#man I don’t remember the last time I fell in love with a character so quickly lmao

[theblueeyedeagle]

Friendship ended with Hotel Krat. Now Giangio is my new best friend.

[wcnderlnds]

the heart wants what it wants | choi su-bong (thanos)

・❥・ summary: he hates himself but you kinda, sorta love him. ・❥・word count: 1.3k ・❥・warnings: usual squid game stuff, swearing. ・❥・ authors note: as if i was gonna leave my boy thanos out of valentines fics. here's something a lil fluffy while still (hopefully) in character for him.

“What’re you sitting there looking like someone just pissed in your cereal for? And don’t try and tell me it’s because of that last game or whatever because I know that’s bullshit.”

Thanos’ voice pierced through your ears as he sat down beside you on the steel stairs between the bunks. His arms rested on his knees, hands dangling between his open legs as he looked at you expectantly. That was Thanos down to a tee – he needed to know everything immediately, patience wasn’t his strong suit. It frustrated him when he didn’t get answers. You had known this man for far too long to know the signs. The way he was clenching his jaw, his fingers tapping against his leg. 

“...I don’t want to tell you because you’ll laugh at me,” you mumbled, head resting on your arms that were crossed over your pulled up knees.

“Come on, spit it out,” he waved his hand, dismissing your worries. “I probably will laugh but since when did that shit bother you?”

He was right. You never cared before so why now? Well, you knew why. Being trapped in this place with him had resurfaced something you had thought you’d got rid of a long time ago. When you had first met Su-bong, you had the world’s biggest crush on him but he had turned you down, telling you that you should just be friends so… that’s what you were. Now, eight years on and that all consuming crush was back. You were trapped in a life or death game with him, he’d been protecting you and making sure that no harm fell on you. His hand grabbed yours at any opportunity like he just had to be touching you to make sure you were still here. You had never seen so much panic in his eyes than the moment you had almost fell in Red Light, Green Light. Luckily, he had managed to grab your arm to stop you from meeting your end. Su-bong wasn’t someone that wore his heart on his sleeve but when he cared, he cared. That was one thing you were certain of; he cared about you. There were ways he showed it without saying it. Like now, he had come to sit with you, asking you what was going on even if it was in his own annoying way. He had to act like he didn’t care otherwise it would consume him, his anxiety would sky rocket. That was why he was popping those colourful little pills. They may make him act insane but inside they calmed him, made him think clearer so he could protect you.

“Fine,” you sighed. “...it’s Valentine’s Day and I’m just sad I’m stuck in here and not enjoying some chocolate covered strawberries fed to me by some super hot person. Happy now?”

Thanos couldn’t help but bark out a laugh, nudging you with his shoulder. “That’s why you’re feeling sorry for yourself?” He narrowed his eyes, examining you before he decided you weren’t telling him the full truth. A quick shuffle and he was sitting right beside you, his leg touching yours. His arm wrapped around your shoulder, pulling you into his side. It was unusually soft for him but he had these moments with you sometimes. The only person who wouldn’t judge him was you, that was something he knew for certain. “You ain’t tellin’ me the whole story so I’m gonna need you to get that pretty mouth of yours talking more before I go get Nam-su to come glare at you with those beady little eyes of his.”

“You know his name is Nam-gyu, right?” You rested your head on his shoulder, nervously wringing your hands together. Thanos noticed almost immediately, placing a hand on them to stop you. “Remember when we first met? When… uh, when I had a crush on you and your turned me down?”

“Yeah, how could I forget?”

“Well, I might be feeling that way again.”

At those words, he froze up. His body tense, panic flashing across his eyes. Yeah, you shouldn’t have said anything. He would only close himself off now and that was the last thing you needed right now. He had been your whole support system here. The silence between you was almost deafening until he finally spoke. “...you shouldn’t.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “Wish it was that easy, Su-bong.”

“You wanna know why I turned you down all those years ago?” He had pulled away from you slightly, both his hands now resting on your shoulders as he made you look at him. “Because you fuckin’ deserve better than me. I’m a mess. I’ve always been a mess. I’m no good, especially not for you. Someone like you? You deserve the fuckin’ world and I can’t give you that. I wish I could but I can’t. You need someone who can treat you like the princess you are but, baby, that man ain’t me.”

If it wasn’t anyone else, they wouldn’t have caught the waver in his voice, the way he was looking at you as if pleading for you to listen to him. He meant every word he said but you didn’t. You knew he often got lost in his self loathing thoughts, thinking that he was scum of the Earth but he wasn’t. He was just a lost boy, someone had never had someone care about him like you.

“I don’t care, Su-bong. My heart knows what it wants and it wants you. It isn’t going to stop. It’s been eight years and it’s always felt this way. You are everything to me, you always have been. I wish you could see in yourself what I see in you,” your hand cupped his cheek, the gesture so soft he almost nuzzled into your palm but refrained. “Sure, you’re not perfect but neither am I. I’ll respect whatever you want but… just know that my heart belongs to you.”

His eyebrows scrunched together as if he was in deep thought, one of his hands playing with the chain of the necklace that hung around his neck. His cross; the one that contained his drugs. It looked like he was in an internal conflict with himself before, finally, he pulled the necklace over his head and onto you. You felt your heart pounding as his fingers skimmed across your chest, making sure the cross laid properly. “You’re a damn pain in my ass, you know that? But… I’ve been into you the day we met, just thought you deserved more than I can give you. So, this is my promise to you to show you that I trust you, that maybe I’ll try and be the person you deserve some day. Ain’t never let anyone wear this other than me, by the way.”

The gesture meant more to you than you could even put into words, your heart hammering against your chest as he tapped the cross. You smiled up at him, hand resting over his. “The highest honour, huh?” You couldn’t help but tease to at least ease some of the tension. “It means a lot… and Su-bong? I believe in you.”

You heard the small, breathy laugh that came from his lips as he looked at the ground trying to hide it. That meant more to him than you would know. Finally, he looked back up at you, his arm back around your shoulder to pull you back into his side. “We get out of this shithole and I’ll feed you all the damn chocolate strawberries you want.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

As you rested your head on his shoulder, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on yours, you knew that once you got out of here things were definitely going to change but it gave you something to look forward to. His promise the one thing that would get you through these deathly games.

taglist (ask to be added!): @ldydeath @justsisse @djarindroid @angelofbooksworld @taivantaylor @sherlocke3d @basquiat-top @urmomsg1rlfreind @belladonna-303 @seunghyunwifey @infinetlyforgotten

[mentally-unstable-hottie13]

Hii! Soo i saw a moodboard and fell in love with the vive

you think you could do a one shot about being Henrys innocent girlfriend

Thats the mood board, but instead of Patrick could u do a Henry one plss🙏🙏

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Thank you so much for the ask! Sorry it took so long I hope I did it justice. I also re did the mood board to make it a cover. Hope you like it .

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Henry x innocent! Reader!

Content warnings: mention of sex, suggestive material, underage smoking, theft, language. Misogynistic language.(Not from Henry)

(NO ACTUAL SEXUAL ACTS HAPPEN IN THIS STORY. ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18 IN THEIR SENIOR YEAR)

A/N: I'm kinda back! Yay! | didn't add smut to this because I didn't know if any of y'all would be willing to read that so l thought it would be best to ask here. Leave a comment if yes! All my story's will continue plus I have a new man I plan on writing for! Hope you like it!

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You lived in Derry for a few years when you were younger but your father had gotten a promotion at his job that required your family to move to a whole new state. Now after 10 years, here you are. You had to move back because of your grandmothers worsening condition. You loved Granny. She was your best friend.

After moving back you have been spending all of your time at granny’s house. She’d teach you to sew, cook, she’d ask you to read to her as she lay in her recliner chair. It’s almost like you lived at her house and not with your parents. Don’t get me wrong you love your parents, they just understood how much granny meant.

The past few weeks at Derry high have been almost Hellish. People push you in the halls, this girl Greta and her friends are ruthless in their taunts and now there was him.

Henry Bowers. He apparently had been suspended the first 2 weeks you were in town. Now he was at school everyday, in almost every class. He always had his eyes on you. You wont lie, he scared you. In comparison to him you were much smaller, and not just in stature. Henry’s personality, energy and voice was big in comparison to your shy, calm, innocent one. He was the definition of fear. He looked at you like a wolf looked at a lamb. And that was the scariest part. All Henry ever did was look.

Until one day.

It stopped looking and did something.

You remember the day clearly, the day that set everything in motion. It was a warm day with wet air. It had rained the night prior and was overcast all day. You had an English quiz today. You never minded English class but on days with quizes you felt unshakable anxiety. You always read the material but what if?

Yep, you were one of those. You always knew the material, but felt like you would choke on a test. (You never have).

Just for the test the teacher decided to finally switch up seats. Yippie. Every person would now have a different table partner. You could almost see the murder in Henry’s eyes when she pointed to a desk and announced that you and Henry would be tablemates.

Double yippie.

The paper was placed before you and Henry and the hour timer started. Simple questions if you read the book. But like always, there was a hint of fear embeded in your skin. About 40 minutes in your absolutely anchient English teacher fell asleep. Seriously he was so old you don’t know if he was safe to dive himself home anymore.

Henry kicked your foot. Oh no.

You tried not to acknowledge his attempts at your attention. That didn’t last long. He finally annoyed you enough and got you to look at him. He slid over a small paper note.

“Help me out.”

Was all the almost illegible note said. The hadwriting was so bad it was almost endearing.

“With what?” You gently wrote back.

After a long minute of Henry writing in the note he slid it back.

He asked for only half the answers? Why not all of them? He also didn’t ask for any of the short response questions . Just the multiple choice ones.

You sighed and flipped the note over before writing out the answers.

“AACDBCCDA.”

You passed it back and silently slid it to Henry under the table. You really didn’t need to get in trouble because someone saw you helping this guy out. What if the teacher called your parents? What if Granny got mad? God that would be the end of the world for you. You hated upsetting your family. You always tried to do what you were told.

Henry takes the paper and unfolds it before quickly copying the answers and then shoving the note in his pocket, from there he writes a few words for the short response before drawing shit on his paper.

You finish up the test and get up to turn it in. Just as you start raising out of your chair Henry put his hand on your thigh. Startled by the contact you jump a little and look down at him. With a bored expression he hands you his paper. You sigh again before walking up to the teachers desk and walk back to your desk to gather your things. As you walk the bell for lunch rings and everyone leaves. Because of that little interaction with Henry you were the last one to turn in your paper and now you were the last one left in class. You didn’t mind. You sat alone for lunch. You could read your books when you were alone. Even the teacher had left.

You grab your bag and begin gathering your things to leave. By the time you are done the hallways appear empty. Just as you exit the room a sharp hand grabs your wrist. Startling you backwards, you turn to face your “attacker” only to come face to face…. With him.

Henry. You were all alone. With him.

You can’t deny that he was attractive. His bright blue eyes, muscles and long hair made you blush.

You’d never really looked at boys like this, not for any particular reason. They just never interested you. until today that is.

Henry leaned against the lockers with a vexed expression lain across his features. Why was he annoyed?

From his perspective the blush on your checks was ever-noticeable. You avoided his gaze but kept your eyes on him. Strange. He though.

“I need your answers for Mr. Clark’s math class. I know you have him the hour before me.” Henry stares

“W-what?” You ask absolutely bewildered that he’s demanding answers after you already helped him cheat. You already felt icky about helping him in the first place.

“You heard me. I need you to do the study guide and give me the answers. He allowed us a cheat sheet for the test based on the study guide but I don’t feel like doing the work. So. You are gonna help me. Got it?” It’s not a question, he’s telling you that you’ll help him. What a jerk.

After a moment of you not responding he snatches your phone from you. “Hey!” You lunge after your phone. He holds it above your head.

“Open it and go to your contacts. Now.” He hands you back the phone. He was scary, you knew the things he did to other kids who didn’t listen to him. Might as well listen.

You open your phone and open up contacts before handing it back to him. He types for a second before handing it back.

“Text me your address so I can come by after school. If you ghost me I’ll kick your ass into a pulp. Don’t test me.” And with that, Henry was gone.

What was this kids deal?

You messaged Henry the address to your Granny’s house after school. As you enter her house you call out for her.

“Gran?”

“I’m in here love!” She responds from the living room.

You walk to Granny and kneel beside her in her rocker.

“Hi love, what’s got you lookin all down today?” Gran wonders.

“A boy is coming over today to study, I wanted you to know.”

“Oh a boy you say? Why don’t you two work in your room? I won’t be a bother to you in there.”

“Are you sure Gran?”

“Positive.”

With a heavy sigh you go to your room. You decided clean up a little before Henry comes over. You liked your room here. Most of your material belongings were at home with your parents but Grans house had all your clothes and stuffed animals and blankets. The dusty blue walls made the room feel cozy. Your bed spread was a light pastel pink with little blue flowers all over it. Your lamp was in the shape of an old teapot and your stuffed animals that you didn’t regularly sleep with were placed in a “hammock” in a corner. Potted plants scattered your room. These little details made you feel so at home it was hard to describe.

A knock came from the front door snapping you out of your comfortable daze. You exit your room and walk to the front door. Before you even speak Henry pushes past you into the house. You sigh and shut the front door before showing him to your room and shutting the door behind you.

God this guy is a jerk…

He sits himself on your bedspread and you cringe at the thought of his dirt covered jeans on your bed. You see that he has nothing on him. You knew this wasn’t gonna be a regular study session but nothing? Not a pencil? Not even his own book?

Whatever.

You get yourself situated on the floor in front of your small table and get out your book and paper. You finished most of the study guide in your last few classes today. You just had a few more things to put down. When you were done you looked up to see Henry had lain fully back onto your bed. In his dirty farm clothes.

Don’t panic.

Sheets can be washed.

The mattress however bust be set aflame.

You tossed the pencil and cheat sheet up onto his lap before turning on the tv from where you sat. He stirred at the feeling of something touching him he steadied himself on his elbows to look at you, then the paper. He scoffed before retrieving a notecard from his pocket. He slid of the bed and sat next to you on the floor, leaning over the table as he wrote. You rolled your eyes and found a good show to watch.

Once he was done writing he looked up.

“What the fuck is this?” He asked gesturing to your tv.

“It’s my favorite show.” You shrug.

“This?” He asks confused, “no way this boring shit is your favorite.”

“Well it is, I usually watch it with Gran”

“Do you only really watch tv with her?” He asks weirdly.

“Pretty much.”

“Do you do everything with your gramma’?”

You just nod.

“That explains fucking everything!” He shouts and laughs loudly.

You try to throw your hands over his mouth. “SHHHH!! Not so loud! she doesn't like swearing!”

He laughs louder through your hands. Once he calms a little he grabs your wrists and removes your hands from his face.

“Fuck, that makes so much sense now.”

You look at him oddly. “What makes sense?”

“You” he gestures, “the old lady clothes, the knitting in class, the books, the no swearing, the way you talk. You are a clone of your grandma!” He laughs again.

Your cheeks turn pink with embarrassment.

No I'm not… I’m me, my grandma and I just spend a lot of time together that’s all….

“Just shut up Henry!” You snap.

….

“What did you just say to me, freak?” He levels you with a glare. You couldn’t find it in you to care.

“I said shut up! I’m helping you for tomorrow when I don’t have to! You have no idea what you are talking about so just shut up!”

He leans in closer to you with that angry look on his face.

You were in so much trouble. Would he hit you? Beat you? Yell at you? You’d heard stories of what he’d done to other kids that tried to stand up to him.

You close your eyes in fear of what’s to come. You’d never even raised your voice like that before. Of course the first time ever had to be at Henry Bowers. You wait for him to hit you, but instead you feel 2 hands grab at the side of your face before Henry smashed his lips to yours.

Your eyes snap open in shock. The kiss is rough and demanding but not awful. After a few seconds of initial shock you melt into it before Henry pulls off.

Your eyes flutter open to see Henry smirking with a flushed face. You assume the red on his cheeks is matching you.

“W-why would you do that?” You cover your face with your hands.

“Because I felt like it.” He deadpanned.

This made no freaking sense. Why would this guy do that?!?

“Yo” he starts again. “Relax. I’ve liked your look for a while, what do ya say you go with me for a while?”

WHAT WAS HE EVEN SAYING?????

“Pardon?….”

“I’m sayin go steady. Hang with me fer a while”

“Are you insane!?” You whisper yell. “You threaten to beat me up, swear in my house, make fun of me then kiss me???”

“And now I’m askin to go steady.” He confirms.

This kid was insane. What was even more insane was the fact that you were pondering it. Maybe it was the fact that he called you a clone of Granny. That implies you were like an old lady, uptight, boring, no fun. You could be fun.

“Why not?”

He looked a little surprised.

“Really?” He asked in a bored and skeptical tone.

“Yeah, why not?”

And from there you and Henry have been together for months.

Being with Henry has taught you things you never knew. He’s influenced you to do things you never would have done. Not that you are complaining.

He and his friends took you to the quarry today. You had never really seen boys your age undressed before… that was quite a strange feeling. You’d never really been undressed in front of boys before. The way Henry looked at you confused you. For about 30 minutes after you caught him staring he refused to get out of the water. Even when everyone else did.

One of Henry’s friends, you’d come to learn was Belch, brought a speaker to listen to music as you sat in the shaded rocks and watched the boys fool around in the water. You’d never listened to music like it before. Screaming, loud, sex and drug filled music. You’d be lying if you said you completely hated it.

Another thing you learned was how these boys speak. Once they all exited the water they began talking about a girl. Greta. The girl who was always mean to you. They called her things like a “slut” and “total bone material”. Not Henry of course. But they all talked and laughed about sex in such an unserious way. You wondered what that was like. To not be intimidated by sex.

You knew what sex was and the basic mechanics of it but absolutely nothing else. You were curious. You appeared to be the only senior in your school who was almost totally clueless. Others definitely were taking notice.

On the car ride back to your house the boys stopped at a corner store for snacks. You knew they stole. You told Henry your only rule was “don’t get me involved” and he never did. Although Henry was teaching you new and foreign things he tried to keep you out of the worst of it. Anything that gets you in trouble.

As he hopped back into the Trans Am that was uncomfortably full now that you tagged along, he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and hit the box on his palm twice. He asked Patrick to light it and the smell of the burn filled your nostrils. Belch started the Trans Am and began driving. A little while after lighting the cigarette it was passed around until you were the only one who hadn’t had a puff. Patrick looked at you.

Oh no.

“C’mon babe, give it a try.” He said and practically waved the half gone thing in your face.

“Leave it, hockstetter.” Henry said firmly, turning in his seat to look at you with almost apologetic eyes.

“Oh come on Henry she’s a big girl, let her try.” Patrick laughed.

You look at Henry one more time. In the months you had spent together you’d heard his friends tease him about you. Of course you’d never tell him that. You heard them say you were too clean to be with a Bowers, that you were “so fucking boring it’s amazing Henry hasn’t boned someone else”.

