating, eyes shining more than they ever had, he just got lost into them. you had to wave your hand in front of his face to get his attention again. he coughed before speaking up.

“no makeup?”

you do a light smile. you couldn’t tell if he meant that in a bad way or not. you shook your head nope.

“just me…”

he smiled before taking your hands in his.

“you should do this more often, señorita. i think i like this more.”

he wiggles his eyebrows and smirks, causing you to scoff. he strokes your cheek, pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear and you give him a small smile back, a light blush covering over your cheeks. he laughs a little before grabbing your hand in his and walking you around the block. just time to yourself. you both stand under a street light, it could blind you it was so bright. you go to sit on the bench but he grabs your wrist, stopping you. he pulls your wrist up to his shoulder and just looks down into your eyes before wrapping his other hand behind your head and pressing you into a deep kiss, eyes closed, filled with so much love before you reciprocate it. it felt amazing. like a movie. you just pull him into an embrace right after the kiss, feeling each others warmth. you weren’t that young so it couldn’t have been ‘silly young love’. you really thought you’d be with him forever. the world could just be so cruel though.

APRIL EIGHTEENTH

the same kiss, the same warmth of each other from the first time you showed him your real skin, you, who you really were underneath the makeup you thought he’d only love you for, except now rougher. more desperate. he hadn’t wasted much time trying to prep you, ignoring your whines of discomfort and pain, telling you it was because it was the first time in a while, you just had to get used to it, and of course, you agreed. even though he didn’t spend a moment trying to make you feel good except some kissing. even though all he cared about was his own high and you could tell, you decided to trust the one you thought you’d be marrying one day. the one you thought you’d never lose. because why wouldn’t you? the only aftercare, which isn’t even really aftercare he gave you was a kiss and a few hickeys before pulling up his boxers and turning over the opposite side of the bed. leaving you on your own without a good night. but his kiss was a good night so it was fine.

you had woken up later in the day, su-bong gone when you were awake. he texted saying he’d be back, but he never showed. didn’t answer your texts the whole day. it wasn’t until eleven at night’ that he finally messaged you, telling you to get ready and to come to the club. you hadn’t gone out with him in awhile there. but that was his thing. he always liked to party, and plus, that is how you two met, what’d you expect?

you arrive and immediately upon seeing you he gives you a side hug and ushers you to the bar. sure, you came to the club, but you didn’t intend on drinking much. you were probably going to be the one to drive home after all. but still, he encourages you to chug, claiming it was a flashback to how you guys used to party. and it was, but those weren’t the best times for either of you. it was the worst you’d ever seen him struggle with addiction and it’s the most you’ve ever wanted to die in your life. but you chug everything he tells you to. at first you had second thoughts but once you hit the fifth drink you just stopped thinking, head finally slumped on the bar, tired, a migraine already coming onto you before you feel yourself being lifted and you lift your head as much as you can to see who it is.

“can’t you stick it out baby? it’s only twelve, the night is still young!”

you were absolutely wasted and you couldn’t tell if he had gotten you this fucked up on purpose or if he was genuinely just too incompetent and out of his mind to have paid any mind.

“fuck that, su-bong, still young? no. i wanna go home.”

he begs you to just stay before getting frustrated and clicking his tongue, leaving you on your own. you were wasted but you weren’t fucking stupid. did he seriously just leave you on your own while you were drunk out of your mind? you stumble towards the exit door and go outside, sitting on a bench. you remember how awhile ago he would’ve grabbed your wrist and stopped you from sitting, kissing you and pulling you into him instead. you bite your lips and then the inside of your cheek, frustrated and upset with him, and now the memories start kicking in of what he would’ve done. but he was just drunk! he wasn’t thinking straight, it was fine. you guys were the same old same old, still as close as ever. he was your best friend. the only person who truly understood you. you look up, the street light looked dimmer tonight. you pull out your phone, noticing the screen start to blur because your eyes are watering. you blink a couple times before taking a deep breath and trying to buy an uber, sliding up to your messages after to curse at su-bong. so what if he saw it now or later and got pissed? he thinks this is just fucking okay?

—

APRIL NINETEENTH

“i don’t understand what the hell you’re so mad about! you didn’t have to come out if you didn’t want to.”

“really? you left me all by myself after getting me damn near black out fucking drunk and i had to call myself an uber!”

he mumbles something under his breath.

“i’ll pay you back then, jeez”

you heard that and slam your hands on the table.

“it’s not about the fucking money su-bong! i just want you to give a shit about me!”

“if you think I don’t give a shit about you then leave, nobody’s stopping you, the doors right there!”

he points at the door and tears start spilling out of your eyes, frustrated because clearly he could care less about you. care less about what happens to you.

“how am i supposed to let you go?”

he opens his mouth, probably to say something smart, but you cut him off.

“i only like myself when i’m with you. nobody gets me except for you! i cant just let you go su-bong! so how is it so easy for you to let me?”

you place your face in your sleeve and you start sobbing before feeling warmth around you again. just like that first month. under that bright street light and he wraps his arms around you and you just drop your arms to the side before he does a small laugh and grabs your arms, wrapping them around himself for you. he says nothing. no apology, no yelling, no ‘i was wrong’, no. just that and silence. but it wasn’t so bad. he was trying. that’s what you told yourself.

—

JUNE FIRST

you open up your phone and see the lock screen of you and su-bong from the first week you two got together. your bright smiles about to blind you. it was a sick reminder of how you two were now. if you were to look at any photos now, the smiles would seem so forced. sometimes he wouldn’t even try to smile at all. he didn’t even wanna take photos with you anymore. not even for a second. how were you supposed to tell him how you felt? he didn’t care. no, don’t think that! he cares about you a lot. he’s just overwhelmed. you’re overwhelming him too much and he needs some space. let him come to you. it’s your fault, you shouldn’t cling to him so much.

—

JUNE SIXTEENTH

he came home. you were sitting on your bed before he slams the door and climbs on top of you. you weren’t in the mood but you didn’t wanna deal with the yelling. you just wanted him to be happy. you suck the air through your teeth before looking the opposite direction of his face, refusing to look up at him.

“just hurry,”

you whispered out. you just wanted him to do what he wanted and avoid all confrontation.

“what? didn’t think you wanted a quickie, got somewhere to be baby?”

you just take a deep breath. you don’t want the past to come rolling into your head, memories where it was more than this. you just wanted him to hurry up and blow his load before you start thinking too much about it all. you shake your head refusing to respond to him and he just chases his high while you lay there like a doll before he finally finishes. you just push yourself up from underneath him and get up to leave.

“what? you’re not gonna stay over? i know i’m not the best at aftercare but you seem to like it.”

you keep your back facing him before you grab your jacket, mumbling a no and walking out the bedroom door, shutting it behind you. walking through the house before making it out the front door, biting your lip and holding the tears in. you knew he wasn’t the best person, but you guys were so close before. even his friends said you were the only girl that he’s actually treated like a human and not some whore off the street. so why, why was he doing this to you now? what happened to you guys?

—

JUNE SEVENTEENTH

you came over the next day, it was silent. uncomfortably silent. both of you refused to even make the slightest movement. you take a deep breath and swallow before letting out some quiet words, but he still heard them loud and clear.

“you know i love you for you, right?”

he looked at you like he didn’t know what you were talking about. like you were the one who was high right now.

“what are you talking about bab—”

you cut him off. you didn’t want to listen to his sweet talk, you didn’t want to fall into his traps, you didn’t want to listen to his voice, it all made you come crawling back.

“the drugs su-bong, you can’t keep doing this to yourself! i mean for gods sake, look at your fucking pupils!”

instead of listening to the concern and the words you said, all he heard was you yelling and so he just jumped to creating an argument with you. could he seriously not understand that you just wanted the best for him? that you’re worried about him? that when he treats you the fucking worst you still care and when he doesn’t show up the whole night you damn near have a fucking panic attack thinking he overdosed somewhere?

“su-bong please, i don’t wanna lose what’s left of you. i don’t even know who you are anymore!”

for once, instead of getting in your face or screaming insults and curses at you, he just throws on his jacket and leaves. copying what you did the night before. leaving you standing in the middle of the room biting the insides of your cheek. you felt more like a parent than a girlfriend to him. but sometimes you wonder now if he even thought of you as a girlfriend and he also thought of you as a parent as well? finding you a nuisance and a thorn in his side. all you wanted was for things to go back to the way they were. you weren’t asking him to change, you just wanted him to at least try, even if it all failed! knowing he tried would’ve helped you sleep at night. knowing he tried would’ve helped you a lot more if you had to sit at his funeral and mourn his loss. at least then you could act like he was a good person. a good boyfriend. but now, would you even show up to his funeral if he were to die? you didn’t know.

—

JUNE TWENTY-FIRST

he hadn’t texted you, not once. hadn’t called you. you only called him twice, scared that he’d call you desperate and clingy when really you were just worried. how could you know if he was dead or not. the dark circles under your eyes poking through more and more as the days go by. it isn’t until you open your phone and see that he posted a picture with a girl under that same fucking street light that you finally lose it. you throw your phone across the room, start knocking over anything you can move. you’d probably be called crazy. ‘over a guy you’ve only dated for a few months? no. you knew this guy for a long time before you dated. you were close. this was one of your best friends. he was your only best friend. the other ones you let go because you truly thought he was the only one who understood you. your phone still on the other side of the room you just drop to the ground before you slowly start to cry. tightly biting the inside of your cheek, tears rolling down before you start sobbing, louder and louder. the neighbors could probably hear you. you slam your arm into your face, this time feeling no warmth around you as you do so. you probably looked fucking pathetic right now. if you were su-bong, you wouldn’t take you back either. how could you date somebody else without seeing him in that person? without thinking about him? he didn’t even say goodbye. didn’t even have somebody else tell you goodbye for him. he was just gone.

—

JUNE TWENTY-SECOND

you visited that spot one last time. you told yourself it’s because you pass it on your way home but that’s not why. it was summer but there was no warmth there. the closer you got to that street lamp the colder you felt. the light was almost completely dimmed out, barely brightening up the street. it’d need replaced. just like apparently you did. the club was right behind you and you turn around for a brief moment before seeing that purple hair going the opposite direction. next to him a girl. and the lower your eyes go, you finally see their hands met together. you just stare before it all just gets darker around you. you look up and the street lamp was completely out. part of you begged that it would turn on just one more time, that it would get warmer just one last time, but it didn’t. the sounds of the buzzing lamp no longer there, no warmth whatsoever nearby, and no more light to guide you. you thought when you two had just been friends and you’d been partying every night that that was the lowest point in your life. but no. this was. you genuinely had no idea what you were meant to do without him.

—

JULY NINETEENTH

the amount of times you had to throw your phone across the room as to not text him or call him was way too many to count. you thought you were in hell. you didn’t leave your room, didn’t talk to anybody because the few times you did, the few times you tried to explain how you felt, nobody understood you. he would’ve understood you, you just knew it. you had to block him on everything as to not give in. the temptation to break your phone was honestly about to takeover. every notification you got, you immediately sprung up thinking that it was from him. every call you got, you prayed you’d see his name on your phone screen. but you knew he wouldn’t call until he was desperate for a new bitch. desperate for more sex. desperate for more attention. you thought you were his one, that’s what everyone told you. his friends for years told you that. you would never ever let him go. you would die without him. you’d give anything to hear him speak to you one last time. you pick up your phone, staring at it as if he’d just appear the longer you stared. but the only sign of su-bong was your lock screen. you still refused to change it. you two standing under that street light, bright smiles on your face blinding your eyes more than your tears ever would.

314 notes · View notes

formylovetodaryldixon · 2 months ago

Text

“Russian roulette.” Daryl Dixon Imagine.

(Not my gif)

The game of killing or dying was too much for you after Richard was about to use you as bait, so you left to not be part of that life. However, it happens that you have a husband who is an excellent hunter, and who swears to you that he would burn everything in his path until he finds you.

A/N: This is an imagine I wrote a long time ago, but that was the first time I wrote smut (I suck at it, really) that's why I never did it, but I tried my best hehe. I realized that I love, LOVE writing Daryl as a husband, is kind of hot♥ (Sorry if there are any grammatical errors)

From afar, Daryl sees you teaching the children of the kingdom how to use the bow in the archery area. Some little ones had good bases to become great archers, to protect themselves and others from the dead, but he sees too how they insist that you show them again how it was done. So you search inside the quiver that hangs against your back, taking an arrow with a red feather in it that shines in the morning sun when you connect it with the bow. With a fluid movement, you raise the bow to the height of your face, pointing towards the target in front but far from you, and your arrow pierces right in the middle of the yellow point of the objective.

Daryl smiles proudly, but decides not to get close when King Ezekiel approaches you. Instead, Daryl walks away from there and crosses the garden and some houses, while, near him, Richard keeps practicing in his own archery area, and watches Daryl as he approaches.

“I’m practicing. I have to start using these more.” He raises the bow close to his face, aiming towards the target, but the arrow hit the black point far from the center. “I know your wife can do much better.”

“She can.” Daryl says, and Richard turns to him.

“Morgan said you’re a bowman.” Richard takes the crossbow from the big box between them, holding a calm expression that Daryl doesn’t trust in, but he takes it, glancing at Richard with suspicion.

“Why?”

“Because we want the same things. And I need your help.”

He is talking about the saviors, Daryl knows it well, so he checks the weight of the crossbow in his hands before he lifts it close to his face, ready to shoot.

Daryl and Richard walk down the empty highway with green trees at the sides and a desolate view. The plan is to attack first, a surprise ambush that would cause a war between the Kingdom and the saviors, to then finally kill them to live safe. So they hide behind a big cargo truck by the side of the road, putting down their weapons and backpacks.

“They ride this road. If we see cars: it’s the saviors. They are coming in bands of 2 or 3. That’s why I need you. I can’t take them down alone.” Richard says. He kneels in front of his backpack, pulling the liquor bottles out of it. “We hit them with the guns first, then with the molotovs, and back to the guns until they are dead.”

“Why the fire?”

“It needs to look bad.” But Daryl doesn’t seem convinced, and walks around Richard with his crossbow in hand, forcing him with just a look to continue explaining himself. “The saviors who discovers what’s left…” Richard gets up and turns around to look at Daryl. “We want them to be angry. I left a trail from here to the weapons cache near to an open field that will take them… to a person who practices near here and that Ezekiel cares about.”

Daryl narrows his eyes, because he was too protective to let a person be exposed like that.

“Who’s that?”

“Just a person that will help.”

“Lives in the kingdom?”

“She practices out of there.”

Daryl stops himself.

“It’s a woman?”

Richard frowns, suddenly becoming impatient.

“What’s that matter? She got more balls than you and me together. She’s not gonna die, but when the saviors come and find their friends dead, they will follow the trail and go to the gun’s cache, then to the open field and they’ll try to attack this woman…”

Daryl frowns, growing impatient as well.

“What’s 'er name?”

“They won’t kill her, but that’s gonna show Ezekiel what he needs to do. He will see she was about to get hurt because of the saviors and just then he will fight.”

Richard’s betrayal begins to unfold in front of Daryl’s eyes, but he doesn’t like what he hears, and as a reflection, his hand tightens on the crossbow.

“'er name. What is it?”

“She is tough. She will live.”

The pieces of the puzzle begin to fit in and Daryl starts to have a complete view of Richard’s plan, but he doesn't want to act recklessly until he hears it with his own ears.

“Say 'er damn name!”

He needs to hear it to be sure. However, although his threatening look makes Richard almost surrender, he shows no fear, showing all his disinterest towards your life.

“(Y/N)”

Containing himself so as not to kill Richard at that very moment with a single arrow in his skull is the hardest thing Daryl ever did. But his body is shaking with anger; the blood on his veins freezes as he listens to that man and how he put his wife’s life in danger without remorse. As if your life is worth nothing, as if you didn’t have someone to defend you.

“Are ya fuckin’ crazy?” Daryl talks with a low, yet angry voice. “Ya jus’ dared to put in risk ma wife’s life jus’ ‘cause ya think she can handle a group of saviors?”

“You two told Ezekiel that anything had to be done to stop the saviors.”

Again, even when he has the chance, Daryl uses all his strength to not shoot an arrow in Richard’s face, and he walks around Richard to take his things before leaving that place.

“No.”

“She’ll live. Listen… this is how this has to happen. This is how we will get rid of the saviors. You two stayed in the kingdom for a reason: to prove to Ezekiel we can kill the savior. Together. So we can all have a future.”

“No!” Daryl passes him by, walking away from him.

“If we don’t do something people are gonna die!” Richard walks towards him and Daryl faces him. “People who wants to live!”

“Get the hell away from ma wife, ya hear me?”

Daryl gets close to him, looking straight into his eyes. Richard backs away, but hearing the roar of the cars that approaches in the distance attracts his attention. Daryl drops his backpack off his shoulder and holds his crossbow, watching the saviors’ path toward them coming down the hill.

There, Richard looks at Daryl.

“It’s them. We can wait for things to go bad, lose people, or we can do the hard thing…” He glances back at the saviors for a few seconds before looking at Daryl again. “Or choose our fates for ourselves.”

“No.”

Richard shrugs.

“Sorry.”

He turns around to carry out his plan with or without Daryl’s help, but Daryl drops his crossbow and takes Richard by the collar of his t-shirt to push him to the ground. He tries to fight back, but Daryl holds him with his own arm close to Richard’s neck, to then punch him, over and over until a river of blood descends from his nose to cover part of his face. Richard whines taking a canteen next to his face and hit Daryl, falling onto a side as both crawl on the ground to take their weapons to aim at their faces when they get up.

Richard breathes through his parted and broken lips and nods towards the saviors.

“There will be more. Or they will come back later, and we will have another chance. But we are running out of time. Your people need the kingdom to beat the saviors… We have to make sacrifices in one way or another. Guys like us… we’ve already lost so much.”

Daryl sees in his eyes the sadness for his loss, but that would never justify taking the life of another person to win that fight, not that way.

“Ya don’t know me.”

“I know that (Y/N) is stronger than us.”

To Richard’s surprise, Daryl lowers his crossbow, but the fierce look in his eyes is enough to make Richard take a step back.

