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theherothesavior · 1 day ago

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Joel Miller x AFAB reader

Warnings: alcohol, slapping (not from Joel), light angst, my shitty writing, not proofread.

Author’s Note: This is the first thing I’ve ever really posted in here for a character so please be kind. Feedback is always appreciated.

Word Count: ~3k

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Three months in Jackson means nothing when your brain is still out there. Out where the ghosts of the past linger as pale memories of a life you never even got the chance to live. No graduating high school, no getting to enjoy college, hell, not even a normal relationship with someone where the worst thing that could happen would most likely have been a shitty break-up and not watching them get eaten by a faceless fungus monster. Every day in Jackson is a reminder of what you’ve lost, or rather, what was taken from you. This illusion of a normal community makes you sick as you walk down to the bar, the only real thing in this fake town that is worth being here.

Passing through the Tipsy Bison to one of the stools against the bar is the highlight of each night at this point. Jack, the surly bartender who’s a spitting image of Willie Nelson, pours you your regular and you thank him, tipping your head back to down it before nodding for another. Around the fourth drink, the familiar smell of campfire and saddle leather settles next to you.

“Rough day?” He grumbles softly, Jack giving him his usual drink as well.

“Not in the mood, Joel.” You huff back, completely uninterested in speaking with your housemate at this moment. He scoffs next to you and your jaw clenches in aggravation. “What?” You ask through clenched teeth.

“Nothin’... just wonderin’ what’s up your ass lately.” He whispers, head turning to face you. “You’ve been like this since we got back here and decided to stay.” You avoid looking at him, continuing to sip your drink, making him sigh and move forward. “Listen, darlin’... I don’t really care if you talk to me or not, but you’re upsetting Ellie. She thinks you’re pissed at her.”

“I’m not,” You answer simply.

“Yeah, I know that but she doesn’t… she even said you came home drunk the other night and said some stuff about wanting to go back out there.” His voice is eerily soft, making you finally look at him. Remorse bubbles up your throat, wishing you could take those words back from her. You swallow it down.

“It’s not because of her. She shouldn’t worry about it.” You finish your drink, a little tipsy at this point, but wave to Jack for another. The next one comes and goes in the blink of an eye, and the next…and the one after that. When you call for your eighth drink, thoroughly drunk at this point, Joel stops you from downing it.

“You’re done, darlin’. Let’s go home.” His tone, still as soft as earlier and it makes my chest ache, the usual rough timber of his voice, lowering to a volume only you can hear. You push the warm feeling of him away, wanting to drown it in the warmth of liquor instead.

“No. Leave me alone.” You say, reaching for the drink. He quickly downs it, keeping one arm on your waist as you lean too far off the stool, practically falling in his lap. “Asshole.” Your voice raises and he immediately rises, towering over you.

“Enough.” His voice, dangerously low as he glares down at you.

“I’m not a child, Joel.” You bite back, but the words slur from your tongue, falling between you two like fluff. “Then stop actin’ like one.” He says sternly, the commanding look on his face shooting straight down your body. Your knees grow weak and you can’t tell if it’s from him or the copious amount of alcohol from this evening.

“Don’t talk to me like that…” your voice barely above a whisper, no real power behind it. You push his hands off your hips and stumble out of the building, boots crunching as they meet the snow. The cold air whips across your cheek as you tilt your head back to face the sky, eyes closed, letting the snowflakes land in your lashes. For a moment, everything’s normal. The world didn’t end. You’re just standing drunk in the snow, enjoying the beauty of life, feeling as weightless and soft as the snow melting against your cheeks.

That doesn’t last long.

“Awe… are you drunk again?” A grating voice pulls you from your thoughts, from your moment of peace. You turn carefully and open your hazy eyes to see Mallory. The terrible woman who lives next door to you, Ellie, and Joel. The same irritating woman who is constantly trying to live in Joel’s pants. Her condescending smirk lingers on her face as you manage to answer, obviously drunk.

“Maybe. But at least I don’t look like you.” It makes no sense, but you’re too gone to care. She scoffs out a laugh. “Yeah, too bad for you, sweetie, ‘cause Joel seems to actually notice me.” You can’t help the giggle that crosses your lips before immediately answering, “Joel thinks you look like a 40-year-old busted Barbie doll.” Your voice, slurred, but the insult doesn’t go unheard by Mallory. “Said…. He said… he thinks all the plastic in your body is what keeps anything from biting you. S’how you survived this long.” You giggle more to yourself but Mallory moves quickly, way too fast for your drunken reflexes, slapping you across the face. You hold your cheek, the cold weather making the sting worse.

“What the hell!?” You exclaim.

“Stupid whore! You don’t get to speak to me that way! You think that just because you have Joel wrapped around your finger and shoved so deep down your throat, you can walk around this town like you can’t be touched. Well… you’ve never been more wrong. He’ll see. He’ll see just what a liar you really are.” With that final threat, she shoves you hard, causing you to fall on your back in the snow. Your drunken mind struggles to catch up to what just happened and how you’re suddenly parallel with the night sky, a searing pain traveling up your spine.

“Shit..shit..shit…” You roll on your back, the cold seeping through your coat reminding you of the large gash you’ve been hiding for a few days now. Mallory laughs at you, bitterly, as you writhe on the ground, unable to get up in your drunken state. Her laughter gets drowned out by the familiar sound of Joel’s voice coming closer.”

“Hey! What the fuck is going on here?” He comes stomping over, glaring at Mallory as she plasters a look of faux concern on her face.

“I don’t know, I think she fell because she’s drunk again. I was coming to help her up and take her home to you.” Her fake sweetness makes your teeth hurt just hearing it as Joel kneels next to you.

“Come on, darlin’.” One arm slips under your shoulders while his other hand holds yours helping you to your feet. “Easy.” He whispers in your ear, his hand sliding down your back making you hiss and recoil in pain, stumbling back at the quick motion and almost falling down. “What? What’s wrong?” His eyes soften as he searches your face, his chest tight with worry as he watches you draw away from him. You mumble something incoherently, and he can’t understand what you’re trying to say. Mallory attempts to say something to him, her words falling on deaf ears as he slowly and carefully brings you back home. “Come on, up to the bathroom.” His voice, sweet but stern in your ear as he helps you upstairs, guiding you to sit on the lid of the toilet.

“I’m gonna take this off, okay?” He tugs at your coat’s zipper with a soft nod, like he’s speaking to a toddler, waiting for you to nod back before actually taking it off. The chunky sound of your coat unzipping, mixed with your drunken breathing is the only sound in the room. Once it’s off, Joel puts your coat to the side before turning back to you. “Okay, I need you to turn around and straddle the seat for me.” His hands tenderly move to your elbows, helping to shift positions so he can get a full view of your back. You sit back down and giggle.

“What’s so funny?” He asks, a slight grin on his face.

“Straddle,” you giggle more. “It’s a funny word.” Joel huffs out a laugh behind you, shaking his head. “Alright, Giggles, I’m gonna lift your shirt to check your back now.”

“You’re not even going to buy me dinner before you undress me, Miller?” You joke and once again he grins when you can’t see, shaking his head. He doesn’t answer while he grabs the hem of your shirt and starts to carefully roll it up your back with his warm hands. Always so warm, even though it’s below 20 degrees out. His whole aura, the color of a diminishing fire. Not as bright as it once was, but still has the potential to burn bright again. Not in the same way, never in the same way, but warm nonetheless.

His hands move your shirt up and you hear his breath catch in his throat. “…sweet girl.” His words, laced with stress and pity as his fingers delicately stroke your bare skin. You shudder from his gentle touch and the cool air hitting your exposed flesh. “When the hell is this from? This doesn’t look new.” He asks, confused.

“S’not… from those raiders a couple of days ago.” You mumble, even in your drunken state you know he’s going to be pissed.

“2 weeks?!” He exclaims, stressed. “You had this for two weeks and it looks barely healed. Have you even been taking care of it? Or are you giving up on that too?” His hand moves and you hiss as your shirt grazes the irritated wound, making you just pull the shirt over your head leaving your top half completely bare.

“What do you mean given up on that too, Joel? What else have I given up on?” You manage to string the sentence together with enough sobriety to get your irritation across.

“Nothing… it means nothing.” His voice, withdrawn as he grabs the first aid kit from under the sink before turning the conversation back toward my back. “Why’d you hide this for two weeks? It looks like it’s a day away from infection.” He mumbles angrily finding an alcohol wipe from the box and running it over the wound making you grip the top of the toilet tank in pain. “Why didn’t you say anything about this?” He asks, a bit of frustration in his voice. You sigh in relief as he stops using the alcohol on your cut flesh, “...because I knew you’d freak out about it. You’d get all Joel about it and make me feel like shit.”

You answer quietly, each pass of bandage and cleaning solution on your skin, sobering you up slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He asks, offended, his hands pausing against your spine.

“It means. Joel, that you tend to overreact over little things.”

“Little things?!” His voice raises, “This is a huge thing!” He yells, making you turn around on the top of the toilet seat to face him. “It’s a big cut, so what? It was fine until Mallory slapped me and shoved me onto the ground! You should be angry at her, not me.” You seethe, the alcohol making your bite not as strong as you want. “I’m angry at the both of you! Mallory is a bitter woman who is obsessed with the idea of me liking her, and I’ll deal with how she treats you tomorrow, but you,” he pauses, lowering his voice as he tries to calm himself down. Though his volume is quieter, his breathing is still heavy as he steadies himself to answer. “...you are a fuckin’ idiot for not telling me about something like that.”

You scoff, “I’m an idiot? You’re an asshole.” You stand up, “You already made me feel like shit about that altercation with those raiders. If I told you about the cut on top of that, you would have started a fight about me not going on patrols anymore.”

He laughs mirthlessly, “Damn right I would have. I didn’t want you going out there when we were out there!” The stress is evident in his voice as he steps closer.

“Okay, I’m drunk, so that makes zero sense.” You answer confused, unable to process his words at the moment. “You just like having control over what I do. You treat me like a child, like I don’t know what’s going on ever and that you’re the only one who gets a say in my life.” Your words are less slurred that earlier, but you’re still nowhere near sober enough to be having this conversation. “You act like you care, but you really don’t. You just want me around because you’re too scared to have your life change in anyway you can’t control. You see me as a burden to take care of, you think I can’t take care of myself and you don’t want me.” Half the things you’re saying aren’t true, you know he’s aware of your ability to protect yourself, but in this moment you just want to yell at him. You just want to make him feel something for you other than the indifference you believe he feels. Something. Anything that means he cares in the way you want him to, the way you’re too scared to admit to even yourself, let alone him.

His jaw clenches, suddenly aware of the state you’re in as you stand in front of him. His eyes drift to your completely exposes top half, lingering on your breasts for a moment before moving back up to your eyes, schooling his features. “Darlin’... if you believe all that, then you really are an idiot.” He says flatly, internally trying to calm the inner turmoil brewing within him. He wants to tell you everything. He wants to admit why he worries, why he’s so protective, why he gets aggravated when you don’t listen to him wanting to keep you safe. “Put your shirt on and go to bed. We’ll talk about this in the morning.” His voice leaves no room for argument, but you try anyway.

“There you go again! Telling me what to do, when I don’t want you to.” You turn, grabbing your shirt and pulling it over your head. “There’s only one reason I’d let you tell me what to do, but you don’t want that.” You mumble to yoursel, bitterly, not expecting him to hear all of what you said. When you turn, he’s stalking toward you, backing you up against the wall, his hand reaching to your waist to stop you right before your wounded spine hits the hard surface. He looks down, inches from your face, eyes almost black.

“You don’t tell me what I want. You don’t know what I do or don’t want.” His voice, at a dangerous level, his breath hot on your neck as he moves to whisper in your ear. “Now, you’re gonna be a good girl, go to bed, and we’ll talk about all of this in the morning.” You gasp at his firmness but you still go to protest. He leaves you no room for argument. “No. No arguments. All I want to hear is ‘Yes, Joel.’ and then go to bed.” He drops his gaze, looking at you to make sure you’re understanding him while waiting for your reply.

“Yes, Joel…” You answer with a small voice. He nods and moves to the side to let you pass by and exit the bathroom. You move slowly to your bedroom, still drunk and even more confused as you drop to your bed with a heavy sigh. As soon as your head hits your pillow, you’re out.

The stabbing pain in your head reminds you of the overconsumption of liquor you had the night beforehand. With your face smushed against your pillow, your fingers tighten around the sheets as the room spins around you. With a groan, your attempt to sit up is over powered by the drastic shift of your insides, a tidal wave of nausea filling up your stomach, weighing you down like a flood filling a once empty pool. As you manage to shift onto your back, the memories of last night play in your mind. Each moment more vivid than the last as they project themselves onto the ceiling above you.

“Fuck…” You mumble to yourself, the heels of your palms pushing against your eyes like a reset button you so desperately need to work, but knowing it won’t. After another five minutes of staring at the ceiling, you manage to sit up, closing your eyes until you gain your equilibrium once again. With an awkward stretch, a sharp pain shoots across your back, making you yelp like a wounded puppy, and ignore the nausea as you shoot out of bed and rush to the mirror attached to the back of your door. You twist your torso with a hiss, attempting to lift your shirt at the same time to see what’s causing the burning sensation on your back.

When you manage to lift the well-worn fabric, you’re met with a giant piece of gauze on your skin, stretching over your spine. With the sight, more of the night comes rushing back to you. You let your head fall back, eyes closed in regret and frustration before looking back into the mirror. Something on the nightstand catches your attention, a scrap of paper. Crossing the room, your chest tightens when you read the words.

We need to talk -Joel.

#joel miller x reader #the last of us #pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller smut

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sapphorror · 1 year ago

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You know, I think there was a real moment of clarity achieved here with the revelation that he's the thing most likely to get in his own way. That's like, the most self-awareness he's shown over the entire course of IZ canon, I'm almost proud. It's too bad about the brain damage, but,

#invader zim #zim #iz posting #natterings #saph reads #im half joking here but also not #there IS something kind of brilliant in zim realizing hes at his most competent when not given a moment to think #sidenote one of my all time favorite zim fics has him broken out of delusion through extended white room torture #and at this point i think its just canon to me that the greatest weapon against zims psychological defenses is sensory deprivation #i mean it makes SENSE #zim is in a near constant state of state of motion and hes smart enough that simply not thinking too hard about things #is his only recourse for handling certain obvious truths #so what happens when you take everything away and leave him alone to drown in himself for weeks and weeks

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corinthianism · 17 days ago

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SOMETHIN' STUPID || VIKTOR

pairing: viktor (arcane)/fem!reader additional tags: viktor's pov, viktor is a certified yearner, maybe ooc, unrequited love that's actually requited, no physical descriptions for reader other than having dainty fingers and being shorter than viktor, hopefully correct use of czech pet names, barely proofread synopsis: the ever-brilliant viktor finds himself drowning in feelings for his colleague, so what does he do? bury them, of course.... until he learns that love is not something you can just ignore.

author's note: hello everyone! it's been a long, long while since i've written anything so i thought i would try and see if the ol' writing machine (aka my brain) still works lol. this is more of a blurb than anything so please go easy on me. also trying out something new by writing in present tense (lmk if it flows well!) viktor might be a little ooc but i'm still trying to fully understand him. hopefully my characterization of him in future fics (if any) will be more faithful to the viktor you're all familiar with. anyways, enjoy 2k words of viktor yearning like CRAZY 🫶🏼

Viktor doesn’t know how much more of this he can take. How many more times would your eyes meet from across the room at one of those parties he never really wanted to attend in the first place? How many more times would your fingers brush in the early morning, when he accepts the steaming sweetmilk that you so kindly got for him? How many more times would your laughter intermingle softly late into the night, when exhaustion took over and your writing started to look more like chicken scratch rather than letters?

He might just go insane.

How was it possible to want someone this much? Maybe he’s experienced something like this before, in tiny amounts, for people he hasn’t thought about in years. Deep down, he knows that even if he added all of those fleeting romances together, it would still only be a fraction of what he feels now. For you.

He can’t pinpoint that exact moment in time when everything changed. There were definitely a few of those moments that stood out more than others, but none of those instances were the catalyst for whatever this is. But they certainly don’t help his case.

A few words of encouragement.

A book recommendation.

A smile— so soft, so intimate, he briefly allows himself to believe that it was meant just for him. Something precious for him to keep, to be his and his alone.

In the dim light of the lab, he finds you asleep on your desk. The humming glow of the hex crystals leaves you blanketed in a gentle blue. He’s heard tales of this before, from when he bothered to listen to such things. It would happen just like this, they said: his heart would beat so fast, it threatened to leave his chest entirely. His skin would burn with something unmistakable, a feeling that left one in a state of simultaneous confusion and clarity.

He feels it all now and he finds it polarizing. It’s too much and not enough. He chases and runs away from it at the same time. A part of him wants it to stop, to go away and leave him forever for the sake of ending this game he’s painfully losing… but a greater part of him hopes that it will grow and grow to the point where maybe you’ll notice and do something about it. His palms get a little sweaty just thinking about making the first move. Symptoms of a lovesick fool.

The soft sound of your breathing quiets the pounding of his heart, prevents the wretched feelings from overflowing and spilling everywhere. Even if it was just for tonight. Tonight, he keeps his lips sealed, fights to keep himself from reaching for you. It would be unbecoming of him.

His eyes land on you again, observing how your head rested on your arms. Understanding hits him then, why you’re so bothered by seeing him stay at the lab so late that he ends up falling asleep. That position couldn’t have been comfortable. Of course, he knew that from experience, but it’s your comfort he’s thinking about right now. He wonders if this is what you felt whenever you woke him up and implored him to go home.

Surely not.

No, he can’t wrap his head around you possibly viewing that act the same way he does. Not when he wants to bottle this moment, wants to capture the preciousness of seeing you like this. It just can’t be the same.

So can you really blame him if when he finally rests a hand on your shoulder to wake you gently, he lets it linger there for just a little longer? An infinitesimal piece of time that he claims for himself. He never thought himself to be the sentimental type, but he cherishes it all: he cherishes the way you blink slowly as you returned to the waking world, and your tired murmur of his name that makes his chest tighten.

It’s just a wisp of a moment, never really tangible enough for him to hold in his hands, but he cherishes it all the same. It’s burned in his memory, in his very being, the same way everything else about you is. Every piece of you that you so generously gifted him.

“You should go home, darling.”

The word slips past his lips before he could even think about it. But he allows himself this one indulgence. He can’t help it. He’s always been a bit greedy.

“What time is it?” you ask.

“Far too late for you to be here,” he answers.

You huff out a breath of a laugh, “That’s rich coming from you.”

He finds himself smiling. How does someone manage to be so endlessly endearing without even trying?

It takes an embarrassing amount of effort for him to pull back his hand from your shoulder. Had you been more awake and had the room been brighter, he might’ve schooled his expression into something more neutral. Something to hide the unbridled adoration in his eyes. He doesn’t do that now. With the shield of darkness to protect him, he lets the mask come off. He lets his affection for you wash over him in waves. It would’ve been liberating, if it wasn’t for the tiny detail that that affection was unrequited.

Still, he says your name with utmost care. “You must go home and rest.”

To his surprise, you listen. You mumble a tired "okay” and gather your belongings, slipping on your coat. “You should go home, too, Vik.”

“I will. Soon. I just need to finish a few things.”

Your face twists into a frown, “No, you’ll do that tomorrow.” Before he can interject, you speak up again, “Just… come with me? It’s late and I don’t want to walk home alone.”

His brain refuses to reconcile with what his eyes see: the trepidation written all over your features, the way you clutch the lapel of your coat just a little tighter. He knows it’s a trap, you just want to get him out of the lab but how could he possibly reject the promise of a few more minutes with you? The chance to pretend, even if it’s just for those precious few minutes, that he was taking you home as someone more than a colleague? More than a friend? Only a fool would say no to you. Or perhaps he was a fool either way. He really must be going insane.

He says yes almost instantly.

It’s cold in Piltover tonight. It makes his bad leg ache more than it already does, and so his strides are a bit more careful. He doesn’t say anything about how you also slow down to match his pace but he appreciates your considerate gesture nonetheless.

The moon hangs in the sky big and bright, making everything around you seem softer. It’s picturesque. Almost romantic. He tries his best not to entertain that thought for much longer. Instead, he focuses on what you say to him so he could ignore the traitorous thoughts his mind conjures up and the way his knees were protesting because of the cold.

Conversation with you is easy— terrifyingly so. It was one of the first things he noticed about you when you first met.

Early on in the process of finding sponsors and securing funding, him and Jayce quickly realized that they needed help. Yes, Jayce is a friend of the Kiramman family. Yes, Viktor is Heimerdinger’s protégé, but they’re academics. At the end of the day, Jayce’s warm personality could only do so much when he was still greatly inexperienced with navigating these more political spaces and for all of his experience and perceptiveness, Viktor knows he’s no good at sweet-talking sponsors, either.

Enter, you.

Caitlyn Kiramman was the one to recommend you, her former tutor. Jayce was quick to back her up, remembering that you were also Academy alumni; a particularly strategic businesswoman. Viktor was hesitant at first, knowing that a third party could complicate things. Hextech was born out of the dream to help people. He worried that bringing business and politics (even though he knew it was necessary) into the mix would warp Hextech into something it wasn’t. Jayce convinced him to take a gamble, and it seemed that the potential of Hextech was enough to bring you back to Piltover from your travels across Runeterra.

It took him a while to warm up to you. You weren’t nobility, but most definitely well-off. Even more so after your years as a business consultant to organizations all over the continent. He respected you, sure, but Viktor had a hard time trusting someone who was so… privileged. How could you possibly understand how important it was that Hextech remained a beacon of hope for the less fortunate? Perhaps it was naive of him to think that way, as much as he hated to admit it.

But true to your reputation, you delivered exactly what they needed. You bridged the gap between Viktor and Jayce’s hopes for Hextech and the support they needed from sponsors, protecting them and their inventions from being taken advantage of.

Suffice to say, you earned his admiration.