You never wanted Henry to be ashamed of you, you didn’t want Henry to think you were boring.

You look at Patrick defiantly and snatch the cigarette from him before inhaling. Inhaling wasn’t the problem. It’s getting it out that caused some issues. On the exhale it tickled parts of your lungs you never want tickled and you coughed, sputtering. The boys laughed and as you got yourself composed you made eye contact with Henry who was still looking at you. He had a smile on his face, but his eyes said something different.

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After returning you and Henry to Gran’s house the boys sped off. You unlocked the door and went into the living room to sit with Granny for a bit while Henry went to your room. Gran wasn’t particularly fond of the Bowers but she liked that you were happy.

You sat and told Gran that you and Henry and a few friends (not including that you were the only girl) went to the quarry for a swim. She smiled weakly and asked you to help her to her room for a nap. Grab had a very specific sleep routine. Wake up at 4, two naps a day for about an hour and a half each then in bed by 8. She never slept without her mask or her earplugs. She was on the verge of being deaf but she swore any and all sounds while she was sleeping would overstimulate her. So she wore earplugs. Due to the earplugs alarms were rendered ineffective so in about an hour you would be waking her.

After getting Granny all settled you shut her door then went to find Henry in your room across the house.

Henry is sitting on your bed, not unusual but he looks upset (also not unusual but you don’t know why he’s upset).

“You ok baby?” You asked timidly while stepping closer.

“Why would you do that?” He asks angrily but not yelling.

“What?”

“Why the fuck did you take the cig from hockstetter?” He spits.

“I wanted to try it”

“Bullshit, you've never wanted to try anything like that.”

“It’s not bull it’s true!” You try to lie but it’s not getting you anywhere.

“Bull. Shit.” He repeats. “You don’t drink, you don’t smoke, you get mad when we steal, you hate what I do every fucking day. So why the fuck did you do it?”

You stay silent and he huffs. He stands up and moves to leave.

“No!” You block his way.

“Move. ____” he says your name like he’s tired.

“No, I don't want you to go!” You admit.

“Then tell me why you took it from him!”

You look away, embarrassed.

“Because I don’t want you to be ashamed to be around me..”

He looks confused, which is pretty par for the course when it comes to Henry and feelings. “What?”

You try to breathe and explain. “I don’t do the things you do… I don’t do the things other girls that you guys hang out with do.”

“And what the fuck about it?” Henry snaps.

“I just-“

“No.” He cuts you off. “I’m not responsible for your insecurity. Don’t put that on me.”

“I wasn’t-“ you panic at his defensiveness but are cut off again.

“I ask if you wanna hang out with my friends because you are my girlfriend. You. Not that bitch Greta. Or Stacy, or Lana. You. I wanted you to be my girlfriend, if you are getting all insecure and shit that’s on you.”

“It’s not like that! I just don’t know the things everyone else seems to!” You try to explain.

“And!? I fucking chose you! You think I want a girl that knows everything!? A girl that thinks she’s better then me at everything?!

“No!”

“Then what the fuck is the problem?!”

“There is no problem henry. I’m just confused..”

“You’re confused? I’m confused!” He retorts. “I thought everything was fine!”

“It is!”

“Then what’s the problem!” He shouts again.

For once you are happy about Grans earplug habit.

“…I can’t do the things other girls do..”

“What?”

“I heard patrick say you had sex with Beverly and Greta”’

….

Silence. The scariest thing your boyfriend could do. Give you pure. Excruciating silence.

You start thinking of a way out. Try thinking of a way to backtrack. But nothing is coming to mind. Your heart sinks as you begin to think you royally messed up.

“I didn’t.”

…

“What?” You ask incredulously.

“I never had sex with either of them. Greta and I got pretty close to doing it a few times but I never did anything with Beverly.”

Your eyes must be wide with shock and self induced embarrassment horror.

“You don’t believe me?” He asks defensively.

“No no no I do”

“When I said I wanted to be your Boyfriend I meant it.” This sweet, almost domestic side of Henry was rare and always but you in a confused state, mostly because you knew it was only for you. “I don’t wanna fuck anyone else. I want to completely ruin you for anyone else, I wanna teach you things you never knew existed, I want you to go home to your parents one day with music that kills them of shock. I wanna teach you. Not anyone else.”

As crazy as those things may sound coming from someone you understood what he was trying to say. It was Henry’s way of saying if I was gonna learn he’d rather it be him. It was him acknowledging that you weren’t gonna be innocent forever, so why not learn it from him. What sounds even crazier is you think you loved the idea.

Henry took a step closer to you. He put his heavy calloused and bruised hands on your arms and kissed you roughly. Henry didn’t do soft. Never had and never will, and you loved it.

He led you to the bed while maintaining the kiss and once your knees hit the bed they bent and you fell to the bed. Henry continued kissing you, getting tougher as time went on. He began kissing you with his tongue, something he’d only ever done once before and you loved it. His hands slowly but firmly went up your blouse to touch the exposed skin. He brought his knee up between your legs and you gasped at the contact, having never felt it before. After a few seconds Henry broke the kiss and got off you.

Confused. You looked at him. He took off his shoes and grabbed the tv remote before holding you. Your heart swelled at the realization that he was trying to take it slow for you. Even if it left him uncomfortable. And trust me it was. Henry sat with a hard on for the entirety of the movie he put on while holding you.

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Please tell me if there was any mistakes so I can fix them ❤️☺️

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Hi!

I love your writing and I have a small (really small more of a blurb) request for Jace, like a small scene between him and reader like we had last episode between him and Baela but I’d love to see how Jace feels about Harwin not just what he remembers of him but like what he feels about being a bastard and if he cares (or cared) for harwin, I’d love to see him trust the reader enough to really get into his feelings about being a bastard bc that’s definitely something that really affects him but it’s never vocalized yk? And I’d love to see the reader comfort him and tell him that harwin absolutely loved them BC HE LOVED THEM SO MUCH 😭😭😭

Thank u sm!!!

Request: Jace and Dornish reader talking about fathers and her asking about Ser Harwin like Baela did.

Warnings: mention of character death (past),

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

A letter came by raven from your father. It was a long way from Dorne, you didn’t receive them often. You thought it would brighten your day after the horrifying news and accusations about your Queen that came from King’s Landing, but instead it made you sad. To see his handwriting, to hear the words in his voice — in your head. 

You missed him — and your mother. 

Dragonstone was your home now. It was Jacaerys’ inheritance as heir. It’s where you would raise your children and spend your life until it would be his turn to take the Iron Throne. 

The sound of waves crashing against the rocks brought you to the beach. You sat on the sand, watching the waves ride up the shore. It was the only part of the island that connected to Dorne. You missed swimming in the gardens, the feeling of the warm sun on your skin, the fruits that grew. 

‘’You missed supper,’’ the voice of Jacaerys informed, coming from behind you. 

‘’I wasn’t hungry.’’ 

You heard his footsteps on the damp sand, accompanied by the sound of his sword rubbing against his breeches as he walked. 

‘’I don’t think anyone was, really. Too many empty seats.’’ He dropped down onto the sand beside you, and nudged your shoulder. ‘’Have you seen any whales?’’ 

You turned and gave Jacaerys a look. ‘’Whales?’’ you repeated. ‘’There is no whales here.’’ 

He laughed, well aware and only jesting. His jests usually made you smile, but a sad pout was etched on your face. ‘’What’s on your mind?’’ he asked, placing a hand on your knee. 

‘’I received a letter from my father.’’

‘’Your father?’’ Jacaerys’ smile dropped slightly, now replaced by a concerned look. ‘’Is everything alright?’’  

You gave him a small nod. ‘’Yes. All is well. I just…miss him dearly.’’ 

A quietness fell between you. The salt-laden breeze rustled through your hair as you fought the tears brimming your eyes. 

‘’What do you remember of your father?’’ you asked, breaking the silence.

‘’He taught us to catch fish. And sing sailor shanties,’’ Jacaerys said, a grin tugging at his lips and his eyes brightening with fond recollections.

You chuckled, the sound mingling with the rhythm of the waves.

‘’He had a weakness for cake,’’ he added. 

‘’And…Ser Harwin Strong?’’

Although you agreed to turn a blind eye, you knew the truth of Jacaerys’s true parentage. He bore the name ‘Velaryon’, but there was no Velaryon blood in him. 

Jacaerys stiffened at the mention of Ser Harwin, having not heard his name in so long. His mother never spoke of him after they returned from Laena’s funeral.  

‘’He was gentle. And fierce,’’ he finally said, his eyes meeting yours. There was a veil of sadness in them, missing the man who left too soon. ‘’They called him ‘Breakbones’.’’

You laughed softly, and Jacaerys mirrored you. It felt good to talk about Ser Harwin. 

‘’He loved us,’’ Jacaerys continued, his voice quieter, almost unsure. ‘’I think.’’ 

‘’Of course he did,’’ you quickly reassured, covering his hand on your knee with yours. ‘’When did you suspect he was your father?’’ 

‘’A part of me always knew he was our father,’’ he admitted, his eyes distant as he recalled his memories. ‘’He was always looking out for Luke and I in the training yard, and making sure we would behave around Mother. He taught me how to hold a sword, how to strike my opponent.’’ 

He paused, a particular moment sparking his mind. 

‘’One day, he defended me in the training yard during an unfair match: me against Aegon. Aegon was taking his anger out on me and playing foul while Ser Criston turned a blind eye. Ser Harwin noticed Aegon’s tactics and pulled me aside to give me advice, but Aegon was older and stronger. He kicked me to the ground and angrily swung his wooden sword at me. Ser Harwin intervened, taking Aegon away from me.’’

‘’He was protecting you.’’

Jacaerys nodded, his gaze fixed on the horizon. He remembered the fight against Criston Cole that followed. The fight that got Ser Harwin dismissed from the City Watch and sent to Harrenhal. He also remembered the horrible news he woke up to days later: Lord Lyonel Strong and his son, Ser Harwin Strong, had died in a fire.  

Being from Dorne, you had never met Ser Hawrin, but he sounded like he was a good man, a devoted father. 

‘’What did he look like?’’ 

‘’He was tall with broad shoulders. He was the strongest man in the Seven Kingdoms,’’ he said, his voice tinged with pride. ‘’He had dark curls and eyes—’’

‘’Like you,’’ you interjected with a soft smile. 

The dark curls that framed his face were the first thing you noticed when he stepped down his dragon in Dorne. As he got closer, his eyes caught yours and his stern face lit up, mesmerized by your Dornish beauty. Before he spoke a word to your father, you were already scheming your way into his heart — and breeches.

Jacaerys smiled, a faint reflection of his father in his expression. ‘’Like me.’’

‘’He would be proud of you. Of the kind and honorable man you’ve become.’’ 

Your words made his cheeks flush, the color deepening as you reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. He was so beautiful. Your hand lingered on his cheek, your thumb gently caressing his lightly freckled skin. 

He drew in a breath and looked down. ‘’I miss him.’’

—

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[bartyism]

anything for you. theodore nott.

in a universe where voldemort won, you and theo risk everything.

reposted from my old account.

warnings: graphic death

pairing: theodore nott x ron weasley's twin sister!reader

“You can’t possibly love him, y/n. He’s a bloody Death Eater!” your brother had jeered at you. Hot tears ran down your face but you refused to wipe them. You wanted everyone in the room to see how deeply this was hurting you.

“I have never been more sure of something in my life. While you were gone – while everyone was gone – he was the only constant. He isn’t who you think he is.” The room broke out into a chorus of repulsed sounds. The Order of the Phoenix wasn’t much these days, the predominant members being the Weasley family. Harry Potter’s death loomed over everyone. Numerous other deaths piled on: those who died at the beginning of the war, but those who have died recently like your older brothers, Percy and George, and your father, Arthur.

“He thinks we’re scum! He would kill Hermione on the spot. How can you stand there and say this shit?” another brother had chimed in. Voices were starting to overlap the more trapped you felt.

“You’ve never given him or myself the chance to prove that’s not true! If you remember, Theo was the one who told me about everything Draco was doing back in school. He has already given us so much information. He’s climbing the ranks, but he is doing it for us!” you fell to your knees, exhaustion and frustration getting the best of you. “Can’t you see that even if he’s not doing it for all of you, he’s putting his life on the line trying to help secure a world that I feel safe in? You know how my beliefs align!”

“Has he stopped killing innocent people? Does he still partake in Voldemort’s plans that don’t necessarily target us? If he’s climbing the ranks, I can’t begin to imagine what he’s doing to do so,” your mother inquired, shooting daggers at you. You couldn’t look her in the eyes.

“He’s doing what he can to survive, too. If he dies, we will lose so much.” Without missing a beat, you added, “If he dies, I am as good as dead.”

This conversation, over a year old, still rings in your head every time you meet Theo. Your current setup in an old warehouse allowed these thoughts to amplify. The only sounds keeping you from spiraling were the rhythmic tapping of Ron’s foot and Bill’s pacing. You never got to see Theo alone, but that wasn’t a horrible thing.

Though you wanted nothing more than to have one evening alone with him, as selfish as that sounds given the climate of the world right now, the positive came in the form of the people who joined you on these exchanges and started to see through the cracks in Theo’s character. This hardened soldier who bears the Dark Mark turns into someone else in your presence. He is more patient and gentle, as compared to the man that numerous members of the Order have seen slaughter people in cold-bold, just to laugh at their frozen-in-death facial expressions.

You had noticed changes in Theo throughout the last few times you’d seen him. He was much more focused on you than the information they were there to exchange. He’d almost become frantic – dark circles that got darker every time you saw him circled his eyes, and his face had become much more caved in. He was starting to look as though he were actively being tortured. He didn’t look better this time around.

You sprang up from your spot when you heard the metal door grind against the floor, opening quicker than anticipated. Ron and Bill quickly put their wands up and took aim at Theo, refusing to put them down even when you yelled, “It’s just him!” Theo didn’t respond much better, raising his wand and aiming at Bill, who you knew Theo saw as more of a threat than Ron.

“Are you being followed? What made you come in here like that?” Bill growled, eyes flickering between Theo and the entrance. Theo narrowed his eyes at the older man.

“You think I would lead them straight here if I was? If it was just you two, sure. But, I would never do that with her here. Consider yourself lucky,” Theo spit.

“That’s enough. Are you alright?” you stated, briskly walking to your lover. Up close, you noticed faint bruising around his neck, as if he’d been choked. Theo didn’t say anything and instead, kept his eyes locked on the two men standing behind you. “Theo,” you trailed off, putting one hand on his cheek. You searched his eyes for any type of response, but you couldn’t find one.

“You don’t have much time,” he said, only loud enough that Ron and Bill were barely able to hear. You took a slight step back, still close enough that you could hold his hand – the hand that he couldn’t even bring himself to grasp in return.

“What?”

“The Dark Lord knows there’s a mole in his closest circle. He knows you are not dead, despite me telling him you were,” Theo said, finally making eye contact with you. Your mouth fell open and you held his hand tighter.

Theo lost his will to fight at that exact moment, letting his hand holding his wand fall to his side. He pulled you into him and rested his forehead against yours. “He knows you’re the mole?” you whispered.

“Not yet, but I can’t imagine it taking much longer. His eyes are set on Berkshire – thinks he’s gotten scared now that his mother died. I was able to ward him off me for the time being. I told him that I wasn’t the one to kill you, I just saw you get hit with a nasty spell.”

“Come with us before it’s too late, Theo. How many times do I have to beg you? Turn your back on it all. We can keep you protected.” you pleaded, looking back at your brothers for reassurance. Bill shook his head before Ron chose to speak.

“He is not coming back with us. Do you know what kind of target that would place on us? It would be a death sentence,” he spit. “With that Dark Mark, I’m sure Voldemort could summon you back to him at any given second,” he added. You spun around to confront him but Theo was quicker – he grabbed you by the arm and pulled you into him.

“I wasn’t planning on it, Weasley,” Theo said with such spite behind his words that it made you want to cower away from him. He looked down at you, asking you a silent question. You bit your lip in thought, looking over at your brothers. 

“Could you guys give us a minute to ourselves? Just stand guard at the door.” With a few grumbles, you were able to convince them to leave. As soon as the door shut, you wrapped your arms around Theo as tight as you could, reassuring yourself that he was here with you and still alive. For how much longer he would be alive, no one was certain.

“You can leave them. Even if you don’t take refuge with us, you can escape,” you pleaded. Theo softly shook his head and pressed his lips to your forehead.

“No, y/n, I can’t. I’m bound to him until one of us dies. I…” he trailed off. You frantically started shaking your head at him and he sighed. “We knew this was going to happen.”

“You might have known. I held out hope,” you cried. Theo grabbed your chin gently, using the other hand to wipe away the stray tears. “Promise me you won’t die.”

“Y/n…”

“Promise me, Theo.” 

His response never came. Theo pulled you into him and kissed you so tenderly, that it was beyond out of character for him. You knew this was the end. He softly ran his hands down your sides, over your back, anywhere they could grasp. It felt as though he was trying to remember the exact shape of your body. He eventually tried to pull away, but in return, you softly bit his lip and pulled him back in. 

Theo couldn’t bring himself to let go of you. You were intoxicating in a way that no drug or drink could replicate. Not breaking the kiss, Theo hoisted you onto a table that was just behind you. Laying you down on it, he kept kissing you. Along your jaw, down your neck – Theo kissed you anywhere with an exposed bit of skin. You couldn’t stop yourself from crying, to which Theo then kissed away your tears. When he was finished, he pulled you up into a sitting position.

“Love, you are the only thing in this short existence of mine that I’ve ever been sure of. When I die, I can die happily because I knew you. I got to love you.” Theo whispered, his voice cracking as he professed to you. You leaned your forehead against him, looking him straight in the eye.

“Try to survive, Theo, please. For me,” you pleaded. Theo nodded briefly but was interrupted by a banging on the door. 

“Hurry up, it’s getting dark. We need to leave,” Bill’s voice called out. Bill and Ron both reappeared in the room, looking at the two of you expectantly.

“We need to leave, and you still haven’t given us what we came for,” Bill sighed. Theo tensed and pulled himself away from you, putting his facade back on as if it were a costume. Part of you wished he didn’t, just so they could see the real him.

“The Dark Lord plans to raid Hogsmeade, again. You need to make sure everyone is evacuated. He doesn’t plan on ever having to raid them again. In two days, if you don’t create a plan, everyone still living there will be dead.”

“And will you be one of the Death Eaters killing those people?” Ron inquired.

“If it means that it keeps me alive, and keeps a steady stream of information coming to you, yes. I have never been unclear with my intentions.” Theo said. He was significantly taller than Ron, forcing the redhead to look up at him as Theo walked closer to him, slowly.

“We don’t have time for this,” Bill said, getting visibly anxious. “We’re leaving,” Bill added, grabbing you and Ron both by the arm. 