“I’ll tell ya this jus’ once: If ma wife gets hurt, she dies, she catches a fever, she gets taken out by a walker, she gets hit by lighting, anythin’ happens to her, I’ll kill ya. Even if she jus’ gets a small cut in ‘er body, I’ll kill ya. So from now on: don’t talk to 'er, don’t look at 'er, don’t breathe near 'er. Fuck, don't even think about 'er.”

Richard holds his breath, looking at Daryl straight in his eyes.

“I would die for the kingdom.”

Daryl looks back at him, without any fear but with boiling anger.

“Why don’t ya?”

And then, he takes his backpack, his crossbow, and Daryl leaves.

When you turn off the lamp on the night table of your room, the light of the night comes in softly through the closed window, and you lay down sideways on your side of the bed as Daryl covers you with the blanket.

“Ya won’t take your clothes off?” He asks as he hugs you from behind.

“No…” You lie. “I’m cold.”

“I can help ya with that.” He says softly and moves to get closer to you. His arm hold you against him, giving you part of his warm. “Don’t worry ‘bout anythin’. No one ain’t gonna hurt ya. We’ll leave this place in a few days.”

You hold his hand on yours, waiting for him to fall sleep.

The anxiety and the fear inside you become one within you as the minutes pass in a dead silence. But suddenly, the world around you seems like a lie because everything is as quiet as if there were no walkers on the other side of the big gates, as if Richard hadn’t tried to hurt you without any remorse. Daryl told you because you already knew that something was happening and because he wanted you to stop going to that open field to practice. He couldn’t protect you without telling the truth. However, what hurt you the most is thinking how a life could mean nothing in the hands of other people: as if they had any rights over it. But the truth hits you hard too; because you did the same thing the first time you defended yourself from someone who tried to kill you for your weapon.

That didn’t make you a killer, too? Then, the guilt falls on you, the harsh reality of a murderer who tries to justifies a murder, just as Richard tried to do, just as you did. Everyone there, good or bad people were doing the same thing. Killing. Taking lives away. And you realized you couldn’t be part of all that. Not because you were weak but because you didn’t want to be the survivor that sees its friends die. And what if you die in the middle of the battle? Dying and causing pain to others, was that worth it? Or to stay alive but live in a constant pain? That life was like playing Russian roulette: none of you knew who could die or live, but all had to play. No exception. But you couldn’t stay and do it, so that night, you left before the game started.

That same night, you leave your backpack on the small bed and look around the place in that cold lonely night. It is a two-bedroom cabin. It is old, small but cozy, much better than a bed in the kingdom. This was a place you found days ago without telling anybody, not even Daryl. And as you lay down there, you hope that is the last time you start a new beginning far from killing, far from the fear of losing people, even if you had just lost your husband.

In the very early morning, near the garden of the Kingdom, a commotion catches Morgan and King Ezekiel’s attention. They run to the group of people who gathers around a fight, but no one is able to stop a wild Daryl, who is over Richard, punching him over and over until Morgan takes him by the arms and pulls him out of Richard before he could kill him. Daryl gets up and breathes hardly through his parted lips, watching Richard still on the ground and unable to move, or breathe.

“What is happening?!” Ezekiel asks, holding Richard and looking around. “Walk away, people. There is a lot to do today.”

The people listen, and Ezekiel glances at Daryl.

“Tell me right now why you did this.”

“That piece of shit did somethin’ to ma wife. She left!” Daryl is about to fall over Richard again, but Morgan holds him back. “I told him to stay away from ‘er!”

Ezekiel gets up leaving Richard on the ground, too weak to get himself up.

“What did Richard do to (Y/N)?”

Daryl looks at Ezekiel, not wanting to say what happened.

“Let him tell ya, I’ll go find ma wife.”

Daryl takes his crossbow from the ground and walks away with big steps towards the gates. Behind him, Morgan is following him.

“Daryl… Did (Y/N) leave a note?”

But he doesn’t stop.

“She wanted to get away from this fight. She doesn’t wanna see 'er friends being killed.”

“Because she knows that some of us could die.”

Daryl hates the way Morgan talks, like if Daryl didn’t understand that could happen. So, he turns around, giving Morgan a threatening look.

“Don’t talk to me like I was a damn child. Killin’ the saviors is the only way for me to make sure ma wife and friends will have a safe life.”

“Even if someone dies in the process?”

But Daryl doesn’t answer, and he yells at the man in charge of the gates to open it up. He walks out, completely sure he would find you sooner or later.

During a silent and almost deafening sunset, you walk through the forest near your house, with the quiver on your back and the bow in your hand, looking for some animal to eat. Everything is as it should be in the forest, everything there belongs to its place. Except you. But still listening to the birds sing in the long distance, you make your way until you find a squirrel that moves from here to there on the branch of a tree. You pull an arrow from the quiver; you connect it to the bow and lift it to the correct height close to your face, holding the air in your lungs. However, as a sudden sadness covers you because you couldn’t stop killing, another arrow flies close to you and sinks into the animal’s body.

You gasp in acknowledgment, so you turn around to see Daryl walking close to you, with your heart beating fast against your chest. He stops in front of you, looking at you through his head slightly down, just like he did when he was sad. He did that just with you, because just with you he was able to show how he truly felt, without feeling ashamed of feeling weak.

“This is the moment when you ask me why the hell I left you.” You say through the knot in your throat, but he just shakes his head softly.

“This is the moment when I say I missed ya.” He approaches you, almost afraid as if you are not real, and he puts his arms around you to embrace your waist, hiding his face in your neck, at the same time that you let go of the bow to feel him close to you. “I missed ya.”

As you sit down in your little bed, kicking your black boots off, Daryl leaves his backpack on the table in the middle of the room and looks inside for something. But before you know what it is, he throws it at you and you catch it perfectly. It is a peach, because he knows how much you like them. As you clean it against your clothes, Daryl sits in the chair that gives him a perfect view of you, resting his elbow against the wood, holding his chin in his hand.

“Explain it to me ‘cause I don’t get it.” He makes a gesture with his hand to point around the place. “I said I would protect ya. We were ‘bout to leave that place. But ya just walked away in the middle of the night… Why?”

His voice fill with disappointment pierces your ears, but you try to gather your ideas so that he understands your reasons.

“I’m tired. I’m afraid. And I don’t wanna see any of our friends being killed…and I realized I can’t neither. It’s too much to handle. I can kill, like, a person, and that’s what really scares me. I know they killed our friends, but this revenge, or justice, or whatever you want to call it: it will only endanger our people, and we will see more blood. And then we will have nightmares about their deaths, and we will not know what is worse: if sleep only to have nightmares about their deaths, or live awake in this real-life nightmare. I know I’m being selfish because they are willing to fight, but I can’t lose you or them.” You feel the tears in your eyes, but you rub your face with your hands to not let them fall right now. “I don’t want to be around if that happens.”

Daryl looks at you, rubbing his finger against his lip, trying to contain his own anger. He didn’t want to act like he used to, he didn’t want to yell at you for leaving him just the way you did. But that was hard for him too, it was too painful, almost impossible to bear the days he was without you, thinking that something bad could have happened to you because he couldn’t protect you. But right there, in front of you, he wants to tell you how scared he was when he didn’t find you by his side that morning, and that he couldn’t sleep the days after that.

“So what?” He says with a raspy voice. “What ‘bout me? I’m yer husband. Did ya think I’d jus’ sit there and do nothin’? That I would jus’ let ya get away from me? That was yer plan? Make me love ya and then leave me?”

Daryl was the strongest man, but the weakest too when it was about you. And you knew, that in that world or in the previous one, love was still a dangerous feeling, sometimes even more dangerous than a walker.

“That’s not true, Daryl: you know it.”

He laughs harshly.

“I realized I don’t know anythin’ about the woman I’m married to.”

“Ouch… That hurts.” You chuckle tiredly, then sighing until you found the right words. “I think it would be better if you get angry with me, if you kick the chair and tell me what I did wrong.”

Daryl takes a deep breath, trying to calm his wild heart.

“Nah. Ya are here with me now.” But, suddenly, he stands up, taking off his vest in his way to you, his gaze locked on yours as he begins to unbutton his shirt next. “But I think I need ya to learn your lesson in a different way.”

Your mouth is dry, and your own heart begins to beat at an alarming pace.

“Daryl… what are you doing?”

As he reaches the edge of the bed, he tosses his shirt aside, while, with the gentleness that didn’t usually characterize him on the outside, his thumb caresses your soft cheek, a warm contrast to his finger.

“Have ya ever been scared of me?”

Though he’s referring to that situation happening now in particular, you know he’s asking in general as well, if, perhaps, at some point in your marriage, you’ve seen him through different eyes. Perhaps with a fear reflected in them, a silent fear that would be overwhelming for him. But you shake your head, your gentle gaze on his ocean-colored eyes.

Daryl was a tender lover behind his tough appearance, and you were never scared, not by him.

“No. You know damn well I have not.”

“Not even once?”

His own doubt makes you smile a little bit.

“Not even once, Dixon, I know well you have a soft spot for me.”

“Hell yeah, woman, n’ only for ya.” He says, so serious like never before. “So if that’s true, lay down n’ lemme show ya how damn much I missed ya.”

You do as he tells you, your gaze on the wooden roof, feeling the knot in your stomach traveling to your lower part as he unbuttons and unzips your black jeans. It's torturously slow, but you know he's doing it as part of the lesson, because he's never denied you pleasure before. Since your marriage began, he was always a giver, taking your own pleasure as his own. It was like a rule for him to give you all the pleasure, and then give you a little more.

But when he removes all your clothes and his breath and his beard tickle your most sensitive area, your hands look blindly something to hold yourself onto, his long hair maybe, but he just pushes your hands away.

“No touchin’.” He says, dangerously low.

However, when his strong hands cling to your hips, his mouth sinking into you, you let out a tight gasp, your knees bending up. But the way he is moving against you as you move against him, too, makes him feel so needy for you, like he is in a beautiful hell. Your hands still in the air closed almost painfully, eyes closing too, arching your back, and mouth falling finally open.

“Daryl, wait–”

“Shut it.” He warns you, keeping his warm mouth close to your entrance. “Fuck, why ya always taste so damn good? Makes me wanna live in between your legs all the fuckin’ time.”

He wasn’t normally a very talkative person, but when Daryl was on the right mood he loved saying things that he knew would turn you on, leading you to the edge of being out of breath. He loved playing with you like he does again, his mouth kissing and licking and sucking, fingers holding onto the bones on your waist. The angry animal inside him woke up when you moan with open lips, sending a painful throbbing to the hardness in his pants.

He sucks hard on you, making you shake against him, holding yourself onto the blanket even when you want to hold his hair. But feeling you so needy for him, and only for him makes him feel about to explode, but he stops himself from lower one of his hand to his pants to stroke his manhood.

Daryl starts to feeling you moving against his face, and he takes pride that he could make you cum without being inside you, yet, because he’s not going to let you do that, hell no. No matter how much he enjoyed torturing you that way, he is ready to give you so much pleasure you wouldn’t think ever again about leaving him, no when he couldn’t live without you anymore.

So Daryl stands up, removing his hands from your body, giving you the time to catch some air as he unbuckles his belt, like the most erotic image in the world. His strong and naked chest rises and falls as he locks eyes with you, his mouth in a tight line as he removes his belt, not ready to smile even a little to you as you bite your own lips, hiding a smile.

“I will never be scared of you, but it scares me a little bit what is coming.”

He is kind of angry, but not with you, but with the idea of being a little bit animalistic, like to roll over onto your knees so he could hold himself on your hips, maybe even on your hair, pulling it just a little like he has done a few times when you two were getting playful.

“Ya should be.” He says, so low and dangerous as he unbuttons his pants. “Now take the rest of yer clothes off.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, sitting back down to pull off your black t-shirt, with nothing underneath. The complete view of your now naked body is such a temptation for him, so much that he thinks he would give up soon. But no, he’s stronger than that.

“Now lay back down, n’ spread your legs open for me.”

Fuck. You think that couldn’t get any hotter, but you know it could with that look in his deep gaze, so you lick your dry lip and look back at him as he kicks his boots off, taking off his pants and his boxer next, while, still sitting, you try to look up only, even when there is a whole spectacle at the level of your own gaze.

“Should I call you sir while I do that?” You smile sweetly at him, playing innocent.

And for the first time in the night, Daryl smiles back.

“I’m yer fuckin’ husband, peach, the same person that’s gonna make love to ya, maybe that way ya won’t leave me ever again. Now do as I tell ya.”

Though you can hear the sadness in his words, his voice doesn’t waver, not when he’s so ready to do what he promised, so with nothing else on your mind, you lay back down on the bed, spreading your legs as an invitation that Daryl immediately takes. He lays on top of you, and you can almost feel his own heartbeat as he sinks into you with one hand, while the other arm holds him up too close to your face. You feel him throbbing inside of you, and he holds himself on his legs, his free hand looking for the softness of your face to hold you there, kissing you deeply.

Your own hands hold his lower back, and this time, he lets you touch him freely. The warm of your fingers is melting him, but when he starts to move, he drowns your moans and his tense grunts in a kiss. His calloused hand grasps your face with a firmness but a sweet touch, as if you are a piece of glass, the most precious in the world, in his world.

Daryl never felt so primitive and he is too drunk with lust, but there is something intense and so erotic in the idea that he could push himself deeper into you, and that you would take everything and even beg for more. So he does, he presses into you deeper, harder than ever but not in a painful way because hurting you wasn’t in his nature, but he is taking you to the very edge in no time. You called out his name against his mouth as he starts moving faster against you, making you feel the tension building up on your stomach and in between your legs, so hot like hell itself, as intense as the beginning of the orgasm that is about to hit you soon if he keeps moving that way.

But it feels different from other times, short but in a new kind of intense. His thumb caresses your check, his forehead resting on your just a moment before he buries his face in your neck, the same finger sliding over your bottom lip, and that little action is so hot. The sounds he starts making against your neck are an arousing melody, sounds he muffles against your hair on his own path to much-needed release.

Your hands hold his lower back even harder, pulling him against you, your mouth against his shoulder, drowning out the forbidden sounds that come from between your lips, the view of the world fading as you close your eyes while letting out a hot cry as he makes you cum.

Finally, Daryl spills himself inside you, breathing through parted lips as he catches his breath.

After a long minute, or maybe two and when you can breathe again, you speak softly.

“I’m sorry, I never wanted to leave you alone, or make you think that I don't love you.”

Daryl raises his head, getting lost in the way you ask for his forgiveness with your eyes, too. But in that moment, he knows everything will be alright.

“So ya won’t leave me again?” He asks softly, but, too deep in your own sadness to speak properly, you just shake your head. “Good. ‘Cause ya got to know I’ll chase ya to the end of the fuckin’ world, burnin’ everythin' on ma way ‘till I find ya.”

#daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x y/n #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon

195 notes · View notes

back2bluesidex · 1 month ago

Text

Slide - The Finale - MYG (18+)

Pairing: Producer!Yoongi X Lyricist!Reader

Theme: Angst, smut, unplanned pregnancy. Fwb to ?

Word count: 0.5k+

Summary:

"I can see the pain in your eyes I don't wanna say that I'm God, but I'll take you to heaven if you die"

Alternatively,

Tonight when he kisses you, it’s not a goodbye, rather it’s a promise of forever.

Listened to Slide by Chase Atlantics

Warnings: Smut, fluff

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

A/N: And it's the curtain call time. Thanks to every single one of you for showering Slide with so so so much of love. Writing this has been fun for me but I know reading this was nothing short of a torture to you guys. But still you read it till the very end - nothing can mean more to a writer. Thanks a ton! that's it for Slide series.

Now-a-days when Yoongi touches you - you feel a difference.

You wish you were capable of using better words, better adjectives but what you can feel is that his touches are purer, more profound, filled with an emotion that was missing before - maybe love?

It feels so good. It feels the best.

“Y/N” Yoongi murmurs your name against your collarbone, placing the sweetest kisses ever known to mankind. His hair tickles the skin of your throat - you giggle.

His lips trace the map of your chest, wrapping them around your nipples with constant suck and flicks. Your toes curl as a result.

Yoongi’s fingers slip past the waistband of your underwear, touching you at places where you have granted only him full access.

“Y/N” he whispers again “I love you so much”

Some two months ago you two were at the same place. He made love to you but as a good-bye note. He said sorry with every kiss.

Today, though, he says he loves you with every move of his lips.

You thank every god above there for this transition. You thank Yoongi, too, silently.

He slips inside you, rugged breath ornamenting his thrusts. You want to frame him like this - so beautiful with beads of sweat on his temple, his hair sticking to his forehead, your name spilling from his lips.

Oh, you love him. You love him so much.

“I love you so fucking much.” Yoongi replies to your silent confession and you are convinced he can read your mind.

You pull him close to steal a kiss.

Tonight when he kisses you, it’s not a goodbye, rather it’s a promise of forever.

“She is really pretty.” You whisper-yell at Yoongi, staring at Namjoon’s bride as she walks down the aisle.

Yoongi doesn’t reply anything to you right away. He seems to think of something. And then opens his mouth but shuts it again. After a moment he places his mouth right beside your ear, “but I think you will be the prettiest bride.”

Your breath hitches. Is that.. Is that what you think it is?

When you risk a glance at Yoongi, you find him already staring at you. A small smile is playing on his lips but his eyes are shining.

Yoongi holds your hand under the table. Suddenly you are afraid and excited all together.

“I am not asking you for anything right now, Y/N. But I guess- I guess we could try. When I think of a future with you it doesn’t seem too scary. It seems to be promising, quiet, and peaceful. So if you ever see fit.. We could, you know, you and I..” his words falter.

You hold his hand tightly. Gulping once you ease his fears, “Let’s try. Let’s try when both of us are completely ready and sure.”

Yoongi nods with a gummy smile, “yes. Yes.”

“I love you.” You whisper.

“I love you more.” Yoongi confirms, placing a kiss on your forehead.

Alongside Namjoon and his bride, you and Yoongi, too, say “I do” to all the vows that have already bound you two together, hopefully for the rest of your lives.

