#that hurt my heart to have to replay that scene in my head

[sttoru]

·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. you’ve been one of sukuna’s many concubines for quite a while now. yet, you still cannot get rid of the jealousy in your system whenever he interacts with the other women in his harem.

wc. idk around 1 to 2k

tags. true form!sukuna x concubine!female reader. angst (hurt to comfort), fluff, suggestive at the end. heian era. you call sukuna ‘my lord’. reader gets called ‘brat, little girl’. size difference. no part2, don’t ask i beg. not beta read.

“get back here, brat,” sukuna raises his voice as he follows you. he isn’t one to care about others’ emotional outbursts, yet here he is, chasing you after you’ve poured out your heart to him.

you don’t know why you’re this upset. you do know, however, that it’s childish of you to walk away mid dinner. you should’ve just stayed seated and refuse to let the thoughts consume you.

now you’re speed walking down the hallways of the estate—your legs carrying you as fast as they can without actually making a run for it. your mind keeps replaying the ‘unsettling’ scene that caused you to flee.

you remember it vividly. the sound of sukuna’s low, amused chuckle. how intrigued it was because of something another concubine told him—how he stopped chewing to say something back to her. which he rarely does.

hell, you’ve never seen him laugh around his other concubines.

“i do not wish to talk to you right now, my lord,” you reply, voice raised so the distance wouldn’t make it a hassle for the king of curses to hear you. you know that feisty attitude of yours entertains sukuna to no end.

he raises an eyebrow once he’s heard your voice; how it’s dripping with envy and hurt. you’ve never reacted like that before—at least not in his presence. it made him want to figure out why and how.

though, he can easily guess the reasoning behind your sudden defiance.

“oh, that so?” sukuna hums. he’s lenient with you this time around. he could catch up to you in under a split second, but he decides to give you that sense of accomplishment first before completely destroying it. he walks after you slowly, your fast steps being the same tempo as his slow pace.

you don’t answer. you’re stubborn. you have no right to feel jealous. you are a fairly new concubine—only a couple months ago did you join sukuna’s harem. yet, the time spent with him was precious.

he treats you differently. everyone notices that. everyone tells you the same. you know he does by the way he lets you off the hook with most stuff you say and do.

you don’t know what you did to gain his favouritsm, but it’s addicting. his attention is addictive. real addictive.

you had sworn not to develop any unneccessary feelings for that ruthless sorcerer. but, with the way sukuna treated you so gently behind closed doors, it was impossible not to.

you eventually reach the doors to your chambers. you slide them open and wish to close them behind you, only for a big hand to halt those movements. you freeze in place and refuse to look up at the owner of that said hand.

“look up,” sukuna demands. his voice causes goosebumps to appear on your arms, but you still don't budge. he clicks his tongue. that’s your first warning. two more and your punishment will be carried out, “we can do this the hard way too if you want.”

you turn your head, your fingers curling around the material of your kimono. you really should not feel this way about a little interaction between sukuna and his other concubine. that is none of your concern. what he does with those other women is none of your concern.

and yet. . .

“i don't want to,” you retort. sukuna walks into your room with a sigh. each step he takes forwards, you take backwards. your back finally bumps against the wall next to your bed.

sukuna towers over you, his tall and big frame making you feel vulnerable. especially with the way those red eyes of his are staring down at you. he crosses all four of his arms before speaking.

“tell me what’s running through that head of yours,” sukuna inquires sternly. he isn’t playing around anymore, you can tell. you glance the other way—knowing that he will laugh at you the moment you tell him why you’re upset.

you have a feeling he knows the reason behind your tantrum anyway.

“it’s nothing of importance, my lord,” you shake your head and relax your tense shoulders to make you seem less upset. your words have some truth in them—you don’t think your feelings of envy hold any value to him.

sukuna sighs again. he’s trying his best not to be annoyed at you. you’re his favorite and he wishes not to sadden you any further. he steps forwards, one hand moving to cup the side of your face.

his rough fingers play with a string of your hair, “i’m not stupid, little girl. i don’t like it when my woman is in distress.”

your heart skips a beat. this is what confuses you—how he can go from stern to gentle and vice versa. it’s surprisingly unexpected, which makes you long for more. even if his behaviour is confusing.

you look up at sukuna. your eyes meet for the first time in a good couple minutes. the corner of sukuna’s lips curls up into a satisfied smirk. that’s one step closer to getting you to open up.

“now,” the king of curses lowers his head to your eye level, the proximity all the more nerve wracking. he holds your jaw super tightly out of the blue. it makes you whimper.

“spit it out.”

there it is. the duality of the man strikes once more. you swallow the spit that’s been building up in your mouth. you bite your bottom lip lightly, trying to gather and form the right words to explain yourself.

sukuna wouldn’t understand. he’s a cold-hearted man who doesn’t care about such ‘trivial’ matters. he’ll just call you stupid, pathetic or whatever other derogatory term.

you stop your thoughts for a moment.

“it’s really just a stupid thing,” you mutter. your fingers curl around sukuna’s wrist—the one hand he’s using to firmly hold your jaw. you take a deep breath in, “i did not like it when you, errr. . . when that woman talked to you at the dinner table.”

your voice is clearly dripping with jealousy. pure, pure jealousy. and for what? because he talked to his other concubine. you feel stupid. you thought you discarded your personal feelings for the sorcerer before you the moment you turned into one of his many women.

“that woman?” sukuna tilts his head, feigning ignorance. that little grin on his face tells you enough. he’s playing with you like some form of entertainment. well, technically you are.

he wants you to be specific. he’s forcing you to be by acting like he doesn’t know what you’re talking about.

in all honesty, sukuna’s already forgotten what that woman had said to him. it wasn’t and still isn’t worth remembering. all he can recall is your adorable facial expression when you saw him interact like that with his other concubine.

that little frown on your face was priceless. it makes him want to keep teasing you.

“you know who i am talking about, my lord,” you huff, trying to look away, but get stopped by sukuna readjusting his grip on your jaw. he firmly yet gently taps your cheek once and you know what it means.

“attitude,” sukuna warns with a quick hiss. he can let you say whatever you want to him, but you also have some limits regarding which tone you use with him. you apologise quietly under your breath.

the king of curses nods in satisfaction before releasing the grip on your jaw. his large hand trails down to your neck, thumb rubbing up and down your throat, “so, my little girl is mad at me because i talked to another concubine of mine, huh?”

you nod mindlessly. sukuna can easily get you to comply with him—to obey his every word, simply with his actions. the terms of endearment he uses are the cherry on top. they slip off his tongue so easily with you.

“tsk tsk,” sukuna shakes his head. his hand is now on the back of your head, fingers tangled into your hair. he’s staring down at you with a smug expression. he knows he’s got you wrapped around his finger, “how childish of you.”

you knew that would be one of the things he’d say to you. what you didn’t expect is for him to go for a kiss right after. his lips land on yours firmly, and to no surprise, you instantly return the gesture.

your arms wrap around his neck—your chest pressing against his. sukuna wastes no time in picking you up and letting your legs encircle his waist. he’s not pulling away for air to breathe and you don’t either.

“you’re going to listen to me, yeah?” sukuna murmurs between passionate kisses. he’s holding onto you tightly with two arms, his free hands roaming over your body whilst he pins you against the wall.

when you whimper out a weak, high-pitched ‘yes, my lord’, he smirks against your mouth before turning to kiss your neck. he slightly bites the skin to make sure you’re paying attention to him.

“i don’t remember what that woman said,” sukuna continues, nearly out of breath because of the kisses he’s leaving all over you. he easily grabs both your wrists and pins them above your head on the wall, “i was too busy lookin’ at a much prettier concubine of mine.”

he pulls back a little so he can look you in the eyes. you’re panting and embarrassed by what he just said. one of his hands finds your face again, tracing the shape of your mouth.

“my favourite,” sukuna whispers whilst licking his lips. you can see it in his eyes: he’s silently planning out how he’s going to remind you of your place. your place as his favorite concubine.

he dips his head back down, aiming for the valley between your breasts. he closes his eyes before sucking on the surrounding flesh;

“guess i’ll be nice for once ‘nd show you just what it means to be my favorite so that you’ll never dare forget it again.”

[yueebby]

𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 (𝐢) – 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

contents. period piece, forbidden love, ooc, angst (eventual comfort), yandere emperor!gojo, lovesick!gojo, servant!reader, obsessive behavior, lowkey unreliable narrator, time skips, 7.2k words of gojo unable to process his feelings

notes. sorry for leaving everyone hanging after the prologue (make sure to read or reread since it's been a hot minute!) TT but here it finally is!!!...not proofread soz :x

series masterlist | chapter 1/2

You haunt his dreams, he’s sure. Gojo never believed in superstitions or the supernatural despite what all those old geezers preached. That was until your figure started to appear every time he closed his eyes.

The familiar scene of you gets cloudier every time it appears in his dreams, but he knows it is still you. It’s nearly comical how even his subconscious knew of your everlasting beauty. Everytime, the same sequence replays: a grand celebration he had hosted in the palace in honor of a prosperous year of his reign. The two of you were overlooking the guests, seated at the head of the room.

You’re wearing court attire that was altered to fit solely you (it hugged your body in such ways that made Gojo’s head spin), fabrics and dyes all originating from foreign lands. In your hair sits beautiful hair ornaments, swinging with every movement you make.

However, Gojo knows it is not the materialistic items that make you beautiful, no, he knows that it was simply you.

“Has anyone told you how unnerving your eyes are?” You quietly comment, eyes still trained on the party in front of you. Satoru cracks a slight smile, not ashamed in the slightest that he was caught ogling you.

“I thought you said you loved them?” He blinks at you, attempting to lean closer to show off his blue orbs. “You’re starting to hurt my feelings, beloved.”

You purse your lips, subtly leaning away before he can initiate improper conduct. He does not take your action well, snaking an arm around you to firmly cage you in his hold. Normally, you would welcome his advances but you’d rather not be publically humiliated in front of the entire Imperial Court and all of the influential clanheads of Japan.

“Please have mercy on me, Your Grace,” You whisper, eyes flitting across the room, making sure there were no eyes on you. Luckily, everyone was too absorbed with the luxurious goods Gojo had imported for the occasion. It was the anniversary of his coronation, after all.

He makes a noise of disapproval, “Can’t. Must let these people know that you’re mine.” Gojo closes the gap between you and sniffs your neck, softly moaning at your scent. He knows that if the geezers looked up from their silver spoons they would have a heart attack at his public display of affection. Not that he cares. His unorthodox ways may make them livid, but Gojo knows they won’t do anything. He was going to pave the way for the Golden Age of Japan— with you by his side.

“Your Grace!” You giggle at the ticklish sensation left by his warm breath. Any attempts of shying away from him are fruitless.

“Don’t run away,” His other hand firmly places itself on your clothed thigh, restricting your movements. All of this is hidden by the table that sits in front of the two of you.

You’re looking at him with those shiny eyes of yours, silently pleading with him. “Can’t this wait until tonight?”