Everything happened so fast after that – you reached out for Theo, but he backed away from you and you could’ve sworn you saw a tear run down his face. Just like that, you were whisked away, Bill choosing that moment to apparate. You didn’t get to say goodbye; you didn’t get to tell him you loved him for the last time.

Three days later, after their failed attempt at raiding Hogsmeade, you and your family watched in horror as Voldemort was broadcasting yet another round of executions. This wasn’t the first time this had happened – the first time being with his son, Mattheo, a boy you had known in school. You can’t recall the exact reason for his death, but it set a standard. If Voldemort would kill his child in such ways, what would he do to others?

You held your breath as the camera view panned down the small row of people awaiting their death. You felt the wind get knocked out of you when you caught sight of him.

The boy you loved was there, his eyes already dead. His appearance was, somehow, much worse than when you had last seen him. The bruising around his neck that had almost been healed was now back in full display, accompanied by bruises all over his face. He had blood dried around his mouth and nose, and his left eye was so swollen that it looked completely closed. Something told you that death was merciful compared to what he had been put through.

Voldemort rambled on about the first three men, killing them quickly. His smile never failed, especially when he turned to the last victim: Theo.

“Theodore Nott, what would your father say?” He teased. He pulled a wand out of the box that a servant of his carried at his side. Raising it, you recognized it to be Theo’s. Voldemort snapped it in half, causing a slight flinch to radiate off Theo.

“Stupidly fell in love with a dirty blood traitor, one of those Weasleys. He’s acted as an agent for them this entire time, but of course, I knew from early on. We’ve played a brilliant game of cat and mouse, haven’t we, Nott?” Voldemort, again, laughed. Every muscle in Theo’s body was tensed up and he never lifted his face to look at the crowd that had gathered or the cameras broadcasting the event.

Noticing Theo's aversion to looking at the crowd, Voldemort ran his fingers through Theo's hair before yanking it back, forcing him to look up. Theo grimaced but finally looked straight at the camera. His good eye bore through you, sending your heart straight to the bottom of your stomach.

You started sobbing, sliding off the couch and crawling towards the hologram showing the entire scene. “Please,” you gasped. Hermione sat behind you, pulling you into her, but you fought her off. 

“You were special to me,” Voldemort sighed and raised his wand. You grabbed whatever was closest to you – in this case, a plate someone had been eating off of earlier – and threw it through the hologram. The sound of your sobs and the plate exploding against the wall ricocheted around the hideout.

Another one of your older brothers, Charlie, moved Hermione aside and restrained you. Without doing so, you would’ve hurt yourself or someone else. “Get off me,” you repeatedly screamed, thrashing around on the ground.

Charlie was able to hold you in place on the ground, holding you facedown on the carpet with your arms pinned behind your back. To your horror, you turned your head to the side just in time to see a green light encase Theo in its grip. 

The cry you let out was movie-worthy. Using all of your strength, you burst out of Charlie’s grip and jumped up, turning on your surviving family members. “He died for us. He died for us and our cause. You never gave him a chance and never wanted to offer help in return,” you sobbed. Hermione came back to your side and held you in her arms. 

You didn’t fight back this time. You sat in her arms and sobbed. You couldn’t stop sobbing as you looked back at the hologram and it was panned to Theo’s dead body. It zoomed in on his face as if to hurt you even more. You watched as Voldemort whispered a simple charm, and flames consumed Theo’s body.

“I hope the Weasleys watching this enjoyed the show. While you watched this we have surrounded your hideout. Even Nott’s Occlumency he worked so hard on for you couldn’t keep me out. Perhaps it’s good that you never trusted him with your exact location, or else this would’ve happened long ago.” Voldemort smiled, and the hologram shut off. There was no noise in the room other than your silent sobs. 

Then, the first window exploded.

[joemama-2]

THE BALLERINA

synopsis: Gojo Satoru is a man of power, status, and strength. nowhere in his life does he have time for relationships, let alone love. but he starts to question his boundaries when a pretty ballerina catches his attention.

tags/warnings: gojo x fem reader, minor fluff, angst, major character death, depression, strong language, sexual content, self-harm

word count: 2972

divider credit @cafekitsune

This story begins with a man and a woman. These two are from completely different worlds. They were brought together by nothing more than a simple bump-in occurrence. At least, that’s what the woman thinks. In reality, the man has been watching her for a while now. A man like him shouldn’t be nervous, but the woman makes him feel just that. She doesn’t even know she does it, it’s natural. And that scares the man.

Anywho, there’s a man and a woman. 

This man is named Gojo Satoru. The woman….is you. 

Now, this is not about how two strangers fell in love. It’s about how time got the best of them. How simple mistakes led to a downfall. Pay close attention because as soon as you think you have him, you don’t. Or maybe…it’s him who doesn’t.

Gojo first sees you while you’re on stage. You look beautiful, stunning, shining (literally). There’s others on stage with you, but his eyes stay on you for some odd reason. The auditorium is large, many of its attendants dressed up for the formal occasion. They watch on in awe, some even recording subtly. There’s others who whisper amongst themselves about the entertainers. 

“Wow, look at that one, her form is excellent.”

“Oh my, I love this part.”

“So beautiful.”  

The last part is muttered by him. He says it to no one, considering he’s alone. But a small part of him hopes you can hear the praise that’s directed at you. Of course you can’t. But he hopes. Hope is something funny to have, isn’t it?

His arms are crossed over his chest, a small smile on his face as he focuses on the way your body twists and twirls, toes pointed high in the air. There’s a smile on your face too, it’s fitting for the setting. The white fabric looks stunning on you, but you know what looks even more stunning?

Your eyes.

Gojo Satoru admitting someone has prettier eyes than him? How comical. But really, he’s right. He almost jumps in his seat as your eyes make the briefest of glances to scan your audience and he swears you saw him. Again, he hope you did. 

Hope will be a recurring theme in this story, you’ll come to find out.

Gojo is the first to stand and clap once the performance finishes, the rest of the attendants following soon after. You and your other girls smile, giving a small bow of appreciation. And just like that, the curtains close and the lights slowly start to turn back on. He wants to rewind time and watch it from the beginning, watch you from the beginning. If only being the holder of the Six Eyes and Limitless allowed him to time travel, that would’ve been very helpful in this story. 

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Here you are.” Gojo’s arm reaches up to grab the canned pineapples the employees just had to put on the highest shelf. 

You’re a little shocked by the presence of this strange man, but ultimately smile politely. “Oh, thank you so much.” with a nod, you grab the can from his hand and place it in your basket. “Don’t know why they do that, it’s a bit of an inconvenience.”

He chuckles, head tilting. “I bet. Luckily I was around, huh?”

Your laugh almost puts him in a daze. “Yeah, luckily.”

You thought that would be the last time you would ever see the man, you were wrong, of course. At first, it was creepy. You remember calling him out on it.

“How come you’re everywhere I turn?”

“I’m a magician, that’s why?”

“Or a creepy stalker?”

“More like a curious one.”

After that conversation, it didn’t help your suspicions. But he never went further than talking. Your optimistic, or maybe naive, side took over. So eventually, you let it be. If Gojo was there, that would mean you weren’t too far away. Days turned into weeks, then months, then a year.

A whole year since you met him. It’s almost baffling how time moves so quick. Just like Gojo, you wish you could go back. He never misses a recital, practice, anything. Gojo is always there to support you whether that’s on the sidelines or helping you stretch. 

His hands feel too warm for you, like it’s a familiar sensation that you haven’t yet recgonized where from. That thought throws you off a little bit but you’ve been pushing it away for a while now. Within the year you’ve known each other,you’ve come to learn that not only is he incredibly handsome, but he’s incredibly secretive. You don’t like secrets. You never have and never will. Secrets for what? What is that other person hiding? The uncertainty draws you away and the fact that he’s not even comfortable telling you. When in all honesty, you’ve told him too much.

He’s only told you he’s an only child and that he’s loaded. Well, he didn’t exactly tell you the first part. But the second he pulled out his black card when buying you a new pair of slippers after you others ones have been used for too many years, that was when it clicked. 

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gojo and you became close, maybe even too close. Labels and boundaries have been lost anf thrown to the wind. Maybe you’re friends. Maybe you’re more than that? I mean, do friends really touch each other like you guys do? Say the things you guys say? Well scratch that, there’s one boundary Gojo has set in place.

He doesn’t do relationships.

You were okay with that, really. Because at the same time, you weren’t looking for a boyfriend. You were too focused on yourself, learning the new dance for each upcoming recital, making sure you’re form was the best of the best. You were a perfectionist. So essentially, you agreed to his terms.

But can you really blame yourself? Who wouldn’t begin to feel a shift with the way he held you and fucked you like you were his lover, his wife, his soulmate? Never did you voice your opinions because you were conflicted. He was the first man who showed you everything, he was your first. You tell yourself it’s normal and that if you get involved with others, these weird feelings will fade.

However, you should’ve thought twice about saying this to Gojo while he was balls deep in your sweet cunt.

“I…I have a date tomorrow night.”

He freezes mid thrust, muscles automatically tensing. When he pulls his head back from the crook of your neck, the looks in his eyes in different, unrecognizable. Theres a frown on his face, a stark contrast to what it was before and he almost seems angry.

“You what?”

With hazy eyes, it’s hard to focus on him as his face hovers above your own. His hand holds your jaw, titling it up. The silence is tense. You suddenly get the feeling that you made a big mistake because although there’s anger in his eyes, you can see a hint of betrayal hidden underneath. Your lips part but words fail you.

“What did you just say?”

“What’s….what’s wrong?” you ask back, wincing as he pulls out completely. Immediately, you clock in on the fact that he’s turning around, reaching down for his boxers and pants he discarded on the floor. Panic sets in and you sit up hastily, using the duvet to cover your bare form. “Satoru, why–what are you doing?”

“Getting dressed.”

“But why? I thought we were–”

“Have some things to take care of.”

His response scares you and you almost want to cry with how things have changed so quickly. Your hand reaches out for his arm. “Are you mad at me? Please, tell me what’s wrong.”

Gojo hates how your voice can make his expression falter, but he pushes through, gently removing his arm back as he stands. “It’s not you, I just realized something.”

“Satoru–” you stand with him, tears threatening to fall down. He doesnt turn around to face you, even while buttoning his shirt back up, grabbing the dark glasses he left on the bedside table. You don’t even realize you’re trembling before a broken sniffle leaves your lips.

He hates the sound, hates when you’re like this. He hates that he caused this. For a moment, he closes his eyes and he turns around, forcing his casual smile back on his face. You see right through it, he knows you do. So why is he still faking? “Don’t worry, okay? I’ll see you around.”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was weeks until you saw him again. And when you did, you knew things weren’t the same. His touch never lingered longer than it should, no more stupid flirty remarks, no more winks, no more sex. It was strictly…..friendly. 

You didn’t know if you hated it.

You fall to the ground with a frustrated huff, shaky hands clenching into fists at yet another failed attempt of a cabriole. The recital is in five days and you can’t get this part right. It doesn’t help when the others have moved way past this point, sometimes regarding you with looks of concern and impatience. You were disgusted with that, but you were even more disgusted with yourself. You force yourself back on your feet and walk back to the starting position.

“Maybe you should take a break. You’re obviously frustrated and you won’t be able to–”

“I will.” your sharp voice cuts off his, gulping down the lump that has formed in your throat. 

Satoru knows better than to try you when you’re like this, so he swallows down his words and keeps off to the side, a water bottle in hand. His glasses are still on and when you give him a glance, your irritation skyrockets. Did he really not even want to look at you? Has he become that repulsed by you? He has some nerve, blowing you off and treating you like a stranger. You didn’t even do anything and he’s being a complete asshole about everything for no rea–

Your thoughts are cut off by a sharp pain shooting through your ankle. You hadn’t even felt your body move, it was as if it had a mind of its own. While your thoughts were filled with vile insults, you failed yet again. Why are you failing so much all of a sudden?

Your form crumples down to the floor with a shriek, instantly holding the injured limb. Satoru’s body moves on its own too, within the second he’s by your side with wide concerned eyes.

“Shit, are you okay? Where does it hurt?”

His words don’t do anything. You can’t even offer a response because you’re too preoccupied with pain and anger. You can’t do something that you’ve been spent years dedicating yourself to. Sleepless nights and injury upon injury, this should be a slice of cake. It should be easy. But just like with Satoru, you feel different. Forcing yourself to dance, forcing yourself to a blind devotion, forcing yourself to be unhappy. But, since when has ballet made you unhappy? You didn’t know.

“Get away.” you mutter quietly.

His brows furrow and he leans closer. “Wha–”

“I said get the hell away from me.”

Using your upper body strength, you push him away. You wished you hadn’t. But he pushed you away that night, so why can’t you return the favor? “Get out and don’t come back. You’re making me mess up.”

He doesn’t speak for a moment. Gojo Satoru speechless is a funny sight, if this were a different situation, you would’ve laughed. But you don’t, you can’t. He finally finds his voice. “You’re not serious.”

That pushes you even more, gritting your teeth as you look up at him. “I’m dead serious. Get the hell out. Don’t touch me and don’t even talk to me. Your entire presence is a distraction and I hate you for it.”

You knew what you were saying was wrong and hurtful. You were aware of that fact. But they still tumbled out. You still cried in front of him once more. And he still turned his back on you.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Working with an injured ankle isn’t for the weak. It isn’t for anyone. Your teacher and doctor would’ve advised you not to, but they didn’t know. You didn’t even remember the last time you slept or ate properly. Everything disgusted you and you intentionally avoided the mirrors in your apartment, covering them with blankets. 

However the pain of forcing yourself to use your ankle, the pain of starving yourself, the pain of just existing is something you started to savor. You would laugh to yourself wondering what went wrong. How long have you been feeling like this? Was meeting Satoru just the catalyst to your inevitable destruction? 

As you stand on stage in front of the suddenly blinding lights in a suddenly uncomfortable attire, you pray in your head to whatever god that’s listening to save you. To take you away from whatever hell you were being subjected to. You’re holding your tears in so it won;t ruin the makeup you spent hours on. Your movements feel stiff and forced, hands tembling while you can barely even present a smile on your face.

You just had to have a solo segment. You just had  to say yes to it. You’re people pleasing even to the end.

Gojo Satoru just had to be in the crowd. 

You two just had to make eye contact.

And you just had to fall in front of everyone. 

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A sudden call too late at night alerts Satoru while he’s sitting at is dining table that’s too big for one person. He almost doesn’t want to answer, but as soon as he sees the familiar name, he’s answering on instinct.

It’s silent on the other end for a second and he begins to think you buttdialed him. That’s until he hears your voice for the first time in who knows how long. And God, you don’t sound like yourself at all. “Satoru?”

His heart is cracking while listening to you. You sound defeated, almost scared. But why? “Y/n.”

There’s a breathy chuckle on the other end. “I’m sorry, did I wake you up?”

“Of course not.” he wants to say it’s because he can barely sleep at a regular time, but he holds back. “I’ve been up.”

More silence. 

“Ah, I see.” he can hear the contemplation in your voice. “I didn’t mean to call so suddenly, I’m just….thinking.”

“About what?”

“You.”

Satoru’s heart clenches and twist in an ugly manner. “Funny, I was just thinking about you too.”

And you laugh again, so does he. For once, it felt nice. For once, it felt like how it did before.

“Are you busy right now?”

“No.” is his automatic response. 

“Okay, I’m glad. Can you…come over?”

Come over? He hasn’t been over since that dreadful night. Anxiety porus through his veins and he gulps, hesitating for a small second before nodding. “Of course I can.”

“I’ve just….I’ve missed you. Wanted to hear your voice.”

He’s already grabbing his keys and heading out. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

His long legs lead him to his car quickly, getting in and balancing the phone between his shoulder and ear. “I’ve missed you too.”

You smiled and you wish he could’ve saw it. 

“I’ll see you then.”

“...See you.” 

Three words are on the tip of you guys’ tongues. Three words. But even three words can be hard to admit. So, you hung up on him.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Your apartment is empty when he walks in, confused using the spare key you know he knows about to get in. For some reason you always left it there. It’s like you wanted him to come and see you even when you said you didn’t.

After some wandering, he goes into your bedroom. Flashbacks and nostalgia hits him like cold water. His legs feel shaky all of a sudden and his breath hitches. There’s a small box on your bed that draws his attention. It’s white and wrapped with a red ribbon. Carefully he unwraps it, dread filling his stomach and heart pounding fast. Static is the only thing he hears.

As he opens the box, a pair of ballet shoes greet him.

Yours. 

Not just that, but a small letter.

He opens it with too much force, hands shaking. 

“I’m sorry. I really hope you don’t stay mad at me.

I had so much fun meeting you and giving you everything I had.

Please, live on for me.”

His feet are moving before he can fully register it, calling you as he searches through the apartment for you. Tears fill his pretty eyes and short labored breaths are emitted from his mouth.

His world stops spinning when he hears your phone ring in the barely open bathroom door. In truth, Satoru had a feeling he knew what he was going to find once he entered. His mind knew, but his soul didn’t want to.

Because before him is a sight he can never erase from his memories. 

A bathtub filled with dark water. A bathtub he would bathe with you in sometimes, rubbing your back and combing shampoo through you hair while you giggled.

You’re in it still.

Laying upright with no life in your eyes, a knife in your hand that has toppled over the rim.

If you asked Satoru what he thought in that moment, this would be it.

He wished he died with you.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

And so that’s it. The story of the man and the woman. Happy endings are something neither were familiar with. 

The man now only has a memory that he’ll keep burned into his brain forever, of the woman.

The memory of,

The beautiful ballerina.

a/n: this story was loosely based off the korean film "ballerina". i loved it so much and it was just SO beautiful to watch. anyways, thank you all for reading! much love!

[bibiwrld]

up and coming— actor!drew starkey x actress! black fem oc!

Synopsis: Drew Starkey and new actress Percie Terrance, are being interviewed for their new erotic- romance film, ‘Puppet’. Oc is 23.

Character Mood board/ themes: Puppet

Finally at the interview to wrap up their press tour for Luca Guadagnino’s ‘Puppet’, they were in the beautiful city of Rome, Italy.

Sitting down side by side on an expensive leather couch, they had a few more minutes before the interviewer was ready.

Drew glanced at Percie, her exterior was very poised and collected, but he knew she was nervous. She always got nervous before an interview. He remembered when they were in Japan and he did breathing exercises with her moments before their interview.

“Hey.”

That caught her attention. Her brown doe eyes found his ocean blue ones.

Giving a cheeky smile, she replied. “Hey.”

He patted her hands that were clasped in her lap. “You’re going to be fine, you’re made for this shit.”

A small laugh escaped her. “Thanks Drew.”

His lips curved upwards and eyes slightly creased at the sound of her laughter. “You’re welcome.”

The interviewer finally took a seat across from them. “You guys ready?”