Never in a million years would Viktor imagine that you would captivate his entire being, too.

It was daunting. Scary, really. Especially now that he’s beginning to understand the full extent of his affections. Years and years of burying that softness from his youth deep beneath the armor of his intellect— all that hard work diminished by a pretty girl. Gods, he really is just a man. Not even that. With you, he feels like a highschooler with a crush. It’s painful. Downright humiliating. But he wouldn’t trade it for anything. Not when you link your arm around his, laughing at something he said. Was he really that funny? Probably not. He’s just happy to make you laugh.

“You don’t have to be nice about it. Salo is a grade-A asshole,” you grinned. “We both know it. If I have to spend another dinner with him present I might actually stab a fork in my eyes.”

He smiles, “Ah, but that wouldn’t save you from his incessant chatter.”

“I’ll stab the fork into my ears too."

“I might just follow after you,” he hums, “you’ll have to check if it works first, though.”

Your friendship blossomed when your visits to the lab became less for work and more for leisure. You wanted to visit, wanted to learn more about what he and Jayce were working on and why. Everything after that was just dominoes. You, with all your fiery passion and sharp wit, have become a permanent fixture in his life and now? He could hardly imagine life without you in it. You're one of his dearest friends and, much to his dismay, that makes his current predicament even more challenging than it already is.

Before he knew it, the two of you were standing in front of your apartment building— one of the most luxurious in Piltover. He could only imagine how much it cost, though he knew for certain that your penthouse probably barely made a dent in your wealth. He’s gotten somewhat used to your differing lifestyles, but he’s never completely able to not marvel at it. A gust of wind kissed his skin once more as he turned to look at you.

“This is me,” you say, gloved hands in your pocket and your lovely, lovely face framed by your hair and ruby red scarf. He recognizes it as the gift he gave you a year ago now. A spur-of-the-moment purchase on one of the rare occasions he was actually outside Academy grounds. He remembers thinking that the color would look nice on you. He was right. He finds himself holding onto the seconds before he has to go. “Thank you for walking me home, Viktor.”

“Of course,” he nods but the calmness of his voice don’t match the way his eyes bore into yours. “It’s only proper.”

“Proper?”

“Yes. Proper. I am a gentleman, after all.”

His accent comes out thicker, emphasizing the words more than he means to.

“I didn’t take you for someone who cared much about propriety,” you tease.

“Is it because I’m from the undercity?” he deadpans and he relishes in the look of horror on your face that replaces your grin.

“What? No!” you exclaim, smacking his arm when you realize he’s just joking. “You. Are. Impossible.”

A laugh bubbles out of his chest, “Oh, that’s cruel. You would hit a defenseless man? How heartless.”

“Shut up. That cane of yours is a weapon of war. Don’t think I haven’t seen you smack Jayce with it.”

“If I hit him with it, he probably deserved it.”

“Poor Jayce,” you laugh as well. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

Viktor smiles.

“I do not think you could even if you tried, lásko."

He freezes and so do you. The laughter—the music—that you shared for the briefest of moments was thoroughly snuffed out, leaving you both in a silence that threatens to swallow him whole. He didn’t mean to do that. He didn’t mean to speak so gently, but there is not a part of Viktor that could withhold this sincerity from you. Specks of the truth, of the confession he’s barely managed to wrangle into submission and lock away somewhere dark and unreachable.

He pulls back on instinct. He’s shown too much, said too much. You don’t move. He is petrified.

Your eyes widen and he sees his reflection in them, staring back at him. This is it, he thinks. He’s crossed the line and he’ll have to deal with the crushing blow of your rejection.

You manage to compose yourself and what you say next is… well, unexpected. Your tone is light, clearing the air and allowing him to breathe again.

“Do you say that to every woman or am I a special case? I’d hate to be part of a roster.”

He’s taken aback, but he feels a weight lifted off his shoulders. You are a miracle in his eyes. Washing away his worries with a kind smile and a few choice words. He laughs again and this time, he doesn’t stop himself from speaking the truth. It’s now or never.

“Surely you know by now that you are singular,” he whispers, his accent a pleasant drawl in your ears. He takes a step forward. It is gravity that pulls him in, not the Earth’s, but yours. A force that he can’t help but be drawn to. Not that he would ever dare to resist it now that his fear has shrunk down to something a little less debilitating.

His face is inches from yours. You don’t move. He gets a little braver.

“I do not appreciate your implication that I would pay attention to anyone else,” his voice is low, honest. “As if anyone could compare to you. As if you don’t hold my very being in the palm of your hand. Miláčku, I adore you. Don’t you know that?”

There is a hint of pleading in his tone, begging you to understand the full scope of his feelings from those few words so that he wouldn’t unravel before you, a bundle of nerves and petals the same shade as your scarf.

“Say something. Please,” his fear rears its ugly head once more. “Say the word and we’ll pretend this never happened. I will remain your colleague and nothing more. A friend, if you would allow it.”

“What if I don’t want that?” you ask, your own voice a little shaky with uncertainty. Maybe it was also fear. That, he’s not quite sure.

Viktor doesn’t fully trust what he’s hearing, thinks it to be a figment of his deluded imagination, but his heart is screaming at him now to push forward.

“What is it you want, lásko? Tell me and it shall be yours.”

You're almost breathless when you finally respond, “You. I want you."

The world stills. Time itself screeches to a halt. There is only you and him, together in this moment that he knows will be woven into the threads of his soul. He has never known euphoria quite like this. He can’t name it yet, doesn’t know if this is love. He can only hope that it will be.

When he looks into your eyes again, he does not see his own terrified reflection. He just sees you. And the sheer intensity of your gaze that rivals his own. Have you always looked at him that way? Was he just too blind to see it?

“Do you mean that?” he finds himself asking. He has to— has to make sure that this is real.

You smile again, dainty fingers intertwining with his. It is a gentle smile, a hopeful smile that answers his question before you even open your mouth.

“I do,” your voice is so gentle and yet it squeezes his heart. “I’m yours, Viktor, if you’ll have me.”

He brings your knuckles to his lips, places a reverent kiss on them like you’ve given him the world. In a way, that’s exactly what you did. Maybe his lips were always meant to be on your skin, worshipping you like the goddess you are. It feels too natural for it to mean anything else.

And for the first time in a long time, he allows himself to hope.

“I would love nothing more.”

#viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #arcane #fanfiction #viktor fanfic #x reader #reader insert #arcane reader insert #viktor arcane

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obbystars · 7 months ago

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Drown in the Deep

Synopsis: Drown your sorrows away into the deep dark ocean where it can’t be found. Feel its cold embrace and let the water in. Maybe then, you’ll see him again when you no longer feel anything.

CONTENT WARNING: The reader very much intends to die/get themself killed, detailing how they’d love to drown in the abyss.

Notes: Sebastian Solace x GN!Reader / Spoilers for Sebastian’s backstory / Possibly OOC / Established relationship, can be interpreted as either married or not but they are living together / Angst (Hurt w/ eventual comfort) / Death + blood (not the reader despite the synopsis and content warning) / Not really a happy ending honestly

(This is VERY self-indulgent I love hate Sebastian. Also a bit of experimentation and playing around with his character. I’m not so good on romance stuff, so I hope what’s here is to your liking. Also rewrote some parts A LOT due to idea change/read up on lore and realized things didn’t add up here. I think I’ve got most of it covered though. Anyway I love how a few runs of playing Pressure for the first time, I died to A-60 HAHAAAAA kill me.)

Credits: Dividers by @cafekitsune

A chance to be freed from your criminal record, and a reward worth to last for a very, very long time. As they always say, “High risk, high reward,” and the risks were certainly high. You could very much die. It was a chance anyone crazy enough would take.

But you didn’t sign up for this for the reward. You didn’t care about it in the slightest. To you, this would be an easy way out. An escape from this dreadful life fate had decided for you. So here you are, sitting in a submarine with three others in silence. There’s no telling on how deep you’re going, they never bothered to tell you how exactly far it was nor the possible dangers you’ll be facing. You’ll welcome anything if it means you won’t wake up again.

Still, you wondered why things went the way it did. Everything was fine until your partner was framed for a murder he didn’t commit. Nine murders, to be exact. You were there for the trial. You saw and heard everything. You kept your cool throughout all of it. You were hoping, praying to whatever god is out there to show them he was innocent. None of it mattered in the end.

After the trial, you went straight home, not even bothering to listen to your family who was also there. By the time you entered your shared home and locked the door behind you, you stood in silence for a while. You didn’t know what you were feeling at that very moment. You felt hot tears beginning to swell up, and your vision beginning to blur. Your legs eventually give out and you fell to your knees. You muffled your sobs with your hand as you curled up on the floor.

You couldn’t get yourself to calm down for a while. You don’t even know how long you were laying there once you feel your tears dry up and the sound of your heart beating rapidly leaves your ears. You don’t know what to do.

He was imprisoned and sentenced for execution for the nine murders you know he didn’t cause, but that didn’t matter. You weren’t there when it supposedly happened. You couldn’t prove anything. You were powerless to do anything.

Many early mornings were spent struggling to even leave the house, let alone the bed itself if you even managed to drag yourself to bed. You were too exhausted to even try for most. When you did manage to begin your day, you quickly became aware that everything is so much more irritating. People talking to you, certain noises you hear, how your food tastes… You just wanted to go back home and waste away.

As for majority of your nights, they have been spent just curled up in bed and crying until you eventually exhausted yourself. Gripping anything that resembled or had traces left of him and holding it close, hoping just the mere fleeting scent of him lulls you to sleep. Feeling the cold and empty space beside you and being reminded he’s gone, as if the reminders from your family weren’t already enough.

You know your family has been trying to contact you, sometimes even coming to the house, but you’ve ignored them every time. You don’t want to see them. You don’t want to talk, to hear, or to even think about them. You just wanted to be left alone.

A few years had gone by since then but you didn’t feel any better than before. You weren’t sure if you felt worse. Maybe it was because you felt numb nowadays.

Before you knew it, you soon find yourself behind bars. What you did, you don’t know. If you really did it, you didn’t care. You don’t know how long your sentence is, but you don’t care. You don’t know if whatever you did caused any deaths, but you don’t care. You don’t care anymore. You just wanted to drown in your despair, and this… “job offer” seemed promising. Retrieve a crystal deep inside a facility hidden in the deepest parts of the ocean.

To be so deep underwater to where the sun does not shine, to drift endlessly as water fills your lungs and it becomes so unbearably cold. To where you can’t feel anything anymore, not your body nor your emotions. To just feel the cold water and see nothing but darkness as the water pulls your body to wherever it so desires. Perhaps your remains could become the next meal for whatever lurks in the ocean’s abyss. Your body would never be found. You’d be gone without a trace.

So you signed up, knowing they don’t expect you to return. You don’t either. You don’t plan on getting that crystal, and you don’t plan on returning alive.

The shotgun shell directed at your neck on the diving gear given to you seemed promising as well.

If there is an afterlife, maybe you can see him again there. That sounded nice. You just wish you weren’t sent down with three other people. You never thought it’d be so hard to die in a place where risks of death were incredibly high. Perhaps it was because they wanted to use each other to get the reward for themselves, so they kept each other alive as long as possible. Covering each other’s eyes when the shark was outside the window, turning off another’s flashlight when an odd black figure appeared in the dark, saving each other from the creature inside the lockers… They weren’t going to let such easy bait be killed so easily, not this early.

Still, you strayed close behind as they often checked if you were still there. You kept your head low, until you heard another pair of footsteps from behind you.

Strange… The other three are already in front of you… And they’re just looking through drawers for anything useful.

The footsteps are getting louder and faster. You turned around just in time to see a strangely humanoid, armless figure running at you. It yelped the moment you locked eyes on it, immediately turning tail and running away.

“What the hell was that?!” One of the other expendables exclaimed.

Both of you walked back into the previous room to see where it possibly came from. There was a hole in the wall, shaped exactly like the creature they just saw.

“So they’re really in the walls, huh…” they then lightly punch your shoulder, “Hey, good job. I didn’t even hear it until it made that weird sound before it ran off,”

You say nothing.

“Come on, let’s keep going,”

You looked at them as they rejoined the others then back at the hole. You wished you didn’t turn around.

After a few more doors, the lights suddenly flickered. The one closest to you grabbed you and had you hide in a locker. Maybe they picked up on what you’ve been trying to do. You did willingly look into the eyes of the shark just outside the window, and they had to cover your eyes and drag you along with them. You also opened a locker that was already occupied by a strange creature coated in black and, what you assumed were, purple eyes. You hoped they’d leave you behind to be devoured by it, but you were pulled out and was patched up as best as they could do it. The damage wasn’t too severe, but still. There just had to be a spare medical kit in the room.

Maybe you weren’t being so discreet about it.

There were only three lockers in the room you were currently in and none in the room prior. They pressed on to the next door ahead. You were about to open your locker to step out into the path of the oncoming creature, but it zipped by you in an instant. It was much faster than what you’ve been dealing with.

You hear the others leave their locker followed with a quick flash of the flash beacon. You slowly step out of your locker and follow them into the next room to meet up with the other person. The one in front of you pulled out their flashlight, but ended up tripping over something. You stopped walking as they shine their light over what made them trip.

It was the one who ran ahead to find a spare locker. There was no blood or any signs of injury, but they weren’t moving and their eyes were still wide open. The other two tried to get them to respond, even shaking them, but they remained unresponsive. It was almost like they were just left an empty shell.

You restrain yourself from speaking as you would’ve called them an idiot for giving up a hiding spot in favor to make sure their bait stayed alive for a little longer, only to get killed in the process. Only 27 doors have been opened. Surely not all of you can survive much longer.

By the 35th door, one of them had used a code breacher to open a door without the keycard. Once the door slid open, a large creature with a smiling grey mask was seen on the other side of the door. Before they could react, it lunged towards them and instantly killed them on the spot before retracting their hand as it gets caught in the door while it was sliding shut. The blood splattered all over the floor and even reached you and the other expendable beside you.

By the 47th door, the lights flickered as you searched through a room off to the side. You can hear what you can describe as a distorted chorus faintly echoing down the hall, and soon a loud scream followed with multiple banging against a locker. The noise stopped as you walked to the door leading back to the path you’re supposed to take and you only see the aftermath. A fresh pool of blood and a destroyed locker. There was no body. The creature responsible is no where to be found.

You were alone now. Finally.

You kept your head low as you continued on, not bothering to search through the drawers for anything. Your body is starting to ache at this point. You opened the 50th door leading into a dimly lit corridor.

“Need to stock up?”

You looked up as you see the vent’s cover fall over. You turned around, then back towards the vent. You can see the next door ahead that requires a keycard, but you can’t find it from out here. You didn’t have a code breacher either as the others you were previously with had used them up.

“Come on, I won’t bite,” the strangely familiar voice beckons.

Had he not spoken twice, you would’ve thought you were hallucinating. Or maybe you are right now. A sort of “false hope,” so to speak. Not to mention how you can just barely recognize the voice. You’re having a hard time processing it after everything.

With no where else to turn, you walk to the vent and slowly crawl through. The room was dark, but lit up as you made it to the other side. You managed to get a good look at him, not exactly expecting some sort of fish-human hybrid.

“Ah, there you-” you see how his smile quickly disappears and his eyes widened once he sees you.

You only stare at him, tilting your head slightly to the side. He looked like he had just seen a ghost which wouldn’t be so far off considering what you had to witness for the past 49 doors, but why was he looking at you like that? He cautiously lowered himself down, close enough to your height but still far enough for some space.

You instinctively, though slightly, moved away as his hand moved closer to your face. That was until he finally spoke.

“[Name]..?”

You stepped back upon hearing your name leave his mouth. You narrow your eyes at him, “How do you…?”

Then it finally registered in your head. You’re not just hearing things, that voice was his.

Your eyes widened, now feeling his cold hand against your cheek, “S-Sebastian?“

“Yes…! Yes!” He nods, smiling widely, “It’s me!”

You couldn’t hold back your tears at all. The moment he confirmed it was really him was what finally broke down your walls. The last time you had cried this much was when he was to be executed. You had to hold onto his hand to keep yourself standing. He seemed to sense that as his third limb pulled you closer to him and held you in a tight embrace. You buried your face into his shoulder and sobbed until his grip on you got a bit too tight.

“W-Wait, Sebastian-!” You cried, “Let go!”

He gasps, immediately pulling away. You winced as you gently rubbed your arm. You looked up at Sebastian again and smiled.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you’re still alive. I have so many questions. Can I-?”

Sebastian stops you there, “Hang on. Before I get to answering your questions, I have one tiny question for you,” he suddenly towers over you as he yells, “How the hell did you get here?! And why the hell did you sign up for this?! Didn’t they tell you the risks? That you could very much die?”

You jumped at his sudden change in tone and almost fell back. His tail had went to cover the opening of the vent in case you ultimately decided to make a run for it. What do you even tell him? That you signed up just to die? No other reason. How could you tell him that?

“I-I… Well, yes, they did. I just- It’s because…” you don’t know what to say.

“Tell me the truth,” he demands. You swear you heard a hiss in his voice, “Of all people, why did you have to end up here?”

“I signed up for this because…” you paused, “Specifically because I wanted to die. I knew what I was getting myself into, Sebastian. They didn’t tell me anything specific,”

“Of course those idiots didn’t…” He scoffed, “They don’t expect you or the others to return,”

“I never planned to. I couldn’t care less about this so called crystal they told me I was supposed to retrieve,” you looked away, “Honestly, I don’t even remember what I did to end up here… Maybe I did something that killed a few people, or maybe I was framed like you,”

Sebastian calmed down a little and had moved back as you spoke. He repositions himself so that his back was against the wall and his tail would nudge you towards him.

“You said you signed up with the intention to die here,” he then says, “Why?”

You sit beside him as his tail slightly curls around you, “You were sent for execution and confirmed to be dead. I just couldn’t live with the fact that I couldn’t see you,”

His looks at your bloodied clothes and noticed bandages through some of the holes in your uniform. He points to it, “Are those..?”

“It’s from this weird black tentacle creature in a locker. It’s nothing too serious, if that’s what you’re wondering,”

He muttered a name you didn’t quite catch and he quickly moves on, “And the blood?”

You shake your head, “It’s not mine,”

He lets out a sigh of relief at that. It was finally your turn to ask questions.

“Sebastian, how did you survive?”

“Was picked up by Urbanshade before I was supposed executed. Guess they decided it’d be better if I was officially declared dead,”

“And you became this during that time?”

“You could say that. It’s, uh… It’s a long story,”

He doesn’t want to discuss it and you knew that was the case. So, you didn’t question it further. You have a good feeling you may have an idea now that you noticed a document on the table. Whatever was in there might have the answers to most of your questions, but you’re not sure if you even want to read it if he lets you. The mere thought of what could be mentioned in there makes you sick.

There’s still one other that you desperately want an answer for.

“We’re… not leaving this place, are we?” You questioned, not looking at him, “At least, I’m probably not thanks to this diving gear… One shotgun shell pointed directly at my neck, and if I even try to take it off, tamper with it, or leave this place,”

You stopped there. Both of you knew. Sebastian didn’t say anything for a moment, “I can get both of us out of here. I just need more time,”

More time. How much more time before your body can no longer keep going? You want to believe him, you really do, but you really might actually die here.

How ironic. You came here because you wanted to die. You watched the others die before your very eyes without much of a reaction. All of a sudden, you feel your stomach drop.

You’re afraid to die.

#🌑 // the moon provides #sebastian solace x reader #roblox pressure sebastian #pressure sebastian #sebastian solace #sebastian x reader #roblox pressure #x reader #roblox sebastian solace

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a-mint-bear · 9 months ago

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Make Me Yours

Male Yandere x Reader

Part 2: "Your One and Only"

"I just... really wanna put a collar on a cute guy."

You didn't even mean to say it out loud, but your best friend since middle school had always been super open with this sort of stuff. You've always been the first one she texts when a date goes really well, or really terribly. And a lot of your coffee meetups, like this one, devolve into her oversharing all the juicy details of her relationships.

"Oh wow." She nudged you with a grin. "Didn't know you had it in you!"

Unable to meet her eyes, you try to defend your stray thought. You remind her of some of the jerks you've dated, how their assertive and self-assured personalities had all quickly turned into a bit too aggressive and controlling. In certain situations, in controlled doses... that could lead to a nice time. But it's all fun and games until you try to explain away some of their worse moments to your coworkers and swiftly realize you're in "that kind" of relationship. You wonder if you give off some kind of energy that attracts creeps...

The thought of finding a guy who would not only let you take the reins but maybe even prefer you taking charge? It gave you a little thrill you're almost embarrassed to admit.

"Well, it's nothing to get all twisted up over." she shrugs, taking a sip of her iced latte. "You'll find the right guy that's into that kind of thing."

You smiled, she really was trying to encourage you with this, and it was oddly sweet of her.

"Oh, look!" she scooted closer to you, showing you her phone screen. "There's tons of collars you can get. You thinkin' like leather, classic S&M style? Or somethin' more cutesy?"

Maybe a little too encouraging, sometimes.

~ Somewhere very close by...~

His hands were shaking. Your words were playing on repeat in his head, drowning everything else out.

As if you weren't already perfect. He'd been so jealous of you meeting up with your friend, but if it made this conversation happen so he couldn't be too upset about it. He'd been trying to think of some way to make you his for so long... But being yours? Wearing something like that? Something that said he belonged only to you?

He was already yours. But a little proof never hurt.

. . .

It was late, and you decided to cut through the park to get home quicker. It was a pretty safe area, but you didn't want to be here any longer than you had to be. A few lights lit up the main path and you didn't see anyone else around.

But that didn't mean you were alone.

"Hey..."

You spin around to see... some guy. You'd never met him before, but he was... making A LOT of eye contact.

He was cute though. Soft, fluffy hair and piercings in his ears, his bright eyes poking out from beneath his bangs. And he had at least six inches on you, but not really an intimidating frame, a bit skinny too. The way he was looking at you was making you nervous, but you weren't sure if it was a "Oh, this is unexpected." kind of nervous or a "You're gonna end up in his basement." kind of nervous.