He huffs, “I have suffered enough today without your presence. Ijichi kept begging me to finalize the preparations, but who am I to care? My flower was too busy having fun without me.” 

“You and your dramatics. I was only away to tend the gardens in the Consort’s Pavilion. Which, might I remind you, is fading by the moment because someone refuses for me to stay there.” You tut, picking up your chopsticks to eat the delectable fish placed in front of you. 

Gojo’s stare never falters as he watches you pick up a small piece, eyes shining as if he were watching a spectacle. “You know I can’t sleep without you.”

“And I, you.” You pop the piece inside of your mouth, chewing happily at the flavor that fills your tongue. “You know, I–” You began, but were cut off by the sudden seizing of your throat. 

The chopsticks in your hands clatter loudly with the porcelain they are dropped on. 

Gojo's breath hitched, his eyes wide and trembling with horror as he watched you struggle for air. "My love?” he choked out, his voice cracking under the weight of rising panic.

Your hands immediately travel to your neck to alleviate the sudden burning feeling that blossomed in it.

“[Name]!” He shouts, large hands quickly rising to cup your cheeks. In a desperate attempt, he squeezes your cheeks to get you to spit it out. 

"Poi–poison," Your voice was hoarse, your face losing its color by the second. Satoru was frozen with fear. “Don’t eat it…Satoru.” With those parting words, you lose consciousness.

“[Name]?” Satoru’s hoarse voice can’t stop repeating your name like a prayer, hands lightly tapping your cheek as if it was going to bring you back to life.

Gojo wanted to laugh. Even when you were dying, you worried about him. Not that it mattered. You weren’t going to die. He refused.

Sometime during your struggle the chatter had stopped, and all eyes were on you. Satoru looks up from you to bark orders to the guards he had placed around the room. They leave to summon the Imperial Physician while Gojo is left clinging onto your limp body, praying to the Heavens above that they will grant him one more miracle.

—

Back in his chambers, Gojo’s head pounds, but he’s not sure whether it was the speed he shot up from his bed or the dream itself. He feels hot, sweat running from his bare chest that heaves to bring oxygen to his quickly pumping heart. He’s nearly certain his chest is going to cave any second with the way it constricts with pain. It was like he was a geezer, he humors silently.

“Your Grace?” A delicate hand cups his cheek. 

He follows the direction of the hand, eyes slowly trailing up the feminine body it belonged to, barely covered as a result of the thin silk nightgown that highlighted her natural curves. “Are you alright? It was only a nightmare.” She cradles his face, moving slowly in his vulnerable state.

Satoru breathes heavily, eyes widening as they travel from her breasts to her face, beautifully illuminated by the sparse moonlight leaking from the window. Her dark hair falls past her shoulders, obscuring some of his access to her skin. His beautiful mistress. He’s sure that she is whispering sweet nothings into his ear, but the images of his memory keep replaying in his mind, occupying it from functioning properly. ”Himiko, how did you–”

“I heard you and I couldn’t bear it.” Her finger softly caressed his flushed cheek, trying her best to ignore the bewildered look on her lover’s face. 

THE PRESENT —

The journey to the Inner Palace was a blur. After a long goodbye, a horse drawn carriage was sent to the front of Yaga’s estate the very next morning. Your mind was elsewhere the entire time, too busy mulling over your past and now damned future. 

That is why when the carriage comes to a complete stop in front of the servants’ quarters, you are startled to meet two awfully familiar faces.

The two are silent, eyes carefully watching you exit the carriage. The purple set of eyes steps forward first to take your bags from you. 

“Ah thank you Mister—“ Your voice trails off, eyes looking up from the dark robes in front of you only to be surprised with a familiar face. “L-Lord Geto?” 

His lips quirk up slightly upon recognition. “Welcome back, [Name].” Your heart throbs at his indifference from the last interaction you had. It is quickly concealed by the excitement in your voice when your eyes spot a comforting pair of eyes.

“And Kento?” You light up.

Suguru raises an eyebrow at your familiarity with the Imperial Chancellor. He knows he should be relieved that you held no malice towards himself and Nanami, knowing the struggle you were subjected to when banished. However, there was a foreboding feeling gnawing deep within his soul. Guilt? Fear? It was hard for Geto to put a finger on it.

Nanami simply nods in acknowledgment, but stays silent under Geto’s watchful gaze.

“[Name],” The black haired man starts. Your eyes return to his face. “I wanted to be the first to greet you here, but I suppose Lord Nanami must have had the same idea.” He chuckles lightly, but the mirth never makes it to his eyes. You don’t notice Lord Nanami stiffening up.

“To say I am flattered would be an understatement, Lord Geto.” You return the same sugarcoated pleasantries. 

Geto must have noticed your unease, reminding you, “Please, there is no need to keep your guard up around me. I don’t bite.” His voice has a teasing lilt. It does little to soothe you. 

“Can you blame me, Lord Geto?” Your eyes meet his purple ones that narrow at your allusion.

“I suppose not.” He hums. “Though I must tell you that the incident was out of my power. I must carry that burden everyday, so I implore you to forgive me, [Name].” He throws out your given name once again like you were familiar. 

When you don’t respond, he continues, “I know, it is easier said than done.”

“You don’t say.” You bite your tongue as soon as the words leave your mouth. He fails to acknowledge how your last interaction was your banishment, served just by the man in front of you.

A sigh escapes Geto’s lips. "As a gesture of my accountability, I place myself entirely at your disposal. Simply name a favor, and it shall be fulfilled." You can’t detect anything but sincerity in his words, leaving you speechless. “Of course, it had to be within my power, but I shall grant you one request in return for your forgiveness.”

“I—” You were too shocked to form a thought. “I don’t know what to say.”

Suguru’s eyes crinkle, "Our last encounter may not have been pleasant, but I still consider you a dear friend, after all.”

“I am flattered to say the least that you had decided to grant me such honor,” you gape.

Geto shakes his head softly, “You shouldn’t hold me to such high regard. I could hardly bear the weight of your disfavor.”

“You know I don’t harbor any ill feelings towards what happened,” you say softly. It wasn’t Suguru’s decision what happened that night.

“I wouldn’t be able to live with myself otherwise,” the black haired man in front of you pushes. You relent. Perhaps you should just bite your tongue and accept the opportunity presented. “Please. Just think about it.”

You watch in silence as Geto turns around to walk away. His sudden offer leaves your mind racing. A man of his caliber, second to none but the emperor himself, would be able to grant any of your desires. Perhaps you should ask to import Western literature, tales of great fantasy— or, you could think bigger and ask to move back with your clan. Though you highly doubt he will entertain the latter, considering your indentured servitude to the Inner Palace. 

Your racing thoughts are diverted when you hear someone clear their throat to capture your attention. You perk up when you realize that Lord Nanami was still here, and you have completely ignored his presence.

“I am just as surprised to see your immediate return to the palace.” Nanami adjusts the glasses on his face, sympathetic eyes never leaving you. You flush under his gaze. It was quite embarrassing knowing the entire palace probably had caught wind of your incident with the emperor.

A nervous chuckle escaped your lips. 

“It wasn’t my intention,” you mumble. “But I suppose if fate has decided, there is not much I can do.”

“You truly believe that it was fate that brought you here?” Nanami asks, the hold he had on your arm tightening enough to catch your attention but not enough to hurt. 

“I-” You begin, words failing to conjure. “I’m not sure.”  You had thought that your banishment was fate, but now that you had been brought back, it felt like you were simply at the mercy of something cruel.

Nanami watches your eyes staring wistfully at the blue sky above, his own flickering to each of your features. He wonders if you know that your expressions gave you away. It’s more endearing than anything, from the flutter of your eyelashes, the wrinkle of your nose, to the furrow of your eyebrows. Only a blind man would deny the fact that you were easy to fall in love with. However, it would make a foolish man to dare to pursue you.

 He’ll appreciate you and your charm from afar where his head may stay attached to his body.

The comfortable silence shared between the two of you is disrupted by a flock of handmaidens passing by. Nanami tenses his jaw when the voices become audible. 

“Is it really her?”

“It’s said that she tried to sneak into the Emperor’s chambers.”

“Is that Lord Nanami? My, we must warn him about that whore that tried to seduce the emperor!”

“Poor Lady Himiko.”

Anger swells in your chest. Though you’re not sure what tale had managed to escape the servants’ quarters, but you pray that they may never reach the emperor’s ears. It was simply profane to the beloved consort, an offense that you know Gojo would never forgive you for. You can deal with nasty gossip, having previous experience, but you doubt you can handle being beheaded for conspiring against the emperor and his consort.

“I’m afraid no matter how much time has passed, the palace rumors seem to never die.” Nanami sighs, exhaustion evident in his gravelly voice. “I advise you to brace yourself. Within these coming days, the fire will only get hotter.” He doesn’t bother elaborating on his words, choosing to lead you to your new chambers.

“Thank you for the advice Nanami,” you exhale. “However, I am sure I’ll be able to manage on my own. After all, I’ve been doing it for quite some time.” The moment the solemn words leave your mouth his eyes soften. You quickly look away, flustered.

“I know you can, [Name]. I suppose my anxieties are misplaced, forgive me.” You can feel his stare bore into the side of your face. He sighs, “it is a habit that comes natural to me.” He worries for you. The words go unsaid, but you are able to decipher his double meaning.

Your heart flutters at his kind implications, eyes too shy to meet him once more. Instead, you choose to fix your gaze on the doors to the servants’ quarters. The blonde man beside you takes the liberty to open the doors to your new room. 

At the sight in front of you, your heart lurches.

Before you stands a familiar head of white hair, standing tall with his back turned towards you. His head was tilted slightly, as if scrutinizing something unseen, before he slowly shook it. Then, with an unsettling calm, he turned to face you, his gaze heavy with unspoken intent.

“I’ll take her from here,” Gojo’s icy voice breaks the silence that had overtaken you and Nanami.

“Of course,” Nanami bows deeply. You turn to bid the man goodbye, but he leaves hurriedly without sparing you so much as a glance. You can’t help but furrow your eyebrows in confusion, eyes longingly watching your old friend walk away.

The moment the shoji doors close behind him, Gojo clears his throat.

“[Name],” he tests the waters, his movements deliberate as he takes a slow, tentative step toward you, the air between you thick with an unspoken tension.

“Your Majesty,” You respond shakily, retreating a step as your breath catches.

“Please,” Gojo mutters breathlessly, his voice trembling with unspoken desperation, his eyes pleading with an intensity that only deepens the pit in your stomach. He takes two deliberate strides forward, the gap between you vanishing as though drawn by an invisible force.

“No,” You shake your head, pain flashing across your face. You won’t let him waltz right into your life after carelessly tossing you away, not without consequence. It is to no surprise that words seem to go unheard to the man in front of you. His eyes glistened in the dim lighting, fixed intently on your face, tracing each feature with a quiet focus, as if he were trying to burn them into his memory.

The world seemed to stay still just for the two of you. But it only lasted for just a moment.