Permanent Taglist:

@phenomenalgirl9 @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @chimmisbae @i-have-no-life-charlie @mikrokookiex @jjk174 @lallataegi @savageyoongi @jwnghyuns @parapiop7 @futuristicenemychaos @armystay89 @ryryvna @purple-realms

Requested Tags:

@ktownshizzle @ilys00ga @marihoneywk @yoongisoftface @sugaslittlekookies @joonwater @geminiml95 @ramicherie @wobblewobble822 @amarawayne @avawants2havefun @artemisdoe @jimintaemin @cuntessaiii @kam9404 @honeybloomyyyy @seoulazzyy @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @magicshop96

173 notes · View notes

cowboykento · 2 months ago

Note

Omg your cowboy!kento has me strung up by my ballsack in the best way possible :) If your request inbox is open….i’d love a drunken cowboy!kento being all lovey dovey and handsy with wifey while she helps him stumble through the house and help him into bed please and thank you your highness 🙏🏼🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️

ahhh!!! you’re so funny anon that made me giggle, also i loooove this request so thank u very much :3 love u lots

(i did in fact keep this sfw but minors should not be interacting with this account in general bc it is mostly nsfw so if you see this, feel free to read and then carry on pls and thx)

cowboy!nanami doesn’t go out to drink very often—if he’s going to drink, he’d much rather have a beer or a glass of wine with you and either sit on the porch or the couch, cozied up together. but every once in a while his friends will convince him to make an appearance.

you’d had a part in convincing him, as well, practically pushing him out the door and insisting that he would have much more fun once he actually got there and spent some time with his friends.

“it’d be more fun if you came with me, darlin’,” he tries as he puts his coat on, truly jealous of you curled up in bed with your book.

“i’m busy here, kento,” you raise your book for emphasis. “besides, it’s been a while since you’ve seen gojo and shoko, you’ll have fun! or at least you can probably get some free drinks out of gojo.”

he grimaces but comes over to the edge of the bed to give you a kiss, “whatever you say, sweetheart. i’ll be back by midnight. love ya.”

“stay out as late as you want, handsome. i love you too. text or call if you need anything.”

he hums confirmation before leaving you to your cozy bed and book.

you get a few texts from your husband throughout the night, just small updates or gripes about gojo that made you giggle. after a while the texts start to die down, and you assume kento’s finally loosened up a bit and is having fun.

around midnight, ever true to his word, you get another text from kento: “home soonbaby, lpve you.”

you smile at your phone—happy that kento had clearly had a good night—and shut your book to wait by the front door. it’s only ten minutes later when you see headlights turn into the driveway. you step out to the porch as kento… and gojo walk towards you.

at first glance it looked like kento was helping gojo walk, and you sighed thinking about having to clean up the guest room on such short notice, but as they stepped into the porch light, it was evident that kento was much more drunk than gojo, and he was being helped in.

before you can ask how this had happened, kento seems to recognize that he was home, and that you were waiting for him.

he looks up at you from the bottom of the porch steps, the stars shining in his eyes, “mm, hey pretty girl,” he slurs a bit, making you giggle as you step down to help.

“guess it’s been longer than our cowboy thought since he’s been out,” gojo chimes in as you slide under kento’s arm. “nanamin’s turned into a lightweight it seems.”

kento shrugs gojo away from him, standing mostly on his own but swaying against you a few times.

“thank you gojo, i’ll take care of him from here.”

“finally, he’s been begging for you since his first drink,” gojo laughs, sending you both a quick wink before heading back to the car.

you shift your attention to kento, who’s looking at you with a soft smile on his lips. (he’s been staring at you this whole time).

“let’s go inside, handsome,” you tell him, pulling him forward with you.

as you take the first step, kento pulls you back to him quickly, “can you gimme a kiss first?”

you can’t help giggling at the small pout on his lips, but you quickly oblige him, standing on your tiptoes and giving him a quick peck.

kento’s lips quickly shift into a soft smile as his thumb rubs the back of your hand. he lets you lead him inside easily now, following you almost without thinking about it as you take get him ready for bed.

you’re tempted to take a photo of him just to prove how cute he’s being—your fluffy pink headband holding his hair back while you wash his face. he’s coherent enough to help you as you take care of him, but the entire time he’s just looking at you with hearts in his eyes and the biggest smile on his lips.

you’re content with the quiet that’s settled between you, but every once in a while kento will break it to ask for another kiss. or sometimes he won’t even verbalize it, he’ll just give you a sleepy little pout and you know exactly what he means.

it’s so endearing to you to have your husband like this—he’s always sweet with you, but he’s just enthralled with you right now.

“can i have another kiss, baby?” he asks as you cuddle up next to him in bed.

you brush his pretty blonde hair out of his face and give his forehead a kiss, which makes him frown. before he can even complain, you give him another right on his lips, and you can feel him smile into it.

when you pull away there’s a look of bliss on kento’s face, “love you so much, darlin’. y’re the best thing t’ ever happen to me, y’know?”

you scratch your nails along the contours of his chest idly, “i love you too, handsome, to the moon and back.”

this time kento leans in to steal a quick kiss from you, “i love you more, pretty girl.”

normally you’d give in and playfully argue with him, but before the words escape your lips you notice that kento’s eyes have fallen shut, and his breathing has evened out.

you smile to yourself—kento may have gotten the last word, but you had the joy of spending the rest of your life with him, so really, what more could you ask for?

cowboy!kento nsfw masterlist || sfw masterlist

#cw alcohol #cowboy!kento 🤍#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk nanami kento #nanami kento #jjk nanami x reader #nanami x reader #nanami fluff #jjk fluff

194 notes · View notes

st4rtar0t · 6 months ago

Text

Some channeled songs for you from a loved one

Pick a picture

MASTERLIST ☆ PAID SERVICES

These pictures do not belong to me, they belong to their rightful owners. I only own the content of this post.

Picture 1

You are the innocent kid of the Pious God,

The dearest to his royalty…

Innocent kid of the Pious God,

You are his beloved child,

The worries that God has given,

He only will take them away.

The Girl has become like the Peepal (tree),

Everyone worships you,

But no one ever sows your seeds,

And no one can arrest you at home…

Treading the roads fearlessly,

She is akin to rain water,

When she comes near the real world,

She becomes a little dirty.

If you be the cash

I'll be the rubber band

You be the match

I will be a fuse, boom

Painter, baby, you could be the muse

I'm the reporter, baby, you could be the news

'Cause you're the cigarette and I'm the smoker

We raise a bet 'cause you're the joker

Checked off, you are the chalk

And I can be the blackboard

You can be the talk

And I can be the walk, yeah

Even when the sky comes falling

Even when the sun don't shine

I got faith in you and I

So put your pretty little hand in mine

Even when we're down to the wire, babe

Even when it's do or die

We could do it, baby, simple and plain

'Cause this love is a sure thing

Picture 2

My eyes choose only you, my eyes only listen to my heart.

He forgets the whole world and gets lost in thoughts of you.

I don’t see any difference between you and God.

I have fallen madly in love with you…

I have fallen completely madly in love with you…

When I see a shooting star I will pray for you.

I pray that when our bond is joined, it will never break.

I didn’t realize when night turned into morning.

Ever since you’ve been mine I’ve stopped noticing time.

I want to call you mine, I want to be with you.

I keep looking for an excuse to see you.

I have fallen madly in love with you…

I have fallen completely madly in love with you…

I don’t see any difference between you and God.

You're so hypnotizing

Could you be the devil?

Could you be an angel?

Your touch, magnetizing

Feels like I am floating

Leaves my body glowing

They say, be afraid

You're not like the others

Futuristic lover

Different DNA

They don't understand you

You're from a whole 'nother world

A different dimension

You open my eyes

And I'm ready to go

Lead me into the light

Picture 3

I will live by your name

I will die by your name

To be with you I can do anything for you

What you have done to me; The ego in me has died; been erased;

Yes, I have become

Yours, I have become mad for you

When the wildness of love crosses all the limits

The lovers hang themselves with smile

The magic of love overpowers the mind and proclaims

You may guard (the paths) but the lord will create a way

This is the will of love

This is the will of God

Without you, How can I live ?

Yes I know, this is the selfishness

I became crazy and play in all colors

I am innocent, mad and wild

I sing, I dance, I make everyone happy

Now I do not follow any religion or rules of society

Because I am mad and crazy in love

And if I may just take your breath away

I don't mind if there's not much to say

Sometimes the silence guides a mind

To move to a place so far away

The goosebumps start to raise

The minute that my left hand meets your waist

And then I watch your face

Put my finger on your tongue 'cause you love to taste, yeah

These hearts adore, everyone the other beats hardest for

Inside this place is warm

Outside it starts to pour.

293 notes · View notes

dee-writes-anime · 4 months ago

Text

He Was Gone and So Were You

FEATURING Touya 'Dabi' Todoroki x Reader

SUMMARY You won't leave him to die alone again, not when you're right there, not when you can stop him or go down trying.

CONTENT WARNINGS HEAVY ANGST (buckle up y'all), kids being kids, Touya's backstory, familial abuse, death, murder, suicide (?), descriptions of injuries, fire, it's just straight pain below the cut.

AUTHORS NOTE the new episode of MHA has me so fucked up I decided to be cruel and force you all to join me in my pain. Enjoy! :)

The afternoon sun filtered softly through the cherry blossoms, casting gentle shadows across the grass where you and Touya sat. The pink petals floated down like delicate snowflakes, a soft breeze swirling them around you. The world seemed perfect in that moment—quiet, untouched by the weight of the Todoroki household or the burden on Touya’s small shoulders. Just the two of you, together, in your secret spot beneath the largest cherry blossom tree in the yard.

Your fingers traced the rough bark, feeling the grooves where Touya had proudly burned your initials into the tree. T+_ enclosed in a heart, scorched into the wood with a steady hand and a bright spark of his flame. You smiled as you looked at it, a reminder of all the promises you had whispered to each other under this very tree.

“I’m going to be the strongest hero ever,” Touya declared, his voice tinged with defiance. He sat cross-legged beside you, his fiery hair wild from the wind, his bright blue eyes shining with determination. “I’ll be stronger than my dad, and... and I’ll never treat you like that. I’ll be different.”

You blinked, your heart swelling as you met his gaze. “What do you mean, Touya?”

He looked away, biting his lip, his small hands clenched into fists on his knees. “I won’t be like him. I won’t ever make you feel the way my mom feels, or... or the way you look when you talk about your dad.” His voice was small but filled with a fierce determination beyond his years.

You reached out, gently placing your hand on his. “I know you won’t. You’re kind, Touya. You always protect me.”

He glanced at your hand, and his fists slowly unclenched. “Yeah,” he murmured, his voice softening. “I’ll protect you. I’ll marry you one day, y’know?” He turned back to you, a shy grin spreading across his face. “I’ll be a pro hero, and we’ll have a house, and I’ll never... never let anyone hurt you.”

Your cheeks warmed at his words, a small laugh escaping your lips. “You really think you’ll marry me?”

“I know I will,” he said firmly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “We’ll live together, and we’ll have this tree in our yard. And...” He paused, leaning closer to the bark, brushing his fingers over the burned heart. “No matter how strong I get, I’ll always come back here. I promise.”

For a moment, you sat in silence, the weight of his words settling between you like a secret. His dream seemed so bright, so clear, and in that moment, you believed it too. Touya would become a hero, he’d marry you, and you’d have that perfect future together. The world hadn’t been cruel enough yet to make you doubt it.

But then, Touya’s smile faltered. His bright eyes dimmed, and he turned his gaze downward, tracing the edges of the grass beneath him. “Dad said I wasn’t good enough again today.”

Your heart ached at the way his voice cracked, so quiet and defeated. The confidence he had held so fiercely just moments ago crumbled before your eyes, and your chest tightened at the sight of it. You knew how hard he tried, how he practiced for hours, pushing himself until he could barely stand—all for his father’s approval, and yet... it was never enough.

“Touya...” you whispered, scooting closer to him, your knees brushing against his.

He sniffed, his hands balling into fists once more. “He says I’m not ready. Says I shouldn’t use my quirk anymore, that it’s too dangerous.” His lips trembled, and he bit down hard to stop them. “But I can do it. I can get stronger. I know I can.”

“I know you can too,” you murmured, reaching up to gently cup his cheek, turning his face toward you. “You’re the strongest person I know, Touya. One day, your dad’s going to see it too.”

He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch, and for a moment, the tension in his small frame eased. “Do you really think so?”

“I do,” you said softly, your thumb brushing away the tear that had slipped down his cheek. “But you don’t need him to see it to know it’s true. You’ve already shown me how amazing you are. Every time you show me your new moves, I can see how much stronger you’re getting.”

He opened his eyes then, staring at you with a quiet kind of hope. “You... you like seeing my moves?”

You nodded, smiling brightly. “Of course I do! I love seeing you in action. You’re going to be the best hero, just like you said.”

His lips twitched into a small, bashful smile, and he looked down, rubbing the back of his neck. “Maybe I’ll show you some new ones soon. I’ve been practicing. Just don’t tell anyone, okay?”

You laughed softly, crossing your heart with your finger. “I promise. I won’t tell a soul.”

Touya’s smile widened, and he looked up at the tree again, at the initials he had burned into the wood, and then back at you. “You’re always going to be here, right? Even when I get strong... even if... even if Dad never sees it?”

“I’ll always be here,” you promised, shifting closer so your shoulder rested against his. “No matter what.”

And there, beneath the cherry blossom tree, with the sun setting and the petals swirling in the breeze, the two of you dreamed of a future that felt so certain, so full of hope—a future where Touya would be a hero, and you would always be by his side...

But that future had burned faster than your young lover's flesh on Sakoto Peak barely a month after that.

And now here you stood, years later, the flowers you had spent hours arranging, as you always did, trembling in your hands. The petals you had fluffed meticulously now pale against the gray of the sky as you knelt beneath the cherry blossom tree. The wind whispered through the branches, tugging at your hero’s cloak, and for a moment, the world felt frozen in time.

It haunted you, the moment when you found out— sitting in the break room, sipping on cold tea, the faint noise of the broadcast playing in the background. You hadn’t thought much of it at first, too exhausted from the latest mission to care about anything but the quiet that followed a hard day. And then, the screen flashed. A name you had tried so hard to forget. A face you had mourned every day for years.

Touya.

The breath had left your lungs in an instant. You watched, horror-stricken, as Dabi—no, Touya—spoke with that same fire in his eyes, but there was no joy, no warmth. It was rage. Pure, untethered rage. He talked about his father, about his hatred, and each word was like a knife twisting deeper into your chest. This wasn’t the boy you had known. This wasn’t the Touya who had dreamed under the cherry blossom tree, who had promised to protect you, to become a hero alongside you.

This was someone else.

And now, you sat beneath that very tree, clutching a bouquet of cherry blossoms in your hands, your heart breaking all over again. You had been coming here every week since the day they told you Touya was gone. Every week, you brought flowers, laying them at the base of the tree as a quiet tribute to the boy you had loved, to the future that had been stolen from both of you.

You had believed he was dead. Everyone had. They found the ashes, the charred remains of what was once a child, and you had wept for him. Wept for the boy who had been denied his dreams, for the boy who had burned so brightly that the world couldn’t handle his flame.

And now, all these years later, you still brought flowers. Even after learning the truth, even after watching the broadcast, after hearing his voice, twisted and cruel, you came. Because for you, Touya had died. The boy you had loved, the one who carved your initials into this tree, the one who swore he would be different—he was gone.

A sob clawed its way up your throat, the grief too much to hold in any longer. You pressed the flowers to your chest, your fingers digging into the soft petals as your tears fell silently onto the grass. “Why?” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the rustle of the wind. “Why did it have to be this way?”

The cherry blossom tree swayed above you, the branches creaking softly in the breeze. It had grown over the years, the initials you and Touya had burned into the bark still visible, though worn with time. T+_, a promise etched into wood, a promise of a future that would never come to pass.

“I... I thought you were gone,” you choked out, your vision blurring with tears. “I thought you were dead, and I—” Your voice broke, and you clutched the flowers tighter, trembling. “I became a hero for you, Touya. I tried to live the life you wanted, the one we talked about.”

You laid the flowers at the base of the tree, your fingers brushing over the initials, and a fresh wave of grief crashed over you. You had done everything for him—trained, fought, bled—all because you thought it was what he would have wanted. You thought it was what he would have done if he had lived. But now...

Now he was out there, burning everything in his path, destroying lives, hurting people. Everything he had promised he would never do.

“How could you?” you whispered, your hands shaking as you pressed your forehead to the rough bark of the tree. “How could you let this happen? You were supposed to be different. You were supposed to be better.”

But the only response was the wind, carrying with it the distant echoes of your childhood, of the days you spent dreaming of a future that no longer existed.

Your heart ached in ways you couldn’t put into words. The boy you had loved—the boy who had burned so brightly, who had been so full of hope and determination—he was gone, replaced by someone twisted and broken. Someone consumed by anger and hatred. And it hurt more than anything, knowing that the person you had once sworn to stand by was now so far beyond your reach.

Tears streamed down your face as you sat back on your heels, staring at the flowers you had laid at the base of the tree. “I still love you,” you admitted, the words bitter on your tongue. “I still love the boy you were, but I don’t know who you are anymore.”

And that was the cruelest part of it all, wasn’t it? You had loved Touya with everything you had, and even now, knowing what he had become, some part of you still clung to the memory of him. But the boy who had once held your hand beneath this tree was gone, and the man who stood in his place—Dabi—was nothing more than a ghost of the past, a shadow of the boy you had once known.

“I don’t know if I can save you,” you whispered, your voice cracking as you stared up at the cherry blossoms, the pink petals swirling above you like memories you couldn’t quite grasp. “I don’t even know if you want to be saved.”

You sat there for a long time, the silence pressing down on you, the weight of everything too heavy to bear. The world had moved on, continued to fight, but here, in this quiet corner of the past, you were trapped. Trapped in the memory of what once was, of what could have been.

The boy you loved was gone, and you were left with nothing but the echo of his promise, carved into the bark of a tree that stood witness to your shared dreams.

And still, despite everything, you brought flowers. Because for you, Touya had died long ago, and even now, you couldn’t let him go.

No matter how badly your heart ached at the news of Touya being alive, you had promised another that you would support them no matter what. A boy who became a younger brother to you, one who became your anchor in your own family storm after the loss of Touya.