"You probably don't remember me but, uh...we had a few classes together last year and…"

He seemed really nervous himself, trailing off with some color in his cheeks. You tell him politely that you were sorry, but you didn't remember him.

"That's okay, uh..."

He was breathing kind of funny, his eyes still staring into yours. You asked him what he needed, hoping it would speed this along and you could leave.

He took a breath, and all you could do was stare, wondering if you should distract him and make a break for it.

"I... I've liked you. For a long time. It's like... like everything about you is just so... wonderful! Seeing you every day keeps me going! I was okay just watching but then... Sorry, sorry. I'm c-coming on too strong, I..."

He took a step towards you, moving like he was going to touch you, but you instinctively took a step back. He looked a little hurt.

"No, no please, don't be scared! I just... I thought it was the right time... I've been thinking about this for so long! I just wanted to..."

He dropped to his knees and the look in his eyes was almost...like he worshipped you. Like you were everything to him and nothing else mattered. It was a bit overwhelming...

"I heard you talking to your friend the other day. Not, uh, not in a weird way, I swear! I-it's just... It's all I can think about..."

He stared at you, a glimmer of something in his eyes. You could see a tremble in his hands, like he was debating reaching out for you again. But he was holding himself back.

Seeing him kneeling, looking up at you with a want that burned into you... It was doing something to you.

This was a weird, kinda scary, unbelievable situation. But it felt so...

Good.

You felt bold. Deciding to go for broke, you finally spoke again.

You asked him to tell you what he wanted.

You could see the tremble shoot through his frame, the smallest, quietest gasp when the your words finally registered.

"I want... I want you to look down at me, just like this! I want you to run your fingers through my hair and tell me I'm a good boy. Your good boy! I want to cuddle up to you and hear your heartbeat while you hold me, I... I want you to use me... I want you to yank my collar if I get too excited and tell me to behave."

He laughed softly at the thought, this guy was completely smitten.

"I want to be yours, if that'll make you happy..."

He reached into his back pocket, you heard the gentle clink of the collar before you saw it. It was like some kind of odd proposal, except he was down on both knees.

He held it up to you, his eyes clouded with a want that made your face feel hot.

So painfully slowly, you reached out for him, your fingers flinching back for a split second, rational thought desperately trying to break through. But despite all the reasons you could think this was completely crazy, you still wanted this.

You touched his cheek, and he didn't hesitate to lean into your hand with a contented, dreamy sigh.

The power he was giving you was... new, exciting, maybe a bit intoxicating. And he was offering it all so willingly, you wondered if this was all a dream.

"I wanna be your good boy..." His voice was soft but pleading, almost desperate. "Please..."

His smile was making your brain feel fuzzy, seeing him looking up at you like you were his whole world.

"Make me yours."

#this one's a little self-indulgent lol #male yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere x reader #male yandere oc #yandere male #yandere boy #subby yandere #wondering if I should start naming these guys and gals #so i can do part 2s with the same characters #this one's been nearly done and in my drafts for a while #job hunting is long and tiring y'all #Jacob #minty writing

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cumironi · 3 months ago

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BLUE : GETO SUGURU

& sum. you’ve been feeling blue lately, more sadder than usual this past week, and all you’ve ever felt is just sadness and you don’t know what happened to you, all you’ve ever wanted is just being hugged by your boyfriend.

warning. non-sorcerer au, fem! reader, angst to comfort, so much comfort lol.

you’ve been feeling down lately, a heavy, unshakable sadness settling over you that you can’t quite explain. it’s been there for a while now—lingering for a week, maybe even longer. it feels as if a dark cloud has settled over you, pressing down on your chest, making it hard to breathe, to move, to do anything without feeling weighed down. even the smallest things seem difficult; every movement feels like dragging yourself through mud, and your mind feels stuck in a fog. the sadness wraps around you tightly, leaving you hollow and empty, and no matter what you try, it just won’t go away.

you’ve lost your appetite completely. food seems tasteless, and there’s no desire to eat when there’s no joy, no spark to fuel you. you hardly have the energy to cook or even consider what you might like. days pass, and you notice how hollow your stomach feels, but the thought of eating feels pointless. it’s like there’s a pit in your chest that even the best meal couldn’t fill.

but geto notices. he always notices, especially when something’s wrong with you. he knows you better than anyone, and even when you try to put on a brave face, he can see right through it. he watches you carefully, studying every small shift in your expression, every slouch of your shoulders, the way your eyes seem a little more distant lately. his intuition, his attention to detail—it’s like he’s tuned into every unspoken feeling you have.

he doesn’t waste any time. geto starts showing up more often, making sure you’re not left alone with the heaviness pressing down on you. whenever he has a break from college, he’s there, by your side, making sure you’re eating, gently coaxing you to have at least a few bites. he’ll sit beside you, bringing your favorite meals, reminding you with a gentle, soft voice that food might help you feel better. he’s patient, never pushing too hard but persistent enough to remind you he’s there and he’s not going anywhere.

and he stays close. his presence feels steady, grounding you when the sadness feels overwhelming. he doesn’t leave you alone for too long, always keeping you within his sight, whether he’s sitting across from you, reading while you rest or quietly checking in every now and then, gently brushing your shoulder or squeezing your hand just to let you know he’s there. his touch is always warm, comforting, and he seems to know just how much you need it, how much you need him, without you having to say a word.

geto doesn’t let you slip away. even when you feel yourself pulling back, withdrawing into that sadness, he pulls you back softly, reminding you of his care, his unwavering support. he’s there through it all—through the silences, the times when words feel too heavy to speak, the moments when you feel like you’re drowning in the quiet ache in your chest. he becomes your anchor, the one steady thing in the midst of it all, and he reminds you, bit by bit, that you’re not alone.

you walk slowly towards him, your shoulders slouched, feeling the weight of sadness pressing down on you harder than it has all week. today feels different—heavier, sharper, and the ache in your chest is almost too much to bear. it’s like every step you take is carrying the burden of everything you’re trying to hold back, and you can feel tears welling up, threatening to spill over at any moment. your throat feels tight, and your vision blurs a little as you get closer to him.

geto looks up from his book the moment he senses you nearby, his eyes softening as he takes you in. his book is forgotten almost instantly, and he sets it aside, opening his arms without a word, inviting you into his warmth. you don’t even have to ask; it’s like he can feel your sadness, see every bit of the weight you’re carrying, and he just knows you need him.

you slide into the couch next to him, his arms already waiting to envelop you, pulling you gently against his chest. as you curl up against him, feeling his warmth seep into you, the ache in your chest loosens just a bit, allowing you to breathe a little easier. you press your back against him, sinking into his embrace, and his arms tighten around you, holding you as though he’s afraid you might slip away.

with your head resting under his chin, you feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, his heartbeat a calm, grounding rhythm beneath you. you close your eyes, letting out a shaky breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, and as soon as you exhale, a few quiet tears escape, trailing down your cheeks. you’re grateful for the way he just holds you, silently and steadily, not rushing you to speak or asking what’s wrong. instead, he lets you exist in this moment, letting you feel whatever it is you need to feel, knowing he’s here beside you.

geto leans in closer, his breath soft against the top of your head, and his fingers slowly rubs your back. his touch is gentle, tender, like he’s afraid you’ll break if he applies even an ounce of pressure. his shirt is soft against your cheek, and warmth from his body seems to melt into you, offering a small comfort amidst the storm of sadness within you.

he stays quiet, the silence between you heavy yet somehow not uncomfortable. the feeling of your tears staining his shirt. he doesn’t speak, not yet—he knows now isn’t the time for words, but rather, time for silent understanding and support.

he dips his head, nuzzling gently into your hair, savoring the familiar scent of you. his warm breath dances over the top of your head, a silent reassurance that he’s there, and he’s not going anywhere.

but the moment his arm slips beneath your neck and he wraps himself around you, it’s like a dam finally breaks. your tears, already close to spilling over, begin to fall freely, quicker than you can hold back. you don’t even try to stop them, letting the wave of sadness flow out as you cling to him, your hands gripping his arm like he’s the only anchor holding you in place.

you bury your face against his arm, your quiet sobs muffled against the soft fabric of his shirt. his warmth, his steady presence, all of it feels like a lifeline amidst the storm raging inside you. you squeeze his arm tightly, needing the reassurance of his solidity, his unwavering support. the way he holds you, so tenderly, so carefully, only makes you feel more secure. it’s as if he’s sheltering you from the sadness, wrapping you up in his embrace as if he could protect you from everything that feels too overwhelming to face.

you feel his hand slowly rubbing your back, each gentle stroke grounding you, easing the ache just a little bit more. his touch is comforting, gentle yet full of strength, and you can feel his silent promise in every movement—that he’s here, he’s got you, and he’s not going to let you go.

geto feels the shuddering sobs rip through your body, your hold on him impossibly tight, like you're clutching to him as a lifeline. a protective feeling, deep and strong as iron, washes over him, and he pulls you closer, molding your trembling frame to his own. he tightens his arms around you, almost as if he could somehow hold the pieces of you together, keep you from shattering beneath the weight of the pain you were carrying.

he doesn’t try to speak, nor does he try to ask what’s wrong. he simply keeps rubbing soothing circles into your back, his lips hovering above

your head in a silent gesture of comfort. he keeps you tucked against him, holding you close, trying to offer whatever tiny bit of comfort he can amidst the storm of sadness within you. his heartbeat thuds steadily into your ear, a constant rhythm. it says, “i’m here, i’m here, i’m here,” over and over, and his arms, wrapped so tightly around you, are a steady, gentle pressure, promising that he’s not going to go anywhere, that he’ll just keep holding you together until the storm passes.

he murmurs soft, soothing endearments into your hair, his voice a low, tender rumble, “i’ve got you, i’ve got you…i’ve got you...”

he keeps you firmly against him, the feeling of your tears, the quiet sobs, a reminder of the immense pain you’re feeling. he nuzzles his face gently into your hair once more, the motion a silent, tender expression of his love.

for now, he just wants to hold you, to be a steady presence for a bit longer, and slowly, gently try and ease the sadness ripping through you.

his voice is a soft murmur, gentle yet filled with concern. “c’mere,” he whispers, his fingers brushing lightly along your shoulder, coaxing you to turn toward him. something in his tone is so tender, so patient, that you find yourself instinctively following, shifting in his arms until you’re facing him.

without a second thought, you wrap your arms around his torso, holding onto him tightly, as if he’s the only thing keeping you from crumbling. you bury your face against his neck, his familiar scent wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. the warm notes of vanilla and the rich depth of oud wood settle your heart just a little, bringing a faint sense of peace amidst the lingering sadness. the scent is so unmistakably him, grounding you, reminding you that you’re safe here, held close in his arms.

geto’s hand comes up, his fingers threading softly through your hair, his other hand pressing lightly against the small of your back, keeping you close. his touch is soothing, gentle in a way that lets you know he understands, that he’s here with you in this moment, sharing in the weight of your sadness without needing to say a word.

“i’m here,” he whispers, his breath warm against your ear. there’s a softness to his voice that makes you feel seen, truly understood in a way that words alone can’t convey. he holds you even tighter, his arms a steady fortress around you as you let yourself sink further into him. he doesn’t pull away, doesn’t try to stop your tears; instead, he leans into them, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple, another quiet assurance that he’s with you.

his hand moves slowly, rubbing small circles on your back, a comforting rhythm that gradually eases some of the tension in your shoulders. the steady rise and fall of his breathing, his warmth, his scent—all of it pulls you away from the sadness just a bit, like a quiet anchor grounding you amidst the storm.

“it’s okay,” he murmurs softly, his voice steady. “take your time… i’m not going anywhere.” with those words, you feel a small shift, a fragile flicker of calm, knowing that you don’t have to face this alone. held in his arms, surrounded by his warmth and gentle reassurance, the ache in your chest softens, if only slightly. and somehow, in the quiet of his embrace, you feel a little bit of your sadness begin to lighten, piece by piece, as you rest against him.

geto leans back against the couch, pulling you along with him so you’re now cradled against his chest. his hands keep rubbing your back slowly, his touch firm, gentle, comforting. he doesn’t try to push you to speak, he just lets you cry into his chest, his shirt growing wet from your tears.

he keeps his arms tightly wrapped around you, holding you close, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear. he dips his head down, pressing a few gentle kisses on the top of your head, the gesture soft, tender, trying to soothe away some of the ache.

after a while, your breathing evens out, and your tears finally begin to slow. your fingers, which had been gripping his shirt so tightly, start to relax, your hand slipping slightly as the weight of exhaustion settles in. geto glances down and notices the change, his eyes softening as he realizes you’ve drifted off to sleep in his arms. the tear tracks glisten faintly on your cheeks, and your face is marked by the quiet aftermath of sadness—eyes and nose red, the last traces of tears still fresh on your skin.

he doesn’t move, barely even breathes, afraid to disturb the fragile peace that’s settled over you. instead, he adjusts his hold gently, one arm wrapped securely around you while his other hand lifts, fingers tenderly brushing stray strands of hair away from your face. he takes in every detail of your face, the vulnerability in your expression, the exhaustion that has finally pulled you into rest.

geto’s thumb grazes lightly across your cheek, wiping away the remaining traces of tears with a touch so soft it’s almost reverent. his heart aches, seeing the sadness etched onto your sleeping face, and he silently promises to be here, to stay by your side through every moment, no matter how heavy it gets.

carefully, he shifts a bit to make you more comfortable, pulling a nearby blanket over you both, making sure you’re warm and secure in his arms. he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as if he could transfer some of his own strength to you, a silent promise that he’s here, that he’ll carry the weight with you.

with one last look at your peaceful, albeit tear-stained, face, he settles back, his hand resting protectively on your back as he lets you sleep, holding you close through the noon, fall asleep with you in his arm.

the soft evening light fills the room, muted and gentle, casting a cozy glow around you and geto as you slowly wake from your nap. both of you lie on the couch that geto has carefully rearranged into a makeshift bed, layered with soft pillows and a warm, thick blanket draped over your legs. the couch-turned-bed isn’t just a place to sit anymore—it’s a little haven, a comforting spot where you can rest and feel safe, and geto made sure to set it up so you’d feel just that.

your eyes are puffy, still swollen from the tears you shed earlier, and there's a lingering heaviness, but it feels softer now. after crying so much, your body feels lighter in a way, like some of the sadness has flowed out, leaving a quieter calm in its place. geto’s presence beside you has worked like a balm, soothing some of the hurt that had been weighing on you. on the tv across from you, Coraline is playing. its familiar, almost dreamlike scenes add to the comforting atmosphere, something nostalgic and easy for your mind to focus on without effort. it’s a small but thoughtful choice—geto put it on because he knows it’s a favorite, and its soft glow and gentle storytelling help keep you grounded.

meanwhile, geto is in the kitchen, preparing dinner with quiet care. he’s decided to order takeout from your favorite restaurant; he didn’t feel like cooking tonight, but he knew you needed something special, something comforting. it’s a thoughtful choice, not just because he’s sparing himself the effort of cooking, but because he knows how much little gestures like your favorite food can lift your spirits. even though he isn’t beside you at this moment, he’s thinking of you, and every action he takes tonight is meant to comfort you in the gentlest, simplest ways.

outside, rain taps heavily against the windows, the steady sound creating a peaceful rhythm that wraps around you like an embrace. the world beyond the glass feels quiet and distant, softened by the rain. the storm outside feels almost symbolic of the emotional storm you went through earlier, but now, it’s calming, soothing rather than overwhelming. the sadness in your heart, once so sharp and heavy, feels lighter now, thanks to the release you allowed yourself and the comfort geto has provided.

a little while later, geto returns, balancing two plates of food carefully in his hands. he sets them on the coffee table in front of you and settles down beside you, the warmth of his shoulder brushing against yours. there’s a gentle smile on his face as he hands you one of the plates. “figured this might cheer my favorite girl up,” he says softly. there’s warmth in his eyes, a quiet, tender look that tells you he knows exactly what you need tonight.

taking the plate, you feel a deep sense of gratitude welling up. “thank you, baby,” you whisper, your voice soft, touched by everything he’s done for you without needing words to explain. you both begin to eat, the comforting flavors of your favorite meal and the cozy blanket wrapped around you adding to the sense of warmth that fills the room.

geto’s eyes dart to you every now and then as you eat, studying your expression, trying to gauge your mood. he keeps his voice soft, the volume just above a whisper, as if he's afraid of disrupting the comforting atmosphere between you.

“how are you feeling?” he asks gently, keeping his gaze on your face, waiting for your response. he continues eating, but his attention remains on you, his eyes never leaving yours, the concern in them apparent but not suffocating.

you pause, spoon halfway to your mouth, as geto's question registers in your mind. the softness in his voice, the way his gaze never wavers from your face, makes you feel a warmth that’s almost overwhelming. taking a small spoonful of your food, you savor the familiar taste, letting it bring a quiet calm over you before meeting his eyes.

turning away from the television, you nod and offer him a little smile, one that speaks volumes more than words could. “i feel a lot better now,” you say softly, your voice filled with sincerity. “thanks to you.”

geto’s features soften, a small, gentle smile spreading across his face in response to your words. he sets down his fork for a moment, pausing his meal to reach out, his hand gently resting on your knee, giving it a small, encouraging squeeze.

“good,” he murmurs, the word simple, yet filled with relief. he looks at you, the concern in his eyes replaced with a warm, affectionate glow. he keeps his hand on your knee, his thumb gently caressing your skin in small, soothing motions.

he picks up his fork again, continuing to eat while still maintaining his grip on your knee, his fingers gently massaging it through the fabric of your clothes. it’s a small, subtle gesture meant to provide comfort, as if he wants to maintain the physical connection with you even as you're both eating.

“i’ll admit, i was pretty worried about you earlier,” he admits gently, his voice soft and quiet, as if he's hesitant to disturb the peaceful atmosphere between you both.

a small, sheepish smile creeps onto your face as you glance down at his hand on your knee, feeling the warmth of his fingers gently massaging in a comforting rhythm. his touch feels grounding, like he’s trying to keep you tethered to him in the softest way possible.

you look back up at him, letting out a quiet chuckle. “i got pretty dramatic, didn’t i?” you say, a hint of self-deprecation in your tone but softened by the warmth in your eyes. your fingers absentmindedly brush over his hand on your knee, grateful for his steady presence. “it’s just been one of those weeks… everything felt so heavy.” your voice trails off, but there’s relief in your words. “but… honestly, i feel a lot better now. crying it out helped, i think.”

geto listens to your words, his gaze never wavering from your face as you speak. his expression is soft, understanding, a warm comfort in itself. as you mention how crying helped, he gives your knee another small, gentle squeeze.

“there’s nothing wrong with letting it out,” he says gently, a subtle nod of agreement. he sets his fork down and shifts a bit closer to you, his hand on your knee slowly moving further up to rest on your thigh, his thumb still gently massaging your skin.

he looks straight into your eyes, his gaze intense but not overwhelming. “i’m always here, you know that, right?” he whispers, his words an earnest assurance. “you don’t have to hold it all in by yourself.”

he gently pushes a strand of hair away from your face, his touch tender, filled with care. he keeps his hand on your thigh, the pressure firm, warm, a promise of steadiness.

you nod softly, setting your plate down on the table as you turn your full attention to him. scooting closer, you place your hand over his chest, feeling the steady, calming rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. there’s something so grounding about that gentle pulse, a reminder of his unwavering presence.

“i know,” you say quietly, your voice carrying a weight of gratitude that words alone can’t express. “and i’m so, so grateful for that.” you let your fingers spread slightly, feeling the warmth radiating from his chest, as if it’s wrapping around you too. looking up at him, you can see that he means every word, his gaze so genuine and reassuring, a quiet promise that he’ll always be there to help carry the weight when you need it.

see as you move closer, geto responds by shifting his position, opening his arms to pull you flush against him. he wraps one arm around your waist, pulling you in so your side is pressed against his chest, a warm, solid presence that grounds you. his hand returns to your thigh, continuing its gentle massaging motions, the touch filled with a tenderness that speaks louder than words ever could.

he lowers his head so his chin rests against the top of your head, his eyes drifting half-closed as he holds you close, his heart beating steady and strong beneath your touch.

you rest against him, feeling his arms wrap around you with such warmth, you let your hand drift up, fingers splaying over his chest as you quietly murmur, “i missed you.” your voice is soft, a little shaky, but it’s filled with the depth of everything you’ve been holding in.

for a moment, you just stay there, listening to his heartbeat beneath your fingertips, feeling his hand on your thigh, his chin resting atop your head. it feels like home, like an anchor, and it makes you realize just how much you’ve missed being fully present with him. he’s always been close, physically there whenever you needed, but you were lost in your own thoughts and emotions, feeling distant even when he was near.

geto’s hold on you tightens ever so slightly as you speak, his arm around your waist pulling you in closer, drawing you as close as humanly possible. he nuzzles his face into your hair, his breath warm against your head.

“i missed you too,” he whispers against your head, his voice low, barely above a murmur. there’s a subtle hoarseness to it, an undertone of emotion that belies the depth of his own longing. he holds you like this for a few more moments, silently taking in the feeling of having you in his arms once again.

his hand on your thigh slowly moves back down, his fingers lightly tracing patterns onto your skin, a gentle, soothing gesture.

he shifts his head, pulling away just enough so he can look down at your face. his expression is filled with a tender affection, the kind that comes from knowing someone on a deep, intimate level.