“I’m so sorry,” Gojo mutters, a strong hand flying to the back of your neck tugging you towards him for a searing kiss. The instant his lips crash against yours, he lets out a soft whimper, as though the very act consumes him. Despite the passage of time, your body responds instinctively, like it was always meant to be this way.

It felt like the only thing that mattered was the fact that he was right in front of you, your fast beating hearts making contact with the way he had your chest pressed to his. All while pushing you against his body, Gojo allows his hand to trail down your back, revisiting every valley that he had once memorized.

“Mph,” your traitorous hands find their way into his head of white hair. He smiles into the kiss upon hearing his name leave your mouth.

“Yes?” He leaves a wet kiss at the base of your throat, bending down to continue his frenzy.

“This isn’t right,” the words came out of your mouth in a whisper, as if you almost didn’t believe them yourself.

“You’re wrong.” He inhales deeply, attaching his mouth onto your collarbone, ”I was made solely for this.” A small whine leaves his mouth when you hesitantly try to push him off. He uses his innate strength to fight your attempts.

“May I ask something of you?”

A kiss was placed on your jawline. Another on the base of your throat.

“Anything,” he breathes.

“Do you..” Your voice falters. “Do you love her?” Like you loved me? 

The trail of kisses come to a complete stop. For a second you fear you may have overstepped. The emperor’s silence was palpable. The only sound that filled your ears was the harsh thuds of your own heart. 

“[Name]...” he slowly stands up to tower over you with his height. The distant look in his eyes forms a pit in your stomach.

“Answer me,” you whisper, the pit deepening.

“I am just a man,” he reasons. Your heart drops at his answer.

“You could not even take an oath of monogamy,” you spit. “You are nothing but a weak man.” 

His eyes shoot up from their trance frantically. You fear that the lust he had been tempted with had worn off, and now you were left with nothing but wrath.

“I understand that I was nothing but a spoil of war, but you could have done me one last favor by allowing me to leave on my own accord. You did not have to cast me away,” your vision starts to waver with the tears that puddle in your eyes. “If I knew your heart had yearned for another I would have left.”

The set of blue eyes that stare at you are no longer the lively shade that you had grown to love. They have been replaced by an uncertain stormy grey. It was almost laughable. A man, so big, who had the world in the palm of his hand looked so small.

A cruel part in you enjoyed seeing the turmoil in his eyes after the events that had transpired.

“Had I known the tribulations I put you through, perhaps I would have put a second thought before choosing you.” Gojo exhales, pinching in between his eyebrows. “But I must assure you that you weren’t the only one suffering.” And for a moment you think you see lightning strike in those stormy irises of his. 

Your eyes widen at his confession.

He lets out a deep sigh, “The head maid will be here any minute. I bid you farewell. I pray that with our next interaction, your heart learns to soften.”

Ever for dramatics, Gojo leaves before you can get the last word.

—

True to his word, the head maid soon comes to assign your duties. You’re not surprised at your new set of responsibilities: tending to the emperor’s garden, sweeping the floors to his chambers, and overseeing his meal preparations. 

It is nothing out of your skill set, and you’re more than willing to accept your predicament rather than being burned alive for offending the emperor on numerous accounts. You suppose even Gojo was kind enough to spare you from that cruel fate. It almost softens your heart enough to decide to forgive him of his transgressions. Almost.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a loud clang of a pot. When you turn your head towards the direction of the sound, you’re met with the head maid’s stern gaze. Her eyes narrowed on the wooden spoon you had been mixing in the broth. 

Ah. She wanted you to perform the mandatory poison test before serving the food to the emperor.

However, just as you bring the spoon to your lips, it is violently swatted from your hand, clattering to the floor. Your eyes sadly linger on the spilled broth before snapping to the culprit, your gaze filled with disbelief.

"There were strict orders to ensure that the task did not fall to you," the head maid, Ogami, declared sharply. The elderly woman, with silver hair neatly tied in a tight bun and skin etched with the marks of years spent in service, raised a wrinkled finger in your direction.

You blink, taken aback by her sudden reprimand, the sharpness in her gaze leaving you momentarily frozen. It didn’t make sense—there had been no mention of any such orders, no one had informed you of any changes. You open your mouth to speak, but the words catch in your throat, swallowed by the weight of her unyielding stare. 

How strange.

Days pass by like a blur, your routine falling into place. When dawn arrives, you’re up to prepare the emperor’s garments for the day. Your mid-mornings grow even busier as the palace comes alive with activity. Whether mending torn hems or ensuring the ceremonial robes are free of imperfection, you move like a ghost through the corridors with hopes of going unnoticed. The emperor’s unusual antics, however, make it nearly impossible to slip by unnoticed. He seems to have a knack for drawing your attention. His antics often begin at ungodly hours, long before the sun graces the horizon, as he attempts to coax you into sharing the first meal of the day with him. You decline each time, yet his persistence never wavers, a boyish grin always accompanying his invitations. By the time the sun reaches its zenith, Gojo finally departs to attend to his imperial duties. It’s only then, in the quiet lull of his absence, that you find the chance to make real progress with your work.

“To say I am relieved because of your presence would be an understatement, [Name].” Nanami and you overlook the palace’s main courtyard. 

You smile, hands filled with silks that needed washing, “I could say the same.” The emperor’s outrageous requests were driving you mad. Your mind flashes to earlier that week when he had insisted on hand feeding you honey! You wonder how he survived without a personal servant before you took the position.

“His Majesty is as eccentric as ever, I assume.” Nanami’s eyes crinkle. 

You laugh, “You know him too well!”

“I didn’t have much choice,” he shakes his head, smile ghosting his lips. “We’ve known eachother since our youth.”

You perk up at the news, your curiosity piqued. The confusion must have been written all over your face, prompting Nanami to offer a quick clarification.

“It was brief, our time at the academy. But we were both under the instruction of Yaga,” he elaborates. Huh. What a small world, you think as Nanami paints an unexpected connection. 

“I am struggling to imagine you and him studying under the ever serious Yaga,” you giggle.

“I was in the year below him. It was Lord Geto and Shoko who were first hand witnesses to his nature.” Nanami tells you. 

You nearly dropped all of the emperor’s clothes, “Shoko?” The revelation that your own friend was acquainted with the emperor stopped you dead in your tracks. Had she known him personally all along? If so, she made no effort to reveal it. Instead, she appeared almost disgusted by him, though you had chalked it up to her disdain for the new ruling dynasty rather than a personal vendetta against the man himself.

“I am aware you were well acquainted with her in your time in the Outer Palace, no?” “Yes, but–” you pause, before eyes snapping back to Nanami. “How did you know?”

Nanami blinks, momentarily caught off guard. His eyes widen a fraction, and he opens his mouth as if to explain, but then falters, his words stumbling.

Before he can say anything, a soft, familiar voice drifts from behind you.

“[Name]!” A servant of Lady Himiko calls urgently, her voice laced with a sense of urgency. You turn to face her.

“Yes?”

“The emperor requests your presence in the ceremonial hall. He says it is of great importance and that you must make haste!” The girl exclaims, grabbing your only free arm and tugging you toward the hall.

You glance back at Nanami, your eyes silently promising him that this conversation is far from over. He gives a small nod, acknowledging your unspoken words as he bids you farewell.

“Ah, may I ask what the emperor requires of me?” you ask, trying to maintain some control over the situation.

“You’ll see,” she replies, her tone clipped. Without sparing you a glance, she pulls you forward with determination, clearly focused on her task.

Like a lamb heading toward slaughter, you find yourself helplessly being dragged through the grand doors of the ceremonial hall, your thoughts swirling with questions you can’t yet answer.

The expansive room was eerily empty, a stark contrast to its usual grandeur. The sunlight poured through the tall windows, casting long beams of light that danced across the polished floors, illuminating the intricate tapestries and the grand pillars that lined the hall. But your gaze soon shifted, focusing on the emperor’s seat at the very end of the room.

You had expected the usual scene: Gojo slouched in his throne-like chair, whiny and complaining about the mountain of paperwork he despised. But what greeted you instead was something far more unexpected.

A figure stood poised at the head of the room, commanding the space with an elegance that was undeniable. Anyone familiar with the court could recognize her signature choice of kimono—the rich plum silk embroidered with intricate gold patterns, delicate yet striking. Her hair, black as midnight and flowing like a river of silk, cascaded down her back in perfect waves, a stark contrast to her porcelain-like complexion.

It was Lady Himiko. Her beauty was legendary, whispered about among women across the nation, often compared to a living work of art. The rumors of her grace and poise weren’t exaggerated. Standing there, surrounded by her ladies-in-waiting, who remained perfectly still and attentive at her side.

Her eyes met yours, and for a brief moment, your breath was stolen. The stillness of the room was palpable, and you couldn’t help but wonder why she was here, in the emperor’s seat, with not a whisper of Gojo in sight.

“Ah, just the one I was looking for!” her eyes light up when she sees her servant return with you in her hand. The gleam in her eyes fill you with unease.

“Lady Himiko, it is an honor,” you bow.

“There’s no need for that! Please, stand.” She waves her slender fingers at you, or so it seems, but at her silent command, her ladies-in-waiting begin to move toward you.

You take a step back, instinctively using the emperor’s garments, still damp from your earlier washing, as a shield against their sudden movements. The soft rustling of fabric is almost deafening in the silence that follows.

Lady Himiko’s eyes narrow at the motion, her sharp gaze flicking to the garments you hold between you and her. A faint, almost imperceptible smile plays at the corners of her lips, but it does nothing to ease the tension thickening in the air.

“I understand the unspoken animosity between us,” she says, her voice smooth, but there's an edge to it that sets your nerves on edge. “I pray you will accept my humble apology.” She clasps her hands together, but her eyes remain calculating, never leaving yours.

Her words hang in the air, heavy with implication. “I had not expected the emperor to kindle such… passion for me so suddenly. It was neither of our intentions that fateful night we reunited after the days of our youth.” She shakes her head softly, laughing nervously. "How rude of me, I doubt you of all would want to hear about Satoru and I."

Your breath hitches, caught between surprise and a tightening knot of discomfort in your chest. The weight of her words presses down on you, and you struggle to maintain composure.

“I do apologize for bringing you here on such deceptive terms, but I had to get your attention somehow,” she continues. “As one who has been a former concubine, I wanted your counsel on how I should navigate this delicate matter.” If you didn’t know any better, you would say she was mocking you. But you knew Himiko wasn’t one you wanted to offend, so you bite your tongue.

Instead, you nod, steeling yourself against the discomfort crawling up your spine. “What is it that you need from me?” you ask, your voice betraying none of the wariness you feel.

Himiko’s ladies-in-waiting close in around you swiftly, subtly guiding your every step toward the emperor’s stand. The grand hall feels even larger as you’re led deeper into its heart, each step reverberating through the space.

At the end of the room stands Himiko, watching you approach with a distant gaze. The soft glow from the nearby windows catches on the polished surface of the wooden desk before her, where inkstones, brushes, and stacks of paper lie in disarray.