Which is why, after cleaning yourself up from your visit to the cherry tree, you found yourself at the hospital, the sterile scent of antiseptic hanging in the air as you walk down the hospital hallway, the sound of your footsteps muffled by the tiles beneath your feet. The world outside was loud—sirens, chaos, and the aftershock of Dabi’s broadcast still rippling through the city—but here, in the quiet, all you could hear was the soft hum of machines and the distant murmur of voices from other rooms.

Your heart raced, a hollow ache spreading through your chest as you neared the door at the end of the corridor. Shoto was inside. Alone. The weight of everything that had happened—the reveal of his brother’s identity, the trauma it had brought to light—was more than anyone could bear, let alone someone who had already suffered so much. And you… you were barely holding it together yourself.

For years, you had been a constant presence in his life, stepping in after Touya’s supposed death. You’d watched him grow up in that cold, abusive household, doing everything you could to be the older sister he needed, to offer him comfort when his own family couldn’t. But now, after everything, you weren’t sure how to help him through this. How could you? How could you possibly console him when you couldn’t even make sense of your own grief?

The door creaked open under your hand, and there he was—Shoto, sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, his back turned to you, his shoulders hunched beneath the weight of everything he’d just learned. His hair, a stark reminder of the family’s fractured history, glowed faintly in the dim light of the room. You paused for a moment, your breath catching in your throat as you saw the tension in his posture, the way his hands were clenched into fists on his lap.

“Shoto...” you whispered, your voice trembling, the grief you had been holding back threatening to overwhelm you.

He didn’t turn at first. For a long moment, he remained still, as if frozen in place, staring at the floor. But then, slowly, he exhaled, his shoulders sagging. “You saw it too, didn’t you?” His voice was quiet, a hollow echo of the boy you had once known.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and stepped closer, your hands trembling as you reached out to him. “I did.”

His head bowed further, his hair falling over his eyes. “He’s alive. He’s been alive this whole time, and... and now he’s—” His voice faltered, and he shook his head, biting back whatever words he couldn’t bring himself to say.

You didn’t hesitate any longer. You closed the distance between you and Shoto, sinking down onto the bed beside him, your hands gently resting on his shoulder. The contact made him flinch, but he didn’t pull away. Not from you. He never had.

“I’m so sorry, Shoto,” you whispered, your voice breaking as the weight of the truth settled over both of you.

For so long, you had both believed Touya was gone, a bright flame extinguished too soon. But now, the reality was so much worse. He hadn’t died—he had become something twisted, something filled with hatred and pain. The boy you had loved, the brother Shoto had lost, was still out there, but he was no longer the person either of you had once known.

Shoto’s breath hitched, and you felt his body tense beneath your touch. “I... I don’t understand,” he muttered, his voice raw. “Why didn’t he come back? Why didn’t he... why didn’t he tell us?”

The anguish in his voice was palpable, and it shattered whatever composure you had left. Tears welled in your eyes, and you moved closer, wrapping your arms around him, pulling him into an embrace that you hoped could somehow shield him from the pain, even if just for a moment. “I don’t know, Shoto. I don’t know.”

He stiffened at first, his body rigid against yours, but then, slowly, the tension began to seep out of him. His fists unclenched, and before you knew it, he was clutching at you, his fingers digging into the fabric of your clothes as if holding on for dear life. He buried his face against your shoulder, and for the first time since you had known him, Shoto let himself cry.

Silent sobs wracked his body, his chest heaving as years of grief, confusion, and pain spilled out of him. His tears soaked into your shirt, but you didn’t care. You held him tighter, your own tears falling freely now, mixing with his as the two of you wept together.

You had always tried to be strong for him. Ever since Touya had “died,” you had stepped in, trying to fill the void, to offer him the love and support he had never gotten from his father. But now, you realized you didn’t need to be strong. Not right now. Right now, Shoto didn’t need a hero or an older sister trying to hold it together—he needed someone who understood, someone who shared in his grief.

“I thought he was dead,” Shoto choked out, his voice muffled against your shoulder. “All this time... I thought he was gone.”

“I did too,” you whispered, your throat tight with emotion. “We all did.”

His grip tightened, and his body trembled against yours. “I don’t know what to do,” he admitted, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear him. “He’s my brother, but... he’s done so many terrible things. I should hate him, but... I can’t.”

You nodded, tears streaming down your face as you held him close. “I know, Shoto. I know.”

The truth was, you felt the same way. You had loved Touya with all your heart, and even now, after everything, some part of you still did. But the boy you had loved, the boy who had once dreamed of being a hero, was gone. And the man who had taken his place—the man who called himself Dabi—was a stranger, consumed by anger and hatred. It was a betrayal that cut deeper than anything you had ever known, and yet... how could you hate him? How could you hate someone who had been broken by the very people who were supposed to protect him?

“I don’t know if we can save him,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you spoke the words that had haunted you since the broadcast. “But... we can’t give up on him. Not yet.”

Shoto lifted his head then, his tear-streaked face pale and drawn, his eyes red and swollen from crying. “You still believe in him?”

You hesitated, your heart heavy with doubt. “I... I don’t know,” you admitted, the words bitter on your tongue. “But I have to try. For the boy he used to be. For the brother you lost.”

Shoto stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable, and then, slowly, he nodded. “I don’t know if I can ever forgive him,” he said quietly, his voice raw with emotion. “But I want to understand. I need to understand why he became this way.”

You brushed a tear from his cheek, your hand lingering against his skin. “We’ll figure it out together, okay? You’re not alone in this, Shoto. You never have been.”

He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch, and for the first time in a long while, you saw a flicker of something in his expression—something like hope. It was fragile, but it was there.

The two of you sat in silence for a long time after that, wrapped in each other’s arms, letting the weight of your grief settle between you. The world outside was still in chaos, but here, in the quiet of the hospital room, you found a moment of solace. A moment where you didn’t have to be strong, where you could just be two people, grieving the loss of someone you both loved.

Even from where you stood, the heat from the flames was unbearable. Smoke billowed into the sky, thick and suffocating, the air heavy with ash. Chaos surrounded you, the sounds of battle—a chorus of destruction—filling your ears, but all you could focus on was the fire. That familiar, haunting fire.

You had been with the civilians, guiding them to safety, trying to keep calm amidst the panic. But when you saw those blue flames rise above the villa, something inside you broke. Touya. It was him. He was here, and you couldn’t stay back any longer. Your feet had carried you forward before you even realized what you were doing, your heart racing in your chest, driven by a force you couldn’t fight.

When you reached the battlefield, it was worse than you could have imagined. The destruction was immense, flames licking at everything in their path. And in the center of it all—your breath caught in your throat—stood Touya, his once-bright eyes now burning with hatred and madness, his face twisted in a sickening grin.

“Touya!” you screamed, your voice breaking as you ran toward him.

He didn’t turn at first. His focus was on Endeavor, his father, who stood barely able to move, his body scorched, his face a mixture of pain and disbelief. But you didn’t care about Endeavor. You didn’t care about anything except the boy you had once loved—the boy who had been consumed by his own flames.

“Touya, please!” Your voice cracked as you pushed yourself closer, ignoring the searing heat, ignoring the way the smoke clawed at your lungs. “Stop! Don’t do this!”

Finally, his head turned toward you, and for a moment—just a moment—you saw something flicker in his expression. Recognition. A trace of the boy he used to be. But then it was gone, replaced by that sick, twisted smile. He threw his head back and laughed, a sound that sent chills down your spine.

“Isn’t this perfect?” he spat, his voice laced with venom as he turned his gaze back to Endeavor. “The mighty number one, brought to his knees by his own sins. This is what you deserve, old man.”

“Touya!” you screamed again, your throat raw from the smoke, your heart pounding so hard you thought it might burst. “Please… don’t do this. You don’t have to do this.”

He ignored you, his eyes fixed on Endeavor like a predator about to strike. His body was trembling now, his flames raging out of control, the heat so intense you could feel your skin burning from the proximity.

But you couldn’t let him do this. Not again. Not after everything.

“Please… come back to me,” you whispered, your voice breaking as tears filled your eyes. “Come back to me, Touya.”

He stiffened at that. For the first time, he turned fully toward you, his eyes narrowing as he stared at you, really seeing you. His chest heaved with labored breaths, and you could see the strain in his body, the way he was struggling to hold himself together. His skin was charred, his lips cracked and bleeding, and you realized with a sickening dread that he was dying. His flames were consuming him, just like they had all those years ago.

“Touya,” you sobbed, your hands trembling as you took a step closer. “Please… please don’t do this. You don’t have to hurt them. You don’t have to hurt yourself.”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he tilted his head, his gaze distant, almost unfocused. And then, in a voice so quiet you barely heard it over the roar of the flames, he whispered your name.

Your breath caught in your throat. He hadn’t called you by your name in years. The sound of it on his lips, broken and hollow, tore you apart. And then—your heart skipped a beat—he said it. The nickname. That stupid, silly nickname he’d given you when you were kids, when the world had been simple and full of dreams.

“Cherry…”

The world seemed to freeze around you. Cherry. He had called you that because of the cherry blossom tree you’d always meet under, the one where you dreamed of your future together. The one where he had carved your initials into the bark, sealing a promise you both thought would last forever.

The memory hit you like a wave, and for a moment, you were back there—back under the tree, laughing and planning a life you’d never have. But the boy who had made those promises was gone. In his place stood this hollow shell, burning himself alive with hatred and anger.

“Touya, please!” You sobbed harder, clutching your chest as if you could physically hold yourself together. “Come back. Please, come back to me.”

But he wasn’t listening. His body was trembling violently now, his flames growing wilder, out of control. You could see it in his eyes—the way they flickered with a madness that wasn’t his own. He was losing himself. The Touya you had known, the boy you had loved, was slipping away right before your eyes.

“I can’t stop,” he whispered, his voice strained, as if he were talking more to himself than to you. “It’s too late.”

“No!” You shook your head frantically, tears streaming down your face. “It’s not too late! You can still stop this, Touya! You can still—”

“I don’t want to stop,” he growled, cutting you off, his eyes blazing with fury. “This is what I was meant to do. This is what I’ve become.”

Your heart shattered. The boy who had once dreamed of being a hero was standing before you, consumed by his own hatred, by the fire that had once been his gift. And no matter how much you begged, no matter how many tears you shed, you couldn’t bring him back.

“Touya… please don’t leave me again,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, choked with grief.

He looked at you then—really looked at you—and for a brief, fleeting moment, you saw it. The boy you had loved. The boy who had once promised to marry you under the cherry blossoms, who had vowed to protect you and never let you feel the kind of pain he had witnessed in his family. But that boy was buried beneath years of anger, hurt, and betrayal.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice so soft you almost didn’t hear it. “I’m sorry, Cherry…”

And then he turned away. His flames flared one last time, roaring into the sky, and you watched in horror as he prepared to release everything. He was going to explode, to burn away what little was left of himself in a final act of destruction.

“No!” You screamed, rushing forward, reaching out to him, your heart breaking into a thousand pieces. “Touya, don’t! Please, don’t do this!”

But it was too late.

In the last moment before the flames consumed him, you heard him whisper your name one more time, and with that, the flames roared to life, brighter and hotter than ever before, threatening to consume him completely.

“No!” Without thinking, you threw yourself forward, ignoring the pain as the flames scorched your skin, burning away at you. You didn’t care. You couldn’t let him go. Not again.

Your arms wrapped around him, pulling him close, and despite the heat, despite the agony, you held on tight. His body trembled against yours, his flames raging out of control, but you didn’t let go. You couldn’t.

“I won’t leave you again,” you sobbed, burying your face in his shoulder, the smell of burning flesh filling your senses. “I’m not leaving you, Touya. Not this time.”

His body stiffened, his breath catching in his throat as he struggled to speak, to move. But you held on, your heart breaking with every second that passed, with every sob that wracked your body.

“You won’t die alone,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I swear… I’ll stay with you. I won’t leave you. Not ever.”

He didn’t say anything, but you could feel the way his body trembled against yours, the way his flames flickered as if they, too, were struggling to hold on.

And then, for the briefest moment, you felt him relax in your arms, his head leaning against yours, his breath shallow and ragged. His flames were still burning, still consuming him, but they weren’t as wild now. There was something almost peaceful in the way he held onto you, like he was finally letting go of the hatred that had consumed him for so long.

But you knew. You knew that it wasn’t enough. That no matter how tightly you held on, no matter how many promises you made, you couldn’t stop what was coming.

He was going to die. And this time, you couldn’t save him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, his voice so faint you could barely hear it.

Tears streamed down your face as you clung to him, your heart shattering into a million pieces. “I love you,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I’ve always loved you, Touya.”

And then, just like that, he was gone... and so were you.

187 notes · View notes

ponderingmoonlight · 1 year ago

Text

(y/n) comforting her husband Gojo after he was forced to kill his best friend

Pairing: husband!Gojo x reader

Word Count: 1k

Synopsis: The man who seems goofy all day, who never takes anything serious breaks down in his wife's arms after he killed his best friend.

Warning: hurt/comfort, death of Suguru, just a lil oneshot from that anon request I received yesterday, like/comment/reblog if you enjoy <3

„Satoru“, you whisper softly into the night, his frame standing in the door of your shared apartment.

You weren’t able to get there on time, to be there for him when he needed you the most. While you were out there fighting curses, Satoru was forced to kill his best friend. Why? Why does he have to endure this never-ending pain, the torture of being the strongest? Wasn’t it enough that he lost his best friend? Why on earth did all of this happen? You can't even imagine how horrible he must feel.

“Oh, hey babe! Hope you’re doing fine!”, he greets you with a wide smile, his blindfold hiding the pain in his bright blue orbs from the world.

You can feel your heart shatter inside your chest. He is never able to be sad, never able to show how he truly feels. Not even when he’s alone with you, his wife, he lets go of his façade. And while you were always able to accept the stinging fact that he’ll never let you see everything, this doesn’t seem to be enough tonight.

“How are you feeling?”

He simply shrugs his shoulders while letting himself drop onto the couch next to you casually.

“Definitely better than the rest. Damn, have you seen how beat up the kids were? Oh, do you remember that one curse who-“

“Satoru”, you interrupt him softly.

Gently, you caress his cheek the way he always loves, watching as the wide grin on his face disappears with every skilled stroke of your hand.

“You know that this wasn’t what I meant.”

He lets out his breath, body suddenly so firm against your touch that he seems to tense every muscle in his body.

“So there’s really no way out of this conversation, huh?”, he mumbles.

The man right in front of you isn’t the Gojo Satoru everyone loves and curses at the same time. No, at the moment he isn’t the strongest, the teacher, the savior.

At the moment he’s just Satoru.

“Come on, take that mask off.”

Gradually, your fingers open the knot of his blindfold. You wait a second, give him the chance to protest against your actions. But when he stays silent, you slide his blindfold off his gorgeous face, revealing the heaviest eyes you’ve ever seen.

“I’m tired, (y/n). I’m so damn tired”, he finally gives in with low voice.

You have to swallow hard, concentrate all your composure on not breaking down and cry. His eyes don’t shine as bright as they usual do, the dark circles showing more than urgently that Satoru is far beyond being exhausted.

“I still don’t get why he did all that shit, why he had to die today”, he continues, resting his head against the couch while plainly staring at the ceiling.

“And that I’m the one who finished him. He’s my best friend, (y/n). The one and only…”

“None of this is your fault-“

“Is it really, though? I should have been more attentive back then, should have been there for him, I-“

“This is not your fault”, you insist.

No, you simply can't allow him to talk about himself like this, to load even more responsibitly on his very own shoulders.

“Who says he wouldn’t have chosen this path even with you by his side? Who says you would have been able to stop him? Suguru was surrounded by friends and horror, had multiple chances to change his mind. He knew that this would happen someday, he was ready to die for this. None of this will ever be your fault, Satoru.”

“And what about all the others? Yuta, Maki, Toge and Panda almost getting killed, Haibara, the countless sorcerers who lost their lives. All these non-jujutsu sorcerers who died because of me. How long will it go on like this? And what if I’ll snap just like Suguru did? I…I can’t do this anymore.”

He lets out a shaky breath, eyes on the brink of overflowing with tears. Never in your life have you seen your husband this vulnerable, brought down by life itself. And the worst is that you can’t help him. No, there are no word that could take away his pain. There are no words to comfort him over his best friends’ death, over the countless other people who died because he’s alive.

“There is nothing I can say to cheer you up”, you finally admit.

Gently, you sit on your knees and bend over him, hands cupping his cheeks.

“But even though you don’t deserve this, even though you feel like you’re worthless I want you to remember that you are loved. Haibara loved you, Suguru loved you until the very end and I do. I will love through no matter what, I’ll stay right here by your side through it all. You don’t have to hide your tears from me, you don’t have to pretend that you’re fine when you’re far away from being fine.”

“I’m not, (y/n). I’m so far away from fine that I feel like I’ll never be happy again”, he mutters with trembling lips.

Just before a tear falls down his cheek you catch it with your finger.

“And it is more than natural to feel this way”, you reply softly.

“Do you think…Do you think he was my friend until the end?”

“Oh, he definitely was. Even though you didn’t have the same opinion, Suguru will always be your friend.”

He gifts you a small smile when another wave of tears haunts him.

“Can you hold me please?”

Your husband doesn’t have to ask twice. You let yourself fall against his chest, caress the back of his head while he swallows you with his arms, presses you firmly against his body while crying his heart out.

“I love you, (y/n). God, I love you so much”, he mutters against your neck, covers you with tiny kisses until you don’t know how to breathe anymore.

“I love you too, babe. Let’s just stay here for a while.”

“Yeah. Staying here sounds good…”

Tags: @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso @gojosrealwife @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain @risuola @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz @darkstarlight82 @satoreo @luwumii @tachiharazsstuff @kentocalls @cheesemachine44 @ryva @kenjakusconcubine @baku2345 @komelrebi-san @deezy12299@busyreader17 @4pgletter @okay-it-is-ivy @iluvtoru

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #jujutsu gojo #gojo saturo #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #satoru gojo #geto #satoru #jjk fanfic

982 notes · View notes

poisonlove · 4 months ago

Text

The Ghost of halloween p.2 | A.D

Pairing: Astrid X reader

Astrid pov's

"Is it this way?" my mother asks with a small smile on her lips.

I nod without answering, pressing my lips together and turning my head toward the window.

I didn’t want her to see how uncomfortable I felt. We had argued again, and as always, she had decided that moving was the only solution. Panicking, I had told her I had a date today.