“i know things get heavy, but we’ll get through it together, okay?” he whispers, his voice filled with unwavering determination. he brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his touch as soft as a feather.

you nod softly, feeling a warmth swell in your chest at his words, the reassurance in his tone anchoring you more than he could ever know. with a quiet, “okay,” you lift your hand, reaching up to cup his cheek, your thumb gently brushing along his skin. you can feel the faint stubble under your fingertips, grounding you in this tender moment, in the closeness you’ve both been missing.

with a gentle pull, you guide him closer, closing the small distance between you until his lips meet yours. the kiss is soft, slow, filled with unspoken words and quiet promises. it feels like both a reassurance and a reconnection, his lips warm and comforting against yours, the world around you fading away as you focus solely on him.

geto responds to the kiss instantly, his hand on your thigh moving to cup the back of your head, pulling you in closer. he kisses you back just as gently, his lips moving against yours in a slow, tender dance. there’s a quiet need in the kiss, a silent plea for you to understand the depth of his feelings, how much he’s missed this connection.

as the kiss deepens, geto pulls you fully into his lap, his arms wrapping around your waist. he continues to hold you tightly, almost possessively, like he doesn’t ever want to let go.

he finally pulls back slightly, breaking the kiss but keeping his forehead resting against yours. his breathing is ragged, his chest rising and falling with each shaky breath. he keeps his eyes closed for a moment, his hand slowly caressing the back of your head as he tries to regain some control over his emotions.

“god... i’ve missed you so much,” he whispers, his voice filled with a raw honesty. he pulls you even closer into his lap, pressing his face into your neck, his warm breath against your skin.

your arms instinctively wrap around his broad shoulders, holding him as close as possible, like you’re afraid he might slip away. a soft whisper escapes your lips, “i’ve missed you too, baby,” the words laced with all the emotions you’ve been holding in, each one released as you hold him tighter.

you feel his warmth seep into you as he presses his face into your neck, his breath warm and steady against your skin, grounding you, anchoring you in this moment. your fingers gently trace over his back, feeling the tension slowly ease out of him, a silent promise that you’re here too, that you won’t let go.

geto seems to melt into your touch, his body relaxing as your fingers trace over his back. he lets out a low, soft groan, the sound vibrating against your neck, his hands slowly moving down to grip your hips, pulling you even closer.

he pulls back just enough so that he can look at you, a mixture of vulnerability and affection in his eyes. “don’t ever shut me out like that again, okay?” he whispers, his thumb gently caressing your hip. “promise me you’ll talk to me, no matter how shitty things get.”

you nod, a soft smile curving your lips as you meet his gaze. “i promise,” you murmur, your voice filled with sincerity. there’s a warmth in his eyes that melts away any lingering shadows in your mind, and it feels like a weight has finally lifted, a silent understanding passing between you both.

your hand drifts to the back of his neck, fingers pressing gently into his skin, feeling the warmth there as you trail small, soothing circles. you let your fingertips sink slightly, grounding both of you in the closeness of the moment, letting him feel just how much he means to you.

his eyes close for a brief moment as he leans into your touch, his breath coming out in a soft sigh. he pulls you even closer, his grip on your hips secure, as if he never wants to let you go. “good,” he whispers, his voice a bit rough but filled with quiet relief. “because i can’t stand the thought of losing you.”

geto takes a shaky breath, his arms tightening around you involuntarily as he speaks again.

“you’re everything to me,” he murmurs into your neck, his voice low and hoarse. he buries his face into your skin, taking a deep breath, as if he’s trying to memorize the feel of you, the scent of you.

he stays there for a moment, holding you tightly, his embrace both protective and gentle at the same time. with each passing second, you can feel the tension slowly seeping out of him, replaced by a quiet, intimate comfort.

your fingers tighten slightly against the back of his neck as you whisper, “you’re my everything too.” your voice is barely a breath, but it’s filled with all the warmth and affection you have for him.

closing your eyes, you let yourself sink into the moment as his lips brush softly against your neck, each kiss tender and unhurried, as though he’s savoring every inch of you. his warmth spreads through you, soothing, grounding, making you feel safe in a way only he can.

you let out a soft sigh, tilting your head slightly to give him more access, a quiet invitation for him to stay close. your arms wrap around his shoulders, holding him as if you’ll never let go, and with every gentle press of his lips against your skin, it’s like he’s telling you without words that he’s here, he’s yours, and he’s not going anywhere.

as you tilt your head, giving him more access to your neck, a soft, guttural noise escapes geto’s lips. he takes your cue, gently nuzzling against your skin, his breath warm and ticklish against the sensitive spots.

he continues to shower your neck and shoulder in soft kisses, his lips leaving a trail of warmth everywhere they touch. his arms remain tightly wrapped around you, holding you against him, a steady, anchoring presence. you can almost feel the depth of his desire and devotion in each gentle kiss, his actions speaking louder than words.

he slowly pulls away from your neck, lifting his head to look at you again, his gaze heavy with emotion. his arms loosen slightly, his hand slowly tracing up and down your back in a gentle caress.

he takes a moment to just look at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of warmth and raw desperation. he runs his tongue over his lips, a subconscious gesture that betrays his own desire.

“you’re beautiful,” he whispers, his voice rough and hoarse. “my god, you’re sooo beautiful.”

a soft hum escapes your lips, and you smile up at him, warmth blooming in your chest at the look in his eyes. his words wrap around you like a gentle embrace, and you feel yourself falling deeper into the love and devotion reflected in his gaze.

without saying a word, you lean in, closing the distance between you until your lips meet his in a tender, lingering kiss. it’s gentle at first, a simple press of your lips against his, savoring the closeness, the intimacy of the moment. but as the kiss deepens, you can feel the raw emotion flowing between you—his need to be close, to remind you just how much he loves you.

your hand moves to cup his cheek, thumb brushing softly against his skin as you pour every ounce of affection, trust, and love into the kiss, letting him know that he’s your everything, too.

geto responds to the gesture instantly, a soft, almost guttural sound escaping his lips as your kiss deepens. he returns the gesture with fervor, his hands gripping your hips tighter, his fingers pressing firmly into your skin.

he matches every movement, every touch, as if he’s pouring all his pent up emotions into the kiss. it’s a silent communication, an intimate exchange that speaks volumes. he kisses you deeply, his tongue sliding against yours in a slow, languid dance.

as the kiss continues, geto’s grip on your hips tightens even more, his touch almost possessive, but not in a controlling way. it’s like he’s afraid that if he lets go, you’ll slip away from him again.

he moves his mouth over to your jawline, peppering kisses along the sensitive skin there while he gently pulls you impossibly closer against him. his breath is shaky, and you can feel the heat radiating off of him. he’s holding you like he never wants to let go.

geto is practically panting against your skin as he continues to kiss and nuzzle your neck, his breath hot and heavy, his lips leaving a trail of wet, feverish kisses. his grip on your hips is firm, his fingers digging into your flesh, as if he’s trying to anchor himself against the raw tide of emotions coursing through him.

“god,” he mutters hoarsely, his voice edged with a hint of desperation, “you have no idea how much i’ve missed this... missed you.”

his lips continue to trace over your jawline, trailing up to your ear, kissing and nipping at the sensitive spots. his touch is urgent, almost needy, his movements driven by a raw, aching desire.

“i need you,” he whispers into your ear, his voice gruff and low. “i need to feel you, taste you, touch you... i need you to know how much i love you.”

a small gasp escapes your lips as geto suddenly rises, lifting you effortlessly with him. Instinctively, your legs wrap around his waist, your arms slipping around his neck, holding him close as he carries you toward the bedroom. is strength and the intensity in his gaze send a thrill through you, and you feel a rush of warmth spreading through your chest as he holds you so securely, as though he’d never let you go.

you lean closer, brushing your lips near his ear, whispering, “me too, baby.” the words come out breathless, laced with all the longing and affection you feel for him. geto’s hold tightens at your response, a quiet hum of satisfaction escaping him as he carries you down the hallway, his steps steady but quick, his desire evident in every movement.

geto enters the bedroom, his movements sure and steady, like he has a single-minded focus on getting to the bed as quickly as possible.

he sets you down gently on the edge of the bed, his hands coming up to cup your face, his fingers gently caressing your skin. he looks down at you intently, his eyes filled with a mixture of reverence and desire.

“i need to feel you,” he repeats, his voice gravelly and intense. his hands slide down to your shoulders, slowly pushing you back onto the bed, his body following, his weight settling over you.

geto’s hands are everywhere as he strips your shirt off, his touch urgent and impatient, but laced with a tender reverence.

his hands roam over your now bare skin, tracing along the curves and lines of your body, as if he’s trying to memorize every inch. his fingers graze over your waist, your ribcage, your shoulders, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. he leans down, his lips replacing his hands, leaving a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses along the exposed skin of your chest and neck.

he moves his lips back to your neck, his teeth nipping gently at the sensitive spots, as if he’s trying to draw out every gasps and moans from you. his hands continue to wander, tracing over your sides, your hips, your thighs, the movements firm and possessive, as if he can’t bear to be away from you for even a second.

he pulls back slightly, hovering over you, his gaze intense, his breath ragged. he looks down at you, his eyes darkened with a mixture of desire and unbridled love.

“i love you so fucking much.”

#geto x reader #geto x y/n #geto fluff #jjk x reader #geto suguru #geto angst #geto suguru x y/n #geto x you #geto #jujutsu kaisen imagine #geto suguru x reader #anime angst #jjk angst #suguru fluff #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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phantomwithbreakfast · 3 months ago

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~ Danny Phantom ~

“What does it feel like? To be terrified of yourself—of what you are becoming? The future looms not like an open road but a trap, a dark inevitability. You’re not waiting for it, not watching for it. You’re running. Trying to ignore the whispers in your head, lying to yourself that it’s fine, that it’ll always be fine.”

When the sun goes under the line called a horizon, the night sky comes to life. A silvery moon’s light bathing the eerie glow of an aura, catching the shadow out of the black.

The darkness surrounded him, with little sparks of hope. Stars that couldn’t catch him, neither he could catch.

His veins flowing with cold fire, tingling skin feeling intangible. A mind that’s filled with hollow, yet spiraling in chaos. Split into divergent, until down and dusk.

Why are you doing this to me? You leave me standing here, can’t you see. I was lost in your eyes, this was never meant to arise. You were my hero, always to be. But now you’ve vanished, you’re no longer with me.

We tried to carry on, but it wasn’t right. Forever burned in memory, like a song in the night.

Why does this hurt, hurt so much. It was never meant to be, as such. You gave me strength to stand alone, but now I cry when I’m on my own. Drowning inside, lost in a sea, why are you doing this to me? It makes me weak, a strange kind of ache, you’ll never understand the pain I take.

The memories keep running on, of how it used to be, before you were gone. The hero you were is no longer here, you flew away, so light, like a feather near. Don’t do this to me, please come back.

I still wonder why it had to be this way, so much potential, yet it all went astray. You went a different path, never to be seen, this wasn’t meant to happen, it was too obscene.

It lingers like a song, etched in my mind, it should have brought us joy, a love so kind. Like a song, will you ever return?

When will you be here again? I miss you more with every grain. Forever chained within my heart, I bring you to life through every art. In my memory, you’ll always remain, and beside you, I’ll forever stand.

“I want to cry, I want to scream, but I can’t. I mustn’t.”

The storm raged on, tearing through the night. Shadows of fear and regret clung to her like chains.

“Take my hand,” Danny said, his voice calm, cutting through the chaos.

“Why? So you can watch me crumble? So I can drag you down with me?”

His eyes softened, but his hand never wavered. “If you crumble, I’ll catch you, I’ll follow. Just trust me.”

“You… don’t understand.”

“I don’t need to understand,” he said softly. “I’ll carry you, no matter what happens, I’ll never let you fall.”

Slowly and with a trembling hand, she reached for him. Their fingers met, and his grip was strong, cold but alive—everything she thought she’d lost.

The chaos began to still, and she felt the faint echo of something she thought was gone.

Hope.

Those were random texts I wrote through the years of my own existence.

———————

You can read my Phan Fics on FanFiction.net. PhantomWithBreakfast

———————

Note to myself again…

About the drawings, I was just playing (practicing) with lighting, shading, etc…

Expressions, mouths... Yeah, still working on that. I was too lazy to shade the hair, lol.

Still hate drawing hands.

And the funny thing is, just because I’m drawing every day, I’ll always find new ways to try to improve my art (duh). Because I’m never happy when I’ve ‘finished’ one.

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trashmouth-richie · 7 months ago

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vitiosus + deliciosus [vicious + delicious🥀] || pt 2 of dulcis ut rosa

emperor geta x reader || things progress for geta + his little gnat || 4k

18+ smut, oral: female receiving, choking, slapping, biting, spanking

pt 1: dulcis ut rosa m🥀 || pt 1 ½: dulex🥀

pt iii frangere me 🥀 || 🥀 pt iv: as caelum vel infernum, tecum sum

You didn’t know what was to come of you after tonight’s rendezvous in Geta’s chambers. You could hardly sleep, your body sore in places you didn’t think were possible, but not in a discomforting way.

The pain was more of an ache, a pulsating want for the time spent in his bed. You daydreamed of his strong hands pressing bruises into your hips, of his mouth hot and wet all over your skin, the bitter tang of your own blood on his lips as he licked the bites better.

Geta was a force to be reckoned with. Dominating both outside and inside of his chambers. All of Rome feared him. A flutter filled your stomach at the mere thought of those dark eyes seamlessly devouring you when you worked up enough courage to look into them. No, you wouldn’t sleep at all tonight.

—

Caracalla carried on the next day pretending the previous night hadn’t happened. As if his miniscule brain shut out what he had done, carrying on with the daily run of nonsense. He smiled like a gleeful infant who had just discovered his toes at the first meal of the day. Gnawing on ripened fruit and leftover pork, he looked like a wild animal.

As if he had vanished with the night, Geta was nowhere to be seen.

During prandium, you asked a woman from your village as casually as you could manage if she had seen the missing Emperor.

Prisca turned up her nose at your question, questioning why you so desperately needed to know. Replying with a tone that matched her own, you very carefully articulated how Caracalla had asked you to find out. Ending the conversation with a clipped lip, reminding Prisca of your status to the Emperors, and hers with the lowest of soldiers ones missing limbs and their gift of sight.

Geta didn’t show for any of the day's events, giving Caracalla a taste of running the empire solo, a smear of greed on his protruding crooked nose. You were the only one to notice his absence and if the entire palace didn’t seem to take note, you’d act the same. Deciding to leave it alone, remembering the virtue in patience, you’d wait until tonight to catch his eyes in yours once again.

The sun seemed to taunt you all day with its beautiful rays, staying longer than it had the day before, never quite ready to go to sleep. The shimmering heat laughing at your dismay as you waited for the moon's powdery face to finally clock in for her shift.

You could hardly stand being in Caracalla’s arms as he held you close to him, his breath stinking of an ungodly amount of wine, making you promise that you would never leave Palatine Hill. Pleading that you’d stay with him forever until his dying day. Agreeing like a dutiful servant, you hoped and prayed that that day would come sooner than later.

—

Geta couldn’t pull himself out of bed the next day. Palace servants came and went, offering to move the drapes, karting in mountainous plates of food, but he had refused everything. Only barking orders to bring as much wine as they could carry.

Drowning himself in rivers of wine, he couldn’t remember a single time since infancy that he felt completely worthless. He was an Emperor for fucks sake. Others may succumb to feelings but not him, never him.

Maidens fell at his feet, begging for his attention. He called the shots, fucked them stupid then tossed them away like scraps. Not once had he let any of them get to a place inside of himself he couldn’t pinpoint.

He couldn’t get away from you. Your scent surrounded him, the jasmine perfume of your hair lingered on his sheets. A subtle hint of sugary sweet honey was still on his skin. He hated himself.

Loathed the love sick pup he had become in the twilight hours as he gazed at the ceiling, still tasting your core on his lips, his rings sticky and coated with it. Unwilling to remove them in fear that the tiny bit that belonged to you, created by him, would wipe away.

His hair was still askew in the same fashion you had rung it around your fingers. Cock hard again remembering the way your body felt in his hands, how that sweet little cunt gripped him tighter than anyone before.

The sheets blushed a crimson that neither of you had noticed that broke from your body. He smirked at the thought of his brother unable to make an untouched woman bleed. Clearly he was less than endowed, his size comparable to that of a dangling beetle.

Geta laid in the stains from the two of you, a complete and utter mess of a man unable to forget the sweet little gnat. No longer buzzing in his ear, but pulling at his mind, suffocating every other thought. The gnat wormed her way down into the cavity of his chest, laying against the pinky ventricles cozying up to the dying organ, coaxing it back to life.

“Cupid’s fool,” he spoke aloud then, as if he confirmed it to nobody but himself, “body and soul.” A small smirk on his lips as his feet swung from his bed heading to the bathing room to wash himself before the moon peaked in the onyx painted sky, and he met you in that corner corridor.

—

You traced the stones down the hall as you walked until the pads of your finger went numb. After not seeing or hearing from Geta all day, you questioned your sanity as you approached your typical spot as you always did night after night for months. Would he even show?

Caracalla was exceptionally gleeful this evening, an odd thing considering most of the time he cried like an infant throwing tantrums like a toddler.

Your heart raced at the possibility of seeing Geta. You’d never taken into account how handsome he was, and now without seeing him for a full day, you found yourself almost missing catching glimpses of him.

He had two looks that he offered to everyone else. Either sheer and utter boredom, fiddling with his rings in a lazy fashion— or his eyes narrowed into slits, nostrils flared and a twitch kissing the corner of his eyelid, that permanent scowl rising on his top lip.

When he entered a room, he demanded attention in just his body language, shoulders square and broad, chin held high and his jaw tight. Generals rose for him, servants leapt out of the way to avoid him until needed. He was a brute of the highest power.

But in the months of meeting him in the darkness, you had gotten to know how Geta operated. What made him tick, the fatigue wearing on his face after stressful days. The crease between his brows when you told him of Caracalla’s movements—studying, brooding.

It gave you a sense of power knowing that you were seeked out by him. Even if only for information and a wet mouth, you could feel it emanating from him to you when he came. It started roughly. But lately it was almost as if it could be intimate at times. And you weren’t sure what that meant. Either way— with Geta, you knew you were safe.

Darkness enveloped you on your blind approach to the infamous corridor. For a second, you thought possibly you were lost, somehow turned around until you heard a throat clear, and the handsome Emperor appeared before you, having been blocking the open window from view.

“Emperor, my apologies for keeping you waiting,” your lips fumbling as you bowed before him at the waist.

A chuckle rumbled from Geta, “you aren’t late, I am simply early,” he said, scratching at his chin, “I’ve been roaming around since the light left.”

“Oh?”

He simply nodded then, twirling a ruby ring around his finger, “…I have received word that Caracalla is becoming more and more delusional. He has increased his staff, begging our mother to supply a general outside of his door while he sleeps— you’ve probably noticed Acacius following him, yes?”

The ruggedly handsome salt and pepper haired soldier flanked the aforementioned Emperor all day, but you never gave it another thought— your mind busy on Geta’s whereabouts.

“I haven’t trusted my brother since we were young boys using sticks as swords, and the older he gets the more his brain stays in our childhood.” He spoke softly then, “it is only a matter of time before your movements after leaving his chambers are tracked… and I can’t have that. This will be our last meeting.”

You nearly shouted in his face, telling him that these nights were the only thing worth being stolen away from your village. Months you have done this and now it is gone because he was… worried? About Caracalla finding out?

Geta pushed off from the wall, standing with his usual confidence—his jaw tight, a strange look on his face. “What Caracalla does not know— is that Acacius has been loyal to me for years, and has been providing me with information about him for nearly as long.”

Your eyebrows crease as you try to unravel the thread he’s woven, and a small smile ticks at the corner of his lips as realization spreads across your face. Mischievous Geta, always a step ahead.

“Join me?”

—

Geta was approached by Acacius when leaving his chambers this evening.

“Emperor,” Acacius announced, bowing his head in honor, “I’m sorry to disturb you so late.”

Geta pulled his chamber door shut waving his hand in dismissal, “nonsense General, whatever it is it must be important for you to seek me out, what is it?”

“This is not easy for me to say.. I feel like a traitor to you. to these walls—”

“Out with it,” Geta pressed, irritated.

“It’s Emperor Caracalla… your excellency, I have been summoned to be posted outside his quarters and provide security for him during the daylight hours.”

Geta rubbed at his chin, a twitch in his eye, “I know you’re not one to joke on a serious matter Acacius, however this seems quite juvenile, even for my brother.”

“I assure you, he has been increasingly suspicious over the last few months, ever since that travel wagon arrived with the Virgines from Valleventus.”

Acacius gave Geta a knowing look, one to convey that he knew what happened in these walls at night once Caracalla’s whore left his chambers.

Geta smiled then, unable to hide it, his face relaxing as he clapped the General on the shoulder, “you are a great confidant, Acacius— I will take this into great consideration.”

—

The two of you strolled the corridors in silence, his knuckles grazing yours, your heart pumping wildly in your chest. You were certain that if the two of you were caught you’d be killed on sight, tossed in a deep grave without a second thought. But with Geta… you couldn’t find yourself to care about any of that. Did he?

You knew you were walking a thin line, and it got thinner the more time you spent with him. But if he was willing to walk it as well, you’d risk it… same as he was

After a few minutes, you broke the silence, “may I…ask you something?”

Geta tilted his head towards you, “yes.”

All day he had been gone, and your curiosity finally got the better of you. “Where were you?”

He smirks and your insides melt, “were you looking for me, little dulex?”

You turn away from his gaze, fumbling with a loose thread on your tolsa, “n-no. Caracalla had asked me.”

A laugh bubbles from his chest, “I am not fond of being lied to, try again.”

Sweat drips from your hairline, “He…well, he inquired about it...”

“Ah, so you were only wondering about my whereabouts when Caracalla finally noticed I was missing?”

“Yes.”

He stopped before a large set of doors and pushed them open revealing a large room, suffocated by darkness. You felt him leave your side to cross the room, and suddenly it illuminated by a candle he had lit. Gently tipping the flame into a massive candelabra, each wick of the candle igniting like a little orb, throwing shadows across the room.

It was one of the many rooms you’d never seen before.

A single staircase wove upwards with great iron detailing to a room above, a desk as large as a wagon was centered in the room, pictures of faces you didn’t recognize flanked the walls, the floors were spread of mosaic tiles: shaped and colored to resemble a salmon colored sunset. An open area let in a small breeze that trickled out into a luscious garden where a fountain could be heard bubbling, brought in by the wind. Luxurious armchairs were tucked into corners.