Tearing their eyes away from each other. “Yes!”

Fixing their postures, they sat comfortably with a distance between them.

“3..2..1!”

“Hello everyone, we’re here with—”

“Percie Terrance.” Her smile was bright.

“And Drew Starkey.” He gave a small awkward wave.

“Not to give all the attention to Percie—” The interviewer started. “But I would love to know more about her.”

Drew crossed his legs with a smile. “No, no, go ahead, she’s really the star here.” His eyes were now on his co star.

She smiled uncontrollably at his words, giving him quick glances.

The interviewer chuckled at the pair. “So Percie, you’ve said in previous interviews, that this was your first role…ever?”

Nodding with a small voice, she answered. “It is. I’m so grateful for this opportunity, to work with THEE Luca Guadagnino and the talented Drew Starkey.” Her eyes now fell on the man beside her, who was already looking at her.

“What was your first reaction to getting the role?”

She let out a dry laugh, with a slanted smile. “I thought it was a joke, honestly. I didn’t have any experience on camera —just high school theatre experience and some acting classes. I auditioned just for the fun of it, I didn’t really..think that I’d get it.”

Somehow, Drew was a little closer to her than before, leaning over to her. “You have raw talent.” He whispered in her ear, his breath fanning against her skin.

She giggled at the feeling, touching her ear.

Drew looked down and smirked.

“Drew, what was your reaction to meeting Percie?”

Looking at her from his peripheral vision, he watched as she flipped her freshly silk pressed hair. “ I was stunned. At our first meeting, which was at the table read through, she called me by my first name, being all respectful and professional— but still very shy and nervous about the whole thing, so cute.” He laughed to himself.

Percie playfully pushed him by his shoulder. “ Don’t tell them that, Dreeeewwww!”

He didn’t budge at her weak attempt, only chuckling. “But I was so happy to teach her everything I knew, she’s a fast learner.”

The interview smirked at the bubbling chemistry between the two.

“Were there any challenges during filming?”

Drew turned his head to Percie, gesturing for her to answer.

“Thank you.” She muttered to him softly. “ I would say fully transforming into my character, Angelica. She’s a very independent, intelligent, sexy—”

“You’re literally describing yourself.” Drew cheesed.

Her eyes widened at his flirtatious comment, her cheeks feeling hot. “Drew.” She couldn’t help but smile. “As I was saying, Angelica is also this badass dominatrix. She’s so detailed oriented, confident, never lets shit get to her, there were times where it was hard to be her because of some of my insecurities.”

Drew’s lips slightly frowned at her last couple of words. “ I didn’t have much of a challenge during filming, anyone would be a submissive, pathetic mess for a woman like her.”

Was he trying to kill her on camera from all these flirty stares and comments?

Percie couldn’t believe her costar, shyly hiding her face.

“Oh wow.” The interviewer was caught off guard. “Well, the on screen chemistry sure is very much alive off screen. All of social media is dying to know, are you guys dating?”

Drew smiled with all his teeth, not giving an answer, only looking to Percie.

She fixed her hair. “Why’re you looking at me?”

He sighed, looking at the interviewer. “ Sad news for the fans, no, we are not dating.”

“We’re both really good friends.” Percie chimed in, eyeing the camera.

Drew scratched his head, trying not to show any signs of being hurt by those words. “Yeah.” He gave a small nod along with a tight lipped smile.

“Um, Percie, I heard that you know Italian. Could you say a little something to close off for us?”

“Of course!” She perked up. “Umm.. grazie per averci invitato. Tutti, per favore, andate a vedere Puppet in un cinema vicino a voi.” She put some hair behind her ear shyly, looking at the camera with a warm smile.

“Isn’t she just perfect at this stuff?” Drew cupped his cheeks, leaning towards her, his eyes staring admiringly at her.

��

Translation: Thank you for having us. Everyone please go watch Puppet at a cinema near you.

[n30nwrites]

Run Away Boy (Ghost One-Shot)

TW - Angst, cheating, abandonment??, Inner homophobia

Reader: He/Him

Note; this was a vent ngl, inspired by a snippet of Chappell Roans song Subway. I would apologize for the angst but I’m broke so I need to eat those apologies.

You always found it easy to leave.

Attachments were formed but you were quick to drop them. You didn’t care necessarily about the destination or the problems that arise, you could leave at the drop of a hat, and no one would notice for a while.

It wasn’t the first time you left, and it wouldn’t be the last.

The first time was just after you had graduated college. With no plan and direction, in the middle of the night you packed some of your things and drove off. You didn’t come back for 2 months, and while your parents were worried sick and had gone to the cops, you didn’t care.

It’s easy to leave.

So walking in on Simon with someone else, the choice was obvious.

Leave.

Leave before he notices, leave before he cares and leave before he attempts to make you stay.

He won’t catch you, no one will. Your parents loved him, you waited a year and a half before introducing them to him, you always waited in case something happened. Now something has happened, and he knows them and they know him and nothing can be separated.

You’ll be gone before Monday. You wait for them to finish up, you just drive and buy some trash bags for when you pack and some water. He texts you asking when you’ll be home and you respond ‘in about 10 minutes or so’ and you assume he starts to rush.

He’s probably running away too, just doing it differently.

The house smells of watermelon febreeze when you get inside, the sheets are in the washer, as are some towels and his work clothes, the room is more organized than this morning and he smiles.

Your mother and you used to look at men like him and glare, you would swear up and down that you would ruin any man who did that to you, and she told you it would be different when it actually happened.

But it wasn’t. You didn’t depend on Simon, sure he made more money than you and your name wasn’t on the lease so he had what looks like control but that couldn’t be more wrong.

You had money, you saved, and you didn’t care to sleep in a car.

You’ll get away.

That night you act like it’s normal, before collecting his phone for evidence. It’s not hard, he’s texted the girl a multitude of times before, saying that it’s the last time and that it’s over but he always crawls back. You find out through his texts that Johnny knew too, that Simon couldn’t really understand his feelings for you (a form of inner homophobia you weren’t sticking around for) and that Johnny tried comforting him as well.

You don’t care.

You’ll get away.

Simon wakes you up in the morning, he kisses you on the forehead and it takes a moment for you to remember everything. But you do, and it won’t go back to the way it was. Simon has work early, but he still makes you both breakfast and you eat at the table, he talks about his day and how he’s thinking of buying a new chair, you nod your head and fiddle with your phone, staring at the screenshots you sent yourself.

Simon leaves to the base and talks about you the entire time to Price, Kyle and John. “He’s got a way.” He almost gushes, it’s out of character of him but you weren’t typical of him. Simon never did relationships, he wasn’t one to see someone and stay attached, until he met you. He got jealous easily, he even considered stopping Price from talking to you because you complimented his hat. But he saw it for the best, you would be perfect for him if you were a girl.

But he still fell for you.

You got a way.

His phone background is a picture of you. His home not his lock, he doesn’t want anyone possibly coming across you in case someone tries to get into his phone. You go by a code name at work, they call you Doll.

You’re packing, you won’t be back when he gets home.

Simon trains all day, Soap is stuck training new recruits and at one point he comes by to tease Soap for being stuck with a shitty job, but the day wasn’t eventful. Price mentions a mission in the future so he prepares to tell you that he’s about to leave for god knows where with little to no communication.

Your clothes were packed, anything worth decent money was shoved in the passenger seat or under the seats of your 5 seated vehicle. You grabbed snack food, anything that could last a while like canned goods or chips. You avoid Simons MRE’s and actually you avoid everything that has an attachment to him. Any gifts he’s given you stays with him, clothes, jewelry, and little tchotchkes. They all remain there.

Simon is on the way home, he texts you that he’s on the way, which means it’ll be a 30 minute drive.

The house is empty, anything you couldn’t take you put on the curb. You ripped out a pack of his notebook and wrote in a sharpie which you left by his side. Next to the note is your old phone, completely erased.

He arrives home and it’s almost empty. He’s worried immediately and calls out your name. You don’t respond.

But he finds the note.

‘Enjoy her’ and his phone starts ringing. A timed post shows up on your account, and he’s tagged. Screenshot after screenshot of his affair. People are commenting on your post. And his messages are starting to fill.

You got away.

Willing to take any criticism, I want to get better. It’s short cause it’s 5 a.m and I’ll cry if I write more.

[22ayla21]

Jiaoqiu x Reader

You have known Jiaoqiu since childhood. You liked his mischievous and cunning nature, and it’s not surprising, because he is a fox, and although you are a long-liver, you are an ordinary person from Yaoqin.

As the years passed, although you were friends, as you grew older you were busy with your work. Jiaoqiu as a healer in the alchemy commission, and you as the owner of a small traditional-style cafe. Over the years, Jiaoqiu matured and no matter how you look at it, he was still an enviably handsome man. It would be a lie to say that you liked him too, but remembering his character at times... Yes, it’s better that you don’t need such a thorn in the form of a sly fox who always loves to tease.

Later, you were stunned by the news that he would quit his business due to a broken heart. You tried to support him, to bring clarity to his clouded mind from love, but in the end you had a big quarrel, which is why your long-term friendship collapsed.

Even if Jiaoqiu later realized his mistake, he understood that you were unlikely to accept his apology, because then he told you a lot of unnecessary things, which he really shouldn’t have done. And although he smiled at others with his signature grin, when he saw you, this smile disappeared. He felt very bad at heart for his words.

At some point, he even came to terms with the fact that he had lost someone so close to whom he would trust his life. Until one day you came to his pharmacy.

There was no face on you. My eyes were swollen from crying, black circles under my eyes from insomnia, and I just looked tired. Jiaoqiu was horrified to see you like this. The smile that always accompanied him disappeared.

- (Y/N)? - the fox hesitantly pronounced your name. You didn’t look like yourself, even if it was that you were offended by him, you weren’t so upset. What happened to you while you were quarreling?

To be honest, you didn’t want to come to him, especially in this form, but you knew that the only person (fox) you could trust was Jiaoqiu. Taking a step towards him, you said with a voice hoarse from crying:

- My mom died...

- What?... - Jiaoqiu’s shock was impossible to describe in words. He knew your mother as a strong and resilient woman. He won’t deny that your mother scared him at times, but despite this, she cared for and sincerely loved the mischievous little fox with whom her daughter was friends.

- This morning at 8:20, my mother died in intensive care. For the last year and a half, she was sick with something, all the healers from the Alchemy Commission could not help her, - a minute of silence in which Jiaoqiu did not believe your words. -... I don’t believe... I don’t believe that she died!

Falling to your knees, you began to cry hysterically again. You didn’t want to believe that such a strong and healthy person like your mother died from illness. She had never in her life complained that something hurt her or that she felt bad. Even the commission’s doctors were surprised at how strong your mother’s body was, with all this amazing willpower that helped her in the fight against the disease, but even this did not help. Experienced doctors, a strong body and the desire to live next to her beloved daughter did not help her overcome the disease.

Jiaoqiu himself didn’t fully believe in your words, but seeing how you were crying hysterically and didn’t believe what happened, the only thing he did at that moment was hug you. When you lose someone close, it is a terrible pain that even time cannot heal. He knew that you were strong, that perhaps you could cope with the loss, because your parents passed on two strengths to you: your mother’s perseverance and your father’s patience.

Jiaoqiu hugged you until you fell asleep from powerlessness. Taking you in his arms, he carried you to his home so that you could rest, although looking at your condition, he understood that you wouldn’t be able to rest much, so he decided to stay next to you in order to calm or support you if something happened.

As you understand, the situation described in the story is directly related to me. As someone who has lost a loved one, I will simply say: value the time you spend with your loved ones, because you will never know when Death will take them away from you. No one expected that my mother would die, even those closest to me, we all hoped for the best, but even so, an absolutely healthy person developed cancer. Well, I... I still don’t believe it, I’m still waiting for my mother to call me and say that she’s feeling better, but she won’t call me again...

Appreciate the time spent with loved ones.

[eilaafterhours]

Wedding Night [Xavier]

Content: Smut, Fast Burn, Body Worship, Dirty Talk, AFAB Reader, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert

Pronouns: None (AFAB)

Prequel: Marital Duties

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don’t forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

Remember: I’ll block you if I catch your ageless or under age (not 18+) ass in my activity! 1850 blocked and counting :)

This work’s concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries.

You didn’t know how you ended up here. First you were having dinner with a long-time friend, then suddenly you were married, and now…

“Hah…they’re so soft. I love holding them, but I especially” His mouth descended on your nipple, giving it a good suck. “Love putting them in my mouth.”

In just a few words, Xavier had carried you to the bedroom, stripped you both down and was on you like a man starved. Well, almost starved. Someone who was starving wouldn’t waste the time to talk, but Xavier—

“Well, you let me do this whenever I want?”

“When…whenever?”

“Yeah, for example,” He (somehow) removed himself from your chest, moving up to whisper in your ear. “In an empty room in the office?” 

“Fuck!” Honestly, you weren’t sure on actually doing that, but just the thought of it was inciting enough. 

You felt him smirk against your ear. “Do you like that?” He finally moved away from you, hands sliding away from your breast and down to your stomach. 

“I wonder…” You tensed up, afraid (see: excited) for what he would say next. “Just how far I’ll reach…” 

Your whole body flushed. From your…observations…you could tell that Xavier well-endowed, but now—

“You’re gonna split me in half?!” You gasped, slapping your hands over your face. 

You did not mean to say that out loud. 

Xavier chuckled. “I doubt it, but…”

“But what!”

“I can’t guarantee that it won’t hurt, but—” He moved again, this time his hands slide down to your thighs, gripping them softly. 

“God, you’ve got to let me lay on your thighs, will you?”

“You’ve already done that.” You swatted his hand from one of your thighs. “Stop getting distracted and finish your sentence!” 

“I meant bare?” His hand returned, grip more intense. “Please?” 

“I’m about to make you do it now, with no chance of anything else after, if you don’t—woah!”

Xavier had (damn near) folded you in half. Your legs were thrown over his shoulders, and—

“Fuck—Xavier, slow down!” Your words (thankfully) fell on deaf ears. Instead, he pushed your thighs closer to his head, as he (very sloppily) ate you out. 

“Fuck, you taste so good. I’d eat you out every day if I could, can I?” 

“If I could, I’d be right here, between your thighs, and eating you out.”

“Fuck—shit! God, I’d do anything you’d want, just as long as I can have you. Even if it’s only one more time—even if this is the last time.” 

Your head become more fuzzy as the pressure built in your lower abdomen until—

“Fuck!” You know that soaked his face, but you weren’t honestly expecting his hot pleasure to make itself known on your back. You didn't have to worry about that for long, though. 

Flipping you again, Xavier made quick work of not only your mess, but his own. However, he gave you no break, as he was truly a man staved. When he lifted your hips, you knew exactly what was about to go down, so you steeled yourself, gathering what energy you could, and braced yourself for the ride. 

And what a fucking ride it was. 

You thought it’d be one and done, but after the third time, you were beginning to suspect that he was truly insatiable. He ran you ragged, but at least the decorum to run you a bath (before immediately conking out in it). As you sat in the cooling water, you wondered,

Just what had you gotten yourself into by marrying this man?

…I do not take responsibly for this man's mouth. That was all him. This mfker is almost as bad as Sampo. (IYKYK, go find it in my works lmao)

Anyway, I said I'd maybe do this a while ago, and now here it is, since they've decided to drop some HORNY ASS CARDS.

Masterlist

[amethystarachnid]

I absolutely adore your Tony Stark fics and I love the fluff they usually have but I was hoping to request some angst. preferably where Tony and reader have been fighting lately cause he’s always down in the lab and won’t come to bed, then reader comes down late one night and he confesses to having nightmare’s and about being afraid, there’s a lot of reassurance and tears: maybe some yelling at the beginning and ofc fluff at the end ;3 Tysm, <3

STARK REALITIES

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: angst, angst, some more angst and some fluff / romance at the end

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Holiday special

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 5.3k

ᯓ★ Summary: what the ask said

ᯓ★ TW(s): tony spending tooo much time in the lab but in the end he makes up for it <3

ᯓ★ oh I love the angst!

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

You sit on the edge of the couch, arms folded tightly across your chest as you glare at the muted television. The flickering images do little to distract you from the simmering anger boiling just beneath your skin. It's late—too late for you to be awake, and certainly too late for Tony to still be in his lab. Yet, here you are, alone in the penthouse again, waiting for a man who’s made promises he doesn’t seem to care to keep anymore.

The silence of the apartment is oppressive. It stretches out, thin and brittle, like glass about to shatter. Even JARVIS, with his ever-present butler-like demeanor, seems to sense the tension and keeps his usual comments to himself. Your foot bounces restlessly against the floor, each tap echoing in the empty space like a metronome ticking away at your patience.

The elevator dings faintly, the sound nearly lost in the expansive living room, and you straighten instinctively. The doors slide open with their familiar hiss, and Tony strides out, his steps unhurried, his focus glued to the holographic projection on the tablet in his hand. He’s still wearing his grease-streaked tank top and the same pair of sweatpants he’s had on for three days straight, looking every bit like the genius billionaire inventor the world reveres but nothing like the man you fell in love with.

“You’re finally done playing God in your lab?” you say, voice laced with sarcasm sharp enough to cut steel. It’s not the greeting he deserves, but it’s the only one you’re capable of mustering right now.

Tony glances up, his brow furrowing briefly before the mask of indifference slides into place. “Nice to see you too, sweetheart,” he replies, his tone dismissive as he sets the tablet down on the kitchen counter and pours himself a glass of water.

You scoff, leaning back against the couch as your arms tighten around yourself. “Oh, don’t worry. It’s not like I’ve been waiting up for you or anything.”

“I told you I’d be working late,” he says without looking at you, his voice calm in that maddeningly detached way that makes you feel like you’re shouting into the void.

“You always work late,” you snap, your voice rising despite your best efforts to keep it steady. “Do you even remember the last time we had a normal conversation? Or… hell, even a meal together that didn’t involve you shoving takeout boxes aside so you could get back to tinkering with one of your precious suits?”

Tony sighs, finally turning to face you. His face is tired, his eyes shadowed with exhaustion, but there’s a flicker of irritation there too, a spark that ignites your own fury. “You knew what you were signing up for,” he says, his voice edging toward defensive. “This is who I am, Y/N. It’s not like any of this is new.”

“No, it’s not new,” you agree, standing now, unable to keep still under the weight of your emotions. “But it’s worse. You’re worse. You barely look at me anymore, Tony. Half the time, I don’t even know if you’re listening when I talk to you. It’s like you’ve replaced me with… with your damn lab.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, the gesture so practiced it’s almost automatic. “You’re overreacting.”

The words hit you like a slap, and your chest tightens as a bitter laugh escapes your lips. “Overreacting?” you repeat, your voice trembling with anger and hurt. “God, you really don’t get it, do you?”