"It's really nice here," Lydia Deetz says, looking at the neighborhood decorated for Halloween: gardens filled with decorations, skeletons hanging from trees, and people in costumes getting ready to celebrate.

When we arrive in front of the house, her eyes land on a lit window.

"Oh... it's a girl," my mother exclaims in surprise.

"Mom..." I whisper, feeling my cheeks flush.

"She's very cute," she adds with a mischievous smile, giving me a sidelong glance. I feel my face heat up even more.

"Okay, bye," I finally say, my voice tense, as I open the door.

"I’ll pick you up at 10. Have fun, sweetheart!" she calls out, her voice happier than ever. I shut the door with a loud thud, the sound of my mother’s car driving away echoing.

I sigh and close my eyes for a moment, clutching the bag full of candy and snacks. Then, with hesitant steps, I head toward the porch of the house.

I raise my hand and knock on the door.

I waited nervously for the door to open, my heart pounding in my chest. When I finally see Y/n, a smile spreads across my face. I’m wearing a long, puffy dress in a pale gray, as if it had been corroded by radiation, perfectly embodying Marie Curie. The high collar and puffy sleeves give me an elegant yet eerie appearance.

Y/n looks me up and down, and her smile widens. "You look beautiful," she says, her eyes shining. She was wearing the same clothes as yesterday.

I feel my face heat up, blushing fiercely. "I'm Marie Curie," I say, trying to mask my embarrassment. I’m not sure if she got my reference.

"The scientist who died from radiation, I know." Y/n’s response surprises me.

I smile, incredulous and happy, as the tension in me melts away.

"Is that bag?" Y/n asks curiously, leaning slightly toward me.

"I thought we could eat some junk food and watch some movies... You know... it’s Halloween," I say timidly, feeling my cheeks flush.

Y/n smiles, and her enthusiasm encourages me. "Sounds like a great idea, come in."

I enter, glancing around curiously, immediately noticing a strange but oddly comforting silence.

"How come there’s no one here?" I ask curiously, following Y/n upstairs.

"Oh, my parents aren’t home," she says simply, guiding me to her room.

Once inside, I look around, noticing the 90s posters and details that make the room feel so cozy. "What movie do you want to watch?" Y/n asks, approaching the shelf of films. My eyes land on a book on the table: The Handbook for the Recently Deceased. I smile amused. "What a strange book," I comment.

"I found it at a stall," Y/n replies distractedly.

As she scans the titles, I feel a mix of anxiety and excitement. "Maybe something horror?" I suggest, a shy smile on my face.

"Perfect," she says, but then slowly moves closer.

Our hands brush, and in an instant, she leans in and kisses me. Her cold lips against mine are unexpected, but I feel a warm explosion of emotions. When I open my eyes, a smile spreads across my face, but right after, I realize we’re floating. The joy vanishes, replaced by a grimace of terror.

I quickly pull away from her, the disappointment clear in her eyes.

"Are you a ghost?" I say in disbelief. Are my mom’s crazy ideas real?

She nods, and my heart races.

"Why didn’t you tell me? How did you die?" I ask, incredulous but curious.

Y/n sighs, her face growing serious.

"I didn’t want to scare you, I haven’t had a decent conversation in years... And it was my father... After he killed his partner with an axe, he finished me off too, his only daughter. Then he died from poisoning." She slowly lifts her shirt, revealing a deep cut on her stomach.

The sight of that mark makes my blood run cold. I can’t believe what she’s saying, yet I can’t look away.

"Why did you lie to me?" I ask, my voice strangely calm despite the turmoil I feel inside.

Y/n scratches her head, her face turning a little red with embarrassment. "I told you, I wanted company... and I also wanted to surprise you," she finally confesses, her shyness evident in her tone.

I raise an eyebrow, confused. "A surprise?" I repeat, trying to understand where she’s going with this.

"I know we only met yesterday, but... you’re a good person, Astrid. And I... wanted to help you see your father," she murmurs, her voice fading as if it was hard to admit.

My eyes widen, taken aback by her words. "Is it possible?" I ask, the emotion clinging to my chest, making it hard to breathe.

Y/n nods, serious, and a part of me, the part that never stopped hoping, starts to believe it’s true.

An unexpected joy bursts inside me. Before I can stop myself, I approach and hug her tightly, but the moment my arms touch her, her body passes through mine as if made of smoke. The sensation leaves me stunned: cold and insubstantial, yet with a certain warmth, a distant echo of humanity.

"Sorry," I mutter embarrassed, while she laughs softly, not making a big deal out of it.

Without saying a word, Y/n steps away and heads toward a corner of the room. She bends down and picks up a small white object, lifting it toward me with a knowing smile. "A piece of chalk?" I ask, squinting in confusion, but without taking my eyes off her ethereal figure.

She nods and, with precise movements, draws a door on the wall of her room. When she finishes, she stands next to me, looking at the drawing with a strange satisfaction. The drawing almost seems to pulse with life, as if an unknown force was stirring behind that simple figure.

"It’s the door to the other world," she says with a small smile, her tone light as if she were talking about something trivial.

I feel my heart race in my chest. "And what am I supposed to do?" I ask, even more confused, staring at the drawing with evident skepticism.

"Knock," she says calmly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Hesitantly, I approach the drawn door, my hand trembling slightly. I knock, feeling ridiculous. Who knocks on a drawing? But a moment later, a dull sound echoes beyond the wall, and before I can react, the drawing comes to life. The door creaks open with a chilling sound, revealing a passage that emits thick, glowing smoke. A cold breeze wraps around me, along with a spectral light, like that of an old neon sign.

I stand still, my mouth open in amazement. In front of me unfolds the world of the dead. It’s exactly as I imagined: chaotic, grotesque, yet strangely fascinating. The walls seem to be made of a material never seen before, a mix of rotting flesh and crumbling concrete, covered with drawings and graffiti that shift shape before my eyes. Indistinct shadows move at the edge of my vision, as if the world itself was breathing. The sky above us isn’t a real sky: it’s an endless ceiling of greenish mist, studded with metallic pipes and flickering light bulbs.

In the distance, I hear the hum of old fans and the sound of distorted laughter, like an echo from a forgotten cabaret. Creatures of all shapes wander in what seems to be a surreal public office, each with a more bizarre appearance than the last: some have gigantic heads, others are reduced to walking skeletons, and still others seem to melt into goo. The world feels like a collage of forgotten things and distorted memories, a mix of the surreal and the macabre.

"Welcome," Y/n whispers beside me.

I turn to her, still in disbelief, but my heart is pounding, full of a hope I can’t suppress. Maybe, in that chaotic madness, I’ll finally get to see my father.

(...)

As we walk through the world of the dead, my head spins as I try to catch every detail, but everything is so surreal that it feels like being trapped in a nightmare. The gray and decaying offices are populated by grotesque figures moving with indifference. Faceless shadows wander the hallways, and distorted laughter continues in the distance.

"It's... strange," I whisper, my voice tense, "This place... how can it exist?"

Y/n glances at me, but before she can answer, a chilling sound fills the air. A shrill, metallic alarm starts echoing everywhere.

"ALERT! UNAUTHORIZED HUMAN PRESENCE!" A robotic and sinister voice booms through the walls.

Y/n’s eyes widen, her face pale. "Oh no... the human alarm!"

"W-what?" I stammer, but before I can grasp what’s happening, Y/n grabs my wrist, pulling me forcefully.

"We have to go! Now!" she yells, starting to run towards the exit. The creatures around us freeze, some turning with ravenous eyes, others beginning to move towards us with eerie slowness.

We race through the hallways like two shadows, our footsteps echoing as the sound of the alarm grows louder. The lights flicker, and I can hear the frantic pounding of my heart in my ears. Every corner seems to distort, making it hard to tell which way is out.

We turn a corner down a long corridor and stop abruptly. In front of us are two familiar figures. One is my mother, Lydia, with her unmistakable black bob and stern look. But the figure next to her leaves me breathless: a man with messy hair and a black and white striped suit, with a mischievous and cocky expression. Beetlejuice.

"Y/n?" says Beetlejuice, his eyes widening in surprise. "What are you doing here, kid?"

Y/n grits her teeth, her voice a tense whisper. "Dad..."

I feel a lump forming in my throat as my mother and I turn to each other, both of us with mouths agape in shock.

"Dad?" I repeat incredulously, my eyes wide as I look at Y/n.

Lydia doesn’t have time for questions. She grabs both of us by the arms. "We have to go, now!" she shouts, and we start running, with Y/n still pulling me even harder.

Behind us, the alarm continues to blare, and the footsteps of the authorities from the world of the dead begin to echo closer. Beetlejuice lags behind, chuckling as if this were all a game to him.

We run towards a door, but when Lydia flings it open, instead of finding a way out, we fall into the void, tumbling into scorching sand. I hit the ground hard, raising a cloud of dust, coughing from the impact.

"No... no, no, no!" Lydia screams, scrambling to her feet. "We’re in the sandworm desert!"

I struggle to stand, but panic takes over when I see the ground shaking beneath us. In the distance, the giant sandworm emerges from the dune, speeding towards us at a terrifying pace. Its long, scaly body slithers through the sand like a dark shadow.

Y/n grabs my hand and starts running, dragging me along with her. "Come on! We can't stop!"

Lydia follows close behind, her face twisted in fear, but the worm is too fast. I can feel it getting closer, its gaping mouth emitting a piercing scream, ready to devour us.

"It's too close!" I cry, my breath short, but just then, a miracle happens.

From the sky, a door of light suddenly opens above us, and a hand reaches out from nowhere, grabbing each of us. First Y/n, then me, and finally Lydia. With a yank, it pulls us up, taking us away just as the worm opens its jaws beneath us.

The world flips for a moment until we find ourselves on a cold floor, safe. I gasp for air, trying to catch my breath, as Y/n looks at me with concern.

"W-we made it..." Y/n murmurs, still in disbelief.

I look up and see my father watching me with pride. His skin is greenish, with some fish stuck in his hair, but he's smiling all the same.

My eyes fill with tears. "Dad..." I murmur before throwing myself into his arms. "Sweetheart..." he whispers, hugging me tightly. I pull away with a smile I can't hold back.

"I saw Lydia and decided to follow you... But what are you wearing, sweetheart? You look like Marie Curie!" he says with an amused grin, glancing at me. I giggle and nod.

Then, his gaze shifts beyond me, and I notice Lydia approaching. My father smiles at her, reaching out an arm. "Lydia, come here," he says warmly. he embraces her without hesitation. "I miss you ," he whispers, his voice full of affection and gratitude.

Lydia smiles shyly as she returns the hug.

"I miss you too " she replies softly, her voice breaking with emotion.

They separate, and my father turns back to us. "You have to go," he says suddenly, his tone serious.

He puts an arm around my waist and takes my mother’s hand with the other. "You have to go. Now," he repeats urgently, pulling us toward a staircase that seems to materialize out of nowhere.

"I love you, Dad," I say, tears filling my eyes.

"I love you too," he replies, his gaze veiled with tears and a bittersweet smile on his lips before he slowly vanishes.

My mother starts climbing the stairs, but I stay behind, waiting for Y/n.

"Go," she suddenly says, with sadness in her voice.

"Come with me," I say, confused, my heart pounding.

"I don’t know, Astrid... I’m tired of wandering. Maybe my place is here," she replies, her voice trembling.

My heart stops for a moment.

"Don’t be silly, we’ll find a solution," I say, a lump in my throat, and my chest aching.

She shakes her head, resolute.

I feel a sharp pain in my chest, but I move closer to her and grab her hands. Her touch is cold, almost as if there’s nothing to hold onto, but I don’t let go. "I need you. I... I want you," I confess, my cheeks flushing red.

"Astrid..." she murmurs.

"We’ll figure it out, okay? But I need you," I repeat, with all the sincerity I can muster. Y/n looks at me for a few seconds, then sighs and slowly nods.

My face lights up in a huge smile.

Y/n Pov's

Days later, the light of the sunset fills my old room with a warm, orange hue. Everything seems so normal, yet the tension in the air is palpable. Astrid and I sit on the floor, surrounded by lit candles, while her mother draws a complicated circle of runes on the wooden floor. It seems absurd to think that it's really possible, that I can come back to life. And yet, here we are.

The book her mother holds is ancient, its pages worn and yellowed with age. The runes and symbols I see seem to pulse with their own energy, as if the text is more than just paper and ink.

Astrid is close to me, sitting by my side, her gaze serious but kind, just as it always is when she wants to show me that everything will be okay. She was the one who insisted on finding a solution, and when her mother discovered this ancient ritual, she didn’t hesitate. The thought of coming back to life fills me with hope, but also fear. It’s like jumping into the unknown.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” I ask, searching her eyes.

She looks at me without hesitation. “There’s nothing I want more in the world.” Her hand finds mine, warm and reassuring. “I want you here, with me.”

Her mother finishes drawing the circle with white chalk and stands slowly, her gaze focused and attentive. “This is the Rite of Essence Binding,” she says, her voice firm but carrying a gravity I can't ignore. “An ancient practice that binds the soul to the body. But it’s a delicate process. Y/n, you’re suspended between two worlds. This rite will bring your essence back to the living world.”

Her words make my throat tighten. I know something big, something irreversible is about to happen. I feel Astrid squeeze my hand tighter, and I look at her, finding all the courage I need in her.

“Step into the circle,” her mother orders calmly.

Astrid and I stand and position ourselves in the center of the rune drawing. The floor beneath our feet seems to vibrate slightly, as if the ritual had already begun just with our presence. Her mother begins to mutter ancient words that echo in the room as if carried by an invisible wind. The runes drawn on the floor start to glow with a deep, pulsing blue light, and the air becomes thick, charged with energy.

“During the rite, your soul will try to reconnect with your body, but it might face resistance,” her mother explains, not stopping the incantation. “Astrid, you must be her anchor. The bond between you is what will allow the rite to work.”

Astrid never lets go of my hand, and I can feel her strength flowing into me. Every word spoken by her mother pulls me in a different direction, as if my being is divided between the world of the living and the dead. Then, the pain begins.

It’s a deep pain, starting in my chest and expanding into every cell of my body. I feel like I’m being torn in two, as if something is trying to pull me away from reality. But I don’t let go. I hold onto Astrid’s hand with all the strength I have.

The runes beneath our feet shine brighter, the blue light rising like flames around us. I feel my heart beating in my chest, strong and fast. It’s a real, tangible heartbeat. My essence is returning.

“Don’t let go of me,” Astrid whispers, her voice broken with emotion.

“I won’t,” I manage to reply, as the pain intensifies even more, becoming unbearable.

Her mother’s words grow louder, faster. The energy in the room is almost suffocating, and everything builds to a climax. I feel immense pressure, like the entire world is crushing my body, but then, suddenly, the pain shatters, leaving only peace.

The runes glow for one last moment, then the light fades, and with it, silence envelops the room.

I breathe. My chest rises and falls regularly. I feel my heart beating, I feel the blood coursing through my veins. My body is alive.

I look at my hands, incredulous. They’re warm. Truly warm.

“You’re here… You’re back,” Astrid murmurs, her voice filled with emotion.

Her arms wrap around me in a tight embrace, and I return it, finally feeling the warmth of her body against mine. Her hand strokes my back, and I know that, this time, I’m really here.

Her mother closes the book and sighs deeply. “It’s done,” she says, with a small, tired smile. “Y/n, you’re alive.”

All I can do is smile, in disbelief, as I hold onto Astrid, feeling my heart beating strong against hers. I’m no longer a shadow, a memory. I’m real. I’ve come back. And with her, I feel like I can face anything.

"Astrid..." I whisper, my voice trembling but full of emotion. I can’t say more because she suddenly moves closer, her eyes shining with something I’d never seen before. Before I can even realize it, her lips are on mine.

The kiss is sweet, intense, full of everything we’ve felt during those days of waiting and hoping. I feel her warmth, her life melding with mine, and for the first time in a long time, I feel whole. The world around us seems to disappear: it's just the two of us, in that moment.

When we pull apart, her eyes find mine, full of a joy that manages to warm me from within. She smiles at me, and I can’t help but smile back, even though a small corner of uncertainty still lingers inside me.

“You’re back,” she murmurs, as if afraid I might disappear again.

“Yes,” I reply, still in disbelief. “Thanks to you.”

I take a deep breath and decide to stand up, to take a step forward, to feel the floor beneath my feet again. But as soon as I try to move, my body seems to give way. My legs tremble, weak and unsteady, and the whole world seems to sway around me. Before I can process it, I’m falling forward, my knees giving out beneath me.

Astrid grabs my waist just in time, holding me in her arms. My heart races, not just from the panic of losing my balance. "Hey, take it easy," she says softly, rubbing my back to reassure me. "You have to get used to it again. It’s not easy coming back to normal."

“I didn’t think... walking would be so hard,” I say, trying to laugh but feeling the embarrassment take over. I look at my legs, still trembling slightly, as if they aren’t responding to my commands.

Astrid helps me sit down again, her touch always gentle but firm. “It’s normal, it’ll take time. You have to get used to being alive again,” she says, smiling at me like it's the most natural thing in the world.

Her mother approaches with an understanding expression. “Your body has gone through a shock, Y/n. Even though your soul is back, you have to give your body time to readjust. Move slowly, one step at a time.”

I nod slowly, feeling the weight of those words. Astrid is still beside me, her arm around my waist, ready to support me at any moment.

“I’m here,” she says softly, stroking my face. “I’m not letting go.”

I take a deep breath, and even though my legs are weak, I know that with her by my side, I can do this. I lift my gaze and meet her eyes. "One step at a time," I repeat, squeezing her hand. "Together."

Astrid smiles again, and in that moment, I feel like I can conquer the world.

#SoundCloud #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x fem!reader #astrid deetz #astrid deetz x reader #beetlejuice #ghost

228 notes · View notes

shortcakesturns · 8 months ago

Text

Am I making you feel sick?

A/N: eventual smut later in the fic, you are responsible for what you consume. Cannabilism however u spell it, P in v, asphyxiation, blood, unprotected sex! (DONT DO THIS), cream pie, daddy kink, pet names: baby, honey,sweetheart princess, pretty girl. Female reader, semi, public sex. prolly more. fluff, angst. IN THIS UNIVERSE LEE WILL NOT DIE. PERIOD. THATS IT.