This room shared the same color of draperies as a room you’ve only been to once before. The dark hues set a mood that belonged to one singular man. This was a private area that even the highest generals weren’t even allowed in. Geta’s study.

He came back towards you, grasping your wrist, his thumb pressing into your beating pulse, his eyes lit like a roaring fire, “last chance, to be honest, were you the one looking for me?”

Hesitating with your breath caught in your throat, you peered into Geta’s seemingly soulless eyes, whispering, “yes,” as a heat rose on your cheeks.

A smirk pulls on his lip, and a dimple you’ve never seen appears, “oh, my puella dulcis,” he purred, shaking his head, those dark eyes hungry as he looked you up and down, “you’re in trouble.”

He pulled you to him, his large hands on your waist leading you further into the room as he walked backwards. “Do you know the pure agony you’ve put me through?”

“Me?”

Geta nods, pushing the straps of your tolsa away from your shoulders, admiring the marks he had left on your skin.

“Yes. You.” he says, rubbing the column of your throat with his thumb. “It is nefarious the hold you have over me. I’ve never felt anything like it. Death would be easier on me. A sword between my ribs to puncture my lungs, the festering boils from a plague, an arrow through my eye— anything and everything would be better than what you do to me.”

His hand clasps tight around your neck, the gasp you let out trapped in your throat.

“So, what am I to do with you? What am I to do with someone who keeps causing me this much trouble? Who risks herself being caught by seeking me out? Who is, dare I say, worried about my well-being?”

He slides his hand up and down the length of your neck, his other stroking your cheek resting his thumb on the crease of your lips.

“I punish my soldiers for much less, and as any great warrior, I shall be fair by keeping all of my subjects to the highest of standards, you unfortunately, are not exempt.”

One minute you’re standing in front of him the next you’re being yanked by your wrist as he stomps towards one of the large chaise lounges, he sits abruptly and pulls you into his lap. He’s hard, the feel of his erection making you whine pathetically.

He holds you by your hips and twists you around, until your face is level with the ground, your ass resting over his knees.

The sound of unbinding thread pops in your ears as Geta rips your tolsa away from you, leaving you bare, your ass on display like a holiday feast.

“I’ve never gazed upon an ass as round and fat as yours, and believe me when I say this my puella dulcis, I will thoroughly enjoy watching it burn in scarlet as it bounces beneath my hand.”

You don’t have a second to comprehend his words before a large ringed hand is slapped hard across your backside, causing you to shriek in surprise and pain.

“Fuck,” Geta spit, “we’ve barely just begun, you should be pissing with glee that I don’t keep my horse whip in my study.” Two more licks rip out and you moan.

He laughs wickedly, his sultry voice shushing you as he rubs his hand over the globe of your ass. “Enjoying this are you? I’ve heard stories from soldiers and even my own father about the whores during their time, how they begged, fucking pleaded to be hit on the ass by a man.”

Geta slaps his hand down hard more and more until you’d lost count. That same scorching feeling in your lower belly and the wetness between your legs just like last night came back, and you moaned.

Humming between your lips, you relished in the ache in your back as you tried to hold yourself up. Trying to wiggle forward so maybe his hand would slip and miss your ass but touch down where you needed him most.

But you didn’t need to ask, Geta laughed through his nose before slipping his thumb through your wet cunt, groaning at the heat of your arousal on his fingers again.

“What a tight fucking cunt you have,” he grunted before rubbing your clit, “ filtjy girl—looks like those legends were true, weren’t they?”

“Please,” you begged, trying to swallow his fingers with your dripping pussy.

Your small pleads tore through him, his cock answering with a twitch as it leaked. He brought you up your throat, holding you in place and moving your hips along the stiff ridge of his length.

Geta sunk his teeth into your bare shoulder as you moaned, “can you feel what you do to me?” he whispered, “the torture you put me through, the hours I spend like this with nothing but you trapped in my head. It’s murderous.”

Purring his name he groans, licking sweat from your neck. “I haven’t had a single hour since the first night we met without having this happening without needing to release myself. Do you think I can be a leader to my people with such indecency? As if I’m a young boy discovering his own body and the feel of his hand again. You’re a snake, filled with poisonous venom to come here and kill me.”

He rips your clothes completely off, wiggling his middle finger against your clit, praising the gods at the angel like whine that whispers from your lips.

“… and like the gnat, the snake has bit me, feasting upon my flesh, constantly hungry. But it is I who is left hungry by your tormenting ways,” he whispers in your ear, licking the shell of it, “and right now, I’m starving.”

Geta hoists you up in his arms, kissing your neck and squeezing your skin wherever he can reach as he walks to the enormous desk full of scrolls. With one mighty hand holding you, he swipes the desk clean, tossing everything that was once organized onto the floor.

He lays you down on the wooden top, your bare back riddling with goosebumps from the cool hard surface. Looking up at him this was the first you’ve seen his face since first entering his study.

His eyes were black, wide and wild, the candle light throwing shadows onto his face making him look monstrous. Like a creature straight from the dark world, one from a story told to children at night to scare them enough to not leave their beds.

Anyone else would run at the sight of such a man. Scream and claw their way from him, but not you. You simply opened your knees wider, showing the dripping wetness to him, what he did to you.

Geta simply watched. Watched and breathed heavily like a predator before leaping to attack his prey. He stared as you sucked a finger into your mouth, he almost flatlined as you brought that spit soaked finger down the length of your body, your nipples pebbling.

He swore he met death when you slipped that glorious finger into your cunt, and gently pumped it in and out.

“This,” you murmured weakly, unable to contain your moans, “is what you do to me.”

He groaned, practically drooling at you laid out before him. You tipped your head back as a small gasp rippled through you. Lifting your shoulders from the desk you looked him in the eyes, “I guess we are both demented, enjoying the torture from eachother.”

“I didn’t want to admit it,” Geta blurted, his dark eyes piercing the night, scaring away the shadows. “All day I wrestled with it, how you could make me quiver like a lovesick boy. I turned away meals, laying in the darkness, surrounded by your bewitching scent.”

“If you’re so hungry,” you whisper seductively, opening your legs wider, your arousal shining in the candlelight as you remove your fingers from inside of yourself, “then by all means, eat.”

Geta didn’t wait another second before pulling you forward by the crook of knees, your welted red ass skirting across the desk. You giggled as he feverishly lowered himself and held your thighs wide, “keep these open for me.”

His tongue was like an eel.

Geta flicked his tongue at a dangerous pace against your clit, groaning into your sex as you whined his name again and again. His licked and sucked your cunt as ravenous as a truly starved man, his moans vibrating your walls, sending your nerve endings into a liquid fired frenzy.

You’d never experienced anyone’s tongue between your legs, but this was better than anything you’d ever imagined, nothing compared to the way your body electrified beneath his hands, his mouth.

Geta’s nose rubbed against your clit as he lapped up your arousal. The burn in your belly seared and unraveled as you screamed out his name, your body rigid and then uncoiling as your muscles spasmed and quaked.

Your hands wrapped in a death grip in his hair, holding him tight to your pussy as you came, Geta encouraging you through the pleasure.

“Fuck, look at you,” he said, admiring the way you leaked and dripped on his desk, “taste so fucking good, this cunt belongs to me,” he breathed.

It was lust and vicious desire emanating from him as he spoke. and you melted at the desperate way you craved him. Grabbing him by the nape of his neck you pressed your lips to his, tasting your arousal on his tongue, you felt drunk

He hauled your weak body up in his arms, murmuring something about wobbly legs. Geta kissed your forehead as he climbed the spiral steps that lead straight into his chambers. His bed was made, but the smell of sex was still lingering from the night before.

Geta laid you down on his massive bed, careful of the marks on your backside from his hand. You watched as he undressed, his arms showing protruding veins like a river in the fallen snow. A deep scar you didn’t recognize before on his torso, identical to the one on his neck. His eyes seemed to look softer, a deep honey simmering, catching the light.

When he spoke it wasn’t with malice it was with truth, “you are mine. Understand? Not Caracalla’s, not anyone else’s, I will slaughter any man who challenges that.”

Your heart races as you stare at him, rising to your knees in front of him, “promise?”

“Meus amor,” Geta speaks, holding your chin with his finger, “that is my veritas, I give you my word.”

You stroked his hair as you pulled him down to the bed on top of you. Pressing his curls back into an unruly position, you admire the handsome Emperor. Your Emperor.

Pressing your lips to his, you pull him deeper, swirling your tongue with his in a frenzied tango. His hips respond to your open legs and his cock slides in with ease, fitting like a sword in a sheath.

“You are a wicked one, my dulcis.” Geta pants in your ear as his hips pick up a butchering rhythm. Your combined breathing is ragged, choked and gasping.

Biting his ear he hisses, but you lick it better, the same as he did to you last night, only a drop of his blood on your tongue as you whisper, “then we are one in the same, destinatum ease, destined to be.”

With that he flips you both over, guiding your hips up and down, forward and back as helps you ride his cock. When you both cum it’s loud, skin slapping skin, your arousal pooling around his cock, his fucked deep inside of you.

Laying in the sweaty, sin stained sheets, you twirl a finger in Geta’s hair, his head laying on your bare chest between your tits, his hand holding your ribs. “Tomorrow I will have the servants change the sheets while I bathe you in my private pool.”

“Is my Geta turning sweet?” you tease, “what will Rome think?”

Turning his head those ravenous eyes were painted in the midnight onyx that they usually were, returning with mischief laced in the irises, a devilish smirk on his lips.

He moved like a serpent, biting your right nipple between his teeth and tugging, causing you to squeal in a pleasured pain that is snuffed out by his large hand around your throat.

“Do not be fooled pretty girl,” the villainous flames flickered again in his eyes, a feral twitch on his lips that made you wet between your legs, “malevolence coats my veins thicker than blood.”

—

latin translation:

vitiosus + deliciosus — vicious + delicious

prandium— lunch

puella dulcis— sweet girl

meus amor— my love

veritas— truth

destinatum ease— destined to be

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@eddiesguitarskills @prestinalove @palomahasenteredthechat @wiltinglovers @razzeith

@workingwndrz @probablyin-bed @songforeddiemunson @avobabe87 @creative1writings

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#emperor geta x you #emperor geta x reader smut #emperor geta smut #geta x you #emperor geta x reader #emperor geta fanfic #geta fanfic #gladiator 2 fanfiction #joseph quinn

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gay-dorito-dust · 6 months ago

Note

After request the kiss on the cheek and gotmany likes, its too joyful for me. Im craving angst

Stans brothers reaction when Bill told them that y/n will and always died in every universe and dimensions like stuck forever as zombie/wood statue/etc, which y/n will die in their own dimension too in matter of time or months, time is ticking, they can’t change destiny (can they?)

Ford

Didn’t like those odds at all.

He and bill had history and who’s to say that this wasn’t just Bill trying another method to get inside his head once more by using you, his beloved, as a cheap tactic to do so.

‘I thought a being would have more tact than this Bill.’ Ford would say as the dream demon only chuckled.

‘Oh Stanford, do you really think I’d bluff about this? You should know me better by now that I do not bluff, I’ll show you instead seeing as how stubborn you are into believing me nowadays.’ Bill said as he then showed Ford of all the infinite ways you died throughout the multiverse:

Drowned

Stabbed

Possessed

Lost in the multiverse

Body snatched

Turned to stone

Went through a curse doorway unknowingly and never returned, etc, etc.

Bill took immense pleasure in the horrified look upon Ford’s face as he gingerly traced your face as though you turned into porcelain and not stone.

‘Sucks doesn’t it knowing they your loved one is bound to die in every single timeline, it’s enough to suck the joy out of everything.’ Bill said as Ford only glares at him. You don’t deserve these fates, none of your alternate selves did and he could only imagine what you could’ve possibly felt before dying alone.

‘Oh and your beloved y/n is on route to die in like five months.’ Bill casually mentions and Ford immediately looks to him again.

‘What do you mean by that? How do they die! How can I stop it!’ Ford exclaimed as he felt his heart race and his blood run cold at the sheer helplessness he felt in the moment, but it only proved to humour bill all the more. ‘Oh you can’t prevent this one Stanford Pines, they’ll die regardless of what you do to try and prevent it they’ll die regardless and you’ll have to live with it.’ Bill says before leaving Ford alone with his rampaging thoughts.

He could send you away to Dimension 52 to stay with Jheselbraum for the time being, just until he figured something out, but what if Bill foresees this move being made and goes after you himself? Ford didn’t know what he could do to protect you and it was driving him mad with Bill’s vague nonsense not helping him in the slightest. He’ll become paranoid of every little thing you did from that point onward to the point that even if you got a paper cut Ford was expecting something unfortunate to happen, but it never did.

Shit like this kept him awake at night as he holds you tightly against his chest, staring at the ceiling as though daring it to try and take you from him, which it didn’t but Ford grew skeptical of everyone you came across in case they were the catalyst for your death and kept himself near you at all times, hand on his gun in the instance he need to use it to keep you safe.

Ford would busy himself down in his lab to the point of exhaustion looking and theorising methods on how he could prevent your death, so much so that you’d have to come down and practically dragging him out because he was worrying you and the rest of the family. But Ford was stubborn as stubborn could be when it came to you and your safety that he tends to drown out your concerns for him, much to your dismay.

Ford believed that Bill was tempting him into making a deal to keep you safe but he knew that even as powerful as Bill was, even he couldn’t prevent something that he himself and told him happened across the entirety of the Multiverse. So Ford stuck to his guns and buried himself in work to keep you safe because he couldn’t and wouldn’t loose you if he could help it.

Stan

Doesn’t believe a thing Bill is saying in the slightest and thinks it’s all a pile of horseshit, up until the triangle demon shows him of all the infinite universes of which you did indeed die did Stan actually start to believe that Bill was actually telling the truth for once.

Zombies made you one of them.

Got turned to stone by a gorgon like creature and wasn’t saved in time.

Possessed by bill and had multiple stab wounds, bruises, scratches and lacerations from his misuse.

Submerged in amber/tree sap, face permanently stuck in horror.

Eaten by the Summerween Trickster.

Replaced by the shapeshifter after you were killed for being the imposter.

So many timelines where you’ve died cruelly or unfairly and it broke Stan’s heart knowing that in all of these universes his other selves might’ve been either too late, or made the wrong choices that he probably regrets as he downs each and every bottle of the hardest liquor in hopes he’d numb the pain.

He was destined to loose you no matter what and things weren’t made any better when Bill tells him that you were on route to die really soon, taunting him with the fact that there was nothing he, Ford or even the Pine Twins and their stupid pet pig could do to stop it; you’re death was an inevitability across the entire multiverse.

Stan hated being told that there was nothing he could do to prevent you from dying, he hated being told what he can’t do in general! So he’ll much rather take his odds with trying any and everything in his power to keep you safe and sound, even if it means dying himself he’ll do it gladly knowing you were okay.

He was already protective of you to begin with but with the added fact that you were bound to die sooner or later had Stan become even more protective of you. So much so that he doesn’t leave the shack without a crossbow or even his brass knuckles to fight off whoever or whatever was going to try and take you from him; hell he might even teach you how to fight should you get into trouble and he’s not there to protect you.

He keeps you by his side almost 24/7 at this point and would shower you in affection as though he was going to run out of time to do so, even going so far as to keep you away from walking under any ladders, tripping over anything and or crossing the street when you shouldn’t. However it got concerning to the point where you’d have to sit him down and ask what was wrong. Stan isn’t one to talk about his emotions nor how he felt about certain things but this was something he knew he had to share with you sooner or later, regardless of whether you believed him or not.

Stan still thought Bill was full of shit and even acted like he didn’t believe him about you dying and everything, but deep down Stan was scared that his best attempts to keep you safe wouldn’t be enough and that you’ll be taken away, regardless of how hard he fought back but Stan wasn’t one to easily give up not when his loved ones are involved.

#gravity falls x reader #gravity falls imagine #gravity falls imagines #gravity falls #stanford pines x you #stanley pines imagines #stanford pines imagines #stanford pines imagine #stanley pines imagine #stan pines imagines #stan pines imagine #stanford pines x reader #stanley pines x reader #stan pines x reader #ford pines x you #ford pines imagines #ford pines imagine #ford pines x reader

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psychotic-nonsense · 17 days ago

Text

It's happening again.

With Max, it's attempting new tricks on her skateboard. With Dustin, he takes apart and reassembles basic little trinkets. With Nancy, she rewrites old news articles. With Mike, he reorganizes the D&D dice box he's been carrying everywhere since Will left (and even after he came back). With the Sinclairs, it's spinning something - a basketball or pen or keychain or hair tie.

The loud music isn't uncommon, nor where it's coming from. But where the source is, and what kind of music it is, feels like something reserved for times like this.

Steve wasn't supposed to be out here, technically. He's on his lunch break, and he wanted a change of pace from the Family Video parking lot. He drove out to the edge of town - Keith doesn't give much of a damn how long their breaks are anymore - to find that cliff only he really knows how to get to. Helps that his Beemer is like a second heartbeat.

But on his way out, he hears the music.

How the hell Eddie got his van out this far into the woods, Steve's never gonna figure out. But there's loud ass music coming from it that's different to Eddie's usual type. More replicable, mainly, something that sounds like an actual song yet still has Eddie's whole screamy vibe. As Steve gets closer - having parked by the road just outside the woods - he can hear another voice singing along with their full chest.

That's when he realized what it is.

It's that violent restlessness. The buzzing feeling in, under, becoming every inch of your skin. Paralyzes you from doing anything substantial, yet everything else you try to do doesn't make the feeling fade. So you're stuck in a repetitive motion while stuck in place and it feels like exploding from the inside with nothing bursting out.

Most of The Party gets it bad nowadays, since the Upside Down was sealed away. Years of living on the brink of death to suddenly being plopped back into the mundane. Steve especially got it from the lack of sports, which worsened the Upside Down buzz.

Steve knocks on the van's back door, hoping it drowns out the music to not startle his friend too badly. He tries the door, which opens easily, and floods the woods with guitars and drums and voices.

Eddie doesn't startle, but neither does he move. He's laying down on the floor of the back, the precautionary blankets there all twisted up and scattered about in evidence of motion. One hand is tugging hard at the roots of his hair, the other snapping hard along with the music. One leg is bent up and bouncing, and his chest heaves in an attempt to keep up with Eddie's shout-along singing.

"Yeah, you said a single word,

But no one really heard,

Sometimes we scream alone!

It's always worse at night,

When darkness kills the light,

You're in the danger zone!"

It irks Steve in just the wrong way, seeing Eddie frozen like this. Gets him to leave the door open, walk around to the stereo sitting in the passenger seat, and hit the thing silent.

"What?" Eddie snaps immediately. The van rocks as he sits up.

Steve ignores him, just walking back around to the back to smack the side of the van. Noise will keep Eddie stable in this state. Eddie, who's staring at Steve with that adrenaline-fueled glare, jaw tense, sharp where he doesn't mean to be. Steve makes his words stern, to cut through the buzz no doubt rushing through Eddie's ears. "Up. I'm getting you out of here."

"'M fine," Eddie bites back, flopping straight back down with a bang he doesn't feel. One of his hands goes back to his hair.

Steve just reaches down to grab the end of one of those blankets, tugging hard. Eddie just moves an inch, but he flails like the bat tails are back around his ankle. He sits back up, eyeing Steve with a malice he can't mean. It's Eddie and he never does, not even when he's high on fight or flight.

Steve just nods to the outside world, repeating, "I mean it. Come on."

Eddie's jaw tenses just a bit more, before he rolls his eyes and scoots to hop out. Steve backs up, lets Eddie jump out of the van with too much motion, slam the doors shut and pat them in a goodbye both too hard, lets Eddie grip his leather jacket too tightly as he leads the two of them back to the Beemer. The snapping comes back a few minutes in, but Steve leaves it be.

Doesn't pick on Eddie not wiping his shoes, nor for slamming these doors shut or not buckling. The police has had more to worry about them than some unsafe driving. Steve just turns the radio up a bit too loud, leaves the snapping alone, and drives them along the edge of town.

He stops when they get to the junkyard. Doesn't say anything, just gets out and goes straight to the trunk. He hears Eddie follow him outside as Steve gets the not-nailed bat from the back, then slamming the trunk shut to keep Eddie's attention (no matter how much it and the slam prior hurt his soul).

Steve walks past Eddie into the heart of the junkyard. He spins the bat, scanning the ground, and finding an old can-looking thing. He picks it up, tossing it into the air a few times.

Then he tosses it once more, rears back, and hits the shit out of it.

The loud crinkling of metal and crack of wood creates an echo that slices through the residual buzz forming in Steve. He watches it fly haphazardly in the air, spinning randomly before landing on an old car, another echo to cut the buzz.

Eddie doesn't react verbally, but that's fine. Steve just finds something else - a piece of tire - and hits it too. Does the same to a crumpled sheet of metal, then another can-shaped thing. Feels the buzz get torn to pieces with every satisfying echo and vibration of conflicting action coursing through his veins on each hit.

When Steve finally turns to see Eddie's reaction, it's just the snapping fingers to really get his attention. Everything else about Eddie's body language says confused, curious, hungry.

His body still screams, and here it sees something that will listen.

So Steve holds the bat out by the barrel, handle to Eddie, and waves it at the junkyard around them. "Go ahead," he urges.

Eddie eyes it confused for a moment, but he eventually pushes off the side of the Beemer he was leaning against. Makes it to Steve with steps that still feel too hard, but takes the bat. Stares at it, spins it once to get the feel, but still hesitant.

Steve walks past him to retake that place on the Beemer. Eddie watches him go, still confused.

As Steve settles in, he motions again to the open empty junkyard. "Who's going to hear you?" he says.

'Only who you want to hear you,' goes unsaid.

Eddie blinks at Steve a few times more, then down at the bat. Spins it again, looks around. He spots something, stomps over to it, picks it up. A can. Tosses it up once, nearly doesn't catch it.

He looks around again, goes to a car beside him. Sits the can on the hood, steps back. Gets into a stance that feels at once natural and amateur, but Steve doesn't dare.