You pause, your gaze falling upon the desk, and that’s when you notice the manuscript she’s pointing to. Her perfectly filed nails trace the edges of the paper with deliberate slowness. Though you cannot read the characters from this distance, the emblems that adorn the papers are unmistakable. They belong to some of the most powerful clans in the empire, each one a mark of authority and influence.

As your eyes skim across the paper Himiko’s hand rests on, the characters seem to leap off the page in a rush of realization. It’s a proposal– one written by the notorious Zenin clan. You can almost feel the air grow heavy as you piece it together. The words speak of demands for more autonomy—an increase in their power, more control over the lands they already possess. And you know, instinctively, that if this were to pass, everything Gojo has fought for, everything he’s struggled to protect, would crumble into dust. His fight against the rigid clan-based hierarchy would be for naught.

For a moment, your mind reels. This is no mere conversation or request for guidance. This is a game of power, one where you’re being used as a pawn. Her eyes lock with yours, and the air between you thickens with unspoken understanding. She must’ve taken you for a mere tool to execute her own plans.

But you’re no fool, and that realization comes like a slap to the face. You straighten your posture, eyes hardening as the weight of the situation settles in.

“These seals...” Your voice falters as you stare at the emblems, your hand hovering over the manuscript as though touching it might implicate you further. The weight of the realization crashes down on you like a cold wave. You look up at Himiko, bewildered, your heart pounding in your chest. Meddling with state affairs, let alone tampering with the emperor’s documents was a crime punishable by death.

“Does the emperor know about this?” you demand, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and indignation. “This—this could be considered treason!”

“Careful with your words,” she says softly, her tone calm. “It is not treason when it is for the betterment of the empire.”

Your mouth opens as if to respond, but no sound escapes.

“The emperor has always held you in high regard,” Himiko says with a wistful sigh, her eyes narrowing on your figure. “I’ve no doubt he would find it impossible to refuse any command spoken by you.”

Her cryptic words linger in the air, their implications sinking into you. You’re left reeling, unsure of whether her remark is meant as flattery or a thinly veiled mockery of your banishment. 

She scoffs, her delicate façade cracking as her tone turns venomous. “The emperor may not know, but I see right through you. Seducing him to claim yourself as some spoil of war and twisting his mind to lead our nation to ruin—it’s sickening. Truly, a shame the assassination attempt failed.” Her words lash out like a whip, her civil mask shattering entirely.

You gasp, her implications cutting deep even as your heart hardens against the venom. Had she known–?

“Perhaps that is what the entire Court believes of me,” you manage, your voice trembling yet steady enough to carry your conviction. Months of whispered rumors and vicious gossip had thickened your skin, and you refused to crumble under her scrutiny. “But I will not allow you to sully the emperor’s reputation.”

As much as you detested Gojo, your disdain for the corrupt elders burned hotter. They had plotted your downfall, attempted to take your life, and now sought to undermine everything Gojo was fighting to build. You could not allow them to gain any more power in the Court  than they already held.

Himiko’s lips curl into a cold, triumphant smile as she picks up an inkstone and brush from the emperor’s desk. “As his Honored Consort and future Empress I command you to hold this for me while I pave the way for a greater future.” Her words are laced with mockery as she extends the inkstone toward you.

You recoil instinctively, shaking your head. “No. I refuse—” Your rejection is firm, your voice sharper than you expected, as you pull away, clutching the emperor’s garments protectively against your chest. 

The next few moments unravel in slow motion, as though fate itself had decided to humiliate you. Himiko’s gasp pierces the air as your sudden movement causes the inkstone to slip, spilling its dark, viscous contents over her elaborate kimono. The silk, undoubtedly crafted from the finest threads in Japan, drinks in the stain, the deep black spreading like a wound across the fabric.

“My lady!” Her servants rush to her side, their collective cries of alarm startle you. They push you aside as they fuss over her, their movements frantic as they attempt to salvage her now-ruined garment.

You stumble back, staring in disbelief at the disaster you’d unwittingly caused. “I—I am truly sorry—” you begin, but your words falter under the weight of the situation.

“What is going on here?”

The booming voice echoes through the hall like thunder, freezing everyone in place. You whip your head toward the source, your pulse quickening as your eyes land on the figure now standing in the doorway. The emperor himself, Gojo, commands the room with his presence, his expression a mixture of confusion and rising fury as he takes in the scene before him. By his side stands the owner of the voice, an elder, with an expression carved with barely restrained anger piercing through you.

Himiko lets out a sharp cry, her voice trembling with a convincing mix of distress and indignation. Gojo reacts instantly, rushing by her side, his features hardening with concern.

“I found her forging His Majesty’s signature,” Himiko exclaims, her voice wavering just enough to sound genuine. “When I tried to intervene, she lashed out and attacked me.” She trembles as she buries her head against the emperor’s chest.

It hits you—the full realization of her calculated scheme. This was her plan all along.

“I-I didn’t!” you stammer, your voice raw with desperation. “That wasn’t what happened at all– she was the one tampering with imperial documents. I tried to stop her!”

Gojo’s piercing blue eyes snap to yours, cutting off your explanation. His gaze, once warm and teasing, now burns with unrestrained fury. The bile rises in your throat as you see it. Anger, disdain, and worst of all, disbelief.

“Himiko,” he murmurs, his arms tightening protectively around her trembling form. Her soft sniffling only adds to the spectacle.

“To be caught tampering with imperial records is one thing,” Gojo finally says, his voice icy and cutting, “but to stoop so low as to accuse Lady Himiko? Was this an act out of jealousy? Spite? How pathetic. This is beneath even you, [Name].”

You feel your knees weaken, the tears you’ve fought to hold back beginning to pool in your eyes. “Please, you have to believe me,” you whisper, your voice cracking under the weight of his words.

His expression darkens further, the light in his sky-blue eyes replaced by thunderclouds. “Why would I believe you?” he sneers, his tone laced with contempt.

A single tear escapes down your cheek, followed by another, and then another, until you can no longer stop them. The dam of your resolve breaks, shattered by his cruel dismissal.

“Why?” Your voice trembles, breaking as the tears come freely now. “Why don’t you believe me?”

Gojo’s lips curl into a bitter smile. “Don’t make me laugh,” he says coldly. “How could I ever believe in one as base as you?”

His words cut deeper than any blade, piercing through the walls you’d built to protect yourself. You’d convinced yourself you were immune to his indifference, but the searing pain in your chest proves otherwise.

“Leave,” he commands, his voice sharp and final. “Do not look back. Your very presence stirs nothing but disdain within me.”

You stagger back, his words striking harder than any physical blow. He might as well have drawn his sword and ended it here. The infamous tales you had heard about Gojo were once glorious images that were painted of your beloved. You had never thought you would be on the other end of his blade. 

Without a word, you turn and run, your vision blurred with tears. The emperor’s garments slip from your hands, forgotten in your haste to escape the suffocating anguish. You don’t look back, even as the echoes of his disgust chase you out of the hall.

If there was one undeniable truth that Geto Suguru knew, it was that his best friend, Gojo Satoru could be an utter fool. Perhaps it was the inevitable result of a youth stolen too soon, replaced by the crushing weight of an empire resting on his shoulders. The brilliance that made Gojo a formidable emperor rendered him hopelessly inept when it came to navigating the labyrinth of his own emotions.

And as his closest confidant, bound by loyalty and friendship, Geto Suguru couldn’t help but feel the urge to shake some sense into him—to force him to confront what he stubbornly refused to see.

That is why, when your trembling form hurries across the courtyard, tears streaming down your face, Geto Suguru can’t help but halt you in your steps. 

“I’m leaving.” you declare, your voice raw, your eyes red and swollen. The words, so resolute despite your trembling tone, catch him off guard.

“What?” he asks, his brows knitting together in confusion.

“My favor,” you say firmly, though your voice wavers. “I want to leave this place.”

For a moment, Geto says nothing, his sharp mind scrambling to process the abruptness of your request. Then he shakes his head, his expression softening. “You know I can’t do that.”

Your incredulous gaze snaps up to meet him. “So you lied to me?”

“No, not at all,” he says quickly, holding up his hands. “I meant—I can grant you time off. But as someone under the emperor’s direct supervision, I can’t allow you to leave permanently. What I can do is give you one lunar cycle away from court.”

You hesitate, weighing his offer before giving a sharp nod. “I’ll take it. Just let me leave,” you reply, sniffling.

Geto watches you for a moment longer, his chest tightening at the sight of your despair. “I’ll make the arrangements right away,” he says gently. “I’m sorry we seem to meet only under such terrible circumstances.”

“I’m sorry too,” you murmur, your tone hollow.

He hesitates, searching for the right words to offer some semblance of comfort. “Whatever he did, I’m sure—”

“I don’t care,” you cut him off, your voice colder now. “He made his disgust for me perfectly clear.” You march past him, your steps resolute despite the trembling in your shoulders. “Thank you for understanding, though I must beg you to keep this between us. Who knows what might happen to either of us if he finds out.”

Geto exhales slowly, his composure steady but his mind racing. Just what, exactly, had his best friend done this time? Gojo’s antics always seemed to leave Geto cleaning up the aftermath, but this—this was something else entirely.

Just as he promised, there is a carriage waiting for you outside of the servants’ quarters. With heavy bags in hand and an even heavier heart, you make your way toward it, each step weighted with reluctant resolve. The irony of the moment doesn’t escape you, a sense of déjà vu washing over you, as though life had played this scene out countless times before.

You turn sharply, your bleary eyes meeting the calm, hazel gaze of someone you hadn’t expected to see.

“Nanami?” you breathe, disbelief coloring your tone.

He inclines his head in a polite nod. “Forgive the intrusion, but I insist on accompanying you,” he says, his voice as composed as ever. “The roads beyond the palace can be dangerous, especially for someone traveling alone.”

For a moment, you simply stare, caught between gratitude and confusion. The warmth in your chest battles against the ache that lingers from your earlier ordeal. “And what of the emperor?” you ask, forcing a faint smile. “Would he not throw a fit in your absence?”

Nanami lets out a quiet, mirthless laugh, the sound more bitter than amused. “Perhaps,” he admits, adjusting the luggage in his hands with ease. “But he was never one to share, was he?”

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[syllikins]

"𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐑?"

❀ genre: fluff

❀ pairing: sylus x reader

❀ contains: mutual pining, sylus down bad, yucky vulnerable feelings (jk i love him so much for this reason), reader in denial (sorry guys), poorly proofread

❀ word count: 1.03k

❀ authors note: i'm taking a crack at this. but omg that scene where he tells mc there is no love purer than his after he asks if she finally realizes how he feels about her? COME ON. HOW CAN I NOT LOVE HIM?? had to write something inspired by that dialogue because it was so????? i'm definitely going to reference to some other stuff he has said in the game that made my heart flutter because?????