REQUESTS OPEN!!! I write for a lot of people please check my pinned to see who I write for! (I also take requests of who to write for)

Summary: you meet a stranger that’s also a so called eater, eventually you fall in love with him and during a kill you wonder how good he could make you feel

“Don’t talk to strangers, or you might fall in love”

A dimly lit streetlight shines above me, I could smell him in the store. He left shortly after having a man chase him out. My eyes are drawn to the corner of the abandoned building where I know he lays above the man's bloodied body eating.

The skinny boy stands up and out of the window stumbling, blood dripping down his body and coming from his mouth.

“Whatcha looking at darlin?” he asked

“I could smell you in the store.” I blankly replied.

“Could you now? I could smell you too, another eater?” he tilts his head to the side.

I nod and look around. “So where you headed?” I inquire.

“Wherever the wind takes me, honey, what about you?” his smirk grew.

“Same.” I stay quiet observing the boy, from top to bottom. Curly red grown-out hair, shell necklace originally white covered in blood droplets, the res stain meeting his skinny frame, and suddenly his hips shift.

“You like what you see there? Well if you have nowhere to go either. Come with me.” he pointed to the blue truck and his feet began to move towards the driver's side. Before my mouth could say anything I felt myself following him. I open the door from the passenger's side and climb up into the seat. With a creak, the door shuts.

“I asked you a question doll” he turns to look me in my eyes, grabbing my chin to turn my face to look at him. “I said, you like what you see doll?” giving him yet another glance down his body. I nod slowly. He lets go and turns his eyes toward the wheel and road. “Thatta girl” With a jerk the car starts up and begins to move slowly.

“Where are we staying for the night?” I look at him curiously.

“Wherever this guy's house is” he nods.

“What's your name beautiful?” he follows up with.

“Y/n, you?” I meet his eyes yet again.

“Lee.”

————

The light gleams in, and my eyes start to flutter. I turn to the other side and Lee is dangerously close to me. Cramped up in a small twin-size bed. Without waking Lee I jolt up and get ready for the day, opening the man's fridge to see if anything good could be scavenged, eggs.

A crack and pop of the eggs cooking is the ambiance as I look around the house, the eerie feeling is lingering. The house smelt like weed and cigarettes. I go to turn a corner in the house and my waist is quickly pulled back and spun around.

“You probably don't wanna go in there, it smells the worst in there. It's just an old record and a TV, rotten food. He really was a low life. Well, good riddance..”

I chuckle and my head falls into Lee's chest. His arms wrap tighter around me. “I made eggs in case you hungry for not…people” I look up at his beautiful blue eyes and his perfect smile.

“I'm always hungry honey.” he makes his way to the kitchen grabbing the eggs out of the pan and bringing them to the table.

For some reason, meeting a nonscary eater has made me more comfortable, and makes me feel more connected to him.

“I feel like I can be myself around you.” I break the silence sitting down.

“Whys that?” he makes a confused face.

“You're just the only eater that I've met that isn't scary, kinda sweet actually.” I smile

“Well, that's just perfect honey, and kinda? I'm insulted.” Lee chuckled.

“You are sweet, are” I laugh.

—— two months later ——

Lee drives down the road after picking a man up at the carnival to eat for the night, Lee brings him into the cornfield and begins to touch him. It was odd seeing Lee like that. Talking someone through it, the farthest we had gone was just a quick make-out session.

The man's moans echo throughout the so-called empty cornfield. Does Lee make people feel that good? Before the man could finish Lee slit his throat and waves me over. “Were you watching darlin'?”

“Yeah, I was.” I kneel down to feed on the man, but then Lee’s eyes dart up to look at me. “Eat baby, come on” I began to feed on the man, but keeping my eyes on who I'm truly craving. Lee.

As we finish the man Lee stands up with his blouse unbuttoned and blood down his body. “Come on pretty girl, let's get out of here.” he motions for me to follow him. I quickly follow him. Once we're at the truck I keep my eyes on Lee.

“Need somethin’ sweetheart?” Lee smirks.

“You, Lee, need you.” Lee is taken aback by the sudden boldness but keeps his mischievous smirk plastered on his face.

“Go to the bed of the truck, and bend that ass over f’me mk? I'll get there in a second love”

I do as he says and pull down the wall to the truck bed plant my feet on the road and arch my back laying the front of my body on the cold truck bed. I look around the dark isolated road, with only us. Fog covering the cornfield. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Lee walk over and feel his presence behind me.

“Mm that's a good girl, love seeing this ass bent over for daddy.” a harsh slap makes contact with my ass, my dress is slowly lifted up to reveal my wet pussy.

“No panties hm? You slut.” another slap is landed on my ass. I feel Lee get on his knees and lick a stripe down my cunt, he begins to attack my clit, the noise of him sucking on my clit could make me cum alone. Suddenly he adds a finger to my pussy stretching it out.

“Gotta stretch this pussy for my dick, yeah?” he mumbles into my pussy,

I cry as I feel a second finger added to my pussy, he continues to fuck my pussy with his fingers at a fast pace. His tongue lapped over my sweet spot, I started to build up this feeling in my stomach.

“Im gonna- fuck- Lee I'm gonna cum.” his pace quickens.

“Come on baby come f’me, come on my tongue.”

I feel my legs twitch and white covers Lee’s tongue but he doesn't stop.

“Gonna get your cum all over my face baby,” my legs twitch and my pussy becomes sensitive, and my legs began to shake more intensely. “Thats my good girl.”

Lee licks one last stripe and stands up, the pressure on his hips is sudden and firm. “You feel that princess, you feel how hard my dick is for you?” he groans out. “Yeah baby it's so big.” he jerks his hips, rubbing his clothed cock around my entrance. “That's all you have to say? Hmm okay, baby.”

His pants and underwear are yanked off in one swift motion, and his undergarments hang low against his ankles. The tip of his cock begins to rub against my pussy, from my clit to my entrance. “You want it inside baby.” he pulls back spitting in his cock and fondling it and rubbing the tip around my opening.

“Yes Lee, baby please need it so bad”

“So needy sweetheart.”

With one swift motion, Lee is inside me entirely. letting out a loud groan, he stays for one second letting my pussy adjust to the hasty stretch. “So tight baby.”

He begins to thrust deeply into my pussy, “Hmm baby, so wet and tight for me.” his cock hits my cervix over and over again. The sounds of slapping and moaning fill the once-quiet atmosphere. I glance behind me at Lee with his head thrown back encircled in blood, muttering incoherent words.

“Lee fuck its so big.”

“Yeah, this dick big enough for you? Who's fucking pussy is this?” he starts to thrust harder, “Your pussy baby.”

“Thats right pretty girl.” his thrusts slow down. “Thats fucking right” he grumbles.

A tug on my hair is felt and then a hand creeps up on my neck. “You want me to make you a mommy baby, fill up this pussy?” his thrusts are painfully slow and deep. “Yes baby please wanna be a mommy,” I beg and cry out when his thrusts speed up.

“Good girl, gonna make you the most perfect mom- oh fu- fuck gonna cum in this pussy baby.” hot cum spurts to my cervix and he lets go of my throat. “Good girl, don't let it drip out.” I stand up and he kisses my lips.

“We better get going hun, don't wanna get caught.” he steps away and walks to the front of the truck. I follow quickly behind.

We sit in silence and the car starts.

“Lee I love you.”

“I love you pretty girl.”

#Spotify #timothee chamalet #timothée chalamet #timothee chalamet smut #timothee chalamet #timothee x reader #timothee chalamalabingbong #lee bones and all #bones and all #willy wonka #wonka smut #wonka x reader smut #smut

360 notes · View notes

lewisvinga · 11 months ago

Text

pretty when you cry | pierre gasly x fem! reader

summary; y/n will always wait for pierre, no matter how many times he leaves her crying, she will always wait.

warnings; toxic! pierre, cheating, cursing

word count; 640

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1 @minkyungseokie @goldenmclaren @ollieshifts @lavisenri

notes; this song reminds me sm of priscilla but lowk not proof read lollll

‘born to die’ series masterlist.

masterlist !

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

“Mon amour, I’ll be back in 3 weeks. I promise.”

“3 weeks too long.” Y/n voice cracked, her eyes glued onto the large suitcase Pierre had in his hand. The triple header was coming up and she wasn’t ready for him to leave yet.

He had only been in Monaco for a few days. There were 2 races 2 weeks in a row, and the week off he had in between races was spent in France for some work within the factory.

He was gone for over a month and Y/n had only been with him for 2 days before he had to rush off to Texas to start the triple header. But due to a recent shortage of workers in the hospital, she couldn’t have taken any days off.

It didn’t help the fact she was on her period and more emotional either.

Pierre lets go of his suitcase and walks over to her. He gently cups her cheeks, wiping away her tears with his thumbs. “At night, when you stare at the stars, just know I’m staring at the same stars and thinking of you. All the pretty stars shine just for you, my love.”

He leans down to kiss the top of her head, “You’re my girl. You’re the girl that I dream of and that I’ll always dream of. I’ll be back in 3 weeks. Don’t you worry. Just gotta be patient and wait.” He whispers against her hair.

Y/n sniffled as she nodded. “I’ll wait for you, babe.”

“As much as I think you look pretty even when you cry,” Pierre sighed and wiped away more of her tears, “I don’t like to see you hurt. I’ll be back soon. I promise.”

Y/n takes a deep breath and nods again. “I’ll wait for you, babe.” He smiled down at her, leaving a kiss on her lips. He gently caressed her cheek, making her feel like she was his whole world in just that moment.

Maybe the 3 weeks will pass by quickly. Maybe it’ll be alright.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

“You’re fucking unbelievable, Pierre Gasly!” Y/n exclaimed the moment he walked through the front door of their shared home. His smile immediately faltered in confusion at her sudden harsh tone.

“What-“

“You’re a bitch.” She scoffed as she held up her phone, revealing a picture of him making out with a girl in some club in Brazil after the Brazilian Grand Prix.

He had to cover up the smirk that was threatening to appear on his lips with widened eyes and an open mouth. “Y/n, look-“

“What? Let you explain?” Y/n quickly interrupted him, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. “Fuck, Pierre, again? What is it this time? Were you too drunk? You thought she was me? Tell me your excuse this time!”

“Amour, it was a stupid fucking mistake, please.” Pierre pleaded, slightly hating how he liked the way her round eyes filled with tears sparkled. “And I was black-out drunk. I had no idea what was going on!”

That was a lie but she didn’t need to know that.

“Pierre, no. I can’t do this.”

“Amour, please, I need you. I can’t live without you. You’re the one for me. Please, don’t leave me.”

She takes a deep shaky breath, looking at everywhere but his eyes. Her nails dug into the palms of her hands as she finally let the tears go. Usually, whenever her exes screwed up, she was always able to leave them no matter how much they begged.

Her friends would tell her that she was always stronger than all of her men. However, Y/n couldn’t be stronger than Pierre. No matter how many times he’d leave her in tears from going away to races and making out with a model, she couldn’t leave him.

“Y/n, say something. Anything! I’ll do anything. Just don’t leave me again.”

“Pierre, I can’t.” She let out a sob, her hands finding its way to cover her eyes.

Pierre immediately took Y/n into his arms, holding her close to his chest. She tried to fight back and pull away but the comforting scent of his cologne, the softness of his shirt, and his arms keeping her closed caused her to give up.

He pressed a kiss against her hair and mumbled, “I’m sorry. Forgive me, please. I need you.”

She glanced up at him. Her eyes filled with tears as mascara ran down her cheeks. The French driver let out a sigh, admiring how pretty she looked when she cried. He knew cheating just to purposely see her cry was something cruel.

Charles and Yuki always tell him that. He knew he was in the wrong but somehow he loved these types of moments. He loved how she’d suddenly act way more clingy after. He loved how she’d do anything for him. He hated that he loved it but he couldn’t help it.

“Y/n?”

“You suck.” She mumbled, pressing her cheek against her chest. “Swear to God, Pierre, you’re going to need to do a lot of shit to make up for this.”

“I promise, I will.” Pierre’s lips curled into a smile as he cupped her rosy cheeks. His thumb wiped away the streaks of mascara, “Have I ever told you that you look pretty when you cry? You’re always so pretty, no matter what you do, mon amour.”

Y/n let out a chuckle as she nodded. Deep down she knew what he was doing and she knew it’d happen again but she just couldn’t get enough of him. She smiled at him and before leaning up to kiss him, she replied, “You always do.”

#formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 scenario #formula one scenarios #f1 imagine #formula one imagines #formula one imagine #f1 scenarios #pierre gasly scenarios #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly imagine

288 notes · View notes

the-avengers-not-the-nazis · 8 months ago

Text

‘So… Déjà vu?’

Summary: Sam and Dean have to watch their best friend die over and over again everyday.

Word count: 4.7k

A/N: I tried to not use Y/n a whole bunch in this story, mainly because I realized not a whole lot of people like that. But it is steal in the story. Also I did base this off of @jasmines-library story called GROUNDHOG DAY, y'all should go read it it’s really good. But please enjoy.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

‘Heat of the moment’

Sam woke up with a start, the music dragging him from his short slumber. Rising to sit up in his bed the small digital alarm blaring through the small motel room. Bring a hand up to his face he tried to rub the sleep from his eyes.

Sam glanced over to his side slightly surprised to see that his brother was already up and moving about, considering that he would be the one to stay in bed throughout the day if he could.

Dean sat on his side of the bed, one leg pulled towards his chest as he tied his shoelaces together. “Rise and shine, Sammy.” He shouted over the music, tossing both feet on the ground once he was done.

“Dude,” Sam said with a small chuckle. “Asia?”

A groan came from Deans bed, the sight of the motel pillow being flipped over a tired head caused a smile to lift onto Sam’s face. “Turn it down.” You muttered beneath the pillow, tugging it closer towards your face.

Dean leaned over towards the nightstand, turning up the volume on the digital clock. “Suck it up, buttercup. This is y’all’s wake up call.”

You sat up in the bed, purposely swatting Dean in the back with your pillow before hauling yourself up. Sam let out a breathy laugh at his brother’s expression, tossing the sheets off his body to start getting ready for the day.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

You stood beside Sam, patiently waiting in the door way for Dean to finish going through his bags to retrieve his pistol. Stopping his movements the older man lifted a bra by his finger, meeting Sam’s eyes as he gestured to the garment. “This yours?”

Sam gave his brother an annoyed look, in return Dean laughed in his face.

“Hurry up, I’m hungry.” You told him, slightly curious if the bra Dean was holding was yours or from the last couple that occupied the room.

“Relax,” Dean told you, digging deeper into his bag before he pulled out his gun. “So am I.”

The drive to the diner was short and the parking lot was vaguely packed. Walking through the door, the bell chimed above as Dean lead them to an empty table.

“Hey, Tuesday.” Dean said pointing at the ‘specials’ board above the counter. “Pig in a poke.”

“Do you even know what that is?” Sam asked, eyeing the older man.

Dean opened his mouth to answer, but whatever he was about to say died in his throat. Sam gave him a very smug smile as the waiter came up to their table. “Now what can I get y’all started with?”

“Think I’ll have the chocolate pancakes with the strawberry toppings.” You told the lady, handing over your menu as you did so.

“You’re gonna get sick.” Sam told you after he and Dean had ordered their own breakfast.

You simply shrugged your shoulders. “Then I’ll get sick, Sam, and hopefully have the day off afterwards.”

“Nah,” Dean told you, his arm resting behind your seat. “We’ll still make you work anyway.”

You slung Deans arm off before facing Sam again, “What exactly are we searching here for, Sam?”

“Nothing, that’s what we’re searching for.” Dean said for Sam, purposely ignoring the look the taller man gave him.

“Well Dean, what do you think we should be doing then?”

“Searching for Bela, getting the colt back, Sam. Not sitting here and working a simple disappearance case.”

“I agree with Dean,” you told Sam, leaning forward onto the table in case anyone were to eavesdrop. “We can’t close up Hell with out the colt.”

“I know that, Y/n.” Sam told you, a deep sigh falling from his lips as he looked around the small diner. “But we don’t even know where she is. And in the meantime we have this.” He pulled a couple of news clipping articles from his jacket and placed them onto the table.

As the three of you discussed the disappearance of the local professor, the waitress gave each of you y’all’s breakfast. Your chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream and chopped strawberries made your stomach rumble, giving a quick thank you before pouring syrup on top.

A loud smash lifted you from the sugary dessert, both brothers staring down at the smashed bottle of hot sauce on the floor. “Crap.” The waitress muttered to herself, before rushing off to grab something to clean the spill.

After she left, you talked briefly about the professor, Sam making a small point about how he was last scene at the local Mystery Spot. A place ‘Where the laws of physics have no meaning!”

“Alright then,” You said, pulling out your wallet to leave a small tip for the waitress. “Let’s head to the Mystery Spot.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

The said Mystery Spot lived up to its name, tables stuck to the ceiling, the hallways were painted to give off a hypnotic appeal. If it weren’t for the fact that the place was completely pitch black and that the magical effect it was supposed to have wasn’t in full effect. It would honestly be something that you would like to go and see when your not on the job.

“Huh,” You muttered, shinning a flashlight at one of the strange objects in the room. “Do you think this guy actually gets money off this place.”

“Are you kidding? I’m surprised if this guy could even keep the place open.” Dean responded eyeing the same piece that you were.

Moving the flashlight away from the object and towards the younger Winchester, you flashed it at the EMF in his hand. “What’s your reading?”

Sam just shook his head.

“Do you even know what you’re looking for?” Dean asked, aggravation slowly seeping into his tone.

“Yeah…” Sam gave a small shrug, though his response was clearly unsure of him self. He noticed the look both his brother and you were giving him. “No.” He finally admitted.

You gave a small nod, your lips pulled into a tight line as you moved on through the room. “Lovely.”

Click

“What the hell are you doing here.” A voiced called out, causing you and the brothers to instantly draw your guns and aim at the person.

You recognized him as the owner of the Mystery Spot, and so did the boys because they both held up their guns in the air to not show that they were not any danger. Though by the looks of it all the three of them were far from innocent in the eyes of the owner.

“Woah, hey look, we can explain.” Dean said, eyeing the weapon with worry, seeing as he can’t defend themselves as much since they are the ones that broke into his building.