Because Eddie hits the can and it goes flying, with a crunch that gets Eddie to laugh a little.

Now he's really moving, looking around for something more. More metal, plastic, rubber, anything he can feasibly hit and some things he can't. It gets heavier, harder, doesn't go as far but that means the impact is in rather than out. Cuts through the buzz like nothing.

Soon Eddie takes off his leather jacket and really gets going. He's looking for glass and throwing it far and hard, feeling every shatter in his own insides. Grabs the bat again, starts hitting the vehicles, smashing the windows in further. Drops the bat again, finding unbreakable things and throwing them on the ground, on cars, against other smaller things. Looks like he's going ballistic but it's just the energy finally finding freedom and release in something.

Steve watches it all with prideful satisfaction.

Eddie digs through a pile of rubble, grabbing something evidently interesting. It's stuck, it's difficult, but that manic energy is nothing but insistent. Eddie eventually pulls it out, a rusted old metal chair far heavier than it seems. But Eddie just laughs at the challenge.

He picks up one end, and starts fucking spinning. One heel barely keeping him balanced, he spins and spins and spins. The chair gets lighter, his arms rise with the momentum. And finally, with a growl as cathartic as the destruction, Eddie throws the chair into a car, watching it shatter the glass and dent the metal in a loud bash of sound and noise and release.

This, it seems, is what finally curbs the buzzing. Eddie slumps over with the action, panting and laughing a little. He stumbles to the side, barely losing his footing in time to catch the side of that infamous bus and flop to the dirt beside it. He's panting and breathless and red in the face, but ultimately... satisfied.

Steve resigns himself to the bucket beside Eddie. Leans back against the rusted metal that saved his kids' lives, handing Eddie a water bottle from the storage in his trunk. Eddie takes it with an especially rough huff. Steve takes it as the thank you he knows it is.

Eddie gulps down a quarter of the bottle, spills another quarter on himself on accident. He leans his head back to stare at the sky, panting in relief.

"How... the hell did you know...?" he eventually gets out, still not looking at Steve.

Steve just stares at the patch of grass in the center of their little courtyard, forever greener from the cutlets that rotted there. Shrugs. "Just a hunch."

----------

2/4/25 Edit: Adding in some lyrics from "Breathless" by Dio (1984) thanks to the lovely suggestion by @finalmoondragon !!!!! Everything is the exact same as the original post the only difference is the lyrics :]

#currently experiencing this violent restlessness but unlike the party mine isn't coming from anywhere #so hoping venting it - and the solution i wish i could do rn - will curb the buzzy #giving steddie my stims and stress relief (snapping and hitting things with a bat) bc yes #ive been listening to gossip by måneskin for the past hour #what time appropriate song would fit for eddie's restlessness spiral? i can't think of anything #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #written with the intention of them just being friends but you're more than welcome to think of it as #steddie #steve x eddie #also this did help i don't feel as buzzy :]#(also also update on the song we got one :D)#(put it in bc it actually does fit pretty damn well thank you my friend)

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paymechildsupport · 10 months ago

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ᴛᴇᴀᴄʜᴇʀ!Ryomen Sukuna x M!ʀᴇɪɴᴄᴀʀɴᴀᴛᴇᴅ!Reader //“𝗠𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝗺𝗲..?”

Request, @zxuii

--- "HI HIII first off, i love your writing style, i actually adore it lol. Second I want to request Teacher!Sukuna x Male!reader that was also a sorcerer from the heian era, a powerful one who gets jealous quite often of the attention Sukuna gets since back in the Heian era the only ones who where close enough to Sukuna was reader and Uraume (Unless Uraume didn't exist in this AU or smth happened) so a lot of fights between them break through since Sukuna isn't good with communication either. You can decide if you want this too be Angst in general or paired with something else i don't mind!! :))"

((I love this <3))

-!! M!Reader (he / him)

-!! Wee bit of angst (he's just a saucy boy) + goofy kinda smut (dunno what kind of style it's called lol)

-!! stuff ain't proofread 🥶

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

･・❥・---------------------------------------------------------------･・❥・

Sukuna remembers you vividly from the past; from that time 1000 years ago. How could he forget? Such a flamboyant character, – power exuded with every step, the earth seeming to shake with every fall of your foot. A wandering swordsman: a rather powerful sorcerer who curiously didn’t belong to any one clan. You’d spend your days traversing the earth, sleeping in the empty shrines near villages, taking commissions and odd jobs from just about everyone– human or not.

Sukuna found it odd how you didn’t align yourself with the standard belief of sorcerers: you were benevolent to cursed spirits like him, you didn’t have the sudden impulse to exorcize, to destroy. Perhaps it was your lack of loyalty to a clan, or the fact that curses could offer prices just as good– if not better, than humans. Either way, it was quite interesting when you crossed paths for the first time; him, the terrifying, all powerful King of Curses, – four arms and two grotesque faces, towering over you, a humble traveler, – and you just stood there, – smiling, at him, – the rumored monster of Ryomen Sukuna.

He was absolutely astounded, – had this guy not an ounce of fear? The singlest shred of self-preservation? You should be screaming– running, – begging at his feet for mercy, – not making small talk

“Nice weather, huh?”

“Excuse me? It’s pouring”

“Oh, I hadn’t noticed 😋”

He could sense a staggering amount of cursed energy from you, much more than the average sorcerer– let alone human.

“Nice jugs btw”

“???”

Bud was flabbergasted – he could only watch you walk away with a big grin on your face. Later that evening he had to bring it up to Uruame, who was cooking up the latest harvest of human bones:

“He said you had a nice chest.”

“Huh, usually one would think to say that to a woman–”

“Perhaps the sorcerer thought you were a woman”

“What.”

Ever since he’s had an affinity for you, a fascination… an obsession. He needed to know everything about you, – your goal, your motives, your desires, your deepest and darkest of fears, – the most depraved of thoughts of this strange sorcerer who had the gaul to compliment his chest like he was some kind of street whore.

He ran into you the next day at the same village, just as you were about to leave. You acted so nonchalant, like he was just another acquaintance, it was truly fascinating and… dare Sukuna say, endearing. He initially went there to kill you for your audacity from yesterday, yet he ended up only shit-talking the village folk wit you, – the old swordsmith who swore there were devils living in his chimney, - the old woman by the creek who was rumored to drown passerbys in the water next to her tiny abode, - the sleezy thug of a priest who thought it was funny to scam you for cleaning his shrine free of charge (whom Sukuna ended up gutting shortly afterwards). The curse was left to, yet again, return back to Uruame with new rantings of you

(just let them cook in peace 😭)

The next day, a band of those pesky Zenin showed up, – and Sukuna thought the opps were on him again. Turns out, not only were you not apart of any specific clan, but you were also quite unpopular with a majority of sorcerer society. After finding out, Sukuna couldn’t help but rush to your aid, determined to cleave the gang of sorcerers in half for trying to harm such an interesting specimen of his. Imagine his utmost surprise to find them not only beat upon his arrival, but diced up and dead on the forest floor, too.

He was beyond impressed: a seeming clanless nobody such as yourself had chopped down about a dozen of one of the most powerful sorcerers of the time. You saw him staring from afar, waving and flashing that stupidly charming smile of yours. Sukuna couldn’t help but invite you back with him, the dozen dead bodies in tow

Uruame cooked up a mighty fine dinner that night, one the three of you enjoyed together (yum, human flesh). From that day on you were part of the gang: you, Sukuna, and Uruame. Most days you would be off for up to months at a time, simply doing your own thing, going town to town. Whenever you’d run into your good pal as he was burning down the latest village you’d make sure to have a nice catch up over a warm meal (cooked by Uruame)

You and Uruame got along, – they liked the fact that you could often cook together, Sukuna– being useless as shit in the kitchen – was barred from helping lest he incinerate everything

But alas, you were mortal, fickle; temporary, – and no sooner did you come into his existence were you cruelly ripped from him, – finally effectively jumped and killed.

Sukuna almost couldn’t believe it: you never lost- you weren’t supposed to lose, but you did. You fought valiantly, taking an impressive number down with you. In the skirmish, Uruame disappeared, Sukuna was reduced almost to dust,-- miraculously he survived, albeit incredibly weak. They sealed a majority of his power away in his severed fingers.

Now, weakened immeasurably and down a pair of arms, – momentarily without his chef and darling sorcerer, Sukuna had a change in heart

No longer did he want to be the bad guy, he wanted to be good, to help others, – to help the future of jujutsu sorcery (nah, that’s some bullshit, he just wanted to continue being fed, and he could only be if he became a teacher in sorcery, lol)

—----

Flash forward to modern day…

—---

Seeing you once again, reborn, was a complete whiplash for Sukuna.

You recognized him immediately, obviously, – he was your man after all <3 (even if he denied it)

Poor baby had to physically restrain himself when he saw you back to kicking ass as a modern day jujutsu sorcerer, having not changed an ounce since he last remembered you

You miss his four arms, – almost more than Sukuna did. It disappointed Sukuna to see you disappointed with his lack of arm power. Still, he only needed two arms to absolutely destroy you--

After the incident with Yuji Itadori accidentally consuming one of his fingers (which made Sukuna livid– blud has been sweating and grinding to get those fingers back, and to find out some random goofy ahh kid decided to munch on one? And they wanna give him MORE??) – Sukuna has been absorbed more than ever into his work.

You adore his students, – especially Megumi, Nobara and Yuji – (much to Sukuna’s dismay) and oftentimes will stop by his lessons just to bug him in front of them

You were still the same insufferable charmer as before, shamelessly batting your eyes and making crude comments to catch him off guard:

“Hey cutie ;) “

“Hell do you want” he sneers, “wish to be my example for today’s lesson?”

“Nah, just passing by, – those pants make your ass look fat by the way”

“What.”

“Toodles !!”

It infuriated him, much to your delight

It was different now, back then it was just you and him, Uruame bearing the only witness to your shenanigans. But when you say those things in front of those brats, – the same brats who were taught to fear and despise his kind, who were suppose to be intimidated by him, – it makes his job of maintaining the tough, snide “King of Curses” just that much harder

Yuji, with all the time he spent with Sukuna as his main mentor, would ask about you frequently: what you were like 1,000 years ago. Whether it was the nostalgia or purely the fact it was you, – talking about it always softened Sukuna’s grueling and harsh belittling. Poor Yuji could only catch a break when Sukuna started saying “Back in my day..”

“Sukuna-sensei?”

“What, brat?” Sukuna paused, casting an unimpressed glare over his shoulder

Yuji propped his head onto a fist, leaning on the desk in front of him. The empty classroom was dimming with the setting sun, the vibrant colors that always made Sukuna wanna barf invaded through the windows from the sunset, painting the empty classroom a colorful ombre,

“You said that odd man who likes to hang around you was around 1,000 years ago, right?”

Sukuna’s eyebrows scrunch in annoyance, “Yes, and?”

“What was he like? Does he act the same as all those years ago? How’d he get reborn? What was your relationship like?” The curse wanted to punt the kid across the room with all his silly questions. Instead, – knowing you’d dislike it if he hurt Yuji, – he opted to take a deep breath, air hissing through his teeth, before answering,

“Mm, you brats are so invasive, – the world doesn’t revolve around you selfish vermin.” sighing, “but fine, I’ll entertain whatever silly fantasy you have about me in your head; he was a sorcerer, a pretty damn strong one, too”

“But you didn’t kill him-” Yuji interjects, confused

“No, I didn’t”

“Why, were you two good friends.?”

He growled at the quantity of the questions, causing Yuji to scoot back in his seat slightly,

“No– well, sort of. I’d assume you could say that.”

“No-? Really? Kugisaki thinks you two are dating”

Sukuna’s jaw almost drops to the floor,

“What.”

“Yeah, – Fushiguro says you two were together back then too, with the way you look at each other”

With the way he-?

“Was he your like… private prostitute or something?”

Sukuna has never heard such fuckery before:

“No. – I’d suggest you’d stop wherever you think you’re going with this, brat.”

“Did you bang though?”

That threw him for a loop, and Sukuna couldn’t help but wince at the term. “Banging” was a poor choice of words, – such a word couldn’t possibly do what you two did justice.

No, you didn’t “bang”

Sukuna couldn’t help but be drawn in by you, – your attitude, your carefree-ness, your power, he wanted it all for himself, – which he sometimes did

Those endless nights of pleasure where’d he just lose himself in you, - your affectionate caresses, your sweet nothings whispered into his ear that cast shivers all throughout. Sukuna was used to hearing praise showered upon his name, – his devotees throwing themselves at his feet to worship the ground he walked on. But he didn’t care for their praise, – not like he did yours. Your kind words were treasured, craved. If only you had been a woman: he would’ve made you a concubine, – no, – his wife.

—---

His ego is fragile, witnessing you tearing apart his terrifying image horrifies him.

Unfortunately for Sukuna, you couldn’t stop dotting on your pretty princess :3 It all came to a boiling point when you saw one of his colleagues start to cuddle up just the littlest bit too close: and he just let them. Seeing Mei Mei acting so clingy with the King made something in the pit of your stomach drop. Your envy boiled, sour and ripening into an ugly weed. It was obvious she held no actual affections (because one, – Mei Mei only lives for cold, hard cash, – which Sukuna didn’t really have on him, which was odd— and two, he was way too old for her tastes)

You just couldn’t help yourself, – he was wearing such a tight shirt, it hid nothing.

“Yo, nice tits”

He was done. You were done sullying his name with your filthy words, – you were done humiliating him. And he made sure you knew that too

He had pulled you into his empty classroom, all the students and staff long gone. Sukuna towered over you, cold glare sending a delicious shivering cascading through your body,

“Enough.”

“Eh..?” you wince, your voice sounded all wrong, too high pitch and breathy, “enough of what?”

Your damn smile again.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Your humiliation is not appreciated.”

You scoff, “humiliation?”

He glares, “silence, brat” he firmly grabs ahold of your chin, forcing it upwards, making you look him directly in those creepy, maroon eyes.

One moment Sukuna has his emotions underwraps: he’s focused, – locked in, – he’s not going to let something as fickle as human ‘love’ hinder his plans. The more assertive the better, he would not be walked on – but he also didn’t want to accidentally lash out and do something he ends up regretting

The next thing he knows, Sukuna starts spiraling,

“You insist on following me, stalking me for over 1,000 years, – it’s pathetic” wait- what? No, he didn’t mean it like that

“--you mortal brats are as measly as ever, it’s no wonder you died to your own kind” pause, no, no, no, no, no….-- what was he doing? He didn’t actually mean that-

“--killed by fellow sorcerers: pathetic. Dead and reborn, you’re still the desperate mutt crawling back to me..” Stop. Make it stop. Someone stop him. Stop/

“Uruame should be back here instead, seeing you is the biggest disappointment in this millennium”

Oh..

“... fine then.” Your voice is quiet, small. Don’t look at him like that.

Sukuna’s eyes widened, but he couldn't seem to say anything, his tongue glued to the roof of his mouth. Instant dread pools into his stomach

“I see how it is. If that’s truly how you feel…”

“Wait no–” Sukuna starts, immediately tensing up as you lower your eyes onto his. He swallows, hard. He hated the dejected, – the defeated look on your face. You looked so sad, and Sukuna couldn’t bear to see you sad , – something that terrified him to no end, — you terrify him to no end. You elicit the most exotic of feelings within him, reviving his ancient, rotten, worm eaten heart to a thunderous boom. Sukuna is reminded of the times back then: you laying in the field, hand twining in his hair, lightly scraping his scalp, – him sighing in content like an old dog. There would be the half eaten corpse of some unfortunate sorcerer off to the side, and you’d occasionally hand feed one or two limbs to the second mouth on his stomach, tongue out and awaiting like a dog’s for a treat —Such tender moments, the power you have over him makes him feel weak in the knees. Every instinct within him told Sukuna to run, - to protect himself from this threat that was your adoration. The thrill gnawed at him from the inside, – but oh, the ecstasy from it felt so good.

But he was Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses – he couldn’t face having such an open weakness – taking on a lover would feel like he had gutted himself, taking away a fundamental aspect of his existence as a character. You just have to keep stoking the flames. ,

… “nevermind, just go. I could care less”

You do, closing the classroom door behind you, and Sukuna can’t help but feel as if half of his soul leaves with you. This happened every time: he’d push you away, only to immediately regret it, craving deeply for your validation.

Shit, seems like he really did have a lot to learn when it came to such fickle human emotions.

He’d make it up to you, – he always did.

—-------

You were the only one to bring him to his knees, the only deity the King would bring himself to worship , – and what a divine thing you were.

Those nights of infinite passion, – you underneath him, (and occasionally him under you–) he’d take you with the utmost care. Ryomen Sukuna has never been “gentle” with something, – let alone with another living individual, – but with you his touches were always so attentive, so skillful and purposeful. He never wanted to hear you scream in anything but pure pleasure.

On the most precious of those nights, you’d coax the sweetest of noises from his lips. You could’ve sworn he has whimpered, despite his firm denial.

You were his God.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

A/N: thank you for the request <3

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whatsk-poppinhomies · 8 months ago

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Pairing : OT8 x F!Reader TW : reader death ; heavy angst. (Bangchan : hospitals ; Chan in denial) (Lee Know : sudden reader death) (Changbin : drowning ; mention of police) (Hyunjin : reader has seizures ; reader in a coma) (Han : car crash ; descriptive scene of the crash ; mention of blood) (Felix : reader suicide ; Felix is angry ; slightly descriptive post mortem reader) (Seungmin : car accident ; Seungmin in the hospital ; Seungmin injury) (Jeongin : really nothing descriptive ; nothing but angst) Word Count : 3.7k A/N : This one was really sad to write, but I love angst so it was kind of fun too! I hope you enjoy! I know they’re kind of short though, I’m sorry! Request : @moon0fthenight : “24 hours after skz’s s/o death”

Bangchan

Sitting in the hospital room, the buzzing of the fluorescent light bulbs that hung above his head filled the silence from the lack of your heart monitor beeping. He stared at the empty bed, refusing to take his eyes off of it. Maybe if he stared hard enough you’d finally show up.

He didn’t want to leave the hospital without you, even though the doctors, the guys, his managers, his parents, even your parents had told him that he couldn’t wait there forever, that you weren’t coming back.

How long had it been since you had been rushed out of the little room? The TV was still on the same channel, the tray of food that had been brought to you still sat on the little pull up metal table. He wouldn’t let the doctors take it away. “She’ll be hungry when she gets back.” He would say every time someone would come in to try to clean up the room. Pity would have the doctors and the nurses relenting, backing out of the room to leave him with his grief.

24 hours he’s been without you, and he had only truly had you for less than a year before you had fallen ill. It wasn’t fair. You had been stolen from him so quickly, he didn’t have the time to process what had truly happened. He was in denial, and in the back of his mind, he knew that you weren’t coming back. That didn’t stop him from sitting and waiting still, because he wasn’t leaving. Not without you.

Lee Minho

“I’m fine.” He lied, sitting in the dorm room surrounded by all of the guys who were trying their best to be there for him. “I just want to be alone.” Not exactly though, he didn’t want to be alone, he just didn’t want to be around anyone if it wasn’t you.

Waking up in the morning beside you, it was always like waking up in a dream, the way your eyelids would flutter as the sun shone through the window, waking you in the most beautiful way. It’s how every morning began… So why did that morning have to be any different? What had gone wrong?

His eyes opened that morning, landing upon you as they would, but this time, your skin was colorless and your lips were blue… How did you still look so peaceful? It took him a moment to realize what was truly going on, and he wished that he didn’t realize at all. Would he have been able to just fall back asleep beside you? Would you be okay when he woke back up?

No one could give him answers, there was no definitive cause… You just… Decided that it was time to go, and you did. How could you just leave him like that? You didn’t even say goodbye. You didn’t give him the chance to say goodbye.

24 hours later, and he refused to go back to the apartment he shared with you. As long as he was at the dorms, he could continue to believe that it never happened, that he had never even met you, because he once he stepped through the front door, all of those memories would come rushing back, the good and the bad, and he’d have to face the fact that you truly were gone.

Seo Changbin

It was supposed to be a fun little vacation for the two of you to celebrate your 3 years anniversary. He had been so excited for it, you had been excited, everything was perfect. The trip was specifically for you, all you had talked about was how you felt bad that you had come down with the flu during your honeymoon, having to cut the trip short. This was the chance to try it again, and you both were ready for honeymoon take 2.

The current was strong, there had been warnings about it posted all over the beach, the lifeguards had warned everyone that it wasn’t safe to go far out in the water. “You’re stronger than the current, Binnie.” You had chimed, his ego swelling as you clung onto him. He just wanted you to have a great time, he wanted you to be happy, he loved seeing you smile…

He wasn’t stronger than the current, but the sound of the lifeguard whistle blowing hadn’t stopped him from carrying you out, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck as waves crashed against the both of you. It only took one wave though, he lost his footing, and that’s when he lost you. He just wanted to make you proud, he wanted to make you happy, he wanted to have a real honeymoon with you…

“She’s not gone…” Changbin kept repeating. The guys were currently flying to him, police filled the hotel room where your suitcase still sat propped open in the corner. It had only been 24 hours and the interrogations seemed never ending, but he wouldn’t give up on you, not when you were still out there somewhere. You’d come back to him, you have to.

Hwang Hyunjin

A seizure. That’s all it was… you had them rarely, but he usually knew how to handle them and how to make sure you were okay. Why was this time different? Why did it have to be different?

His hands had been shaking when he tried to call for help. He misdialed. Was it his fault? He was already crying by the five minute mark… Was he too focused on crying? Could he have done more? He tried to hold you up to keep you from choking as he waited for the paramedics… What else could he have done?

You were flailing so violently, he could barely hold you still. It was terrifying, but still, not as terrifying as seeing you strapped to a gurney and rushed out of the house as your body still seized against the straps that held you down. He felt guilty for not riding in the back of the ambulance with you, but the paramedics had told him to follow behind, and in his state of shock, he didn’t have the mental capacity to argue.