"there is no love purer than mine."

is a statement that has been replaying in your mind over and over again since that day.

you couldn't help but wonder if sylus lacks self awareness because how can you actually pinpoint his feelings when every conversation the two of you engage in seems like a ploy for his own entertainment.

every pointless banter. every teasing remark. every sickeningly corny nickname that unfortunately sounds like honey whenever it left his lips. maybe you ignored his childish attempts at flirting because you were too busy ignoring the ticklish feeling it gave you in your heart down to your toes.

sylus may make your eye twitch or send a small twinge in your brain with every smartass comment he feels he has to belch out: but maybe that's part of his charm. he mainly gets away with it with a face like that.

but your developing feelings for sylus was far more emotional than it was physical.

maybe it was the way he was always ready to lock in when it really came down to it.

the two of you being around each other always ended up with you or him being hurt. sometimes both. and if not either of you, chaos ensued. maybe a building was blown up instead. it was fun but it was times like those when you learned about sylus in a slightly more intimate way. it took a few deep gashes and heavy panting, near death experiences and stitches. but he needed your help. you liked that he could at least admit that. he saw you reliable enough to call on you when he was most vulnerable. and he helped you in the same way, despite protest.

he likes to hold hands. but it's not just his fingers intertwined but more like your hearts tangle more than your fingers. it was nice...he may mean it to be authoritative but there is always an underlying sense of comfort in his fingertips.

maybe he was a vampire. as you had previously joked. silver hair. red eyes. that inexplicably gorgeous face. pale skin that would automatically show any trace of lip gloss or lipstick that he would have obtained by getting a bit too close while attempting to tease you. that allure that often times makes your head go numb before you're brought back to reality by another witty comment.

you were more than enthralled by him; you realised as you laid in bed a few nights ago.

now he just makes you nervous. why would he say that?

there is no love purer than his?

and it's all for you?

it all feels like too much.

he calls and you stare at the caller ID before choosing to nervously accept the call. not before you start a petty argument.

but even among his arrogance, and the chirp in his voice when he engages with you, he's still sickening sweet. slipping in how strongly he feels about you in between every other colourful retort of yours or so. gosh. could he not?

after you pathetically stutter through a smartass comment of yours, his amused chuckle has you fighting the urge to chuck your phone. so you just hang up instead. maybe you just need to go outside. that should calm you down.

the warm yet slightly humid summer night air hugs itself against your slightly trembling form, a small fire lit in your heart as you walk down the empty sidewalk in pyjamas.

no one is around. all the stores are closed. it's just you and the street lights as you murmur about all the things you don't like about him in an attempt to kill the light in your heart, this light giving you an odd sense of pleasure. to no avail, your rambling on seems to make the light grow. and a small buzz on your leg.

in your pocket.

he's calling again.

you stare at it this time. its like you think the loving feelings pouring from your pores will tap the accept button for you. this doesn't last long before you shake your head and put the phone back in your pocket. you continue walking, eyes kept on the sidewalk as you weigh the pro's and con's of accepting such feelings.

*thud* you've hit your head on something.

the familiar scent in your nostril already tells you what- more like who it is.

it's obvious he used his evol to just appear in front of you. or else you would have seen his shadow underneath the streetlight you're under before your forehead met his chest.

the mere thought of it being him before even seeing his face is enough to get your stomach to flip, so you flip yourself in the other direction. then he wraps his hand around your wrist but he never seems to forget to add the electrifying part.

your free hand twitches as he intertwined his beautiful fingers with yours, the linking of both your pointer fingers keeping you together.

the silence among the song of cicadas makes you bite your tongue, anticipating a smart, playful retort. and yet amidst your baited breath nothing.

your heart beats in your ears as his warmth lingers on your fingertips. the two linked fingers generating the most heat.

"gosh, would you stop tormenting me already?" you whisper.

"is that what you think this is?" his voice echoing in the street.

you're both silent for a moment. yet neither of you make a motion to separate the linked fingers.

"your love...in it's purest form..."

another silence.

"it belongs to you." he finishes

you turn to him, still staring at the pavement.

"my love....." you began.

he seems to be holding his breath as you fidget in front of him. you attempt to make your slippers overlap or something to that effect as your palms get sweaty.

"is just as pure as yours." you breathe out in something like a scoff.

even now you're trying to challenge him

"and i want you to have it."

 when you utter that last bit, you look him straight in the eyes.

he exhales and accepts it with no hesitation.

in his arms, where both your hearts tangle.

© syllikins 2024

[jaal-ama-daravv]

dissecting the mortal emmrich argument scene (all routes)

dissecting the graveyard scene dissecting the mortal romance path scene how I think an argument reconcilation scene could've went emmrich x rook cinematic (mortal)

lich version dissecting the alternate romance path dissecting the argument scene (lich path) mortal vs lich romance path emmrich x rook cinematic

Emmrich Volkarin - Dissecting the Mortal Argument Scene

welcome back dearies

lets not dally with this one and get right into it -

starting strong with emmrich reviewing his will and testament/s -

important, but not yet, so do go on -

the emphasis on will tells us alot. coming from a storyboarding background, its easy to see why the emphasis was put on will. emmrich chose mortality, and will thereofre face death head on, as will rook. but due to rook being younger than emmrich (in any capacity), emmrich states that rook will outlive him. now he hasn't said it yet, but his fear is about to rear its head. keep in mind throughout all of this that this man is scared of how much he adores you.

but in the same sentence, we've got, "You've... grown to mean much to me..." - head over heels in love, rip my heart out and serve it to you in a platter, my heart, body and soul is yours type o' love.

I just wanna shake him, oh i just wanna shake him like a bag of treats, but very aggressively. he is so obviously LYING, rook makes a comment earlier in the game about how he is a SHIT LIAR. it sounds the exact same. BUT, and I say but with a hint of 'ah -ha!', lets read between the lines -

I care for you Rook! Deeply. - man has never been down as bad as he is - emmrich has never felt love like this. But there are such years between us - shut up rn I shouldn't heap you with that burden - HERE. he knows that Rook loves him, he can feel it. I imagine between quests they hold eachother's hand as the read books together on the balcony. as they make tea. as emmrich shows rook his mothers recipes. emmrich knows rook loves him, he just doesn't realize can nor accept how much rook loves him.

bonus, BURDEN ME, Im begging you, to BURDEN ME.

DIVERGENCE

god it hurt to replay this scene 3 times

Path 1 - Please don't worry, Emmrich.

he also broke my heart by worrying because i too, love him

fuck this line. i love you but look, I get where emmrich is coming from, but no. no no no, no no. whats fair would the world to be ending and being able to spend every waking moment in eachothers arms, to spend the final moments of 'what if' craddling your insecurities and nurturing love. instead we at the end of the world, arguing, because both rook and emmrich are fucking terrified to lose eachother. something about 'being fair' to someone by 'leaving' them irks meeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

solid and appropriate response

moving on because i have nothing nice to say

get his ass

emmrich is shockingly, overthinking the concept of death. ya know, that thing that cant be soothed or mulled over, pierces his heart and shakes his core? that, thing. yes shockingly, overthinking it. i get both perspectives here. Rook just wants to be taken serously and not for their age gap to come between the love they have finally found. emmrich so scared out of his mind he's trying to avoid it entirely. if you want a really gutteral playthrough before point of no return, pick this. I did, on my blind playthrough, it was a mistake, i cried alot.

unfortunately, very valid on both statement, but also true on both statements. Emmrich is both worried about Rook and insecure about dying. because either way, he loses rook, he loses his time with her. in this line of dialogue, emmrich is vry concerned with burdening rook with his death and the grief that will follow. Rook essentially tries to calm him in the worst way possible and it escalates. im not a fan of this dialogue path at all as the "at your age" comment is so out of pocket.

Path 2 - I mean something to you!

if you were to of told me that the purple rook option is the 'nicest' in these scenarios, I would...not believe you at all. It's still painful, but it's not an 'argument?'

strong start ngl

mans immediately defensive, but his tone of voice isn't raised like in the other scenarios. its more poised with care through it, more 'ugh, yes, i care about you, but this is about death'

in this dialogue path rook attemps to 'waylay' emmrich, aka, distract him and change the subject to something nicer, more comforting. though unfortnately, for people with crippling anxiety, nothing calms the mind when its in black and white mode.

eh, not what I would've gone with saying rook but ya know. eve before a battle, tensions high. still not great

emmrich wants to discuss being a burden to rook and rook is just not having it, im kinda into it.

again rook is trying to waylay emmrich into realising that he is overthinking things. however, to emmrich, this is real, rook may as well be dying in his arms rn. thats how real his fears are. we think back to emmrich being a child and losing his parents in a collapsed building accident. its likely he was there, and survived.

hence why it is so very important that we remember that his romance confirmation is the question, what would my parents want for me? and the answer is HAPPY WITH SOMEONE WHO CARES ABOUT YOU.

he is so terrfieid of death, and you and I both know, that when you have such a fear, it is amplified by 14747% when it is someone you truly care for. let alone the type of connection these soulmates have.

emmrich desperately pleading to talk about being a burden to rook, and rook is still just going, 'no', youre my burden now.

wee woo, a winner in my books because rook is not insulting his very existence or dismissing emmrich.

rook knows that emmrich is scared and would rather talk to him about being SCARED, instead of him being a burden because she fucking loves him and would never leave him.

rook is just as scared as emmrich but in this path, is trying to level with him. this is probably the one path where it concludes and I dont have a clear answer on who said the worst shit. i dont think any of them did, it was just riddled with concern, and a lack of communication.

Path 3 - Love scares you.

Rook pointing out the obvious. blunt and to the point. I do love that Rook is able to identify this straight away

Emmrich, taken aback by the comment by Rook, because it's the truth. he is scared because he loves rook. both by actually loving her and by how much he loves her.

"I can't... at my age" Is what this line is meant to be.

But once again, and we have discovered in previous posts, Emmrich has never considered himself 'worthy' of this type of love. And now that he has the love he has craved for decades, he considers himself too old. most likely due to his belief ssystem morphing over time to, "if it hasnt happened by now, it never will" probably in his 30's. Thats almost 20 years of doubt. We know Emmrich has been in relationships and involved with others since then, but nothing that even comes close to what Rook and Emmrich have. Keep in mind as well that Emmrich hasn't formed a connection with anyone in several years and has solely focused on work (i.e., lichdom) because what else do you do when you have given up?

straight to the point again

reiterating that this is a hard topic for him - kindness in this situation would desecalate emmrich and calm his mind, but unfortunately the end of the world takes no prisoners

man is terrified of love and the grief and vulnerability that embodies it

ouch

ouch

Rook's defensiveness and frustration reaches an all time high. rook wants the love of her life to tell her that he loves her, and emmrich doesn't want to burden his love with the grief that will embody her for the rest of her days. rook walks away feeling defeated, with a hole in her heart. emmrich is left with his overthinking thoughts, and most likely spirals.

Conclusion

In their facial expressions, and I have slowed them down to each frame per second whilst analysing, and both Emmrich and Rook share the same process of emotions after Rook's final statement.

Both Emmrich and Rook start out with a cross look on their face, eyebros tilted, eyes squinted, portraying anger, which is covering defensiveness, which is a defense mechanism for being vulnerable. After Rook says their final statement, this line is what 'pulls them out' of their defensive trances, but its too late, the damage has been done. Their facial expressions switch to a more, 'oh, oh that was just said', it turns to regret. the over arching theme of the game. they regret what they said, and their pride wont let them budge rn. the argument scene is important to the romance considering what happens next in the game.