The owner waved his gun between the three of them, uncertain if he should pull the trigger or not. “You robbing me?”

“No sir,” You told the man, moving towards the nearby table to place your gun in his eye of sight, trying to prove that you weren’t about to harm him. “No sir, we aren’t stealing from you.”

“Don’t move!” He shouted, the barrel of the gun pointed at your chest. “Don’t.”

“I’m just putting gun away.” You tried to reassure the man.

Bang

The noise came loud and sudden, causing you to fall backwards upon impact.

“Y/n!”

Sam quickly fell to the ground, placing both hands over the hole in your chest. “Oh my God.” He muttered tears slowly collecting at his water line, he looked over at his older brother for help, unsure of what to do.

“Call 911.” Dean told the man, coming to sit beside you, eyes darting between your wound and the pained expression on your face.

“I-I didn’t mean t-“

“Call them, now!” He shouted, placing a hand near the seeping hole. Praying that it’ll disappear once he lifts it.

Though like all his prayers they go unheard as blood continued to pour from the wound. You let out a pained moan, with either of the boys putting pressure on it, it caused pain to shoot through your body. But, you felt to numb to tell them off about that.

Sam tugged you up into his arms, feeling as your body starts to relax the longer you laid there. Once more he looked at Dean, desperation in his eyes as he didn’t want to loose you like this.

Dean lightly tapped the side of your face, watching as your eyes drooped behind your eyelids. “Please, buttercup,” he whispered, voice slowly cracking as the weight of the situation suddenly fell on him. “Just stay awake for a little while, ok? C-can you do that for me?”

You began to see spots in your vision, sounds had started to mix in with one another and you could taste the blood filling your mouth. And above all filling your lungs, slowly choking on copper liquid.

“J-just a little longer.” Dean whispered, bringing your head to him to place a kiss on your hairline. “You can do it, me and Sammy know you can.”

Sam felt his heart stop when he noticed your eyes wouldn’t open back up, when your chest stopped rising and falling, how your arms just dangled. A choked sob left his mouth, and Dean just held your head closer to him, muttering quiet prayers for you to stay with them.

But they knew it was too late, they knew that the ambulance would never make it on time. You were dead.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

‘Heat of the moment’

Sam woke up with a start, panic deeply embedded in his mind as he slowly processed what exactly had happened. But, looking around it appeared as if nothing had happened and that it was a strange dream.

Dean sat in his bed, leg pulled towards his chest, shoelaces tightly gripped in each hand as he appeared to have the same thoughts racing through his mind just like his brother. “Rise and shine, Sammy.”

Sam had heard that before, the same line ringing through his mind like a signal. He’s heard that before, he’s heard this song before, almost like he had already lived this day before.

A groan came from Deans bed, immediately both brothers looked over at the noise. And both felt their heart stop in their chest at what they saw.

It was you.

And you had just pulled your pillow over your head like from a distant memory of theirs.

“Y/n?” Dean asked, forgetting his shoe completely and reaching over to lightly shake you. Almost as to see if you were real. “Y/n?”

“Cut it out.” You told him, taking the pillow and hitting him in the chest.

Dean turned to his brother, disbelief and shock written all over his face as he tried to find an answer from his smart little brother. But, Sam just slowly shook his head, he didn’t know why or how you were back, but you were.

And neither boys knew if they should be thankful or concerned for that.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Everything was the same. That the boys figured out the longer the day passed, from you doing the same morning routine as before, all the way to the people in the diner talking and acting as if they’ve done this before.

It was almost as if it was rehearsed.

Sam and Dean knew something was happening but they just didn’t know how to voice it. You were acting as if nothing had happened, as if you didn’t die in their arms from a gun shot. And maybe it didn’t happen.

“Hey, Dean,” you said, sitting down in the inside of the booth. “Tuesdays pig in a poke.”

Sam gave you a funny look, eyebrows pinched together as he glanced at his brother real quick. “It’s Tuesday?”

You looked at the menu, not even bothering to met Sam’s eye as you spoke. “Yep, just like yesterday was Monday, and the day before was Sun-“

“We get it.” Dean interrupted you, his arm slung behind your back at he glanced around the restaurant. An unnerving feeling creeping up the back of his mind.

Eyeing both boys, you could tell that something was the matter. They’ve been acting strange ever since they woke up this morning, but for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out why. “Are you guys ok?”

“Yep.”

“Never better.”

You could tell they were lying, even through they were physically fine, deep down you knew something was wrong mentally. “Ok.” You replied going back to the menu, eyeing the many types of pancakes they had. “Think I’ll have chocolate pancakes with strawberry toppings.”

“Do you… Do you not remember any of this?” Sam asked, knowing now that this had happened before.

“… no?”

The waitress came over taking both yours and deans order, whom went with the special. Once she left, you turned you attention back to the boys. “What exactly should I be remembering?”

“This, today. Like it’s happened before.”

You pulled your lips into a tight line, mind racing to think if you’d actually remember this. “No, but maybe yall are experiencing Deja vu.” You told them, pretty certain that that’s all that was happening to them.

“No, not Deja vu.” Sam told you, rubbing the sides of his head. “But it’s like this day has happened already, like we are reliving the yesterday.”

You glanced at each Winchester, concern etching to the front of your mind. “So… Deja vu?”

“No it’s-“ Dean rubbed his face, unsure of how to tell you that they’d already been through this day before.

The waitress came back stack of chocolate chip pancakes, the whipped cream smothered in sliced strawberries. She also placed Deans pig in a poke onto the table, the smell of the breakfast gave off caused your stomach to rumble as your began to pour syrup on top the fruity food.

“And here’s your hot sauc- crap!” The hot sauce on the platter tipped over falling towards the ground, though almost as a reflex Sam caught it, surprise etched on his face at what he’d done. “Thanks.” The waitress told him, walking away with the empty platter.

“Wow.” You told the younger man. “We got our very own Spider-Man.”

After breakfast the boys seemed to try and explain the whole situation to you, though they tried their hardest to leave out the part where you got blown away by the owner of the mystery spot.

The Mystery Spot.

That’s where you died and that’s also when you came back and everything was practically normal. The brothers knew they had to go back there and find some answers, but not at night. That’s what they told you when you brought up going at night, they knew that if they could prevent the inedible then they would.

Tires screeched from the road, trying to stop itself before it connected with your body. You were thrown across the road, your body broken and bloody from the impact. Once the brothers reached your side they knew it was too late, you were far to gone for them so save.

‘Heat of the moment’

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Day after day, song after song, the Winchester boys had to watch you die in both gruesome and unrealistic ways. And every single time there was no way to save you.

They were starting to get desperate, everyday they had explained to you what had happened and every time you ended up dead in one way or another. Right now they were back in the diner, you were quietly munching on your stack of waffles while the boys had the computer and newspaper articles scattered around the table.

“So…” you began trying to figure out how exactly to word your next sentence. “”I’ve been killed every day and neither of y’all can figure out how?”

“Well not exactly but I think we are getting close.” Sam told you, glancing up from behind the computer screen.

“Yeah, see we thought I was the mystery spot, but after we tor down the walls and you got an axe to the head.” Dean told you, ignoring the way you stopped eating at that. “We thought maybe it wasn’t the place, but the things around it.”

“So then the town?”

“Exactly.”

“Well,” you began picking out the strawberries and eating them alone. “Have y'all tried leaving this place?”

“Yes”

“And?”

“And we got T-boned” Sam told you, finger clicking against the keyboard.

”Oh… and I take it I didn’t make it.”

“No. No your neck broke on impact. “

“Oh” you didn’t really feel like eating after that. Clearing your throat and pushing your plate away you leaned forward to see what they were working on. “So what exactly have you guys gotten from all this.”

“It’s not that clear but, this Dexter Hasselback had put a lot of places like the Mystery Spot out of business.” Sam told you flipping the papers in your direction. “So we may think that I has to do something with him.”

“Yeah, but, we don’t know where Hasselback is.” Dean added on. “So we’re thinking that if we find him, we find out what going on.”

You nodded along with the information given, “Sounds great. Should we go ahead and look for Hasselback then?”

Dean gave a quick nod, hurriedly packing all the newspapers clippings into the small back that Sam had brought with him. Out of the corner of his eye, Sam saw a man from the counter get up to leave.

Sam glanced at where the man once sat, and he seem to freeze at what he saw. The pink sticky syrup next to the plate covered in leftovers of the man’s breakfast. “Dean,” he said not once taking his eyes off the syrup. “Look at the counter.”

“What about it?” You asked, even though Sam didn’t call for you.

“That man has maple syrup for the last 100 Tuesdays, now all of the sudden he has strawberries?” He said eyeing the man as he walked out of the restaurant.

“Can’t blame ‘em.” You told Sam, picking up your own strawberry at that. “It’s earths one weakness.”

“Nothing changes, not the people and especially what they do. Except for us.” Dean muttered catching onto Sam’s ranting.

And by tomorrow they would know exactly what to do to stop this.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Neither Sam nor Dean spoke a word to you the next day, they let you get your pancakes and listened to the words you seemed forced to say all while never taking their eyes off the man at the counter.

“You know if you keep on being rude, the lady is gonna spit in my food.” You told them playing with a sugar packet as you waited on your food to come.

They knew you were right, when the waitress came by, they were the ones to tell them what you wanted. And when they did it was very curt and off handed, almost like they were too focused on something else to care about how they acted.

“You’ll live.” Dean told you, eyes glued to the man.

“You two are dicks when your hungry.” You muttered under your breath, although they still heard what you said, but that was the least of their concerns.

The waitress came back with your pancakes before leaving again, and as she left the man at the counter suddenly stood up. He cleaned his mouth with a napkin, pulled out some money from his pocket and headed for the door.

Sam and Dean shared a quick look, waiting til he was outside before getting up themselves. You stared confusedly as they walked out the diner, completely leaving you in the booth were you sat.

“Are you seriously making me pay?” You called after them, though they were already out the door before you could argue any further. Plucking a small strawberry off the whipped cream, you threw down some money and hurried after the boys, not wanting to be left behind.

The boys followed the man to the parking lot, though they refused to let him go any further as Sam slammed the man up against the fence.

“Sam! What the hell?” You asked, coming up beside the taller man. But, your confusion went from one brother to the next as Dean pulled out a stake, the end dipped in blood. He pressed it up against the man’s throat silencing his yelling momentarily, the threat of being stabbed causing him to let out pleads to the two men.

“We know who you are.” Dean told him pushing the piece of wood deeper into his neck. “Or what you are.”

“Oh my God.” The man looked between the three, eyes landing on you as you were the only one currently not posing as a threat to him. “Please don’t kill me.”

“It took us a hell of long time, but we figured it out.” Sam said, adding onto Dean explanation. “It was your M.O. that gave it away.”

“Yeah, going after jerks, giving them their just deserts. You kind loves that, don’t they?” Dean continued to taunt, not once letting his gripped slip up.

The man looked like he was ready to start screaming again, eyes glancing between the weapon to the boys. “Yeah, sure. Ok! Just put the stake down!”

“Guys, maybe y’all should-“ you tried to reason with either of the brothers before they interrupted you.

“No!” Dean pressed the stake further into the man’s neck. “There’s only one creature powerful enough to do what you’re doing.” The man let out a pained groan. “Making reality out of nothing, sticking people into time-loops.”

“You’d have to be a God.” Sam finished, grip ever so slightly tightening on the man’s collar. “You’d have to be a trickster.”

“Sam…”

The man began to panic even more, a light sheen of sweat covering his face as he tried his hardest to lean away from the weapon. “Misters… my name is Ed Coleman. My wife is Amelia- I’ve got two kids!” He then stared right at the boys, “I sell add space for Christs sake.”

“Boys, I don’t think you should be doing this.” You tried once more, but all that came from your mouth just fell on deaf ears.

“Don’t lie!” Sam suddenly shouted. “We know what you are, we killed your kind before.”

A beat of silence passed, no one seemed to move or even breath as they waited for something to happen. And right before their eyes the man’s face seemed to shift, his hair changing colors, eyes ever so slightly distancing themselves and his skin ridded itself of wrinkles.

The man before you had shifted into an all to familiar face.

“Actually,” The trickster began, a smug smirk plastered on his lips. “You didn’t.”

“Why are you doing this?” Dean asked first, the initial shock slowly fading as he came back to the current situation. “Why Y/n?”

“Are you kidding me? All three of you tried to kill me last time.” The trickster told you all, pointing an acusase finger as he did so. “Why wouldn’t I do this? Why not make each of you suffer?”

“So this is funny to you?” Sam asked, pushing the smaller man further into the fence. “Killing her over and over again, you find joy in that?”

“I’ve been getting killed?” You asked, confused and slightly shocked at what Sam had confessed.

“Oh,” the trickster said, fake sincerity lacing his voice. “Did they forget to tell you today?”

“Shut up! Answer the question.” Dean shouted, the stake being pushed deeper into his throat as he did so.

“Ok, ok! Yes it is fun.” The trickster confessed, trying to present a small laugh to ease the situation. Though it’s far from working. “But, this is so not about killing Y/n.”

The boys give one another a look of confusion. “What do you mean?”

“The joke is on the both of you. I mean… come on.” He gave a small roll of his eyes. “How great is it to watch your best friend die, day after day? Death after death? Forever.”

“Screw you.” Sam muttered.

The trickster gave a small scoff, “Oh, yeah, way to go Sam. Way to keep it PG. But seriously how long will it take you two to realize you can’t save everyone? No matter how hard you try.”

“Yeah? We stick this stake in you right now, it ends for good.” Dean taunted pressing deeper with the wood.

“Ok. Ok!” The trickster held up both hands. “You can’t take a joke? Fine, you’re out of it. You wake up tomorrow and it’ll be Wednesday.”

“And if you’re lying?”

“Then you know where to find me. At the diner having pancakes.” He then snapped his fingers and everything went dark.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Sam woke up with a start, the music blared through the small digital clock on the bedside table. He tried to rub the sticky from the back of his eyes, but the song of choice caused him to awaken even more. Glancing over at the table he ignored the time, seemingly staring at the date.

“Wednesday.” He muttered to himself. “It’s Wednesday.”

“Yeah,” you called out from the bathroom, ringing out your hair into the motels shower as you did. “Like how yesterday was Tuesday and the day before was Monday. And can you turn that down, please? I don’t want to get a complaint from the neighbors.”

“No, are you kidding?” Dean asked you, deeply relieved that he didn’t have to listen to Asia again this morning. “Is this not the most beautiful song you’ve ever heard?”

You glance between both brothers, stopping your movements momentarily. “I’ve heard better.” You then went back to drying your hair. “How many Tuesdays did you two have exactly.”

“Too many.” Sam told you, tossing His bed sheets away from him as he got out of bed. “Wait… what do you remember?”

“Well you two were being real dicks at breakfast yesterday, then you threatened to stab a guy in the diners parking lot. And then the guy turned into the trickster, and that’s ‘bout it, really.”

“Right, ok. Let’s get out of here.” Sam told you, making his way to his bag to get a change of clothes. Dean not to far behind.

“Are- are you two not hungry?”

“No.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

You placed the last of your stuff in the back of the impala, the door shutting will a loud thump as you did so. Turning to make your way back into the motel, you were stopped by an older man. One you recognized as someone from the diner yesterday.

“Jus’ hand me your money and I’ll be on my way.” He told you, cocking his pistol to show that he wasn’t joking around.

“Alright, ok. Yeah.” You told him, hands slightly raised at your sides as you did so. “It’s just in my pocket, ok?”

He gave you a quick nod, eyes darting around the empty parking lot in case someone walked out on them. “That’s fine.”

Reaching into your pockets, you pulled your wallet out. Raising it to show the man, you then tossed it at him, he caught it with his unoccupied hand. The gun still pointed directly at you.

“We good?” You questioned, hands going back to the air as the man didn’t look like he was going to lower his weapon.

“Yeah, we’re good.”

Bang

Sam and Dean stopped their movements, the both of them giving each other a Quick Look before running outside. Upon reaching the motels parking lot they saw you on the ground, blood everywhere so slowly pooling around you as you laid motionless.

The man who had shot you was running away, his gun tucked tightly towards his chest as he fled from the scene. But the brothers main focus wasn’t on him, instead they raced towards you, praying that they weren’t too late.

Sam dropped to one side as Dean dropped to the other, their blue jeans soaking up the blood on the asphalt as they lifted you into a sitting position.

“Y/n?” Sam asked hands clutching onto the sides of your face as your body went numb. “Y/n please.”

Dean knew this was too familiar, it was like the first time that you had been killed. Only this time he had a sliver of hope that the trickster was playing another joke on them. But as seconds passed and you had yet to wake up, that hope began to fade. And instead tears threatened to spill over.

“Sam,” dean muttered out, holding on your lifeless hand. “I don’t think we are waking up this time.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

A/N: Hope yall enjoyed. And for anyone that is wondering I am working on the DAREDEVIL!READER x JASON TODD story. I just finished school and tests is all, but let me know what yall think!

290 notes · View notes

anonymousewrites · 24 days ago

Text

Lavender for Royalty; Sage for Wisdom (Book 1) Chapter Ten

Kyoya Ootori x Reader

Chapter Ten: Carnation for Fascination

Summary: The Host Club meets the Zuka Club. Mortal enemies are made

“(Y/N), you look so chivalrous!” said their current guest, a heavy blush on her cheeks.

“I need to be prepared to protect you, my lady,” said (Y/N). Today, the theme was “knights,” so they had on (well-made) prop armor. “After all, it’s my duty and my honor.” They smiled and gave a bow.

The girl nearly fainted back into her friend’s arms.

“Ah, princess, even if this world ends, I wish to be your knight, protecting you with my life,” declared Tamaki, kissing the back of his guest’s hand.

“Oh, Tamaki!” sighed the girls.

“Is that so?” Tamaki looked over at where a girl sipping tea looked up. “But isn’t ‘to protect with my life’ a selfish vow? Do you think the girl left behind would be happy?”

The hosts glanced at each other, surprised. That was an unexpected reaction.

“It can’t be helped, Miss Suzuran,” said a second girl, sitting across from Suzuran. “Men are lowly creatures who value their pride above all. They can’t even protect themselves, yet they believe women owe them for something.”