Would you have been okay if he rode with you? He got stuck at a red light as the ambulance sped forward in front of him. It wasn’t long, but it was long enough he supposed. By the time he reached the hospital you were already being rushed down the hall, and he could only stand there and watch as the emergency room doors shut right in front of him, his last view of you was through the tiny rectangular windows.

A coma… It had been 24 hours and you still hadn’t woken up. The breathing tubes and IV’s that were connected to you had him crying every time he looked at you. He couldn’t even stay in the room longer than an hour before he started hyperventilating from crying so much. You weren’t dead… But the way everyone was talking, they made it seem like you might as well have been.

He wasn’t going to give up on you though, he’d pay as much as he had to, he’d visit the hospital every day for the rest of his life just to tell you he loves you, that he’s waiting for you, just in case you can hear him. But for today, he’d sit by your bedside and hold your hand, singing to you songs that he knows you love, hoping that you can still hear his voice.

Han Jisung

Your hand was in his as you walked down the road, streetlights and the bright headlights of passing cars illuminating the two of you, your journey aimless, just enjoying the time you get to spend together. The silence was calming, there was something about just simply being the company of someone that you love so deeply that can put your mind at peace. That’s exactly where he was, a peace that was unreachable unless he was with you. That’s how he knew that you were the one, the only one for him.

Headlights moving closer, becoming brighter, enveloping the two of you in a shroud of a nearly blinding white light. Tire squeals and the honking of a horn… It was too late. No more than a second was how long it took for your hand to be ripped from his, and it was like everything was moving too fast for his mind to fully adjust. The sound of your body colliding with the steel frame of the car, the sight of you being thrown yards along the road before you fell back to the ground with a muted thud. The crumbling of the car as it smashed into a light pole, metal wrapping around metal, like nails on a chalkboard and emitting a horrid stench.

A couple more seconds to process, and then a guttural scream as he ran over to you. The lingering warmth that was left from when your hand was still in his wasn’t enough to keep him grounded. Your body was mangled, your arms twisted in a way that he had only seen in the horror movies that he’d watch with you. A pool of blood forming beneath your head, your eyes still wide open in a perpetual state of shock. It didn’t take a genius to know that you were gone, you had literally been ripped away from him in the worst way possible.

Sleep wasn’t an option, no matter how tired his body felt, whenever he closed his eyes all he could see was a constant replay of you on the ground, or you moments before hitting the street. The first and only time he had even attempted a simple nap, he had woken up screaming and all of the guys had to run in and try to help him.

“Ji…” Minho whispered as he walked into Jisungs room, the lights were all out, the man's face illuminated only by the phone screen, the brightness turned all the way up, making the dark circles under his eyes more visible and more prominent. “This isn’t good, you need to sleep… Please…”

“I should have been walking on the road side…” Jisung mumbled back, his body already beginning to rock and shudder, the incoming tears were unavoidable. “I should have moved her away faster… it should have been me… I saw her… I watched it… I didn’t know what to do… She was just… She…” Along with the tears came hyperventilation, and then retching once all the mucus built up in his throat. It happened almost every hour, his guilt eating away at him, his brain working overtime to try to think of a way that things could have ended differently.

It’s not like it mattered though, he couldn’t change the way it all happened, you were already gone. All he had left was the phantom feeling of your hand in his, a feeling that he clung onto, because once that feeling faded away, that’s when you would be fully gone.

Lee Felix

“You know that I love you, right? It’s not your fault… I want you to always remember that, no matter what. I don’t deserve you though. I don’t deserve anything… And I’m tired. I’m just so tired, Lixie… I’m sorry.”

It was sent at 3:38am eastern standard time… He was sleeping… 2:38pm korean time… If he was there he would have been able to stop you. He was on tour, you were back at home. Everything seemed fine when he left, he told you that he’d be back in 2 months, it was one of the shorter tours… It was like you waited for him to be gone… Like you didn’t want to be stopped, you didn’t want to be saved.

As soon as he saw the message when he woke up, he sent one of the managers to the apartment. He knew what they would find, he already knew, and he was already booking a flight back to Korea. The emotions hadn’t fully hit him yet, they were there, but they didn’t have a chance to really kick in until he was sitting in the airport, a text from the manager confirming what he already knew to be true.

He cried himself to sleep on the flight, and even while sleeping, his body shook from his raspy breaths and tears seemed to subconsciously fall from his eyes. All of the guys went with him, not wanting him to be alone, but most of them were in a state of shock as well, and a majority of them just cried with Felix when he did wake up.

By the time he had gotten back, you had already been identified by your parents. Felix went to visit them, offering his condolences and apologizing for not being able to save you. They didn’t blame him, but they didn’t have to, he was already blaming himself. There had to have been something he could have done to keep this from happening, and it only made him angry when everyone would tell him that what you had done would have happened regardless if you really wanted to do it.

“I want to see her… One last time, I need to see her…” 23 hours and 45 minutes, that’s how long you had been gone, and up until now he had been too scared to even think about seeing you. But it was getting closer to the funeral and he knew that he wouldn’t have any other chance to, and he would only be able to rely on pictures and videos of you afterwards.

“Felix, that’s probably not a good idea. You shouldn’t… You don’t have to do that to yourself.” Chan tried to reason, placing his hands on Felixs shoulders. “She wouldn’t want you to see her like that… Just, wait until the viewing… Then you can say goodbye.” Goodbye? There was nothing good about this, and Chans words only angered him more.

“I’m going. I need to see her.” He said more sternly this time, pushing past the oldest member and walking out the door. Maybe he should have listened, maybe he should have just held onto the memories of you that were living in his mind and in his phone. Once he saw you, he felt everything at once, and he couldn’t stop crying, he couldn’t stop screaming, he was losing his mind.

“Why did you leave me?! Why would you do this?! Fuck!” This image of you was one that he wouldn’t be able to forget, cold, lifeless, laying on the metal table. It looked like you were sleeping, and he wished that he could just make himself believe that you were. “Wake up! You need to wake up now! We have so much to do and… And you just really have to wake up, angel! Come on!” Once he tried to lift you off the bed, that’s when the doctors rushed in, having to pull him off of you. He was thrashing and kicking and screaming, and all anyone could do was cry as they watched from the hallway. He had lost you, but they were slowly losing him because of it… Felix was gone, replaced by a bitter sadness and an anger towards himself that would never go away.

Kim Seungmin

“Seungmin, I think that person behind is drunk or something. You should really just let them go around…” You had said, turning down the radio and watching through the rearview mirror as the car behind you swerved in and out of lanes, coming closer and closer to the back of Seungmins car.

“We’re fine. It’s probably just one of those assholes that’ll weave in and out of traffic and piss everyone off.” Although you saw his eyes narrow as they flashed up into the rearview mirror, cursing under his breath before flicking on his blinker to change lanes. Just as he began to move into the other lane, the car hit the back of Seungmins. It happened in a flash, his foot slamming on the brakes as his right hand flew out to hold onto you.

That was the last thing he remembered before waking up once again, the flashing lights of the emergency vehicles and the sound of metal scraping metal as the car door was being cut off. He tried to turn his head, but that’s when the pain kicked in and he let out a scream… And then the panic set in when he didn’t hear you. Had you already been taken out of the car? He slowly moved his head in your direction, biting back the scream that threatened to escape him as the pain shot through. “Y/N…?” He whispered your name when he saw you, but there was no response. “Honey… Answer me please…” He pleaded, his breaths coming faster, but they were restricted as the seatbelt strained against his chest. This couldn’t be happening… This was a nightmare, it had to be…

“How are you feeling?” Hyunjin asked from the couch at Seungmins bedside. He was still in the hospital, being monitored for the concussion he had gotten from the accident. It had been 24 hours, and soon he would be discharged, but he’d be walking out alone, he’d be going home alone. You didn’t make it, the airbag on your side hadn’t deployed and… He didn’t want to think about what the doctors had told him, he was trying to hold himself together, at least when the guys were around.

“I’m fine.” He muttered, staring straight forward, refusing to look at Hyunjin because he knew that if his hyung saw the tears that had begun to bead up in his eyes, he would only make things worse. “I really just want to go home now. I’ve got a lot of stuff to sort through, I’ve got a lot of phone calls to make.”

“You really don’t have to do all that by yourself. The guys and I… we can help, we want to help. We know that-” Seungmin groaned loudly, cutting off Hyunjins words before he could finish them. He had heard this before from Chan and Changbin. Yes, you were gone, and yes, he was devastated, he was broken, he was pissed, but he knew that if he was given time to dwell on it, things would only be worse.

“I’m gonna sue him, I’m gonna sue him for everything he’s got. I don’t care about the money though, I don’t want his fucking money, I don’t need him to pay my medical bills, I don’t want anything from him but his suffering. I want him to suffer… I want his life to be living hell because that…” His voice broke, his fists balling up the blanket that covered him as a choked off sob escaped him. “That is how my life is now… Without her… So if you could just… Kindly let me handle this… On my own… That would be great.”

Yang Jeongin

“Robbery at local store : 4 Injured and 1 Dead in a Robbery Gone Wrong”

“Isn’t that the Alexander McQueen that Y/N works in?” Jisung asked as he watched Jeongin scroll through the news article that was still live at the moment. Of course it was the same store that you worked in, that’s why he was reading the damn article… Although he didn’t say that though, he wasn’t going to be shitty towards one of the guys just because he was panicking a little bit (a lot).

“I’ll just call her real quick… They already caught the person who did it. She should be okay now.” Jeongin said, trying to keep his voice from wavering. He didn’t want to let on that he was slowly but surely losing his mind not hearing anything from you.

The line rang a few times before it was picked up, and after some silence, a throat was cleared. “Hello.” A male's voice came through the speaker and Jeongins heart sank. “This is Detective Lee, who is this?”

“Her boyfriend. Where is she?” Jeongin didn’t introduce himself as anything but your boyfriend, right now his only worry was your whereabouts and why you hadn’t reached out to him. If something like this was going on in his building he would have called you already to let you know that he’s okay.

“Sir, I’m… I’m very sorry… But-“

“Nope!” Jeongin cut the detective off, pushing himself up off the couch that he had been sitting on, catching the attention of the other guys that sat around the room. “That’s not funny, don’t mess with me like that. I-I’d really like to speak to her now. C-can you put her on the phone? Please!”

“I know that this is hard for you… But we need you to come down to the hospital… and identify her…” The detective said solemnly, feeling Jeongins pain through the phone.

He broke, right then and there, he broke down. He threw his phone across the room, not caring as the screen shattered to bits against the wall before crumbling on the floor. His hands flew to his hair, pulling at it as he let out the most pain filled scream. The guys caught him before he could fall to the floor, their arms encircling him and trying to hold him up.

No amount of time would make this easier for him, but the hardest was the first 24 hours. His eyes were burning from crying so much, his throat burned, his chest hurt. He couldn’t even move, he felt so weak, his head hurt and he felt sick. He couldn’t stop crying, whenever he would stop, he’d think about you and he’d cry again, the sobs were heartwrenching, curled up in the fetal position and clutching onto your pillow.

You’d never lay beside him again, he wouldn’t be able to wake up to your morning kisses, he wouldn’t be able to cuddle beside you on the couch anymore. You were gone, you’d always be gone, you were never coming back. A piece of him died when you did, and that would piece of him, his heart, would always be with you, wherever you were, and he’d wait forever to finally be with you again.

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ma1dita · 1 year ago

Text

about you

this was a request! read it here

words: 4.3k (longest one yet ohmy)

summary: james potter takes ‘easier’ for granted and finds out he now has a living reminder of that

warnings: none! sort of au, everyone lives and they win the war— angst angst angst, maybe open ended!!! groveling james and reader is a MOTHA (afab!)

a/n: guys i missed writing angst…i’m a deeply sad soul at heart so i enjoyed this a lot. I listened to ‘night shift’ by lucy dacus writing the first half, and ‘about you’ by the 1975 for the second half,,,,, both on repeat. i don’t mean to post at ungodly hours but i hope you enjoy!

posted: 11/11/23

—-

Insecurity is an ugly thing. It tugs at your frame, holding your shoulders hostage and your countenance shriveled in a scowl as you slink forward in your seat. But what should the rational reaction be when your boyfriend, the one you’ve planned out the rest of your life with— takes you out to dinner on a random Tuesday and then decidedly backtracks on everything you’ve built together? Your ears are ringing loudly, and you dumbly ask him to repeat himself when he says he wants to take a break.

“So that’s it then. You’ve made your decision and I just have to be okay with losing a year and a half of my life because you aren’t sure if you love me?” Your tone cuts through the fraying tether that holds you two together in the corner booth.

James for once, is at a loss for words. He wasn’t really sure of what to expect when he brought you here tonight, but any reaction to his admission was bound to hurt the both of you. You had to have known about his hesitations. Graduation was three weeks away, and everything was about to change, whether either of you liked it or not. Stupidly enough, James does love you, but that’s not the problem. The proximity he’s had as Head Boy working with Lily Evans makes him wonder if the life he lives is what’s meant for him. It keeps him up at night, gnawing at his resolve and comfort in being with you. He feels ungrateful to have it so easy. Loving you is easy. But the imposter syndrome sneaks into his room late at night in the form of ‘what if’.

“I…it’s just the timing of it all. We’re about to leave Hogwarts, and I don’t want to tie you down if I know I’m unsure of my—our future.”

He reaches out to grab your hand, and many a time ago, his sense of awareness was what you admired about him. You’d both get this familiar feeling of needing comfort, and within a minute, your fingers would intuitively find the other’s like it was second nature. Now, the thought of his touch might make you break his hand off to serve on a silver platter.

“Fuck your timing. If you think it’s as easy as making the decision to just quit while we’re ahead…. I love you. Don’t you…Is that not—”

You clear your throat, the fire in your indignation being stifled by the whimpering feeling of knowing this was going to happen. The understanding of his plight, the knowing that he wants more. You could see it in the way his eyes wander when you all hang out, and you could feel it when he needs time to himself before bed, letting you back to your common room in the late hours alone. Screw your heart for appealing to his indecisiveness, his fear, when the final blow is aimed at the relationship you both once wanted together. Head Boy and Head Girl share living quarters after all. What chance did you stand against the girl he fell asleep a room away from? Maybe he dreams of her too, what you couldn’t give and what more she has to offer.

“Tell me something James,” you choke as your body heaves with something akin to nausea. Being lovesick isn’t as romantic as it seems. The hopeless feeling in your tummy throbs as you clench your fists to keep it all down.

“Whatever you want.”

His reply makes you laugh, desolation gripping your esophagus. Who knew feeling empty would feel like drowning? There is no more air left in your lungs that it almost incapacitates you, your last breath spilling out your final ask of him.

“Do you love me? What did I do?”

The noise and chatter around you seems to fall silent as he zeroes in on your face, crestfallen from the words that leave your lips. It isn’t your fault, but how can he tell you that? At 18, he’s feeling stifled by the privilege of having his life all planned out for him. He knows people spend their lives searching for contentment but James can’t decipher if he’s right for all of this pressure falling upon his shoulders. The societal heir of his father’s business empire. The face of the upcoming war, bringing in a new generation of soldiers to fight.

Deep inside, he’s a wild spirit just wanting to live, to be free. And it scares him that you’d follow him to the ends of the Earth, that there isn’t much thinking involved, just doing. The lack of autonomy stifles his soul. How does one know if they’re meant for more? James doesn’t want you to have to suffer the consequences if he can’t figure it out himself.

“I love you honey. So much it hurts me. I just wonder if it’s enough.”

Your hands clatter onto the table, bumping your half-empty pint of butterbeer as you gather your things, shoving them into your knapsack as his final blow hits your senses. And all he does is watch you, face transfixed as if he sees nothing, like he isn’t making the biggest mistake of his life.

There’s no going back after this, you think silently as you steady your trembling hands. There’s also no way in hell you’ll let him see you cry. Fuck that. Your eyes fall over the curls that drape over the frame of his glasses, his face cradled by candlelight and dear Merlin, do you love this boy. All of him, even the parts that don’t reciprocate the feeling. This is the final snapshot in your memory of him, because this fleeting moment will have to be enough.

“I hope you get everything you ever wanted James. For my sake, I hope I never hear a thing about it.”

Perhaps having the last word will absolve you of the feeling that desecrates your entire essence as you put one foot in front of the other, pushing past the door of the Three Broomsticks and out into the unknown. But it’s not enough.

—

The break in routine absolutely shatters you, if we’re being honest. A year and a half of loving him, and three more before that of liking the slow steady burn that is James Potter…. It’s like looking at the world with new eyes and this window of opportunity with graduation nearing is your chance of starting anew. There’s also the custodial aspect after the end of a relationship, and it’s hard to separate the rest of what’s yours and his in your mind. Your friends are his, and his are yours. It makes quite a predicament to not have things so easy as they consider who to eat lunch with, or who’s dorm to hang out in. Hopefully, things get easier with time but you’re not as confident as you once were.

A part of you feels like you don’t belong anywhere anymore. James is the sun, after all; a natural leader— everyone revolves around his ingenious ideas and the light he brings. He’s the one who always has a plan, and everyone follows in his stead. Where do you fit in all of that? Where do you go?

His parents are likely the loveliest people to ever grace the wizarding world. Euphemia catches you by the arm after the graduation ceremony as you’re about to take the 7th year boat back across the Black Lake. With no family in attendance and no boyfriend to dote on, niceties were expended quick enough to want to run out of there and never look back.

“Darling, are you leaving without a goodbye?” Mrs. Potter smiles, calling her husband over both with grins made of sunlight.

Somehow it resonates in your brain that it’s finally over, and your lip trembles when they pull you in for a hug that rivals your hunger to be loved. You think that even if your parents showed up today, it wouldn’t have felt this kind.

“Congratulations dearest! We’re so proud of you,” Fleamont rumbles, a big man with an even bigger heart as he brandishes flowers out of thin air to hand to you daintily. You’re going to miss them terribly. Is it wrong to want more of this? But you remember why it’s not as James’s cologne floods your senses and his silhouette creeps into your periphery. Your smile grows smaller as you two stare at each other and breathe the same air for the first time in almost a month. Whatever’s thrumming in your being, he holds the key to. Mr. and Mrs. Potter try to loop you into a photo together, the magical kind that moves to capture a memory so intimately but both of you stand perfectly still as his and your hesitant dismissals go unheard.

Loving hands fuss over both your caps and the way hair sticks out until you feel your shoulders jostle together for a moment and his hand lands on the small of your back. The flash goes off as you two look at each other in something that still resembles love. You can’t unlove him, not in a day, a month, or ever, you think. Not if you’ve bared your soul to him, even if he hurt you.

You look away first, urging your heart to come back to reality. He’s not yours anymore, and you still love him. Alice told you earlier that he asked Lily out on a date for next Tuesday. What you were supposed to do with that information you’re unsure, but the feeling in your belly helps you say goodbye to the Potters, and clarify that they can keep the picture since you’re not James’ girlfriend anymore. An awkward silence settles over all four of you.

Euphemia rubs your cheek, hushed promises of keeping in touch while Fleamont looks at his son in confusion. James’ hand flexes in the absence of your body against his. He simply watches you walk away again, alone, while he’s surrounded by his friends and his family. The beating of a tiny heart matching your own as you hop onto the boat proves otherwise.

—-

A baby.

You think back to when it must’ve happened, the weekend before that Tuesday, when everything still felt right. With your last exams of your academic career finally done, both you and James were tangled in his silk sheets until dawn, an amalgamation of passionate whispers and lingering touches you could still feel in the days that followed. As you stared at the flutter of his eyelashes and relished the way he pulled you closer in his dream state, you were quite sure that he is, too, tangled within your soul to let go. That your doubts were residual anxiety from preparing for the future. For the first time in a while, you were reaffirmed that the boy sleeping next to you was your forever. Not being careful was a consequence of feeling safe in his arms, and subconsciously, you both hoped that everything would work itself out. As you walked out of the Head Students’ Lounge past noon with James’ hickeys as a necklace and donning your boyfriend’s shirt, you noticed the blush on Lily Evans’ face. You were just so sure, but that felt like forever ago.

Your parents weren’t happy when they came back from their business trip two months after graduation to find you four months along with a prominent bump and filled with so much fear. All plans of getting a job, of moving out, and joining the Order were now replaced with the startling fact that you are 18 and don’t have a single clue on what to do next. Your childhood bedroom feels smaller tonight, with both your parents standing at the door, all of you unsure of what to say. You can’t remember the last time they tucked you in, but as your dad takes a seat on the edge of your bed, it seems possible that maybe you won’t be alone in all of this.

“Whatever decision you make will be the right one, sweetie. If you love that baby, then we do too,” he sniffles, and you don’t recall having ever seen him this emotional before. One thing you are sure of, is this baby is loved, and made from love. The next is that England is not a safe place to raise your baby.

Somewhere far away, in a hidden place guarded by some of the most experienced wizards, the Order of the Phoenix meets again to determine the future of the wizarding world. James’s eyes dart back and forth from the door to whichever adult is talking about the next mission. You didn’t show up again. All of the meetings so far where he was always the first one to arrive and the last to leave in hopes of getting a glimpse of you, and you never showed. There’s a deep worry that haunts him as the months pass by, and he knows that it would be easy to send you a letter, or to show up at your door, but he’s probably the last person you want to see.

“We’re going out for a pint, you ready to leave James?” Lily whispers into his ear, arms curling around to his chest. But he’s not ready at all, sat on the sofa with his eyes on the door, just in case. Trying to love someone who’s still in love is a losing battle, Lily thinks, as she watches her boyfriend look like a child missing their favorite blanket. But in a war like this one, no one would be foolish enough to decline company.

“I’ll meet you there,” he smiles, leaning back to kiss her cheek. It’s cruel to both of them, the way he’s acting knowing that Lily won’t ever be you. Every chance he gets to have a moment to himself, he thinks of the despondent look on your face as you walked away from him and his parents that day. No more anger at all, no biting words or the fighting spirit that he knows and loves. Both of you just accepted what was to come.