"We'll talk when we get home, Emmrich. I promise." (the reconciliation line before fighting ghil)

hit me like a frieght train that did when i found out we were in the fade for weeks. emmrich, canonically, cries alone and has cold sweats at night when he is upset. do with that information what you will. it definitely happened when rook was gone. Hence why it takes Rook dissapearing in the fade for several weeks for their walls to collapse completely.

god fight, stuck in the fade, emmrich meticulously searching for rook, crafting the fake dagger, pulling them out.

At the end of the scene, Emmrich looks frustrated and devastated. the type of facial expression where it is clear he wish that conversation had gone differently.

Emmrich has low self-esteem, there is no simpler way to put it. This is apparent in the way he holds himself, in his mannerisms, and the way he reacts to rook expressing romantic interest in him. As two examples, consider the date with Emmrich, "apart from the compliment of your interest?", and in two flirt dialogue lines, he responds stating that he is surprised rook has shown interest in him. he wants this love SO BADLY, but he is so scared especially with how much death is around them. but emmrich is braver than he believes. it just takes, almost losing rook for him to embrace it.

phew, what a rollercoaster. ill have the mortal romance scene break down for you in coming days ♥

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　GOD'S WILL

spencer reid x reader

SUMMARY: Where Y/N Reid is forced to watch her husband being tortured by a delusional and psychotic serial killer through a computer screen.

WARNING: Based on s2e15 ‼️ Use of gun, blood, being beaten, death, usual CM violence.

REQUESTED?: No.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

The air was thick with tension as Y/N, Morgan, and Emily stepped out of the SUV, the silence of the rural property around them almost deafening. The barn loomed ahead, a dark, foreboding shape against the twilight sky.

They moved in quickly, flanked by a small group of local police officers, their flashlights cutting through the dim light, illuminating the path to the barn. The scent of decay and rot hit them before they reached the entrance, a sickly rancid smell that made Y/N’s stomach churn. She pressed a hand to her nose, trying to filter out the stench, but it was impossible to escape.

As they entered the barn, their beams of light swept over the scene inside, revealing the carnage. Dead dogs littered the floor, their bodies twisted and broken, and the last victim's remains sprawled in a grotesque display.

The walls were smeared with blood, and the metallic tang filled the air. Y/N’s heart clenched, horror flooding her senses at the sight of the animals’ suffering, the brutality of their deaths. She’d seen a lot in her years with the BAU, but this... this was something else.

"Jesus." Morgan muttered under his breath, the disgust clear in his voice. Emily’s jaw was clenched, her eyes dark with anger and revulsion. They moved further into the barn, their guns raised and ready, searching for any sign of the unsub or another victim.

Suddenly, a figure emerged from the shadows, a gun pointed directly at them.

"FBI!" A familiar voice screamed, the word slicing through the air like a knife.

Morgan’s reaction was instant, his gun snapping up to meet the threat.

"JJ! JJ, it’s Morgan, Prentiss, and Y/L/N!" He yelled, his voice a desperate plea. "Don’t shoot, it’s okay!"

Recognition dawned in JJ’s eyes, and her grip on the gun faltered, her arm lowering as she took in the sight of her colleagues. Relief flooded her features, but it was mixed with fear, her face pale and drawn.

Y/N didn’t hesitate. She rushed forward, her hands reaching out to steady JJ, her heart pounding in her chest.

"JJ, are you hurt?" She asked, her voice laced with worry, her eyes scanning JJ’s for any sign of injury.

JJ shook her head, her breath coming in shallow gasps.

"Tobias Hankel is the unsub." She said, her voice cracking, eyes wide with horror.

"Yeah, we know." Emily replied, her tone clipped and urgent.

JJ’s eyes flickered over the dead dogs, her expression crumbling.

"I had to kill them." She whispered, her voice thick with guilt, her gaze distant as if she were replaying the scene over and over in her mind. "They attacked me. I didn’t have a choice. I had to-"

"JJ." Y/N interrupted, her voice firm, cutting through JJ’s daze. Her hands tightened on JJ’s shoulders, grounding her. "Where’s Spencer?" There was an edge of desperation in Y/N’s voice, a need for answers that she couldn’t contain.

JJ seemed to waver, her eyes not quite focusing as she tried to gather her thoughts.

"He... he said he was going to the back. To check the cornfield." She finally said, pointing vaguely towards the rear of the barn, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Y/N felt a cold wave of fear wash over her, chilling her to the bone. She turned to look at the cornfield, its tall, dense rows seeming to stretch on forever, hiding whatever secrets lay within.

"Alone?" She asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. The thought of Spencer out there, by himself, searching for a killer without being used to confront one on the field, made her stomach twist into knots. "Why didn’t you go with him?"

JJ looked down, guilt flashing across her face.

"He insisted. Said he could handle it. I... I should have gone with him. I should have..." Her voice trailed off, and she shook her head, visibly struggling to keep her composure. "I’m sorry, Y/N."

Morgan didn’t waste a second. He bolted for the door, his determination radiating off of him in waves. Y/N started to follow, not even looking at JJ again, her feet moving before her mind could catch up, but Emily reached out, grabbing her arm.

"Y/N, wait!" Emily said, her grip firm. "Why don't you help me search for some clues around here? Morgan can do it, okay?"

Y/N’s heart screamed at her to go with Morgan, to find Spencer, but she knew Emily was right. She had to be logical, had to stay focused. They needed to understand what they were dealing with if they were going to help Spencer. She nodded reluctantly, pulling herself together.

"Okay." She said, her voice tight.

It didn't take too long, and soon, the whole scene was covered by ambulances and local police cars. JJ was already being checked by paramedics, her face still pale, her hands trembling. Y/N felt a pang of sympathy, but she couldn’t focus on that now. Her mind was consumed with thoughts of Spencer, with the fear that she wouldn’t find him in time.

The sound of steps interrupted her train of thoughts, catching hers and Emily's attention. Morgan finally reappeared, his face grim, his eyes shadowed with worry, and Y/N could feel her heart instantly dropping. She knew the answer before he even spoke, the tightness in his shoulders, the way he avoided her gaze.

"He’s not there." Morgan said, his voice low and rough. "Reid’s gone."

The world seemed to tilt around Y/N, her vision narrowing, her breath catching in her throat. The reality of his words slammed into her like a freight train, the implication of Spencer’s absence echoing through her mind. She had known it in her gut and had felt the terror creeping in, but hearing it spoken aloud made it all too real.

She staggered back, her hand finding the rough surface of the barn wall to steady herself. Spencer was missing. Tobias Hankel had him, and God only knew what he was doing to him. The thought was a knife to her heart, twisting and tearing, leaving her gasping for air.

"You can't find him?" JJ's voice echoed closer to them, her figure involved by a thin blanket that disguised her exhausted form.

Y/N kept her eyes on the ground, her eyes widened while her mind ate her alive, not noticing how Emily shook her head negatively or how JJ approached her hesitantly, her face etched with worry.

"Y/N." She said softly, trying to reach through the haze of sadness and worry that surrounded her friend. "We will do everything we can to find him. I promise."

Y/N whirled around, her eyes blazing with a fury so intense it made JJ take an involuntary step back, her hands clutching tightly around the blanket.

"Everything we can?" She spat, her voice cracking with the weight of her emotion. "If it weren't for you, we wouldn't need to do anything at all! You should never have left him alone. You were supposed to be with him, JJ! He was with you!"

JJ’s face paled, guilt flickering across her features.

"I- We thought it would be faster if we split up. We didn’t know-"

"You didn’t know?!" Y/N’s voice rose, sharp and accusatory. Her tears blurred her vision, but she didn't bother wiping them away. "You let him go off on his own! You let him-" Her voice broke, and she took a shuddering breath, trying to hold herself together. "And now he’s..." She gestured helplessly at the corn field as if pointing to nothing and everything at the same time. They didn't know where he was.

JJ’s eyes filled with tears, but she tried to hold her ground.

"I know you’re angry, Y/N, but I was just trying to do my job. I thought he’d be safe-"

"You thought?!" Y/N cut her off again, her voice laced with venom. "How could you think he’d be safe? We’re dealing with a killer, JJ! A crazy sadistic psychopath! And you thought it was okay to let Spencer out of your sight? He’s not like us! He’s not... he’s not..." Her words faltered as a sob tore from her throat, her anger giving way to the raw, unfiltered terror that gripped her heart.

"Hey, hey..." Emily got in between them, her eyes going from Y/N to JJ. "Y/N, I know you’re scared. We all are. But lashing out isn’t going to help find Spencer."

Y/N's shoulders fell, a mix of a sob and a deep breath escaping through her throat before she shook her head.

"I can't even look at you right now."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The quiet that had settled over the old house was deceptive. Every member of the team could feel it: the heavy, expectant tension pressing down on their shoulders, tightening their throats, and making their hearts beat just a bit too fast.

The house reeked of rot and disrepair, the moldy walls and peeling wallpaper a bleak reminder of the darkness that had taken root here long before Tobias Hankel had become who he is now. But it wasn’t the squalid condition of the house that held the team captive, nor was it the videos from the past victim that they were analyzing with a scrutinizing eye. It was the video footage being streamed live on a grainy, unstable feed.

Spencer Reid - her lover, her husband, her everything - was on the screen, and he was in agony.

Y/N stood before the makeshift command center. Every muscle in her body tensed to the breaking point. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the flickering image of Spencer, bound to a chair, blood streaming down the side of his face, his eyes wide with fear. Her hands balled into fists at her sides, nails digging painfully into her palms. She barely registered the sharp sting, her gaze locked on Spencer’s face, every detail of his pain etched into her mind.

"Y/N." Emily said quietly, her voice breaking through the fog of her thoughts. She stood a few feet away, her expression a mask of professional calm, though Y/N could see the concern in her eyes. "Do you want me to bring you to the hotel?"

"No, thank you." She answered in a beat, not tearing her gaze from the screen. "I need to see this."

"Y/N-"

"I said no!" Y/N snapped.

"Hey, calm down." Hotch quickly intervened, noticing her demeanor changing drastically. "We’re all doing our best here. There's no need for that."

Y/N rounded on him, her eyes flashing with a dangerous fire.

"Don’t tell me to be calm, Hotch!" She muttered, her voice raw with pain. "My husband is out there, alone, being tortured for hours, and you want me to be calm? How am I supposed to be calm? How am I supposed to just stand here and watch while he’s suffering?"

Her chest heaved with each breath, her heart hammering against her ribcage. She felt like she was drowning, like the walls were closing in on her, squeezing the air from her lungs. Her mind was a whirlwind of images of Spencer’s bloodied face, his desperate eyes.

"Do you have any idea what he’s going through?" She demanded, her voice breaking. "Do any of you know what it’s like to watch the person you love more than anything in this world being hurt and not be able to do anything to stop it?"