(Y/N) covered their mouth to prevent a chuckle. A bit harsh, but I have met a lot of men like that…

“Hinagiku, quite well put,” said Suzuran.

“That’s a rather strict view.” Tamaki still had a pleasant smile as he walked towards them, happy and ready to give them a nice time at the Host Club. “What kind of vow would you prefer?”

“Well, I would never leave her alone.” The doors of the host club opened, and Haruhi, accompanied by a taller speaker—wow, pretty, thought (Y/N) (they were right, weren’t they?)—entered the room. “If we fight, we fight together. If fate decrees, let’s die in each other’s arms.” The girl knelt and kissed Haruhi’s hand.

Haruhi, bless her soul, just looked a bit confused, but every other girls’ face erupted into a blush at the romantic declaration.

“What?!” cried Tamaki, instantly upset at someone being so forward with Haruhi.

“You’re late, Benibara,” said Hinagiku, happy to see her.

“What a troublemaker you are,” said Suzuran, tutting and shaking her head. “And where’d you find someone so cute?”

“Walking outside,” said Benibara. “Even with her disguise, I knew right away. Look at these bright eyes.”

“Her skin is flawless!” said Hinagiku, patting Haruhi’s cheeks.

“Really, such potential,” agreed Suzuran. “She’ll shine when polished.”

“Wait! You’re mistaken, this is definitely a guy!” said Tamaki hurriedly.

“Hands off, lowlife!” said Benibara before Tamaki could come close. He collapsed in fear.

“Senpai—” Haruhi held out a hand to ask for help (Listen, being fawned over by pretty girls was some people’s dreams, but Haruhi didn’t need the attention. Really. Her dad and Tamaki were annoying enough).

“Ladies,” said (Y/N), stepping up with a smile. “I think Haruhi would like her personal space—” As they spoke, they took Haruhi’s hand and pulled her toward them.

The instant Benibara’s eyes landed on (Y/N), they widened. “Beautiful,” said Benibara, stepping forward. She tipped (Y/N)’s chin up and leaned towards them. “Utterly beautiful. Such a pity you’re dressing up as silly men.”

“I’m not a girl…” said (Y/N), sweat-dropping. If this was the direction it was going, they were going to have a terrible time. They weren’t a girl or a boy. They were (Y/N).

“You’re beautiful nonetheless,” said Benibara. “And you would look divine in a dress, if I may say so.”

Oh. Oh, she’s good. Oh, no. (Y/N) fumbled for their words. They were used to flirting more, not someone else flirting with them.

The sharp sound of a notebook closing drew all eyes. Kyoya was standing stiffly at the window, and he smiled coldly with his eyes closed. “You’re not from Ouran, so I shall excuse your rudeness once. Do not touch our hosts without their explicit consent.”

“Not from Ouran?!” said Tamaki. “Who are they?”

“We are from the esteem Saint Lobelia Institute,” said Benibara. She ripped off the male Ouran uniform to reveal her red and white Lobelia uniform. “Second year, Benio Amakusa.”

Suzuran pulled off the yellow Ouran dress to reveal her true uniform. “Second year, Chizuru Maihara.”

“First year, Hinako Tsuwabuki,” said Hinagiku.

“We’re the Saint Lobelia Women’s Institute’s White Lily Club,” said the three together. “Otherwise known as the Zuka Club!”

“Zuka Club?!” exclaimed all the Ouran students.

“A WLW Host Club?” (Y/N) paused and considered. “Yeah, who wouldn’t want that?”

“Senpai?” Haruhi sweat-dropped.

(Y/N) shrugged in answer.

A dark cloud was beginning to swirl around Kyoya’s head, and Haruhi looked between him and (Y/N) nervously. Oh boy…, she thought. She wasn’t entirely sure what Kyoya and (Y/N)’s deal was—though she had suspicions—but that didn’t look good for this incident…

The cloud of annoyance around the Shadow King’s aura didn’t let up through the rest of the day with the Host Club. The Zuka Club refused to leave, so the Host Club had to continue their duties while their guests kept being stolen by the three women, which was getting on all of their nerves. Furthermore, they kept bothering Haruhi and (Y/N)—or, really, complimenting Haruhi and flirting with (Y/N)—which was frustrating Tamaki and Kyoya greatly. By the time the Host Club was over and they were changed back into uniforms, they were all ready for the Zuka Club to leave.

“A woman’s beauty lies in a pure mind, unyielding to superficial beauty, power, or lust,” said Suzuran.

“ ‘Because you’re female,’ ‘even though you’re female…’ ” Hinagiku tsked. “I am disgusted by men’s discrimination against women.”

“We desire relationships with equality of heart and soul,” said Benibara. “Even romantic relationships.” She looked at (Y/N) and smiled at the mention of romance.

“Seriously, just go home,” said Kaoru and Hikaru, rolling their eyes. They were bored with the Zuka Club already.

“It seems you have no words for our divine love,” said Hinagiku.

“Don’t pick on them, Hinagiku,” said Suzuran. She smiled. “They’re just baffled that their host club skills have no effect on us.”

“Actually, we don’t mind,” said (Y/N). “There are lesbian students at Ouran who aren’t effected and don’t come.” They shrugged.

“Unaffected even by you?” Benibara hummed and tucked a piece of hair behind (Y/N)’s ear. “I sincerely doubt it, Carnation.”

White Lily Club sticks to their flowers, I guess. (Y/N) stepped back a little. It was flattering ((Y/N) understood why Benibara was so popular at Lobelia) but they weren’t interested in her.

Benibara didn’t notice their movement and faced the Host Club. “I don’t care if you’re president is half-European or something. Using your superficial looks to spread false love and play with the pure hearts of women is completely unacceptable! Indulging your greed in the name of ‘club activities.’ ” She tsked. “And indulging delicate flowers such as they?!” She gestured at Haruhi, who looked confused, and (Y/N), who sighed. “Unforgivable! I swear to you, I will have the Host Club disbanded immediately!”

“…(Y/N), are all rich people this weird?” said Haruhi.

“The Zuka Club seems like a women-run Host Club, basically, so I think it might just be them,” said (Y/N).

“Oh, great, I’m involved with the weird people,” sighed Haruhi.

(Y/N) chuckled.

“I understand your intent,” said Kyoya coldly. “But since our president is out cold from the culture shock—”

“Of lesbians?” said (Y/N).

“I think from them flirting with you,” said Haruhi.

“And complimenting you,” said (Y/N). That would do it.

“—can you come back later?” Kyoya wanted them out before he cracked.

“Tamaki is a sleepyhead right now!” said Honey while Mori put a blanket over Tamaki on the couch.

“A sleeping boy is a growing boy!” said the twins.

“Then slap him awake! Don’t take me lightly!” Benibara gritted her teeth.

“How about we all calm down?” said (Y/N), putting on their pleasant hosting smile. “Here, everyone, have some coffee.”

“Thank you, how kind you are!” Benibara’s hand rested on (Y/N)’s shoulder, and she kissed their cheek.

“O-Oh, you’re welcome,” said (Y/N), surprised again by Benibara’s forwardness. Is this how our guests feel? No. They know what they’re coming in for.

“A rose among thorns,” said Suzuran, taking (Y/N)’s hand gracefully. “I believe you were right, Benibara. Vibrant as a carnation.”

“Let’s have a tea party just the five of us!” Hinagiku took Haruhi’s arm excitedly.

“Hey!” Tamaki leapt up from the couch at that touch. He grabbed Haruhi and (Y/N) and dragged them away from the girls. “You guys are all wrong! Haruhi and (Y/N) are in our club because they chose to be!”

“I’m not,” said Haruhi, deadpanning.

“Not the time,” winced (Y/N).

“And what could you guys give them that we couldn’t—yow!” Tamaki jumped as Hinagiku “spilled” (dumped) her coffee on his hand. “Hot, hot!” Honey ran over to blow on his hand as he pouted, and Mori grabbed water.

“They hardly seem worth talking to,” said Benibara, distastefully.

You’re all weird, thought (Y/N) and Haruhi, exchanging glances. Rich people were always weird.

“I’ve decided!” said Benibara. She pulled (Y/N) to her, and (Y/N)’s eyes widened. “I cannot keep these beautiful flowers at this club, knowing its current state! I will start the transfer process immediately and welcome them into the Zuka Club!”

“Wait a second!” said Haruhi quickly, pulling (Y/N) away from Benibara. “There seems to be some misunderstanding, like the idea of the Host Club having a shallow history.”

“It is,” said Kaoru. “It’s only been around for two years.”

“The boss created it when he started high school,” said Hikaru, shrugging.

Haruhi sweat-dropped but continued. “And I’ve never heard of Tamaki being half-European.”

“No, Tamaki is half-European,” said Honey brightly. “His parents are French and Japanese.”

Haruhi deflated some more. “And, uh, the Host Club isn’t greedy, but it’s not like we’re taking fees from customers.”

“It’s more like a point system based on the amount that the girls by from our auction sit,” said Kyoya. “Look, Haruhi, your used mechanical pencil has gone for 41,000 yen.”

“What?! I thought I’d lost that pencil!” Now Haruhi was pissed at the Host Club (not that (Y/N) could blame her). “I never heard any of this! I didn’t know we were taking money!”

“Did you think we were providing this service for free?” said Kyoya. “We have event fees, costume fees, the customer’s beverages, etc. The profit is virtually nonexistent. 99% goes towards operations.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to sell people’s belongings!” said Haruhi. “Thieves!”

“It’s not stealing. We found it on the ground,” said the twins. (Y/N) whacked them upside the head, and they groaned. “Ow, senpai!”

“(Y/N), say something to him!” said Haruhi, gesturing at Kyoya.

(Y/N) shrugged. “I thought you knew.”

Haruhi groaned and looked at the computer. “And why is there nothing of yours on here?!”

“There is. It’s rare, so it sells for more.” (Y/N) smiled. “Scarcity raises prices.”

“And so Kyoya doesn’t steal your stuff because of that?!” said Haruhi.

Well, truthfully, Kyoya hadn’t realized he didn’t sell (Y/N)’s belongings as often as the other hosts. He had chalked it up to raising prices as they said and to the fact they were a commoner, but now that he had identified his…preference (feelings is such a scary word) for them, Kyoya was seeing his favoritism far more clearly. Ah, well. He wasn’t changing now.

“I’m sorry, Haruhi! We weren’t hiding it from you!” Tamaki hugged her. “Here! I’ll give you my pencil! It has Teddy on it!”

“I don’t want it,” said Haruhi, rolling her eyes.

“And I will reveal the secret of my birth!” said Tamaki.

“That’s one revelation I really don’t care about,” said Haruhi. “You are so obsessed by Japanese society, I never thought you had mixed heritage.”

“Poor things, so taken advantage of by these hosts,” said Suzuran.

Benibara threw Tamaki to the side so she and the Zuka Club could console Haruhi and (Y/N) for the loss of their belongings (ignoring the fact (Y/N) wasn’t bothered).

“Dump these scoundrels and come with us!” said Hinagiku.

“Wait, Hingiku, these flowers are still in shock,” said Benibara. “We’ll come back tomorrow.” She raised (Y/N)’s hand and kissed the back. “We hope to receive a good answer.” The Zuka Club walked out the door, leaving the Host Club on its own.

They all looked nervously at Haruhi. She glared at them, and they winced.

“I’ll take my leave for today,” she said, walking out the door.

Yikes… thought the Host Club.

“Waaaah!” cried Tamaki. “Telling her the truth was like throwing gas on a fire!”

“The truth is the truth,” said Kyoya. “And that’s that.”

(Y/N) crossed their arms, unimpressed. “You should have told her earlier.”

“Perhaps,” said Kyoya. Currently, he was too busy thinking of how to ensure (Y/N) didn’t leave. He didn’t think they would, but he was to eliminate any possibility.

“We probably shouldn’t have sold that mechanical pencil…” said Honey.

“It could have been from her mother,” said Hikaru.

“No, it had an electronics store logo on it,” said Kaoru. “It was a giveaway.”

“…(Y/N)?” said Honey. “Are you mad? Are you going to leave?”

“Why would I leave?” said (Y/N).

“We made Haruhi mad…” said Honey.

“And you do like girls,” said the twins.

(Y/N) deadpanned and looked at the hosts. “You guys think that after doing all this work to get into Ouran and choosing to join the Host Club I’d just leave?” They chuckled. “No. I’m not leaving.”

The hosts relaxed, and Kyoya straightened. The was good. It meant he didn’t have to blackmail Lobelia and Ouran into not letting (Y/N) transfer.

“But what about Haruhi?” said Tamaki. He sighed. “Haruhi acts indifferent. But she prefers male clothing. And she likes girls fawning over her. Maybe…Maybe she’d rather be in the Zuka Club.”

“Haruhi’s going to transfer?!” cried Honey. He grabbed (Y/N)’s uniform. “You have to stop her!”

“It’s her decision,” said (Y/N). They doubted Haruhi would, but she was a smart person and determined, so…it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.

“What can we do?!” said the twins, panicked. “With her brains, Haruhi will have no problem passing the scholarship exam!”

“Lobelia may even be willing to take care of her debt to the Host Club,” said Kyoya casually, causing Tamaki to flail in panic.

“Calm down, everyone, and listen to me!” Tamaki looked at everyone with determination. “I have a great plan!”

“Everyone ready?” said Tamaki. “Haruhi and the Zuka Club are approaching!”

“Yes!” said the hosts.

The doors of the Host Club opened, and Haruhi and the Zuka Club’s jaw’s dropped. The hosts were dressed as women. Mori, Kyoya, and Tamaki were still wearing suits, but the makeup made their features more feminine—like how Benibara looked when she wore the Ouran man’s uniform. Kaoru, Hikaru, and Honey wore dresses and wigs to appear more feminine. (Y/N) looked the most like themself just in a deep blue dress like the color of Ouran’s uniforms with green and white stitching across the bodice.

“Welcome,” greeted the hosts.

The Zuka Club stared. “What…?”

“Haruhi, welcome,” said the Hitachiin twins, smiling.

“Haruhi, Haruhi, I’m a princess!” said Honey excitedly. “Does it suit me?”

“What is the meaning of this?!” said Benibara. “Do you mean to insult us?!”

“Insult? Absolutely not!” said Tamaki. “This is all according to plan! The ‘Two Tastes in One’ plan!”

Haruhi deadpanned and looked at (Y/N). They shrugged and smiled. They were having fun.

“Haruhi may be attracted to the Zuka Club, yes, but if she chooses her club, she’ll have brothers and sisters and siblings of all kinds!” declared Tamaki. “She can enjoy a Zuka Club atmosphere while at the Host Club!”

“Haruhi, look! Aren’t we pretty?” said Tamaki excitedly.

“How’s this, Haruhi?” said Hikaru, smiling. “We’re the Hitachiin sisters!”

“Who’s more beautiful, your dad or us? Just kidding!” said Kaoru.

“Haru, Haru, you can call me ‘Big Sis!’ ” said Honey, grinning.

“My lady,” said (Y/N), jokingly bowing.

“How dare you try to fool these flowers with a simple drag act!” said Benibara. “Cease this idiotic—”

“Ha!” Haruhi covered her mouth and doubled over. “I knew you guys were silly…but…” Her shoulders shook as she uncontrollably laughed. “This is the limit! It’s so illogical!”

“Is it that funny?” teased those in dresses, and Haruhi exploded into laughter again. Tamaki stared at her expression, his gaze softening. (Y/N) smiled.

“Young lady?” said Benibara.

Haruhi stood and smiled at her. “I’m sorry. It takes all kinds, and I think you guys are doing something interesting, but I have a dream I want to fulfill. That’s why I came to Ouran. I never had any intention of leaving.”

Honey and Tamaki grinned happily (Tamaki cried tears of happiness). The twins deadpanned and looked at one another in their dresses. Mori nodded in satisfaction. Kyoya began tallying the costs of makeup and outfits dejectedly. (Y/N) just smiled softly.

“But if you never meant to leave, why’d you get all upset yesterday?!” cried Tamaki.

“You sold my belongings! Of course I was mad.” Haruhi rolled her eyes. “Besides, I had to get to the supermarket for a sale.”

“Of course,” said (Y/N), shaking their head and chuckling.”

“Carnation?” said Benibara, approaching (Y/N). “You look so beautiful. At the Zuka Club, you could dress like this whenever you desired.”

Kyoya looked up from his notebook and narrowed his eyes.

(Y/N) smiled. “I know. But I can dress however I want already. I choose to dress masculine. Besides—” they looked at the other hosts “—these are my friends. Ouran is where I’ve made a place for myself. I appreciate your offer, but I’m not leaving.”

“Very well.” Benibara kissed the back of (Y/N)’s hand gallantly. “We shall accept both of your decisions for now.”

For now? Haruhi and (Y/N) sighed.

“But we’re not giving up, flowers!” declared Benibara. “I swear to you, I will rescue you and destroy the Host Club.” She turned and walked out of Music Room 3 with Suzuran and Hinagiku.

“We have rivals. Interesting,” said (Y/N).

“Troublesome,” sighed Haruhi.

“Haru, Haruhi, call me ‘Big Sis’ just once! Please? Please? Don’t I look cute!” said Honey, jumping onto her back.

“Yeah, for all the trouble we went to, you should at least compliment us,” said the twins, putting their hands on their hips.

Haruhi doubled over laughing again at their expressions, and the three grinned as they teased.

(Y/N) watched in fond amusement.

“(Y/N),” said Kyoya.

They looked at him. “Yes, Kyoya?”

“If you did wish to wear more feminine clothing on occasion, I would incorporate it into the costume plans,” said Kyoya. “The guests would enjoy it either way.” He would enjoy it either way. He liked (Y/N) in whatever form they chose to present.

(Y/N) smiled. “Thank you, Kyoya. I appreciate that.”

“Of course.” Anything for them. Kyoya wanted them to stay. He wanted them to remain by his side for as long as possible. Forever.

Taglist:

@roo024

@jmclouds

@yappydoo

@ramblingsoftheill

@girgal73

@rockerica

@nosoyyo1213

@ritzes28

@grippledee-galaxy

@rory-cakes

@neenieweenie

@k03ume

@constellationguy

@paastaboi

@introvertathome

@chaseyui

@jexnight

@snowy-violet

73 notes · View notes