Tony crosses his arms, leaning back against the counter as he regards you with a mixture of exasperation and something that looks suspiciously like guilt. “What do you want me to say, Y/N? That I’m sorry? Fine. I’m sorry. But I have responsibilities. You think I’m down there because I enjoy ignoring you?”

“I don’t know, Tony,” you shoot back. “Do you?”

He flinches, the question hitting closer to home than either of you expected. For a moment, the two of you just stand there, the silence between you heavy and suffocating. You can feel the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. Not now. Not in front of him.

“You can’t keep doing this,” you say finally, your voice quieter but no less firm. “You can’t keep shutting me out, Tony. I… I love you. But I can’t keep waiting for you to decide that I’m worth your time.”

His expression softens, the irritation fading to reveal the vulnerability he tries so hard to hide. He takes a step toward you, but you hold up a hand to stop him. “Don’t,” you say, your voice breaking. “Don’t say anything unless you actually mean it.”

Tony stops, his hand falling to his side. He looks at you, really looks at you, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you see a flicker of the man you fell in love with. But it’s not enough. Not this time.

Without another word, you turn and walk toward the bedroom, your heart heavy in your chest. You don’t slam the door behind you—you don’t have the energy for it. Instead, you close it softly, leaning against it as the tears you’ve been holding back finally spill over.

In the silence of the room, you hear Tony’s footsteps retreating back toward the elevator. Of course he’s going back to the lab. You don’t know why you expected anything different.

Sliding down to the floor, you bury your face in your hands and let yourself cry, the weight of your frustration and heartbreak washing over you in waves. You love him. God, you love him so much it hurts. But love isn’t enough to bridge the growing chasm between you. Not when he’s so determined to keep building walls.

And for the first time, you wonder if you’ll ever be enough to tear them down.

The next morning, you wake up to an empty bed, the sheets cold on Tony’s side. You expected it. He didn’t come to bed last night, just like he hasn’t for weeks. Still, the sight of the undisturbed pillow and blanket twists something sharp and painful in your chest.

Dragging yourself out of bed, you go through the motions of your morning routine, pretending it doesn’t bother you. Pretending it isn’t slowly eating you alive. By the time you make it to the kitchen, you find evidence of Tony’s presence—an empty mug in the sink, a crumpled napkin on the counter—but he’s nowhere to be found.

He’s in the lab. Of course.

Despite the ache in your chest, you decide to try again. Maybe today will be different. Maybe he’ll look at you like he used to, with warmth and affection instead of that distracted, faraway gaze he’s perfected over the past few months.

You make coffee, brewing it just the way he likes. It’s a small thing, but it feels like an offering, a token of the love you’re struggling to keep alive. Balancing the steaming mug in your hand, you head toward the lab, your heart heavy but hopeful.

When you step inside, the familiar hum of machinery greets you, along with the sight of Tony hunched over his workbench. His hair is a mess, his eyes glued to the glowing hologram in front of him. He doesn’t even look up when you enter.

“Morning,” you say, forcing cheerfulness into your voice.

“Morning,” he mumbles, not bothering to glance your way.

You place the coffee beside him, lingering for a moment in case he acknowledges you. But he doesn’t. He keeps tinkering, muttering under his breath about calibrations and power outputs.

“Thought we could have breakfast together,” you try, your voice softer now, hesitant.

“Can’t. Busy,” he replies curtly, tapping at the hologram with quick, precise movements.

Your heart sinks. “You’re always busy, Tony.”

“Yeah, because someone has to be,” he snaps, finally looking at you but only to shoot you a brief, irritated glare.

The words sting, and you bite your lip to keep the tears at bay. “Right. Of course. Sorry for interrupting.”

You turn and walk away before he can see how much his dismissal hurts. The coffee sits untouched on the table, a silent reminder of your failed attempt to connect with him.

Later, you sit in a café with your closest friends, picking at the edges of a croissant you have no intention of eating. The conversation around you is lighthearted, but you’re too distracted to participate. Eventually, one of them notices your silence.

“Y/N? You okay?”

You force a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

They don’t buy it. They never do. “Come on, what’s going on? Is it Tony?”

The mention of his name is enough to make your carefully constructed façade crumble. You sigh, leaning back in your chair as you stare out the window. “It’s… it’s like he’s not even there anymore. I try to talk to him, to spend time with him, but it’s like I don’t exist. He’s always in his lab, and when he does talk to me, it’s just… nothing. He doesn’t see me. Not really.”

Your friends exchange glances, their concern evident. “Maybe you need to stop trying so hard,” one of them suggests gently. “Let him come to you for a change. See if he notices.”

The idea lodges itself in your mind, and though it feels counterintuitive, you decide to try. Maybe they’re right. Maybe you’re smothering him. Maybe giving him space will make him realize what he’s missing.

The next few days are agony.

You stop going to the lab. You stop leaving coffee by his workstation. You stop waiting up for him at night. You don’t even text him anymore. It’s excruciating, every second of silence stretching longer and heavier than the last.

Tony doesn’t notice.

He doesn’t come to bed. He doesn’t ask where you are. He doesn’t even look for you. Days turn into nights and then into more days, and the distance between you grows until it feels insurmountable.

You start to feel like a ghost in your own home, haunting the spaces you used to share. The living room, the kitchen, the bedroom—all of them feel emptier than ever. Even when Tony is there, it’s like he isn’t.

You try to distract yourself. You throw yourself into work, into hobbies, into anything that might fill the gaping void in your chest. But it’s no use. You miss him. God, you miss him so much it’s unbearable.

One night, you find yourself sitting on the couch, staring at the empty hallway that leads to the lab. Your chest is tight, your hands trembling as you fight the urge to go to him. You promised yourself you wouldn’t. You promised yourself you’d wait for him to come to you.

But he hasn’t.

And deep down, you know he won’t.

The realization hits you like a punch to the gut, and you curl in on yourself, pressing your face into your hands as sobs wrack your body. You’ve never felt so lonely, so unloved, so utterly invisible.

This isn’t what love is supposed to feel like.

A week passes before you finally see Tony again. He emerges from the lab late one night, his face pale and drawn with exhaustion. You’re sitting on the couch, the TV playing softly in the background, but you don’t acknowledge him.

He hesitates for a moment, his gaze flickering toward you. For a second, you think he’s going to say something, but then he turns and heads to the kitchen without a word.

It’s the final straw.

You stand, your hands clenched at your sides as you follow him. He’s pouring himself a glass of water when you speak, your voice trembling with barely contained emotion.

“Do you even care anymore?”

Tony freezes, the glass halfway to his lips. Slowly, he sets it down and turns to face you. “What are you talking about?”

“You!” you shout, your voice cracking under the weight of everything you’ve been holding in. “Us! This… whatever this is! Do you even care? Because it doesn’t feel like it, Tony. It hasn’t felt like it for a long time.”

His brow furrows, confusion and defensiveness warring on his face. “Of course I care. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Then show me!” you plead, your voice breaking. “God, Tony, I’ve been trying so hard, and you don’t even notice. I’ve given you space, I’ve stopped bothering you, I’ve waited for you to come to me, and you haven’t. Not once.”

He looks away, his jaw tightening. “I’ve been busy.”

“Busy,” you repeat bitterly. “Right. Busy. Always busy. Too busy to talk to me, to spend time with me, to even look at me. Is that all I am to you? A distraction?”

Tony’s silence is deafening, and it cuts deeper than any words ever could.

You feel your heart shatter as you take a shaky step back. “I can’t do this anymore,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

Without waiting for a response, you turn and walk away, the weight of your heartbreak threatening to crush you with every step. You don’t know where you’re going, but you know you can’t stay here. Not like this.

Not when it feels like you’re already gone.

Tony's p.o.v.

I don’t hear the bedroom door shut behind her, but I feel it. That silence—the kind that wraps around your chest like a steel vice—settles over the room, and I just stand there, staring at the glass of water in my hand like it holds the answers I need. Spoiler alert: it doesn’t.

Her words ring in my ears long after she’s gone. Do you even care anymore? Of course I care. God, of course I care. She knows that, doesn’t she?

Doesn’t she?

I don’t follow her. Not because I don’t want to, but because I don’t know what the hell to say if I do. Every time we talk lately, it’s a minefield. One wrong step, and everything blows up.

So, I stay put. Like a coward.

I drain the glass in one gulp and set it down harder than I mean to, the sharp clink echoing in the empty kitchen. My hands are shaking. My hands never shake.

I retreat to the lab because it’s the only place that feels safe anymore. It’s easier down there—quiet, predictable, full of problems I can solve with equations and torque adjustments. Not the kind of problems that have your girlfriend looking at you like she doesn’t recognize you anymore.

The elevator ride feels longer than usual. Or maybe that’s just my guilt stretching out the seconds. When I step into the lab, the familiar hum of machinery greets me, and for a moment, I can almost pretend everything’s fine.

But it’s not.

I drop into the chair by my workstation and rub a hand over my face. The holograms I left running earlier flicker back to life, but I can’t focus on them. All I can see is the way she looked at me—her eyes red-rimmed, her voice cracking. She’s been crying. Again.

I hate that I’m the reason.

The worst part? I don’t even know when it got this bad. It didn’t happen overnight. It crept in, slow and insidious, until one day we were strangers living under the same roof.

I’ve been here before. Not with her, but with people I’ve cared about. Pepper. Rhodey. Hell, even my parents. I’m great at pushing people away—gold medal level, actually—but this? This is different. This is her.

And I’m screwing it up.

Days blur together. I bury myself in work because it’s what I do best. There’s always something to fix, always some new crisis to prepare for, always another project to distract me from the sinking feeling in my gut.

But no amount of work can distract me from the emptiness in the penthouse. She’s still here—I hear her moving around sometimes, quiet as a ghost—but we don’t see each other. She doesn’t come to the lab anymore, and I don’t go looking for her.

I tell myself it’s for the best. Give her space. Let things cool down. That’s what people do, right? They take time to figure things out.

But the days stretch on, and the silence between us grows louder.

One night, I sit in the lab staring at the half-finished schematics for a new suit, and my mind won’t stop replaying her voice. I can’t do this anymore.

It’s not the first time she’s said something like that, but this time it sounded different. Final.

The thought sends a jolt of panic through me. What if she meant it? What if she’s done?

My hands tighten into fists, and I shove back from the desk, pacing the length of the lab like a caged animal. I’ve been here before, too—standing on the edge of losing someone who matters. Every time, I tell myself I’ll do better, and every time, I fall back into the same damn patterns.

But this time… this time feels worse. Because I don’t just care about her. I need her.

I grab the tablet off the desk and scroll through the security feeds until I find her. She’s in the living room, curled up on the couch with a blanket pulled tightly around her. The TV is on, but she’s not watching it. She’s staring at the floor, her expression blank, like she’s not even there.

The sight punches me in the gut.

I want to go to her. I want to tell her I’m sorry, that I’ll do better, that she means more to me than any suit or project ever could. But the words catch in my throat, trapped behind years of bad habits and emotional walls.

Instead, I turn off the tablet and pour myself another drink.

A week goes by, and I start to wonder if this is it. If this is how we end—not with a fight, but with silence.

The thought terrifies me.

I sit in the lab one night, staring at the arc reactor glowing in my chest. It’s supposed to keep me alive, this thing I built with my own two hands. But right now, it feels like it’s killing me. Because what’s the point of staying alive if I’m driving away the one person who makes it worth it?

I think about going upstairs, about finding her and saying everything I’ve been too afraid to say. But what if she doesn’t want to hear it? What if I’m too late?

The thought paralyzes me. So, I stay in the lab, surrounded by machines that can’t fix this.

Y/n's p.o.v.

You don’t even remember falling asleep. One moment, you’re staring at the ceiling, trying to will yourself into calm, and the next, you’re dreaming. At first, it’s nothing—a blur of memories and emotions—until suddenly, it’s not.

You’re in the penthouse, calling out Tony’s name. The rooms are dark, unfamiliar, like you’re walking through a house you no longer belong to. You call again, but there’s no answer. Panic builds in your chest, clawing at your ribs.

When you finally find him, he’s standing in the middle of the lab, surrounded by blue holograms and the hum of machinery. Relief floods you, and you step toward him, but something’s wrong. He won’t look at you.

“Tony,” you say, your voice trembling. “What’s going on?”

“I can’t do this anymore,” he says, his voice cold and detached.

The words hit you like a slap. “What are you talking about?”

He finally turns to face you, and the look in his eyes is like ice. “This. Us. It’s too much. I’m better off alone.”

“No,” you whisper, shaking your head. “You don’t mean that.”

But he does. You can see it in the way he turns away, in the finality of his movements as he walks out of the lab, out of the house, out of your life. You try to follow him, but your feet won’t move, like you’re rooted to the spot. You scream his name, over and over, but he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even look back.

And then you wake up.

Your chest heaves as you sit up, your heart pounding like it’s trying to escape your ribs. The room is dark, the sheets twisted around you, damp with sweat. For a moment, you can’t breathe.

It was just a dream.

But the panic doesn’t ease.

You reach out instinctively, your hand searching for him in the dark, but his side of the bed is empty. The sheets are cold.

“Tony?” you call out, your voice hoarse.

Silence.

The panic surges again, a tidal wave crashing over you. You throw off the covers and stumble out of bed, your legs trembling as you make your way to the door. The penthouse is quiet—too quiet—and every shadow feels like it’s mocking you.

You know where he is.

Your feet carry you toward the lab, your breath hitching with every step. Tears blur your vision, but you don’t stop. You can’t.

By the time you reach the lab, you’re sobbing, your chest heaving with a mix of fear and relief as you see him sitting at his workbench. He’s hunched over, focused on something in his hands, the glow of the arc reactor casting soft blue light across the room.

“Tony,” you choke out, your voice breaking.

He startles, turning toward you, and the moment he sees you, his expression shifts from confusion to concern. “Y/N? What—what’s wrong?”

You can’t get the words out. You take a shaky step forward, then another, until you’re standing in front of him, tears streaming down your face.

“I thought you—” You can’t finish the sentence. The dream is still too fresh, the fear too real.

Tony stands immediately, his hands reaching for you. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m right here.”

The moment his arms wrap around you, the dam breaks. You cling to him, sobbing into his chest, your hands clutching the fabric of his shirt like he might disappear if you let go.

“I thought you left,” you whisper between sobs. “I dreamed you left, and I couldn’t find you, and I—”

He pulls you closer, his hand cradling the back of your head as he presses his lips to your temple. “I’m here,” he murmurs, his voice steady and soothing. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

“But you’re always here,” you cry, gesturing weakly toward the lab. “You’re always in the lab, and I—I feel like I’ve already lost you, Tony. And then the dream—”

“Shh,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. He cups your face in his hands, tilting your head up so you can see the sincerity in his eyes. “Listen to me. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I know I’ve been a shitty boyfriend lately, and I hate that I’ve made you feel like this.”

Your lip trembles as you try to speak, but he shakes his head, cutting you off gently.

“You’re the most important thing in my life, Y/N,” he says, his voice breaking. “Not this lab, not the suits, not any of it. You. And I know I’ve been taking you for granted, and I hate myself for it. But I swear to you, I’m going to do better. I’m going to make this right.”

His words are like a balm on your heart, but the fear still lingers. “What if you don’t?” you whisper.

“I will,” he says, his hands framing your face like you’re the only thing anchoring him to the world. “I swear to you, I will. I’m going to spend less time in the lab. Hell, I’ll shut it down for a week if that’s what it takes. I’ll take you out, we’ll go somewhere—anywhere you want. Just say the word, and I’ll do it.”

You search his eyes, looking for any sign of insincerity, but all you see is the raw, unfiltered love you’ve been missing for so long.

“I love you,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I’m not going anywhere. Ever.”

The tears start again, but this time they’re different. They’re not from fear or sadness but from relief, from the overwhelming weight of his words sinking in.

“I love you too,” you whisper, your voice breaking as you wrap your arms around him.

He holds you tight, his lips brushing against your hair as he murmurs reassurances over and over, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he stops.

For the first time in months, the knot in your chest starts to loosen. It’s not perfect—it’s not fixed—but it’s a start.

And as you stand there in his arms, the steady hum of the arc reactor filling the room, you let yourself believe that maybe everything will be okay.

Tony doesn’t let go of you, not even for a second. He holds you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded, his arms wrapped so tightly around you that it’s almost as if he’s afraid you might disappear if he loosens his grip. His hand strokes your back in slow, comforting circles as your breathing starts to even out, the weight of your nightmare slowly ebbing away.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers against your hair, his voice softer than you’ve heard it in weeks. “I’ve got you, and I’m never letting go.”

You press your face into his chest, the steady hum of the arc reactor soothing in a way you didn’t think it could be anymore. His warmth, his scent, his presence—they’re everything you’ve been aching for, and now that you have them, you’re terrified of losing them all over again.

“Come on,” Tony says gently, his lips brushing against your temple. “Let’s get out of here. You need rest, and I’m not letting you wake up alone again.”

You nod, too drained to argue, and he shifts just enough to pick you up, cradling you against him like you weigh nothing. He’s always been strong, but this feels different—like he’s carrying you not just physically but emotionally, too.

When he lays you down in bed, he doesn’t hesitate to climb in beside you. He pulls you close, tangling his legs with yours and wrapping his arms around you like he’s determined to make up for every night he’s spent away. You feel his lips press softly against your forehead, then your cheek, and finally, he buries his face in the crook of your neck.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. “I’ve been an idiot, and I hate that I made you feel like you weren’t my everything. Because you are, Y/N. You’re everything to me.”

You don’t say anything. You just bury your face in his chest and let the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lull you into the most peaceful sleep you’ve had in months.

When you wake up the next morning, he’s still there.

True to his word, Tony doesn’t let himself get sucked back into the lab. The very next day, he shuts down half his projects, instructing JARVIS to notify him only in case of emergencies. You don’t realize how serious he is until he emerges from the lab with a packed suitcase in one hand and a mischievous grin on his face.

“You,” he says, pointing at you like he’s just cracked the code to the universe, “and me. Anywhere you want to go. Name it.”

You laugh, thinking he’s joking, but when you realize he’s not, your heart skips a beat. “You mean it?”

“Of course I mean it,” he says, pulling you into his arms. “You’ve been stuck with the brooding, workaholic version of me for too long. It’s time you got the fun one again. Now, come on—where to? Paris? Rome? That weird island with the bioluminescent plankton?”

You can’t help but laugh at the way he lists the options like a kid flipping through a catalog. “Tony, we don’t have to go anywhere fancy—”

He cuts you off with a kiss, his lips warm and soft against yours. “This isn’t about fancy. This is about you and me, getting out of here and seeing the world. So pick a place, any place.”

You do, and before you know it, you’re on a plane to Italy, watching the sun set over the Mediterranean with a glass of wine in your hand and Tony’s arm draped casually around your shoulders. It’s the first of many trips—each one more magical than the last.