Hotch’s expression softened, but he stood his ground, his voice gentle but unyielding.

"We’re going to find him, Y/N. But we need you to stay focused. We need you to keep your head clear. If you don't, I will send you to the hotel until this investigation ends."

Y/N shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Hotch... he’s all I have." She whispered, her voice breaking. "He’s everything to me." Her voice dissolved into sobs, her body shaking with the force of her grief.

"We will bring him back, Y/L/N. That's a promise." Gideon’s voice echoed closer to her, his hand squeezing her shoulder for a moment, trying to send any type of comfort to her.

Her blurred eyes got back to the computers, breathing heavily. The video feed flickered for a second, distorting the image for a moment, and she felt a flash of panic, her breath catching in her throat. When the image stabilized, showing Spencer still alive, still struggling, she let out a shuddering breath.

"Please, God." She whispered, the words slipping from her lips before she could stop them. "Just bring him back to me."

She could feel her heart pounding a relentless, painful rhythm against her ribcage. Each beat felt like a countdown, ticking away the seconds she had to save him. Her chest tightened, and each inhale felt like she was dragging razor blades into her lungs.

But it all stopped abruptly when her eyes caught Tobias appearing in the frame again.

"This ends now." Hankel's deep voice echoed from the cheap microphone, echoing around the room. "Confess your sins."

He raised his hand, and Y/N felt her blood turn to ice. Her body tensed instinctively, her muscles coiling like a spring ready to snap. She could see Spencer’s fear, see the way his eyes darted towards Tobias's face, wide and pleading, searching for some shred of mercy. But she knew there would be none. Tobias was too far gone, too lost in the labyrinth of his own madness.

The slap echoed through the small room, amplified by the crackling speakers, a sharp, vicious sound that reverberated in Y/N’s skull. It was as if she had been struck herself, the force of it radiating through her bones.

"Oh my God." She gasped, a strangled, broken sound, her hand flying to her mouth as she watched Spencer’s head snap to the side, a fresh streak of blood painting the side of his face. His eyes closed for a brief, agonizing moment, his face twisted in pain.

Y/N felt her own cheeks burn with the phantom pain of that slap, as if Tobias had reached through the screen to strike her too.

The helplessness she felt at that exact moment was suffocating. She was supposed to be his shield, his protector, and yet here she was, miles away, separated by a screen, powerless to stop the horror unfolding in front of her. It was torture of a different kind. Every inch of her body screamed to leap through the screen, to place herself between Spencer and Tobias, to take the blows herself if it meant sparing him.

How could I let this happen? How could I have been so blind?

She replayed the events leading up to this moment, searching for the misstep, the overlooked detail that had led them here.

When Spencer’s eyes opened again, glassy and unfocused, her vision blurred with tears that were never really gone. His pain was a tangible thing, a living, breathing entity that clawed at her heart, ripping it to shreds. She felt a sob rising in her throat, thick and choking, but she swallowed it down.

"Garcia, please..." She whispered, her voice a broken plea. "You couldn't find anything yet? Anything at all?"

The sound of her own voice brought a fresh wave of agony crashing over her. Spencer couldn’t hear her. He didn’t know she was there, didn’t know she was watching, didn’t know she was tearing herself apart with every second that passed.

"I'm sorry, Y/N..."

When Tobias struck his face again, the sound seemed to echo endlessly in her mind, each repetition a fresh cut to her soul. Spencer’s cry of pain, raw and involuntary, cut through her like a knife.

"Reid." Gideon said softly, his voice cutting through the haze of her anguish. His hands gripped her shoulders, turning her back to the screens and lowering his upper body in a way that he could look inside her eyes. "Why don't we step back for a moment?"

She shook her head violently, wiping at her tears with the back of her hand, smearing them across her cheek.

"I can’t leave him, Gideon." She choked out, her voice cracking with the weight of her emotion. "I have to stay with him. I have to-" Her words dissolved into a sob, and she clamped her hand over her heart, trying to hold herself together.

"Oh my, he's killing him." Penelope's words made her go into complete shock, her head turning to the computers so fast that she could feel the pain radiating from her neck.

The sound of the impact of the chair against the ground was sickening, Spencer’s body hitting the hard floor with a thud that reverberated through the barn, and that Y/N was sure she would have nightmares with it for the rest of her life.

"No!" Y/N’s scream tore from her throat, raw and anguished, her hands flying to her hair, pulling at her strands, ignoring the pain that washed over her head, her eyes widening in horror.

On the screen, Spencer’s body jerked violently, his limbs thrashing, his back arching off the ground as his muscles spasmed uncontrollably. Foam bubbled at his mouth, his eyes rolling back in his head, his face contorted in a rictus of pain.

Y/N stumbled back, her legs giving out beneath her, her hand reaching out to catch herself on the edge of the table. The world spun around her, her vision blurring with tears, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Spencer was convulsing, his body seizing, and she couldn’t do anything.

Until it all stopped.

A scream tore from her throat, raw and anguished, as she turned away from the screen. Her fist connected with the doorframe behind them, the wood splintering under the force of her blow. Pain shot through her hand, sharp and electric, but she welcomed it. It was a distraction from the pain that was tearing her apart from the inside.

"Y/N!" Morgan’s voice cut through the haze of agony, his figure reappearing from the room he escaped to minutes before, his hands grabbing her shoulders, pulling her away from the door. "What the hell are you doing?"

She struggled against him, tears streaming down her face, her body shaking with sobs she couldn’t control.

"He’s dead." She choked out, her voice broken. "He’s dead, Derek! He's dead..."

"He- what?" Morgan turned to Gideon, searching for any trace that told him that Y/N's was lying, but there was none.

"I should have been with him. I should have been there to protect him. How could I let him come here? How could I be so stupid?"

Hotch stepped forward, his expression as hard as steel.

"This isn’t your fault, Y/N. None of us could have predicted this. We’re dealing with a monster, and we’re doing everything we can to stop him-"

"It wasn't enough." Y/N shook her head, lowering her eyes to the ground, her heart feeling a kind of pain that she never thought she would have to feel.

"Guys." Garcia's voice was a shaky whisper, gaining their attention. "Guys, you should see this."

Y/N’s head snapped up, her heart lurching in her chest. She couldn't take any more scares.

On the screen, the image had changed. Tobias was leaning over Spencer now, his hands pressing rhythmically on Spencer’s chest, his face contorted with concentration. The sight was surreal, a twisted juxtaposition to the violence they had just witnessed.

Spencer’s body was still, his face pale and lifeless. Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as she watched Tobias count under his breath, his hands moving with a practiced precision. For a moment, it seemed like nothing would change, like Spencer was gone for good. But then, there was a small, almost imperceptible twitch of Spencer’s fingers. His head rose suddenly, his body jerking as he took a ragged breath, coughing loudly, his eyes flying open.

"He’s alive." Y/N breathed, her voice trembling with a mixture of relief and disbelief. Her fingers found the golden ring that decorated her left hand, ignoring her hurting knuckles, her eyes wide as she watched Spencer cough and gasp for air. For a brief, shining moment, hope flared in her chest. Spencer was alive.

They still had time. They could save him.

But the moment was shattered when Tobias’s got away from Spencer's body, his face twisted, his eyes darkening as the cruel, sadistic personality took over again. His expression shifted from concern to cold satisfaction as he stared down at Spencer, his lips curling into a smile.

"You came back to life." Tobias muttered, his voice a low, eerie whisper that sent a chill down Y/N’s spine.

"Raphael." Spencer gulped, breathing heavily, the not so pleasing experience from dying and coming back to life taking a toll on him.

Y/N’s hands found Garcia's shoulder, trembling violently while gripping her covered skin, trying to ground herself.

"There can be only one of two reasons." Tobias - or Raphael - voice echoed again from the computer, cutting into their conversation.

"I was given CPR." Reid muttered, his face twisting in pain. His obvious answer would make Y/N laugh if it was on another occasion.

"There are no accidents... How many members are on your team?" Tobias's question brought confusion to the team's head. Why would he ask that in the middle of his own chaos?

Spencer’s breathing was shallow, his voice weak as he responded.

"Seven."

Y/N’s eyes flicked to Emily, who stood beside her, her brow furrowing.

"Seven?" She repeated, confusion knitting her features. "But there’s eight of us..."

"He took himself out of the count." Emily realized, her voice tinged with disbelief. "Spencer didn’t include himself."

Before anyone could react, Tobias began to talk again, his voice low and ominous.

"Seven. And the seven angels that had the seven trumpets prepared themselves to sound. The first angel sounded, and there followed hail and fire mingled with blood, and they were thrown to earth."

A horrified understanding dawned in Hotch’s eyes.

"He thinks we’re the seven angels of death." He said, his voice grim. "He believes we’re here to bring about the apocalypse. The seven archangels versus the seven angels of death."

The room fell silent, everyone’s eyes glued to the screen as Tobias lifted Spencer’s chair, setting it upright again. Spencer winced, his body still weak, his breathing ragged. Tobias moved around to stand in front of Reid, his expression a twisted mask of anticipation.

"Tell me who you serve."

"Son of a bitch." Y/N whispered, her voice wavering as her free hand brushed roughly against her cheeks, trying to wipe the tears that never seemed to end.

"I serve you."

"Then choose one to die." Tobias commanded, his voice harsh and unyielding.

"What?" The sound of Spencer’s voice mixed with Morgan's one as both asked the same question.

"Your team members... Choose one to die."

Y/N felt a hand searching for hers desperately, Garcia's touch meeting her own above her shoulders, squeezing her fingers.

Spencer shook his head weakly, his eyes filled with pain and desperation.

"No... I won’t... I can’t..."

Tobias’s face darkened in a way that wasn't like Tobias or Raphael, his jaw clenching. He took a gun from behind his back, raising it with an expressionless face, pointing it directly at Spencer’s forehead, his finger tightening on the trigger.

"Oh, but you can." He hissed. "And you will. Or I start with you right now."

Y/N’s left hand balled into a fist at her side, squeezing her marriage ring between her fingers.

Spencer’s voice broke through the silence, choked and desperate.

"Please... don’t make me... please..."

Tobias's eyes hardened, the barrel of his gun almost digging into Spencer’s skin.

"Choose and prove you'll do God's will."

Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest, her mind racing as she watched Spencer struggle with his decision. She could see the conflict in his eyes every time Tobias pressed the trigger, the fear and the resolve battling within him. For a moment, it seemed like he might refuse again, that he might find a way to resist. But then, his eyes closed, his face going still, as if he had made a decision.

When Spencer opened his eyes, his gaze was steady, his voice calm as he spoke.

"I choose... Y/N Reid."

The room went deathly quiet, everyone seeming to stop breathing, the words hanging in the air like a dark cloud. All eyes turned to Y/N, her face a mask of shock and confusion. Her heart stopped, her breath catching in her throat as Spencer’s words echoed in her mind.

He had chosen her. Why?

Spencer’s voice was steady, almost detached as he continued, his words cutting through Y/N like a knife.