Sirius and Remus approach him later after everyone’s left that they got word that you moved to America. He thinks of what could’ve been, and the thought of your safety is the only thing that lets his mind rest as guilt pushes and pulls at his heartstrings like waves.

He’s spent these months fighting in the war, loving and losing that he thinks this isn’t anything like the white house and picket fence fantasy you both used to cook up. As he grabs his coat to leave, James wonders if by being away from all of this you’ll get to live the life you want.

—

“Okay honey, hold on tight to mama.”

Your little boy was almost bouncing off the pavement with a chocolate covered grin, and it makes you laugh harder than it should. Maybe Florean Fortescue’s was not the way to start off your son’s first trip to Diagon Alley, but your new job at the Ministry starts tomorrow and you’ve been missing your favorite stationery. The town was packed with people with the war having ended and trying to start anew. You haven’t seen any familiar faces and maybe years ago that was a bad thing, but hope spreads over Diagon Alley with strangers smiling at Christopher as he skips on the cobblestone, almost tripping over his own feet at the entrance of Flourish and Blotts.

He runs forward to explore the store as you smile at your creation, letting him wander along the aisles as you have done years before. Being back here is like walking through a memory, and though it used to be home, you know yours is walking around in tiny bright red shoes that light up like his smile. Your fingers flip through the different quills and parchment on display, and after finding everything you need, you hear your son’s laughter in the opposite corner of the shop. Motherly instincts always prevail as your feet guide you to the sound of his voice, since he’s never been one to shy away from a friendly conversation.

“Did you find everything you were looking for, honey?”

James’ head whips up from the tiny boy he was entertaining with color-changing quills to see you, and he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose to make sure he’s seeing properly. The both of you go quiet as time stands still, with Christopher chattering at your feet.

“Mama! Look at this one, it goes rainbow!” he says, tugging at your coat to see the quill in James’s hand. The pieces start to fit together in James’ mind, looking at your pursed lip, then to the sight of this boy smiling with the innocence he had a lifetime ago. This boy, his son, has your eyes. You shake your head rapidly as he intakes a breath of air.

“Honey?” he whispers, knowing that was his name for you.

“So what, he looks like a honey,” you say defensively, grabbing your son’s hand.

He looks like my son, his eyes say—both of you look down to the child who’s all grins and none the wiser piping up.

“My name’s Topher!”

“Yes it is, and now it’s time to say goodbye to the nice man, okay?” Topher pouts and looks up at his father without even knowing it, handing him the quill.

“Keep it. I’ll pay for it, and then you can write to me,” he says almost desperately, losing grip of everything that he’s been trying to convince himself for the past 7 years.

“Don’t be weird, Potter. Don’t…” you shake your head, eyes misting over. Seeing him again brought back everything. It was already overwhelming to have a kid that’s almost the splitting image of him, to learn of a love so pure after one that’s wrecked you to your core, but being here, within arms reach… You’re 18 again and scrambling away from the corner booth trying to get away from the man you love most not wanting you in return.

“Honey, why don’t you give us a minute to talk? Go find me some cool enchanted stickers for me to bring to work tomorrow, okay?” Your baby runs off without even questioning it, his sense of adventure also inherited from his father.

“I’m…so sorry.” James moves closer to you, and you take a step back sighing humorlessly.

“For what? He’s an amazing kid. Even though… he wasn’t planned, I don’t think I could ever see my life turning out any other way.” You shift your weight to your other foot. He looks, successful, if that’s something he would be proud of. He’s wearing an impressive suit, and his eyes are a bit hardened by the past few years, but his charisma, his smile…. He’s still the boy you fell in love with all those years ago.

“I feel foolish. I was so scared to live my life and then here you are raising our child…”

You blink softly at his words, and it reminds him of your youth, all doe-eyed and full of want. You used to want him like he still wants you. In front of him is a grown woman, a mother who’s strong and filled with memories and love that he should’ve been a part of.

“Things happen for a reason, James. We both did what we had to do.”

His hand brushes yours, and you realize you’ve been without his touch for 7 years. 7 years of being scrubbed clean of James Potter, and not a single regenerated cell in your body has been touched by him. But your son is of him, so you think that no matter how this ends, there will always be a part of you that loves James too.

You extend an olive branch to have him come to your apartment this weekend and get to talk. He knows he doesn’t deserve this kindness, but you know he deserves to meet his son.

—-

The doorbell rings and you take a deep breath as you open the front door, looking up at him holding a teddy bear for Topher.

“He’s still down for a nap. Let’s go sit in the den.” You say quietly. The hallway is filled with pictures of your boy, and of you in different stages these past few years. He stops at a portrait of your parents with Topher being swung between them.

“Your parents….”

“Were supportive; I wasn’t alone,” you muse, knowing he knows of your strained relationship with them back then.

“They actually just retired early last year. Overworked themselves and finally comfortable, so they help out when they can. What about yours?” Trying to make conversation with your ex is terribly hard, but it’s in good spirit and there’s not much to do until Topher wakes up.

“They passed, actually. Mum at the end of the war, and dad 6 months after. Never wanted to be apart, you know that.”

Your face falls at his revelation, “I’m sorry for your loss. They were amazing people. Taught me what it meant to be a parent, for sure.” Amicable silence fills the living room before you clear your throat.

“I have to be blunt, James. What do you want from this? You must be married and busy, so if Topher can’t fit into that….”

“I’m neither of those things, honey. I want to try and see where this goes,” he says scratching the back of his neck.

Your heart stops at his endearment, catching yourself looking at him seriously.

“You can hurt me, but I’m not letting you do that to him. Back then, you were all I ever wanted love to be. And then I had my beautiful baby, and I suddenly knew my love meant more.”

“I never wanted to hurt you. It was a mistake, because I was too proud to accept that I had it good. That what I had was meant for me.” James grabs your hands, begging for you to understand. The lost boy he was is a lifetime away from the man sitting in front of you now. Though it’s touching, you keep your heart guarded because the little boy sleeping down the hall is your biggest priority. You hope he can understand that too.

“He’s not a placeholder for your dreams of wanting a family. You have to build that, I did that myself. I’m not going to let you string him along and then once you have a family of your own, you just up and leave.”

“I know. I was hoping the both of you could be my family, if you give me the chance.” You bite your lip as your thumb runs against his. It’s easier to forgive than to forget. But for Topher’s sake, you can try.

“Tell me something James,” you whisper, having needed to know this for the past 7 years.

“Why did you throw it all away? Was the idea of loving me…so terrible?” He tilts your chin up, and you think that the earnest look on his face is the closure you needed to properly forgive him.

“I’ve never stopped loving you. Loving you is the best part of knowing you. Do you think I ever forgot about you?” He chuckles lowly, brushing back a strand of your hair, and you think this could be dangerous if you let yourself get too close.

“I’ve thought about you everyday for the past 7 years, I just didn’t think I deserved you after everything I’ve done. I was so stupid, I am still. But I’m trying to be better.”

“You think of me but dreamt of her. Was it guilt?” Your hand grabs his as you move it away from your cheek, settling onto your lap. The air around you is suffocating.

“It took time for me to figure out that it was intention. Lily was a distraction. You’ve consumed me since the day I met you. My dreams, my thoughts… All of it is you. I choose to think about you as much as I can, because if I didn’t I was scared I’d forget all the good things about us back then.”

You both hear a thump from your son’s room and realize you’re wiping tears away. James stands up when you do, and both pairs of your socked feet pad closer to your son’s room.

“We start this slow. We make decisions together, and if there’s any inkling I get that he doesn’t want this, it’s done. You understand?” Your hands are firm on the doorknob as he’s standing close behind you, hanging onto every word.

“Every word. There’s no turning back from this.” He wants to ask another question, but before he can, your hand unconsciously finds his and your grip is so comforting that he notices himself sniffle.

“If it all goes well, and if you want, we can try again. But that’s in the far distant future, James Potter.”

“Anything you want, honey. That’s the future I’ve been dreaming of.” With you. Your lips quirk into a smile as they brush against his cheek.

Slowly opening the door to both watch your son wake up from his nap, your hand pulls James into the room behind you. Quietly, he sits on the edge of Christopher’s bed, and when his son looks up at him, you both notice the little boy beaming like the sun.

—-

“Everything you love is very likely to be lost, but in the end, love will return in a different way.” -Franz Kafka

taglist: @jsjcue

love me some tunes! i listened to this while writing:

night shift by lucy dacus & about you by the 1975

#made by ma1dita ♥︎#marauders era #james potter x reader #marauders x reader #james potter x reader angst

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leebitofficial · 1 year ago

Text

look!

fluff , dad!minho x reader

your muscles ached as you finally stepped foot inside your home after what felt like months. minho followed behind, gently carrying the carseat that held the newest addition to your family. he was being extremely cautious, careful not to wake her by accidentally hitting the car seat against the doorframe or carrying it so close to his legs that he hits it himself.

you needed a nap. bad. minho was more than willing to let that happen. just one tiny problem.

the nursery wasn’t completely finished yet.

your little girl had decided to come a little earlier than expected so you and minho hadn’t yet finished putting some of the furniture together. he could call chan for help, but that was too much of a hassle. all minho wanted at the moment was to be alone with his new little family.

when you had called minho at 2:30 in the afternoon on a wednesday while he was at practice to tell him that your water broke all over your brand new rug in the living room, he nearly drowned while taking a sip of his water.

he didn’t waste a single second in getting home to you.

you were in the hospital for what felt like forever. labor and delivery went quickly, but the doctors insisted on extra examination due to the fact that your baby girl was three and a half weeks early.

luckily everything was normal, though, your baby was completely healthy and so were you.

finally you and your little girl were cleared to go home, and now here you were, standing in your living room worrying about how you we’re gonna clean the rug while minho carried in your belongings, and of course the baby.

he gently places the carseat down on the floor in front of you.

“i’ll go grab the bassinet so i can build it while you sit with her. will you be okay? i’ll be quick.” he inquires.

you smile up at him from where you’ve sat on the floor next to your little one. “i’ll be okay, min.”

he nods and shuffles out the room quickly, and suddenly the cats are swarming you.

“hi babies! i missed you!” you coo at them as you hold one hand on the carseat in an attempt to be closer to your baby without waking her.

the three of them collectively sniff the carseat, and then the baby. they must be wondering who this new little person is that happens to smell like you and minho.

you pray that they don’t wake her up. she seems to not cry much overall, which you’re grateful for, but she needs the sleep after the long night you had of trying to feed her.

“okay, i’m back!” minho announces as he enters the room with the large box containing the pieces to the bassinet.

“min! look!” you say, waving him over as he whips his head around to look at you.

“oh-” he gasps.

he gently sets down everything in his hands to sit next to you and watch what’s unfolding before his eyes.

soonie rubs his head against the baby’s tiny feet while the other two continue to sniff around.

it was a precious sight. minho definitely didn’t tear up a bit. (yes he did)

suddenly you hear tiny whines and whimpers coming from your little girl as she wakes, kicking her feet around slightly.

“oh oh oh- no, shoo!” minho waves the cats away.

the cats scramble and minho rests his chin on your shoulder as you attempt to calm your sleepy baby. you wouldn’t be happy if a cat woke you from your nap either.

her irritation subsided and she was calm again, tiny fists flailing like she wanted out of her seat.

“i’ll take her. you’re tired, take a nap.” he insists.

“but min- the bassinet.” you remind him.

“i know, i know, i’ll take care of it, don’t worry.” he reassures, gently grabbing your baby girl from your hands and softly placing her against his chest.

“are you sure?” you ask, a part of you not wanting to leave yet.

“i promise.” he whispers as he places a couple very soft kisses along your temple.

you stand up and stare down at your lover holding what’s possibly the most precious thing the two of you could create as he coos at her and her tiny hands.

and as you fall asleep that sweet afternoon, minho works tirelessly with only one free hand to finish building all the things you could possibly need for your baby. and not once did she stir in the safe hold of her father.

a/n: my mimo 😞 i love him so terribly

#skz fluff #skz scenarios #stray kids #stray kids fluff #stray kids x reader #lee know #skz x reader #lee know x reader #lee know fluff #skz lee know

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mrsriddlenott · 3 months ago

Text

I put a lot of my own anxiety and insecurities into this and just portrayed it kinda how my mind feels in stressful situations where I doubt everything. This is basically my way of coping with the stress of….well everything rn.

Warnings: Anxiety, Insecure reader, Mention of cheating but no cheating ever occurred, Brain working against reader, Small panic attack, Suggestive at the end. Not proofread.

{masterlist}

~ Anxious ~

Your heart beat pounded heavily in your ears over the music surrounding you, your eyes unable to pull away from the scene in front of you. You didn’t want to think JJ would cheat on you. You hadn’t considered it, but as you watched him and Kie talk like nothing and no one was around them, doubt began to settle in your chest.

“It was insane, the biggest wave that I had ever surfed,” JJ explained with excitement, his eyes on Kie from beside you, his arm that had draped across your shoulders now lays nonchalantly against the back of the couch. You’re brain keeps trying to convince you it means something. It can’t mean anything.

Does it though?

You had already heard this story many times before, so had Kie even though she was there. Of course. But somehow with him it felt like it was new. “Do you remember that time when we-“ You start softly making JJ briefly turn to you with those bright excitement filled eyes he wore so often around his group.

Or was it around Kie? You couldn’t tell anymore.

Before you could even get past your first sentence his eyes were shooting away from yours immediately at the sound of her voice cutting over yours.

Maybe he’ll tell her I was talking?

Maybe she didn’t notice?

“Oh wait, Jj” Not you, just JJ, you thought trying to ignore the pang of emotions that hit your chest at being interrupted. “Even better, that time when we all almost got caught at the party in that creepy abandoned house and when we got to the Twinkie-“ JJ was laughing before she could even finish the story and soon they both were, leaving you confused and left out when the warmth of JJ’s arm finally slipped out from behind you to clutch himself as he laughed. “Well you know what happened.” Kie said between laughs after attempting to continue.

“I don’t,” Your chest constricts, clutching your words in your throat, forcing your voice to come out soft and scratchy while attempting to get their attention. When your small, anxious voice is drowned out by their combined laughter the feeling of jealousy and anxiety fuled anger fills your chest, your eyes bouncing back and forth uncontrollably between them while they start to calm down. Will he put his arm around me again? You ask yourself, your thoughts beginning to spiral down a road they never had with JJ.

Does he even remember I am here?

“Need a drink.” You rush to speak, your voice harsh abd upset while shoving yourself aggressively off the couch and away from the man that is supposed to bring you comfort. It wasn’t your intention to be rude, or aggressive but you just couldn’t find it in you to care.

It’s not like he will notice my tone anyway. You tell yourself, slipping silently around the crowded room to reach the drinks. You can’t stop yourself as your brain starts falling into a pit of overthinking, forcing yourself to take deep breaths in the hopes that you could calm down, take a few shots and be able to ignore these feelings until you were alone.

I bet he won’t even follow me, will he? The voice in the back of your head blurts out again, pushing tears past your eyelashes as you desperately try and hold them in. The thought has your head filling with heavy fog, your eyes searching for a life line, beginning to realize that you don’t even know anyone here besides his friends. Their friends.

Not like I have any of my own anyway.

Your scattered brain wastes no time in reminding you of that fact, your eyes nervously scanning the room, the music seemingly booming louder than it was a second ago as your ears begin to ring and your breath speeds up. You notice the room staring to feel smaller, your chest constricting with anxiety like the walls around you are closing in. You can’t understand why you aren’t able to just calm yourself down like a normal person.

I bet he wouldn’t even care if I left. Wouldn’t notice for hours. Your brain screams at you as you try and hide in the bathroom, locking the door behind you and letting your body relax against the door, falling down slowly, cradling your head in your arms and allowing yourself to cry quietly. You wanted your brain to just shut up already.

God you’re so toxic. What’s wrong with you. No wonder he prefers her, she can hold a conversation without stuttering through her anxiety. She is exciting, she likes everything he likes and knows the lingo-

“Hey, y/n are you okay?” JJ’s voice breaks through your thoughts, the knock of his two fingers against the hollow wood of the door making you jump slightly.

“Yeah, I’m fine, it’s just crowded out there. Don’t worry you can go back to the party.” You try to control the sadness in your voice, wiping your eyes despite the tears still profusely wetting your cheeks, but you could almost hear the look of confusion on his face as he spoke through the door.

“But I don’t want to, not without you.” He sates, jiggling at the door knob before realizing it was locked, “Can I come in? You sound upset.” The fist trapping your heart tightens at the soft nervous chuckle he releases when you don’t respond at first. You can tell he has no idea what to do, or what upset you.

It’s not his fault you’re like this. He deserves better. He wants to have fun, not run around after me.

After taking a glance in the mirror to ensure your face was as tear free as it was going to get, you click the lock on the door, letting it creak open as you walk to rest against the sink, avoiding his gaze that you can feel burning into the back of your head.

“Are you okay Princess?” He asks, shutting the door behind him to give you privacy, the sigh in his voice as he sees you leant forward only eggs your anxiety on further. He’s annoyed with me now, you think as tears flood down your cheeks uncontrollably, forcing you to gasp for a breath you know won’t come.

“I-i was just overwhelmed at all the people I didn’t know,” the sentence gets caught in your throat, your eyes closing so you can imagine the lie in your head, “I’m okay, you can go have fun with your friends,” you try, wiping your eyes of tears to turn to face him with a straight face but he sees right through it. Like he aways does.

“You’re crying Gorgeous what happened? Did someone say something to you?” He asks, his voice sounded angry but his hands were soft as they reached up to grab your face, examining you like a piece of delicate china, “Did someone do something to you?” His voice was more urgent this time, startling you as you pull yourself out of his grasp and turn away again.

“No, no I’m fine I just need a second okay.” JJ can hear the squeak in your voice, can see the way your shoulders rock slightly with silent sobs. His heart starts to beat rapidly at the thought of everything that could have gone wrong, he didn’t want to lose you, he needed you. You grounded him and kept him from going absolutely crazy at every small inconvenience.

“Why won’t you look at me Princess? Did I do something?” His voice comes out as beg, wanting you to just tell him what happened, “Are you mad at me, whatever I did I didn’t mean to I promise I’m just a fucking idiot please tell me and I’ll explain.”

Your bloodshot eyes lock on his when you turn to meet his gaze and he knows this was him. He caused this somehow. His brain started going through each and every interaction he had with you in order to pin point what he did before finally remembering you didn’t even want to come to this party in the first place. “I can take you home and we can just hang out alone if you’re not having fun.”

“I don’t want to ruin the night for you, I just wanted to calm down because I have no right to be upset.” You sigh, finally meeting his eyes as he steps closer to you wearing a small smile, wanting nothing more than for you to open up to him, “I’m just overthinking….things.”

“What things?” He asks, his voice soft and full of reassurance

“Um well,” You stutter, “It’s just that it made me feel really anxious when Kie interrupted me, it made me….my brain….think you preferred talking to her.”

“Oh….Baby I’m so sorry,” JJ sighs, finally stepping close enough to tug you into a hug by your waste, “I thought you were just too anxious about the party to finish, you should have said something I would have listened to you Princess.”

“It’s fine, I was just too drained to say anything. I shouldn’t have made a big deal out of it.” Your head falls to rest on his chest, the warmth of his arms around you slowing your racing heart.

“You call this a big deal? Nah Princess next time you wanna say something to me you say it, I don’t care who I’m talking to I want to hear you.” His lips brush softly against your head, his large ringed hands rubbing up your back in a comforting gesture.

“You looked like you were enjoying yourself, I didn’t want to ruin everything so I was just gonna calm down on my own.” Your voice cracks as you link your hands together against his back, allowing yourself to slightly cry at the thought.

“I don’t wanna find you crying in the bathroom because of me, I want you to have fun and when you’re not I want to know so I can fix it.” JJ’s voice is stern and confident as he moves you forward by your shoulders, forcing eye contact when he grips your chin with his thumb and pointer finger, “You are the most important person to me. I want to hear every single thing in that pretty head of yours, anything you worry about, anything you stress over, even if you think it will upset me. I would rather we’re upset together and working it out than distancing ourselves so one of us can have fun at the expense of the other.”

JJ’s gentle lips meet yours, your lips and cheeks still salty from tears, your hands shaking as they find their perch in JJ’s sandy hair. He steals your breath as he deepens the kiss, his hands roaming your sides and across your back as you tug him away by his hair. He groans his protest, his eyes still closed as he inhales your scent with his forehead against yours, “I love you, you know that right?” He whispers as his eyes blink open to meet yours again, stepping back to see you completely, his eyes dancing across you as if you were the only thing in the world worth looking at.

“I love you too, so much it hurts,” Your sad chuckle mingles with your words and JJ knows you’ll be okay, he’ll make sure of it. His head swims with your scent while it surrounds him, the look of adoration in your wet eyes as you smile up at him sends him reeling, his hands subconsciously tightening on your waste and his lip tugging between his teeth.

“I think we should get outta here,” his breathless, begging tone brings out a giggle as your head falls against him again, “You were so right earlier, we should stay in and watch a movie yeah?” The teasing tone of his voice sparks a fire in your abdomen as you nod your head, his hands already encircling yours and tugging you out of the bathroom towards the door.

The music is still entirely too loud as you search the room with your eyes, taking notice of the empty couches you had just been sitting at. A pang of regret hit you, imagining Kie being mad at you for….for what? JJ wanted to hear me, you remind yourself as you take a deep breath before speaking, “Where’s Kie? Did I upset her?”

“I have no idea. I followed you when I heard how upset you were, she’ll understand though she knows how I feel about you.” He states matter of factly, “Now, if we don’t get out of here soon we are not making it home before I just find somewhere nice and private to take you on my bike Princess.”

“What have I said that implies I wouldn’t enjoy that Jay?” You tease, letting your lips tickle the shell of his ear, giggling at the groan he releases from deep in his chest while his grip on your hand tightens.

~~~~

#jj maybank obx #obx angst #outer banks #obx season 4 #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank one shot #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank angst #jj maybank fic #angst #insecure reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank smut #obx smut

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