In Paris, he takes you to a quiet little bistro tucked away in a cobblestone alley, where the two of you share a bottle of wine and laugh until your sides hurt. He even attempts to speak French to the waiter, which ends in spectacular failure and has you both in stitches.

In Tokyo, he gets you lost in a maze of neon-lit streets, insisting he doesn’t need a map because “genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, remember?” You end up finding a tiny ramen shop that serves the best bowl of noodles you’ve ever had, and Tony spends the rest of the night bragging about his “impeccable sense of direction.”

In Egypt, he arranges for a private tour of the pyramids at sunrise. You watch the sky turn shades of pink and gold as he wraps his arms around you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder. “Beautiful,” he says, but when you glance at him, he’s not looking at the pyramids—he’s looking at you.

It’s not just the grand gestures, though. It’s the little things that make your heart ache in the best way. The way he holds your hand on crowded streets, the way he carries your bags even when you insist you can manage, the way he sneaks kisses when he thinks no one’s looking.

One night in Santorini, he surprises you with a candlelit dinner on the balcony of your villa. The view is breathtaking—the whitewashed buildings glowing against the deep blue of the sea—but it’s nothing compared to the way Tony looks at you across the table.

“I don’t deserve you,” he says out of nowhere, his voice quiet but earnest.

You reach across the table to take his hand. “You’re wrong. We deserve each other.”

He smiles, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “You’re too good for me, you know that?”

“And you’re too hard on yourself,” you counter, leaning forward to press a kiss to his hand.

The two of you fall into an easy rhythm—one that feels like the way things used to be, before the fights and the distance. He’s not perfect—there are days when he slips back into his old habits, disappearing into the lab for hours—but he always makes up for it.

He surprises you with breakfast in bed, takes you on spontaneous dates, and even sits through a rom-com marathon with you, groaning dramatically every time a character makes a clichéd speech.

“I can’t believe people watch this stuff voluntarily,” he grumbles during one particularly cheesy scene, but the way he keeps sneaking glances at you suggests he’s enjoying it more than he lets on.

It’s not just about making up for lost time—it’s about creating new memories, new traditions, new reasons to fall in love with each other all over again.

And every time he holds your hand or whispers something ridiculous in your ear to make you laugh, you’re reminded of why you fell in love with him in the first place.

He’s Tony Stark—brilliant, infuriating, impossible Tony Stark. And as much as he drives you crazy sometimes, he’s also the man who loves you with every fiber of his being, the man who would move heaven and earth to make you happy.

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

[primasveraas-writing]

go gentle into that good night

Hosea outlives Arthur.

word count: 2087

warnings: major character death

---

Hosea’s joints protest when he sits back down; his shoulder and back in particular ache. But he ignores it, just as he’s done for many days prior, and settles in at Arthur’s bedside.

The other man attempts a smile at him. His lips are cracked and bloodstained. It’s a sorry sight; Arthur’s face is stained purple and yellow with bruises, and worse still are the signs of sickness that have refused to fade. Under the bruises, he’s sickly white. His eyes are blackened and red-rimmed and clouded with fever. Every inhale is a wheeze and Arthur shudders with pain on every exhale.

Hosea reaches out to his boy, wiping the sweat from Arthur’s face with a handkerchief. He tries to smile back.

“You don’t hafta…” Arthur whispers, and Hosea shakes his head.

“Stop that, Arthur. I’m going to take care of you.”

Three days ago, Arthur had directed him to a veteran’s homestead, not far off from camp. At first, Hosea had protested that he should go with Arthur or stay with Tilly and Jack, but the Marstons needed to flee far and even weeks after Guarma, Hosea could only manage to travel short distances. Arthur had pleaded with him, told him that Hamish would take care of him, and said that he’d find him soon. He’d been lying, Hosea knew, about that last part. But Arthur had begged between coughs, and he couldn’t deny that their family was finally beyond saving, so he’d gone. And when night fell, Arthur still hadn’t appeared.

Hosea had left Dutch to his madness. John was said to be dead; he’d left young Tilly and Jack behind. They’d parted with words of love, but he’d abandoned them to their fates nonetheless. Maybe the gunshot wound in his shoulder prevented him from holding a rifle, maybe he’d felt sapped of strength since returning to the mainland, but knowing this made the farewell no less painful. And in the early hours of the morning, Hosea decided he would not let his goodbye to Arthur be final. 

“It’s dangerous,” Hamish had warned. “The law’s been all over the area. Not to mention your own people running amok…”

“He’s my boy,” Hosea had said. His throat was oddly tight. “If he’s out there, I have to look for him.”

So he had. He started at Beaver Hollow to find dead Pinkertons and Susan Grimshaw staring sightlessly into the surrounding woods. It was some hollow, bare consolation that he hadn’t recognized any other bodies, but the weight in his gut had only deepened. After closing Susan’s eyes and whispering a soft farewell, Hosea continued on into the night. He wandered until he found more bodies; first of lawmen, then Arthur’s horse. 

He’d known then that what he discovered next would break whatever pieces remained of his heart. He’d climbed the mountain. And although the sight of Arthur’s ruined body on the rocks had indeed shattered him, when Hosea heard the rattle of his breath, something like hope warmed in his chest.

On the fourth morning, Arthur sits, propped up by pillows with Hosea in a chair next to him. He’s been awake for almost an entire hour. He doesn’t talk much, for if he does, then coughs will tear through him, and blood will dribble from his lips, and Hosea cannot stand to see that any more times than he already has. But Arthur is awake, obediently taking sips of water until he starts to cough and retches some of it up. When that happens, Hosea wraps his arms around Arthur’s shoulder and holds him while the fit passes, watching as blood and phlegm and bile spill from Arthur’s mouth. Then, when Arthur is done gasping for air, Hosea leans him back against the pillows with shaking arms. It takes several minutes for his breathing to return to its normal, trembling wheeze.

“Do you remember…” Arthur starts after Hosea has cleaned him up, and Hosea shushes him. But Arthur shakes his head and continues on, his voice a rasp. “We talked about how we wanted to be buried. D’you ‘member?”

“I remember,” Hosea says quietly. He takes Arthur’s hand in his own, stroking the back of it with his thumb. The skin is cracked and thin.

“Facin’ west,” Arthur murmurs. “Please, Hosea. Don’t want it any other way. Hamish’ll help you.”

“I’m not going to bury you, Arthur,” Hosea says, frowning at the man before him.

“Well somebody’s got to,” Arthur says, and he has the nerve to crack a smile. “I’m dyin’, Hosea. ‘s only a matter of time.”

“You’re going to get better, do you hear me?” Hosea’s voice cracks. “ I went back there to save you. And I have.”

“You have,” Arthur agrees. “But look at me.”

Hosea does. Arthur’s chest rises and falls unevenly. Each breath is shallow and pained; Hosea is sure that under the bandages wound around his chest are broken ribs, and underneath that, lungs ruined beyond repair. His right hand is broken; his face is swollen and flushed. Somehow, Hosea didn’t think it could get any worse than it had been when Arthur returned to them on the shores of Guarma. He’d been half delirious, exhausted, and gaunt. And the coughs had been awful. But now, looking down at Arthur, he knows it's far, far worse. This is not the man he knows, not even when that man had been at his hurt and sickest. This is the shell of a person who’d once been living.

“‘m sorry,” Arthur says. His eyes are still closed, but he squeezes Hosea’s hand. “Ain’t right to bury your child. I’m sorry, ‘sea.”

This is the worst pain he’s ever felt. With Bessie, it had felt like the ground had been swept out from under his feet, that he was drowning. With Arthur, it feels like the world is at an end, like even if he surfaces there will be no air to save him. With Bessie, he’d hated dawn for coming, but now Hosea cannot see a future without Arthur in which the sun still rises.

“There’s nothing to forgive,” Hosea whispers, the words barely audible. Arthur doesn’t respond, lost to pain or sleep. Hosea bows his head, resting his forehead on their intertwined hands. 

Arthur slips deeper into fever that night, shivering against the cold despite the blankets covering him and the fire roaring in the hearth. It feels cruel. As if Arthur weren’t sick enough- and Hosea knows that Arthur’s body can’t take much more. There will be no fighting off this bout of illness.

Hosea tries to sleep when Arthur sleeps, although he’s afraid that Arthur will slip away without him realizing. He can’t tell which he dreads more- the prospect of holding Arthur’s hand as he breathes his last, or waking and finding him already gone. All he knows now is fear and grief as he watches Arthur die.

Moments of lucidity and consciousness are fleeting. Mostly, Arthur groans in pain or coughs. He’s no longer able to stomach the mouthfuls of broth Hosea spoons into his mouth. It’s quiet, aside from the ragged sounds of Arthur struggling to breathe, and impossibly lonely. 

Arthur is going to die.

There is nothing now that Hosea can do other than watch it happen.

He wishes they had more time. That Arthur felt just a little better, that they could have one last ride together, one last fishing trip. One more conversation that lasts more than a few minutes before Arthur falls asleep. He wishes they could talk about all that’s happened, about Dutch, about how John got away. About their hopes for the Marstons and the others who got out in time. He misses Arthur already.

In the end, he decides there are only two things worth telling. Before Arthur dies, Hosea only needs him to hear two things, and maybe then, he’ll be able to let Arthur go.

When Arthur wakes next, it’s because of a coughing fit that lasts for several minutes. As soon as it fades, Arthur slumps back, his eyes shutting. He hardly acknowledges Hosea when he wipes the blood and spit from his chin, and Hosea pauses.

“Arthur, wait,” he says suddenly, and Arthur’s eyes slowly open again. “Don’t go to sleep just yet, I need to tell you something.”

“What’s wrong?” Arthur wheezes, blinking the fatigue away. He tries to sit up, but Hosea sets his hands on his shoulders and pushes him back down. 

“Nothing’s wrong. I just-“ Hosea breathes in. “I need you to know, Arthur, that you are loved.”

“Hosea-”

“The way Dutch treated you weren’t right. It weren’t- weren’t the way a father should act. And I’m sorry if that made you feel as if you weren’t appreciated. But there’s people who care about you, son, and always will- me, John, Tilly, Abigail, Jack. I need you to know that.”

There’s a long pause. Something works its way across Arthur’s face- first, confusion, then something much different, something that reminds Hosea of when Arthur was small, still learning to trust them, still figuring out that he wouldn’t be left behind, that he was safe, that he had family. 

“I know, ‘sea,” Arthur breathes, and when his eyes close, a tear slips from under his eyelashes and runs down his cheek. 

Hosea wipes it away, and blinks back tears of his own. 

As Arthur sleeps, Hosea begins his second refrain, unsure of whether or not Arthur can actually hear him. But he speaks softly anyway, recounting each act of kindness he’d ever seen Arthur do. Rescuing John, taking Jack fishing, bringing the women coffee in the morning. The way he’d cared for his horses and for Copper. The way he’d spoken about Jack and Eliza, before it became too painful to recall. Taking Lenny under his wing, standing up for Molly before she’d died. Giving money to strangers on the street, helping anyone he came across who looked like they needed a hand.

“What’re you talkin’ about, old man?” Arthur mutters hours into it. His eyes are cracked open; he looks bleary and confused.

“You’re a good man, Arthur Morgan,” Hosea says. “And I know you don’t believe that. But I know it. I’ve seen it.”

Arthur shakes his head, but Hosea squeezes his hand, tight.

“You’re a good man,” he says again. “If you’re not going to die believing it, die knowing myself and a few others know it to be true.”

Arthur mumbles a protest, but he’s already being dragged back under by the fever and the exhaustion. Hosea doesn’t mind. He hopes that Arthur can rest.

He’s said his piece. Now, he prays that when Arthur goes, it’s gentle and quiet.

Arthur is conscious, but clearly in agony. He pants, thrashing in the bedsheets, and Hosea shushes him, smoothing the blankets down. 

“That’s alright son,” Hosea says quietly, pushing a sweaty clump of hair from Arthur’s forehead. “You’ve done good. You’ve fought long enough.”

Hosea clutches Arthur’s hand tighter. Once strong and nimble, his hand feels thin and frail in Hosea’s. His skin is clammy and cold.

“You rest now,” the older man continues. “I have you. It’s alright.”

Arthur’s eyes slowly open a minute later. He looks at Hosea, really looks at him- for the first time in days, there is no clouded confusion of the fever in his eyes. He’s covered in a sheen of sweat, his breaths coming in labored wheezes, and his face is gaunt. Heavy purple bags under his eyes stand out against his pale face, and he’s so weak he can’t turn his head. But his eyes are clear. There’s just a single moment, an instant, where their eyes meet- before Arthur’s eyelids flutter closed again and Hosea is left alone.

Hosea wakes to daylight creeping in through the window, flooding the small room of the cabin. The first sounds that register are birds chirping, and then that is drowned out by Arthur’s breathing, ragged inhales shaking his unconscious frame. There’s a rattle in his chest that’s worse than ever, and each exhale stutters.

There’s a weight in the center of Hosea’s chest, a gaping pit in his stomach that threatens to swallow him. 

“I love you son,” Hosea whispers, and he hopes that at this end, Arthur can hear him, or at least he knows the words are true. 

They stay like that, father and son, as the sun rises. And when Arthur breathes his last, he is not alone, and in his final moments before oblivion, he is loved. 

[miseria-fortes-viros]

-> declan bringing ashley to monmouth. ashley, the raven boys, chapter 4. (we’re meant to look pretty for her.)

this is one of the first chapters where we really get to know a lot about our characters, and ashley being there—combined with adam suddenly being aware that they are observed when it’s clear he didn’t feel that way immediately preceding the start of the book—lead me to believe that the fourth wall is very thin here.

-> ashley, this is noah, can you see him?

ashley is one of the only characters outside of the gangsey themselves who is not only able to see noah but also to meet and interact with him.

-> (your hands are cold. (i’ve been dead for seven years.))

ashley is also the first person that noah says this to within the confines of the narrative himself. nobody is surprised when he says this, so clearly he does make these jokes a lot, but it’s significant that we, the reader, hear this for the first time when it’s directed at ashley—ashley who, like us, just got here and doesn’t (can’t) know the significance of this interaction until after everything is over.

-> adam. (don’t you feel observed? someone is looking in when they weren’t before.) the raven boys, chapter 4.

adam: wary, adam: watchful. adam feels the eyes of the reader when the others do not; adam becomes aware of us as soon as we become aware of him. no sooner is ashley named than adam is introduced; no sooner is ashley introduced than adam is wary of her.

ashley (f, gaelic: aislinn): dream, vision

-> (three ashleys) (three brothers) (three witches) (nine’s very three plus three plus three) (6:21) (3+3:+3)

-> declan started hating me first. it was all because declan loved ronan.

-> this is not the first time

declan lynch was 18 the first time matthew fell asleep (was ronan dead)

-> gansey. where’s ronan? i don’t know. something’s wrong. something’s happened to him. how do you know? i can’t explain. i don’t know. we fought. something’s wrong

he’s your dog, gansey (i can’t help him any more (i’m killing him and i don’t know how to stop))

-> he trusted gansey (he still worried about ronan (he never stopped worrying about ronan))

i want you to meet ashley. yes again it’s a different ashley (i need to check in with you) is ronan around? he shouldn’t be (we’ll fight if he’s there (i need to know how he’s doing (he’ll hate me more for hovering)))

-> ronan please just tell me it won’t happen again i’m doing everything i can to keep you both alive

the brothers lynch (a dreamer (a dream (declan)))

-> half none of declan’s surviving family was real. half a dreamer. half a dream. to lose one is to lose the other (part of ronan died when niall did (part of ronan died when his dreamer did))

ronan lynch was 18 when a demon nearly unmade him (the second time matthew fell asleep (the second time declan almost lost them both at once (was ronan dead)))

-> declan cannot let go (if he lets go who will hang on (who will live without him fighting tooth and nail to keep them))

matthew lynch was 18 when he punched his eldest brother in the face (matthew lynch was 18 the third time declan almost became the last living lynch)

-> was ronan dead

declan bringing ashley to monmouth. ashley, the raven boys, chapter 4. ashley (f, gaelic: aislinn): dream, vision. three ashleys. three brothers. three dreamers. three sleepers. three witches. three murders. nine’s very three plus three plus three

(i look just like my father (so do you (every time i see your blood on my knuckles i remember him dead in the driveway (every time i look at you i see the face of a dead man))))

-> was ronan dead

declan brings ashley to monmouth.

[aliceintheworld]

PURE ATTRACTION | JJK | TATTOO ARTIST

Pairing: TattooArtistJungkook X NaiveReader

Summary: "I shouldn’t be watching a man undressing, specially not from the house next door."

Warning: Angst 🥺 conversation about suicide, depression, uncertainty about oneself, Misuk being the best character of all 🫶 Namjoon finally makes an appearance (he appears a little, but then a little more, I promise) Jungkook being an idiot – forgive him, for he doesn't know what he's doing.

A/N: I'm back!! First, I wanted to thank you all for the affection I've been receiving. Thank you so much for the messages and interactions! If you want to send non-anonymous messages, I even prefer it, because I can follow you 🥰 Pure Attraction is a not very elaborate story, I know, but it has become an important part of my life, so I thank you for reading all these chapters, you don't know how much this means. Without further ado, here is the chapter.

P.S.: Later, still today, I will post the next chapter 🤌

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter 10

The journey back home has never felt so long. Minutes pass, yet it feels as if the clock's hands are stuck. I try to take a deep breath, but I can't. My head is filled with memories, occasions when I could have done something different. I was so foolish, so stupid. Filled with regret, I can't even look at myself in the reflection of the window. I remember my father, my mother, and I wonder what they would say if they knew I made a mistake with no way to turn back. My eyes fill with tears, almost instantly, for the fourth time today alone. Mrs. Jeon remains silent, looking through the coffee table of her house.

She sighs and gaze at her own hands before locking eyes with me, as if she understands me in some way. But I don’t know if anyone could comprehend what I’m going through at this moment. I feel... used. As if, even with my consent, Jungkook took advantage of me, of my innocence and of my inexperience. At the same time, I can't place all the blame on him. I made a mistake, I should have been more cautious and I let him inside of my life.

"Are you okay?" Misuk asks, almost in a whisper. I try to shake my head and force a smile, but I can't. She sways her hair and clicks her tongue nervously. "I can't believe Jungkook did this to you, dear. He’s my son, but I don’t agree with any of this."

"He’s not the only one to blame," I deny; I barely recognize my own voice, weak and trembling.

The last time I saw myself this way was when, during a difficult year, I didn't want to visit my father's grave, and my mother opposed it. The anguish is different, but equally overwhelming.

"Can you explain how you two got so… close?" she questions. "I mean, it hasn’t been long since he came to Busan. Did you have many opportunities to talk?"

"A few." I shrug. That doesn’t matter now. I’m angry and don’t want to talk to anyone. I want to lock myself in my room and pretend everything was a terrible nightmare. "Sorry, I don't even know where to begin. I feel awful."

"You can talk to me."

"You’re his mother."

"I am." She smiles, placing a hand on mine, gently caressing my skin. I immediately feel a maternal love and care I haven’t experince in years. My crying intensifies as I realize that the person I need right now isn’t with me—my mother. Even if she were here, she wouldn’t help. She would judge me, make me feel bad about my mistakes, just as she has done in the past, and I don't need this right now. "Y/N, I’m Jungkook’s mother, but I understand what you’re going through. You have no idea."

"What do you mean?" I frown, confused. Her dark eyes fill with tears, just like mine.

"When I was around your age, I fell in love with a man. He was two years older, and so handsome. He seemed like a dream, someone so different from me, yet so similar—almost like he was a part of me." She tells me looking ahead, as if she could see the memories playing out before her. "He is Jungkook’s father. He was my first love."

"What do you mean?" I whisper. "Mr. Jeon isn’t Jungkook’s father?"

"He isn’t." She shakes her head. "That’s why I say I understand you. It was the first time I fell in love with someone. It was also the first time my trust was broken. When he found out I was pregnant, he left. I was alone, working a part-time job I didn’t even like, that paid poorly and had no support. Those were the worst years of my life."

"Misuk, I don’t know what to say," I respond, with a knot in my throat. She had never shared this while we talked about the past. But I understand her, in a way. It must be hard to relive those memories, and even harder to confide them to someone.

"You don’t have to say anything. I, after all this time, have moved on. The fear of being abandoned, however, still hasn’t healed, even with twenty-six years gone by." She smiles again, but I know she’s more hurt than she wants to show. "Dear, I care about you. I love you like a daughter, even. You’ve been with me during these days, and we’ve grown so close. I see parts of myself in you. The way my mother treated me, the absence of my father. It’s all so similar. That’s why I say I understand you."

"It all happened so… suddenly." I comment to myself, looking down. The shame of crying, and the shame of what I did, prevent me from looking her in the eyes. "I know I should have been more careful, but I was so happy... I don't get it."

"Jungkook, being more experienced than you, should have talked to you, asked what your expectations were, and told you what his intentions were. If he didn’t want something serious, a commitment, he should have warned you." She argues, not letting me continue. It’s as if she wants to lift the guilt I’m feeling, and I'm really thankful for that.

"Yes, but I was so naive. I was a fool to think he could like me the same way I like him." I groan, covering my face as more tears come. My chest hurts just remembering him. His kisses, his touches. He was so gentle with me, treating me like no one else ever had. He listened to me, and that was enough for me.

"Did you... did you have sex?" Misuk asks, running her hand along my back in a comforting gesture that soothes my pain, at least a little.

"I-I... Misuk..."

"It’s okay. You can trust me. You can open up and tell me." She smiles, without judgment. I just shake my head embarrassed, exposed, somewhat humiliated.

"We did it last night. It was very sudden." I try to explain, even if I don’t have many words to do it.

"Was it your first time? Is that why Eunji thinks you slept at my house? She said that yesterday, and I didn’t understand."

"Yes, but that night was the first time I slept at his apartament and we hadn’t done... you know."

"You hadn’t had sex, just other things." She concludes with a smile, tucking my hair behind my ear.

My cheeks burn, even when I try not to. It’s very difficult to talk about this kind of subject, even with Misuk, because I never had anyone to talk to when I was a teenager. My view of sex always came from books, whether educational or romantic.

"That’s it." I confirm, shaking my head.

"Are you in love?" Mrs. Jeon asks me when a silence falls between us.

I take a moment, reflecting about the question as if it were the most difficult one of my life. What does it mean to be in love? Is it feeling a flutter in your chest every time you see the person? Is it having a wild rush of energy that courses through your body uncontrollably? Is it standing still and feeling your heart race a thousand miles an hour? Is it missing that person and wanting to hear from them every day? If that’s the case, then yes, I’m in love. The realization of this fact hurts me even more. It makes me feel weaker. How could I be so foolish? How could I think someone would be interested in me when no one else had?

A flood of memories overwhelms me. If I had known I’d feel this pain, I would have never gotten close to Jungkook. I would have shut my window the first time I saw him, and never opened up again.

"It’s okay." She reassures me, hugging me. I hug her back, trying to purge the feeling of rejection that’s almost lodged in my chest.

"He just turned his back on me. He didn’t even see me when I left. It’s as if he got what he wanted and then I wasn’t worth the effort anymore." I vent, hurt, too wounded to stop the words pouring out.

"Jungkook is a fool." She shakes her head, pressing her lips together. "At the same time, he’s stuck in this messed-up relationship. I’ve told him millions of times that they’re not good for each other. I told him that true love doesn’t hurt, doesn’t deceive, but he’s stubborn like no one else."

"Does he really talk to his ex?" I ask, hoping it’s not as I imagine. That maybe they talk, but not as much as I’ve put in my head.

"The last time we talked about this was two days ago. He told me Namjoon called him, and they had a conversation for twenty minutes. He’s very deluded." She shakes her head, angry. Two days ago we were texting. I know we had no commitment and hadn’t established anything, but to me it’s worse to know he didn’t respect this moment. That it didn’t mean anything to him. While I melted over our messages and smiled like a fool for his attention, he was with his ex, doing the same with someone else.

"Did Namjoon really cheat on Jungkook? Why does he still try? Why does he still talk to him?"

"Namjoon was his first boyfriend. They were together for almost five years, and at one point, they practically lived together. When Jungkook was alone in Seoul, working in a tattoo studio, he met Namjoon and fell in love almost at first sight. He was very shy, introverted, with few friends in the new city. I think that helped them form a strong connection." Misuk explains. She seems to know a lot about the situation, as if she followed everything in detail, even from a distance.

"Have you ever met him... I mean, have you met Namjoon?" I ask, hesitant. My heart races for some reason. My hands feel cold with anxiety.

"Yes." She nods, sighing. "He’s a great guy, I can’t deny that. He works at a book publishing company, very intelligent and kind. I think that’s why Jungkook fell for him. At the same time, Namjoon is someone who wants more. He wants to achieve other things, and when the relationship got in the way of his goals, he didn’t think twice before stepping on everything they built together. Jungkook was devastated."

"How long ago was that?"

"About three months." She says; her body suddenly tenses. "That’s when I tried to take my own life."

"Mrs. Jeon... Jungkook told me what happened." I say, not really knowing if it’s right to tell her the truth. But it’s the first time she’s opened up about the subject, and I don’t think it’s fair, especially now that she told me so much about her past, to hide this from her. Her eyes widen, and then she smiles awkwardly.

"He really is an idiot. He must have told you to keep an eye on me." She says, shaking her head as if recalling her son’s actions, however she doesn't seen to hold any resentment towards him, regarding this. "He’s always been very careful. Always very protective. Jungkook has his flaws, but I think I understand why you fell for him. He’s stubborn but takes care of those he loves. I feel guilty for, even unknowingly, adding this weight to his shoulders. I’ve been feeling better now."

"Are you really okay?" I ask, somewhat uncertain.

"I am. I’m taking my medication, going to therapy, and visiting support groups once a week. Sometimes when I feel bad, I seek comfort. I know that ending my life isn’t an option. I don’t want to leave my son alone." She states. I search her eyes for any hint of untruth, anything that tells me she’s not okay, but I find nothing. I’m glad to know that, at least she, is evolving and improving. "But you know what’s making me feel better, Y/N?"

"What?" I ask, eager to know the answer. Whatever it is, I need an urgent dose of what is making her feel better.

"You." She smiles; more tears appear in her eyes, this time from happiness. "You’ve made my days better. I want you to know you can count on me. For everything." She confesses. Her voice deepens as I break down again.

"Thank you so much." I say sincerely. I have a friend. I have someone I can count on, and that brings me such a great relief that it feels like I could die.

"It’s okay. No more crying Y/N." She gets up from the couch, smiling. She raises her arms and wipes her face with her shirt. "Dear, tell me. Did you use protection? Did you take precautions?"

"No." I flush at the confession, feeling like a child who has no idea of the consequences of her actions. "He went out to buy a morning-after pill, but you arrived and..."

"It’s fine. Don’t worry." She holds her hands up, as if all of this doesn’t matter. "You don’t need to explain. I know that in the heat of the moment, you don’t think about anything. That’s why I had Jungkook when I was twenty." She laughs, making me feel even more embarrassed. "I’ll buy you a pill. Don’t worry; everything will be fine."

"Mrs. Jeon, you don’t have to. I'm going to do it."

"I don’t want to be a grandma so young, Y/N." She jokes, making me laugh too. "And it’s not a problem at all. I want to see you well, and that’s what matters."

"Thank you." I express my gratitude. Not just for the pill, but for everything. Even though it hurts, being here with her alleviates, at least a little, the torment I’m feeling.

"You don’t need to thank me. Everything will be okay." She assures me, and I accept it. I pray to God that all of this I’m feeling will soon come to an end.

"Y/N, what are you doing here?" I hear a voice behind me. I don’t look right away, afraid to fall.

Since the library shelves are very high, I usually use a mobile ladder to organize the books, so before I make sure who it is, I carefully step down the rungs. When I finally reach the ground, I regret coming down. It’s Hayun, Jungkook’s friend. Not because of her, of course, as I enjoyed meeting her, but because of him, who has kept me awake for the past three days.

"Are you okay? It’s been a while since we last saw each other." She smiles. She approaches and kisses my cheek suddenly. She seems to genuinely like me, and I’m grateful for that. Her outgoing personality couldn’t be better right now. My energy, ever since that argument happened, has been dwindling.

"I’m okay." I say, putting on my best smile. "And you? How have you been?"

"Busier every day. With the move and everything."

"You’re moving?" I ask, curious.

"Yes, didn’t Jungkook tell you?" She asks, and just the mention of his name makes my chest ache. The crying and tears have passed, but I’m far from normal with everything that happened. He hasn’t sent me any messages, and I can’t stop thinking that somehow, I was just a conquest for him. A night of sex that is already forgotten.

"No, he didn’t tell me. We haven’t... talked."

"Seriously? He’s been talking a lot about you." I raise an eyebrow, startled.

"What do you mean? What has he said?" The words fly out of my mouth before I can control myself. Hayun laughs, as if she notices my sudden interest.

"He says random things. That you like to read, or that you’re in college and you cook well. Random stuff like that." She comments, approaching one of the shelves to take a look at a book. "Anyway, I’m moving soon. Me and the guys, we’re all going to Seoul."

"With Jungkook?" I bite my lower lip, intrigued.

"Yeah, I’m from Seoul and wanted to go anyway, but we’ve been talking about everyone moving there for years. We were just waiting for Bora and Taehyung to finish college." She closes the book and puts it back, shrugging. I nod in agreement. Good for them. It feels like I’ll be the only one stuck here, stagnant for the rest of my life. I feel bad. I should make a list of topics I can’t discuss without feeling like a fraud. Damn it.

"That’s great... Hayun, I have to go now. I’m working. But it was nice to see you again." I say sincerely. It’s like seeing her again makes me a little closer to Jungkook. I don’t want to think about him, yet simultaneously, I can’t get enough of him. I’m going to go crazy.

"It was nice to see you too, really." She says, smiling. "I don’t want to bother you or anything, but before you go... I wanted to ask, are you going to the party tonight?"

"What party?" I frown, confused.

"The celebration. The studio opened, and we’re having a party at Yoongi’s house. It’ll be the last one before we move to Seoul. What do you think?" She grabs my arm, full of excitement. I shake my head immediately, flustered. Jungkook probably hasn’t told his friends what happened between us, and I don’t know if I should be sad or happy about that.

"I can’t, really." I respond, trying my best expression.

"Come on! Let’s go, Y/N, it’ll be fun. It’s for Jungkook. It’s important to him."

"It’s precisely because of him I’m not going." I whisper to her, softly. Hayun stops smiling and glares at me intently.

"Did something happen? You can tell me. Did the idiot do something to you?"

"He didn’t do anything." I half-lie, half-try to hide. Him sleeping with me while still talking to his ex isn’t exactly a huge thing. We hadn’t established anything serious yet. Though, in my head, he is wrong in any case.

"If he didn’t do anything, you should go. He’s really happy about the studio. He worked for about four years to save the money he needed."

"Hayun..." I sigh, embarrassed. "Actually, something did happen. I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to go. It’s to avoid ruining his night that I’m saying no." I finish, somewhat nervously. My body trembles with sadness and bitterness.

"Hey, you can count on me. I won’t tell the idiot anything you say. I’m a jerk, but not a bad friend." She rolls her eyes, clapping her hands together. I chuckle helplessly. She’s funny. I had forgotten this little detail.

"Alright, but I’ll be brief. I really need to get to work." I say. Hayun nods silently in agreement. "Jungkook and I did have a thing."

"I knew it!" She exclaims, in the middle of the hallway. Since it’s a library, her loud voice echoes throughout the place, drawing the attention of the few customers to us. I laugh in despair, covering my mouth with my hand. "Sorry, I spoke too loud. But I knew it! the way he talks about you... he likes you."

"I don’t think he likes me that much." I whisper, losing my smile. "He doesn’t want commitment, and that’s why we drifted apart. He still seems to care a lot about his ex."

"Namjoon." Hayun grunts his name without enthusiasm, rolling her eyes. Her once cheerful face, suddenly tightens. "I know. I liked him until I found out what he did to Jungkook. No one has spoken to him since."

"Yeah. Well. That’s why I think it’s better not to go. I want this to be a good moment for him, anyway. I don’t want to cause any discomfort." I vent, gathering my hands that get sweaty, every time I think about this topic. I have to swallow hard to avoid more tears and appearing like a fool in front of his friend.

"I still think you should go. You won’t ruin anyone’s night; I’m sure of that. And it's Yoongi’s house, it’s not like you can’t go." The brunette argues.

"Even so, the party is for him."

"Y/N, Jungkook won’t be in Busan for long. Don’t you think it’s better for you to talk, whether to end whatever it is you have, so you can both move on without resentment?" She suggests, making me think.

I shake my head for the tenth time in this conversation. I don’t know if it would be a good idea. It’s the first time I’ve ever had feelings for someone, and I don’t know if to end what I feel, I should talk to him. My romantic experiences are based on books, and in books, the heroines are never rejected. Just imagining even for a second, if I go to this party Jungkook will show discomfort or indifference, makes me panic. A strong shiver runs through my whole body with the thought.

"I don’t know if it’s a good idea." I reply, shrugging. Hayun sighs, tapping her boot on the wooden floor.

"Okay. Let’s do this: you’ll go. Stay for five minutes. If you see it’s better not to force things and forget all of this, I’ll take you home myself." She says, putting her hands together as if in prayer.

"You’re quite persistent, huh." I murmur, laughing. I roll my eyes, reflecting. Should I talk to him? Should I give myself a chance to hear him out and maybe understand his side? Even if we don’t end up together, and I end up sad, wouldn’t it be better to finish whatever it is we had, so I can move on?

For the past three days, all I could think about was him. There hasn’t been a single hour where I could relax, read, or watch something like I always did. I sigh, groaning. Then I nod my head, still unsure. My mother is still out of town, and that gives me a little more freedom than usual. Hayun lets out a high-pitched scream and bounces around, hugging me. It’s as if with my decision alone, I’ve made her day happier.

"You’re going to love it! Yoongi’s parties are always so much fun." She assures me with a confidence I don’t have. I went to a party once, and I remember hating everything. Both the music and the people.

"I hope so." I laugh, not very sure about what I’m doing. I want to give up on this idea because it makes no sense, and at the same time, I want to show that I’m brave. That I can face my fears. I don’t want to run away of everything forever.

I can do this!

I can’t do this. I can’t do this!

I look at my outfit and feel like going back outside, running after the taxi I took to get here. My long dress, made of thick fabric, has nothing to do with what these people wear. It’s as if I live on another planet, literally. The music is upbeat, playing from two speakers in the middle of the room. It’s good, considering the bizarre things I’ve heard out there. The lights are all purple, giving the place a sensual and enigmatic look. There are many people, and none of them I know. On one hand, I thank God for not running into Jungkook. On the other, I wish he’d appear before me out of nowhere, just so I could put an end to all of this, once and for all.

But what would I say? You’re a bastard, Jungkook. You didn’t promise me anything, but actions speak louder than words. Your actions didn’t show me you still loved your ex. I could say all of that, but how would it help me? Being honest with myself, I came because I felt afraid that, that morning, three days ago, would be the last time I would see him. The last time I could look into his eyes and feel his presence. I am truly in love, and I don’t want to hold onto another regret in my life.

I look side to side, trying to find Hayun, but in the middle of so many people, it’s hard to recognize anyone. I walk through the room, bumping into a few women. They don’t mind, though. I don’t know the environment very well, but the further I get from the crowd, the more I can enter the open backyard, which has a huge pool. Hayun sent me the address an hour ago; maybe if I called her, I could find her more easily. When I take my phone out of my small bag, determined to complete the call, I spot a red-haired figure that catches my attention. Yoongi. It must be him. I walk slowly towards his group of friends, feeling apprehensive, afraid of accidentally colliding into Jungkook.

"Y/N! Over here!" I confirm my suspicions when Hayun waves her arms in the air, as she recognizes me despite the low light. I smile faintly, walking closer to everyone. They all seem unbelievably beautiful, well-dressed, with an air of excitement that I don’t possess. "You made it! I thought you got lost."

"I took a taxi. It’s just far from where I live." I apologize, shrugging.

"Don’t worry. I haven’t had anything to drink. If you need anything, I’ll take you home, okay?" She smiles, placing her sunglasses on the top of her head. Hayun looks prettier when she does that. "Guys, look who’s here. Y/N!"

I shake my head, greeting them. They seem happy to see me, which relieves 50% of my worries. My stiff and tense shoulders, from imagining scenarios where none of them wanted to see me. I’m relieved to realize that this isn’t happening in reality.

"Y/N, how are you?" Bora kisses my cheek, just like the other girls. Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung nod, sipping something from their cups.

"I’m good." I smile, feeling awkward. I look around for Jungkook, but he’s nowhere in sight. At least not as far as I can see. "It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other."

"Right? What have you been up to, Y/N?" Yoori, Taehyung’s girlfriend, asks. I open my mouth to respond, but I don’t have much to say.

"I’ve been working a lot." I say, honestly. Partly because it’s true, and partly because I don’t know how far I can tell. Do Yoongi, Jimin or Taehyung know that I was with Jungkook? I’m so paranoid about this I can hardly look them in their eyes.

"She works at the Dongseo University bookstore. When I went to pick up some books, I found her there." Hayun circles her arm around my shoulder, smiling. I nod in agreement. "Y/N, Jungkook is around here; he went to get something to drink." She whispers the last part in my ear, trying to keep everyone else from hearing, and with all this noise, it’s not too hard.

My breath catches when I think I might run into him at any moment. My heart beats like it’s going to burst out of my chest, and my legs feel like jelly from so much nervousness. When I think of a mantra to calm me down and finally face things like a normal person, head held high, I see him coming toward his friends, not really seeing them. It’s as if he’s so lost in thought that he can’t see anyone a foot in front of him. Hayun beside me suddenly gasps. She mutters something near me, and I only feel her tense body, because she is pressed against mine. Everyone looks at Jungkook with expressions of discomfort that I can't quite understand.

"Y/N, I’m sorry. I didn’t... I didn’t know." She says, shaking her head. I frown, confused. What’s happening?

"What’s wrong? Is everything okay?" I ask, anxious, feeling all kinds of emotions at once.

"That guy next to Jungkook." She says, discreetly pointing to a very handsome man, just a few inches taller than him. "That guy is..."

"Namjoon? What’s he doing here?" Jimin questions, crossing his arms over his chest, interrupting his friend. My eyes widen as they approach. My whole body pulls back, and I want to disappear. To be swallowed by the earth and never inhabit this world again. But it’s too late. Jungkook is already here. And his dark, big eyes grow wider when they see me.

"Y/N?" He asks, confused.

Fuck.

"J-Jungkook. Hi." I nod my head. The fear of making any move and embarrassing myself in front of everyone, is overwhelming. The fear that he might just ignore me and pretend I don’t exist, is even greater. I swallow hard, frozen in place. I can’t even greet him properly.

Jungkook doesn’t move either. He stares at me in a static way, and everyone in the group seems to notice. Even Namjoon, his ex-boyfriend. He’s handsome. With his black hair, lean strong body, and a masculine perfume that exudes confidence. My insecurities about myself intensifies. If I had known he would be here, I would have never come. I was a fool to think this would be a good closure. Jungkook hasn’t wanted to talk to me for the past three days. Why would he want to talk to me now? The urge to cry returns, and I’m tired of this situation.

"I didn’t know you’d come, Namjoon." Hayun says beside me, still with her arms around my shoulders. I lower my head, embarrassed.

"I decided at the last minute. I had to come to support Jungkook." He smiles, and he’s even more attractive when he does, forming charming dimples on his cheeks.

"Wonderful." Yoongi grins, but I have the feeling it’s not very sincere. His dark eyes show feelings far from happiness. "I hope you came to stay for a short time. I don’t want certain people in my house."

"Yoongi!" Jungkook scolds his friend, and my throat tightens. Is he defending his ex-boyfriend? Doesn’t he realize the gravity of what Namjoon did? He cheated on him!

"Don’t worry." He places a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder and squeezes it with an intimacy that makes me extremely uncomfortable. "I came just to see you; I won’t stay long, anyway."

"He was kidding." Jungkook clarifies to him, his voice somewhat hoarse. Then he lowers his head and looks at me again. His eyes are so intense that I have to take a deep breath, struggling to breathe normally. "Actually, I need to talk to Y/N."

"What?" I ask, surprised. My body tenses up again, stiff. Hayun lets out a small smile that everyone notices, and shakes her hair, almost as if the whole situation were a movie, and she’s the spectator.

"I told you it would be a good idea for you to come." She says, and her voice is so loud that it’s as if she wants everyone to hear, especially Namjoon, who bites his lips and watches me. His gaze is enigmatic. I can’t tell if he feels anger or discomfort. Or neither.

"Hayun, please..." I whisper. "And Jungkook, I was actually leaving."

"You weren’t." Hayun argues, furrowing her brow. "You just got here, and you’re staying. You’re welcome here."

"I don’t know..."

"Please, Y/N, I wanted to talk to you. Stay a little longer." Jungkook whispers, biting his rosy lips. His face looks sad, but I can’t believe it’s because of me. If he liked me, even a little, he wouldn’t be standing next to his ex with almost an intimate proximity. I can’t understand him. Not at all.

"Okay." I agree, uncomfortable with everyone watching us, as if we’re animals in a zoo. I don’t want to imagine what they’re thinking.

"Namjoon, I’ll talk to Y/N. I’ll be back soon." He smiles faintly, looking at the dark-haired man. Namjoon just nods and gaze at me one more time.

"Okay. No problem. I’ll stay here with your friends." He says, and I catch a glimpse of Jimin sighing as he takes a large gulp of his drink.

We move away from the group in silence. His hand approaches the end of my back, but he doesn’t touch me. My brain feels like it’s going to fry. There’s so much I want to say, and at the same time, so much that isn’t worth saying. I feel so bad. The way he said he would return to his ex is one of those reasons. Why does he stay in this relationship? Doesn’t he realize he would be happier if he just distanced himself from Namjoon? But that’s my opinion, and he clearly doesn’t think that way. We approach a tree, further away from the party, in the backyard. I lean my back against it, fearing I won’t have strength in my legs. I can’t even look him in the eyes. I don’t have the courage for that. We stand in silence for a few seconds, but it feels like an eternity.

"Are you okay?" He asks me quietly. If he weren’t so close and we weren’t so far from the music, I wouldn’t be able to hear him.

"I am." I respond, trying to form a smile that isn’t real. "And you?"

"Yeah." He smiles too; he tosses his hair back, closes his eyes and sighs, watching me. "You look very beautiful."

"Thank you." I say, feeling awkward. I don’t feel beautiful; I feel terrible.

"Y/N, I don’t know what to say." He says, placing his hand on the trunk of the tree, behind me. His scent invades my nose whether I like it or not. I have to use all my self-control not to respond to any of his movements. "I haven’t been well since that morning. I don’t feel good."

"You don’t feel good." I repeat his words, finding it amusing. He doesn’t feel good? Seriously?

"You may not believe it, but I had to hold myself back from calling you."

"You could have called." I shrug, speaking. My voice sounds ironic, but I can’t be any different. I’m angry. So angry and sad. It’s as if all the bad feelings are inside my chest right now.

"I could, but I shouldn’t. I wanted to take some time to think, and you needed that too." He argues, furrowing his brow. "I want you to know that Namjoon is here, but I didn’t know he would come. It was a surprise to me too."

"You must have been thrilled." I respond with a not-so-happy smile. Jungkook runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek, and tightens his jaw, irritated.

"I wasn’t thrilled. I’m not happy, if that’s what you're saying."

"Jungkook... I get it. You want to be with him. I may be inexperienced, but I can read the situation. You don’t need to explain yourself to me. There’s nothing to explain. I just came because I wanted to say I’m happy for you. To congratulate you. Just that."

"You didn’t come just for that." He says in denial. "I can see it in your eyes."

"You know me so well, don’t you?" I respond ironically, trying to hide the extent to which I’m affected. I want to leave. I shouldn’t have come to this party. I shouldn’t be here with him.

"Y/N, please..."

"Jungkook, what are you doing here with me?" I lose my patience, finally reaching my limit. I push away from the tree, my stomach churning. "Why aren’t you with him? With Namjoon? I’m not important to you, so why are you pretending like I am?!"

"I already told you to stop acting like you know me better than I know myself." He grunts, his face reddening with anger.

"It doesn’t matter what you say. I’ve already told you: actions speak louder than words, and you’ve proven that to me since that morning. You didn’t call me for three days simply because you didn’t want to!"

"Y/N..."

"You don’t want to be with me, and that’s fine. You don’t have to be. I already understand where your limits are; just... just don’t pretend to like me if you don’t care about me!" I finish, trembling. My eyes fill with tears, and I feel so vulnerable, anxious. Jungkook has always brought out the best in me, and now I don’t even recognize myself.

"I care about you." He moves closer, furrowing his brows. His dark eyes grow bright. If it weren’t for the lack of light, I could swear he’s about to cry too. He gets even closer and touches my cheek with his hand, gently caressing my skin, sending chills down my spine. I want to pull away from him, but I can’t. "Y/N, I really like you. I didn’t call because I needed some time."

"Stop..." I plead, in a whisper. Both for his words and for his touches. I wrap my hand around his wrist, but I don’t halt him from continuing. I don’t move, half weak, half uncertain, afraid he’ll stop and nervous he’ll keep going.

"I missed you." Jungkook says softly in my ear. His body almost fully pressed against mine. His breath hits my neck; his strong chest touching my breasts. And I don’t know if it’s his heart or mine, racing a thousand miles an hour, so fast and strong.

"Jungkook, stop." I beg, but I can’t pull away myself. He takes his face away from my neck and looks at me once more. His pupils dilate, and they go straight to my mouth. A shiver runs through my entire body as he moistens his lips with his tongue, with a desire so exposed that I can’t mistake it for anything else. And I let him come closer, so damn slowly, as if we’re in slow motion. When I finally close my eyes, surrendered, hypnotized, I hear someone calling him.

"Jungkook?"

Ask for a TAGLIST in the comments

@joonwater @ane102 @ttipa @kookienooki

[kurinhimenezu]

Waiting - Adam - HH

!!SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS!!

Author's note: Well as much spoilers as the Hazbin Leaks would give us, but just to be safe! I'm going to put the 'keep reading' before the spoilers.

This was inspired by the song Would You Fall In Love with Me Again? by Jorge Rivera-Herrans and Anna Lea Casey (The Ithaca Saga of Epic the Musical) and I started bawling listening to the whole saga.

I suggest listening to the song before or even during reading this cause it can give you the feeling you get when seeing your favourite show for the first time

SO! I hope ya'll cry too, I love the taste of angst 👌

CW: Angst with comfort, Major character death, hazbin hotel leaks

I am not the man you fell in love with I am not the man you once adored I am not your kind and gentle husband And I am not the love you knew before

Time moves differently in Heaven.

When Lute came to you in the middle of the night with a tourniquet and a missing arm, you knew that Hell won. She held you as you both cried on the ground over Adam’s halo, dull and missing its light.

You remember screaming into the ground as if hell’s princess has killed you herself. Your heart shattering at your husband’s demise.

It rained heavily for the first time in eons, as if the Father himself weeps for his first created son.

Would you fall in love with me again If you knew all I've done? The things I can't undo I am not the man you knew I know that you've been waiting, waiting

Days have blurred together, the Seraphims and cherubs taking care of you in your tender state. The halo of your husband minimized into a bracelet so you may always have a piece of him on you. You were so angry, so lonely, so confused on why he left you.

Your grief knows no bounds, the smile that you once have has not reached your eyes in a while. Always hiding away as Heaven didn’t seem so much of a paradise to you anymore.

Abel, the one you treated as a son, grown as he is, escorted you to your seat in Adam’s counsel box, before leaving you alone to move to his seat, awaiting an emergency meeting.

You did not want to come as the last time you did, you knew of your husband’s secrets, bringing forth a big fight.

What kinds of things did you do?

The guilt of pretending to sleep when he left for the last time almost ate you alive.

You could still feel the soft kiss on your cheek and a whisper of love before he took flight.

"I love you...my sun"

You wish you could’ve said it back.

You remembered the fight vividly, how he yelled and begged you to understand that all of this was to protect you. If his own flesh and blood was killed by a demon spawn, he would never forgive himself if the fallen snake could rise and take you too.

You wished you could’ve heard him out, to understand but the image of those souls screaming and begging for their lives as his army took them down was too terrifying to ignore.

When the speaker of God came from above, you gasped when you finally noticed the serpent in chains in the middle of the court.

It told of its sins in the mortal world, bringing its guilt to the grave. Tears of shame cleansing him of his sins begging the court for forgiveness.

You felt the light wash over you as you grip the edge of the boxseat, listening to the serpent, Sir Pentious, be forgiven by the speaker closest to God.

Adam was…wrong? Both sides were scared. It was only Heaven that attacked first? All in the name of an assumption. You’ve heard of the Queen of Demons and her song of deceit , the first woman. You don’t become the first man’s wife without hearing about the last two.

You saw Lute point to you, crazed that these disgusting sinners should be forgiven. You paid her no mind, only seeing the Sir Pentious.

Lute was taken away, kicking and screaming, for counseling. You almost felt sorry for her. Adam helped her break away from being another blank face in the army. Bringing individuality to his girls to the point they developed their own likes and dislikes, dreams and personality.

His death caused righteous anger with no way to quell the flames.

You prayed Abel can tame the wildfires.

Left a trail of red on every island As I traded friends like objects I could use Hurt more lives than I can count on my hands But all of that was to bring me back to you

The Sir Pentious was under constant watch, he cannot be left alone always having two cherubs on his shoulders for supervision.

You visited him in his workshop, accompanied by Emily the younger Seraphim who trusted the serpent at first sight.

“You were redeemed…”

“Yesss...?”

“Forgive my husband for…hurting you and your friends”

Tears rolled down your cheeks as Sir Pentious wrapped you in his slender arms, saying that he would’ve done the same thing if it meant protecting the ones he loved.

You felt your heart mending itself slowly as you cried the darkness away in his arms, slowly letting hope back inside.

Would you fall in love with me again If you knew all I've done? The things I can't undo I am not the man you knew I know that you've been waiting, waiting

His clawed hands gently strung his guitar, his voice softly echoing as he sang his ballad into the red night. Heart heavy with lament as he finally truly accepted his fate.

The eye of heaven was beautiful in the dark red sky. Golden heaven-borne eyes constantly following the rings spin in its orbit day after day. How long has it been? Will heaven ever forgive him?

Will you ever forgive him…

I will fall in love with you over and over again I don't care how, where, or when No matter how long it's been, you're mine Don't tell me you're not the same person You're always my husband and I've been waiting, waiting

Would he ever know that you were singing the same song as him?  

In the same balcony the first time you sang a duet together?

You have worked with Emily for the redemption of souls. If Sir Pentious can do it, only the truly repentant can so as well.

Adam’s army has trouble accepting Abel as their new leader but some as came forward to continue Adam’s legacy.

Waiting, waiting Waiting, waiting Waiting, oh For you

As you stared into the stars you wondered when your Adam will come back.

Some may have whispered behind your back that it is only the grief talking but you know your bull-headed husband.

He will come back and you’ll be here waiting for him.

You turned around quick, the twang of a guitar hitting the floor upon seeing who would open the balcony doors.

Is it you? Have my prayers been answered? Is it really you standing there or am I dreaming once more? You look different, your eyes look tired Your frame is lighter, your smile torn Is it really you, my love?

“My light, my sun…”

*sniffles*

[obs3ssedd]

; after breaking up with dabi, he doesn’t take It too lightly, and decides to claim what’s his again.

❣︎ — 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦 finally started watch mha again. and l forgot how FINE most of these characters are 😩 but I lowkey got lazy at the end so I apologize:( but next story is going to be about shigaraki!.

this is for all my dabi fan girls 🫡.

— DABI was extremely manipulative. during and after the relationship. during, It had there rough moments, always arguing, jealousy, cussing each other out etc etc bit despite those bad moments you guys had happy ones too. always cuddling each other, kissing, in general being love birds that made the league gag in disgust. though the relationship was a bit toxic..it did take you some time to build up the courage to break up with him. why? well because you loved him, so much that it hurt. you would assume he was like this because of his trauma but at the same not. you couldn’t lie to yourself and say you don’t miss him because fuck you do,

the day when you got the courage to break up the relationship dabi thought you would come running back but after 6 months going onto 7..he was slowly getting Irritated. can’t lie, you felt relieved but also lonely not going home everyday to see his pretty face already there waiting for you. but during the whole time he stalked you throughout the six months, seen you've gotten a new job as a secretary at a office building with a nice paying rate, you live In a nice neighborhood now, and even got yourself a new play thing. he hated It. hated seeing you with another man that’s not him. the day you ran into him and started fucking around was the day you signed an unbreakable contract.

when your shift had ended for the day you said bye to all your coworkers making your way home. It wasn't as busy considering It's a friday night and everyone was home resting, walking freely making your way down the street. you hummed a small tune, five minutes going by making It to your door step, unlocking the door entering your home. you turned around to lock your door, dropping your bag next to where your shoes were going to go to the kitchen before you felt a warm hand on the back of your neck with a body pressing behind you, "you're still unaware around your surroundings huh?." that voice..your hands clenched together with wide eyes, no. It couldn't?. "you miss me doll?." he chuckled hearing a small gasp, you were defenseless. against him you were a dove In a hawks grip. you swallowed that giant lump In your throat, fists clenching together "what do you want." he could hear the snarl In your voice only chuckling, flipping you around harshly pinning you against the door. facing him. those blue teal eyes..haven't seen those since you've last seen him.

still attractive as ever.

he smirked seeing you eye him, trying so hard to look at him with hate but knowing you? you were easy to see through, you missed him but trying so hard to deny It. "you want me to be honest or lie to you?." you furrowed your eyebrows glaring at him. "like you've never lied to me before.." you spat, dabi raised a brow shrugging, "but you've always fell for It dove. you used to listen to everything I said to you, lie or not." your nails digged Into your palm remembering those memories, the deep memories you wanna keep locked away, "what're you getting at dabi." he hummed. "I've been watching you dove. got a new job at an office building as a secretary, moved Into a nice place..even got yourself a little boyfriend huh?." this bastard still hasn't changed a bit. you tsked. "and what If I did? that's non of your busin —!.” you choked on a gasp getting cut off from your sentence feeling his hand on your throat squeezing It but not hard enough to close your air pipe, just enough to shut you up. your eyes widened. those bright teal eyes were now darkened and serious. a look he gave you when you broke up with him. "just to get this clear doll, the day you slept around with me was the day you signed an unbreakable contract." — he leaned closer towards your ear leaving shivers to run up your spine, "you're mine and no matter how much you try to deny it baby It’s all a lie."

you wanted to argue back but..

seeing that look on your face proved him right. he chuckled moving his hand to your cheek placing his thumb on the bottom of your lip slightly opening It leaning In close, “wanna know something sweetheart?.” you grumbled. but he was going to say It anyways, “those nights where you would finger your little hole, I watched It all.” seeing your reaction he hummed, “every night I can practically hear your needy moans..legs spread open with your fingers deep In your pussy. wishing, It was me instead. Isn’t that right?.” whenever you got hot and bothered thinking too much Into the past this is the result of that, you admit. you did wish It was him Instead, of your useless fingers. the guy— ur boyfriend that fucks you everytime couldn’t provide your needs like dabi could. and you guessed you could see he realized that seeing his face. dabi laughed with a scoff, “bastard can’t even fuck you right can he?.” you groaned feeling his other hand slide between your thighs, dabi chuckled leaning in, “I’ll treat you right, bet you’re so pent up huh?.” without saying much more he placed his lips against yours. you hated how much effect he has on you.. the moment he kissed you, you kissed him back missing the way he used to touch you like this, dabi smirked Into the kiss, picking you up by your thighs whimpering In his mouth. "see?." he teased pulling back from your mouth placing you on the bed going to take off his shirt, you snarled bucking your hips up with a small moan. “shut the fuck up and jus’ fuck me already you bastard..” dabi threw his shirt off to the side going to unbuckle his pants looking at you with a lustful gaze tilting his head to the side, “trust me baby.”

“I am.”