"She thinks she’s stronger and better than everyone else. That she can do anything she wants, and no one can stop her. Not even God."

Y/N’s eyes widened, the words stinging like a slap. She felt her eyes burn more than before, her hands trembling. She knew Spencer didn’t mean it. He couldn’t mean it. But hearing those words from his lips, feeling the weight of his condemnation, was more than she could bear.

The others were staring at her, their eyes filled with shock and concern, but Y/N barely noticed. Her focus was entirely on Spencer, on the pain and sorrow etched into his features.

Spencer’s voice dropped to a whisper, and he began to recite.

"Mark 5:3-4. This man lived in the tombs, and no one could bind him anymore, not even with a chain. For he had often been chained hand and foot, but he tore the chains apart and broke the irons on his feet. No one was strong enough to subdue him."

Tobias’s eyes gleamed with malicious delight. He raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a dark smile, a different one. The kind of smile Spencer had only seen in Tobias’s father's face.

"Reid?" He repeated, drawing out the name mockingly. "Now that sounds familiar." He glanced down at Spencer’s left hand, the faint glint of metal catching his eye. "Is she the reason for this ring on your finger?"

Spencer’s eyes darted down to his hand without moving his head, the simple gold band that had become a symbol of their love, their commitment to each other. He swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice steady.

"I... I don’t know what you’re talking about." He lied, his voice wavering.

Tobias's face stiffened, his brows furrowing instantly.

"Lie is a sin. And she's a sinner, like you, and she will be punished for that. I'm honored to do what will make God proud."

Rage flared in Spencer’s eyes, and he struggled against his restraints, his voice rising in desperation.

"Shut up! Shut up!" His voice cracked with the force of his emotion, the words torn from his throat.

The smile across Tobias face widened, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. He leaned closer, his voice a low, taunting whisper.

"I hope you kissed Mrs. Reid goodbye and told her how much you love her before you came here, because you won’t get the chance to do it ever again."

His fingers tightened around the gun, and without a warning, he aimed upwards and fired, the gunshot echoing through the barn. The sound was like a detonator in Y/N’s mind, snapping something inside her.

Y/N’s heart pounded in her ears, her thoughts a chaotic swirl. She had to understand. She had to believe that Spencer didn't say all of that for nothing. She had to figure out what he was trying to tell them. Without another thought, she turned and ran from the room, her footsteps echoing in the silence.

"Y/N!" Morgan called after her, his voice filled with worry. But Y/N didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop. She needed to find the answer.

Her mind raced as she sprinted down the hallway, the words of the verse running through her head. Tombs. Chains. It was a clue. Spencer was trying to tell them where he was. He was giving them a way to find him.

She burst into the small library, her eyes scanning the shelves frantically. There had to be a Bible here. Tobias was religious, his entire psyche built around his warped interpretation of scripture.

Her fingers brushed against a worn leather cover, and she pulled the Bible from the shelf, flipping it open with trembling hands. She scanned the pages, her eyes darting over the lines until she found the passage Spencer had recited. Her breath caught as she read the words again, her heart pounding with realization.

"The tombs." Y/N whispered, her voice trembling. "He’s in a cemetery."

Behind her, the rest of the team had followed, their expressions a mix of concern and confusion.

"Y/N, you know he didn't... Wait, what?" Emily started, interrupting her train of thoughts after understanding what Y/N was saying.

Y/N turned to face them, her eyes wide, the Bible clutched in her hands.

"He’s in a cemetery." She repeated, her voice filled with certainty. "Spencer said tombs. He’s telling us he’s in a cemetery."

Hotch’s eyes shined with recognition, understanding dawning on his face. He turned to Penelope, who was already typing furiously at her laptop, her fingers flying over the keys.

"Garcia." He said sharply, his voice filled with command. "Search for cemeteries in the area. Any place that fits the description. We need to find him. Go."

Penelope nodded, her face set with determination.

"I’m on it." She replied, her voice steady despite the fear in her eyes.

Y/N muted all of their talking after that, standing in the back of the room and looking at her feet, absorving the surge of hope that washed over her, her heart lifting for the first time since this nightmare had begun.

They were close. Spencer had given them a clue, a lifeline. They just had to find him before it was too late.

As the team kept trying to find the exact place, Y/N clutched the Bible to her chest, silently praying that they would reach Spencer in time.

[ozuuoou]

⟡⋆.˚˚₊‧꒰ა ⋆｡°⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Itoshi Rin x Reader

Post argument fluff

———————————————————————————————————————

"Why are you so clingy? Get lost, disappear for all I care."

Those were the last words you heard before your fiancé walked out of your shared home, heading to who knows where.

⋆.˚˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚⊹ ࣪ ˖

Hearing those sharp words made you feel as if your heart was stabbed a million times. As a result, you chose to sleep on the couch.

As you lay on the couch, engulfed by the dim light of the living room, you couldn't stop the tears from bursting right through your eyes. The scene replaying over and over again made it hurt more than it already did.

To avoid thinking about it more, a decision was made: to sleep. Just as you were about to close your eyes, you hear the front door open and shut, along with the light pads that came from your fiancé seemingly getting closer and closer to where you're at. Not wanting to pay it any mind, you pretended to sleep. Until you feel a pair of eyes staring at you from behind. You were bothered, of course, but chose to close your eyes nonetheless.

A cold gust of wind flew by in the moment of silence until you felt the cushion of the couch dip lower and a pair of hands wrap around you. Surprised, you turned around. "Rin?" you asked. "You sh-" Just as you were about to speak again, you were cut off. "Why sleep here?" Everything went silent for a minute. "I figured I'd sleep here, for space" you replied, hearing this made the teal-eyed man feel more guilty, making him tighten his grip on your waist a bit more.

"You shouldn't be sleeping here. Go to bed; you have a big day tomorrow, remember?" you added, hoping to shake him off. Another wave of silence. After about a minute, he spoke, "Are you still mad? I'm sorry, I didn't mean any of those things. I was just tired and frustrated..." His voice was shaky as he buried his face more into the crook of your neck. "It's okay. I know I can be overly clingy at times. I was just so excited to finally spend time with you, but I guess I overreacted," hearing that reply broke him more, as if you're blaming yourself for something that's his fault. "Now, go to bed; you have to wake up early." He felt that you were uncomfortable, so he unlatched himself and walked away, leaving you alone in the dim room.

After changing his clothes, he went and got ready for bed, and fuck, was it cold and lonely. "So this is what it's like," he mumbled as he laid down on the cold bed, looking at your spot where it lies cold and empty. Seeing that horrid view made his heart drop to his stomach. Hours passed by as he twisted and turned, trying every possible way to make himself fall asleep. From turning the lamp on and off to making pillow figures of what is assumed to be you (creepy, but let's face it, bro's coping), and unfortunately, none worked. Oh my god, he felt like a Victorian kid dying from a severe illness, laid down on the bed, huffing and sweating with worry. Not wanting to put up with this feeling, he marched downstairs to where you were sleeping, and man, he didn't even spare a second as he immediately jumped to cuddle you, arms around your waist with his head nuzzled in your chest and neck and all. "Goddamn, this is way better," he screamed, mentally, as he inhaled your scent that he oh so missed.

With all the shuffling around, you wake up, feeling a figure trapping you. Readjusting your eyes to the surroundings, you look down to see Rin all snuggled up next to you. You tap his shoulder. "Why are you here? I told you to sleep on the bed..." you say, groggily. To which he replies, "I just can't sleep... I know you're upset, but please, let me sleep with you," as he looks up, his face all teary. "I'm sorry, please don't avoid me... I'll do better. I swear," he adds, tightening his hold around your waist.

Unable to resist such a cute face, you sighed, cupping his face as you peppered kisses on his poor face. "You promise?" you asked, your voice soft, almost a whisper. "Mhm, I promise," he replied, leaning into your touch. "Do you want to go on a date tomorrow," he added. I'd love to, baby, but you're busy tomorrow." "Skipping practice for a day won't hurt," he chuckled. You responded with a hum as you pressed yourself more, burying his face into your neck and chest, to which he let his hands roam under your clothes, rubbing circles on your back while the other sneakily fondled your ass. You chuckled at the response. "How about a little café date after we go grocery shopping?" you asked, and he replied with a muffled hum.

He peeked his head. "We're good now, right?" he asked. "Yeah, we're all good now, baby," to which he smiled and added, "I love you." You replied with the sweetest, "I love you too." Upon hearing that, he nuzzled right back into your chest.

⋆.˚˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚⊹ ࣪ ˖

Guess who'll be walking on the produce isle with a big smile on his face? Definitely a man named Itoshi Rin.

[loserlvrss]

꒰ 𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐋 ꒱ 김동현

summary : you had just woken up from a bad dream, but your boyfriend was there to comfort you in your time of need

genre : angst, hurt-comfort, fluff, leehan x gn!reader tws : angst, mentions of neglect, alluded ptsd, mentions of emotional abuse, emetophobia, suicidal ideations/death, depression, alluded panic/anxiety disoders, language author notes : this has nothing to do with personal experiences, i swear (i need a leehan in my life) word count : 1.1k

“hey,” you felt a gentle stir, delicate hands rolling you over to be pressed against his warmth—when all you felt was cold and empty.

you blinked away the sleep, your eyes stinging slightly. “are you okay?” he asked, thumbs coming up to brush under your upper cheeks. “you were crying.”

you were foggy—not knowing the difference between reality and the inside of your brain—still half asleep. you’d never felt more neglected within your own head. the dreams you had, had caused actual tears to flow from your eyes. and the worst part, it wasn’t even a scene you could scratch off as being untrue… because it’s happened to you. it was your history that replayed throughout the night.

memories of your parents being hurtful. memories of them not caring about your feelings. memories of them being emotionally abusive, and dismissing to your tears. memories that caused you to resent them. memories that kept you from feeling normal. memories you’d rather forget.

you thought you’d gotten over it…

and, maybe at one time, you had. but regression was a natural thing you couldn’t escape. you can’t always have good days (or dreams, for that matter).

sometimes they caused you to get into your own headspace, and when triggered, panic. you weren’t a stranger to falling victim to thoughts you were molded to have, but they never hurt any less. and, you guess, time isn’t always a healer, like people say it is.

you sniffled, finding solace in what you knew was true; what was right in front of you. leehan. the boyfriend who vowed to take care of you in your time of need. the kind soul who didn’t get scared and run away when he saw you hyperventilating on the bathroom floor. the man who stepped into your life and shut the door behind him. the rock who kept you grounded when you felt light headed. the arms that kept you comforted when you felt unwanted. the love that never left you, even when you’d argue. the stars that he took from the sky, and put into your eyes, to remind you of how bright you are to him. the words that reminded you that you deserved someone as perfect as him, when you remembered being told that you were never good enough.

he was everything you needed, and everything you (at one point) wished you could be.

“i’m okay," you repeated comforting words he’d told you before. "it was just a dream.” yet, your heart hurt, and your stomach turned, and you couldn’t help thinking about them still, though you tried not to.

you tried to will your faucet to turn off, you tried everything to get the tears to stop falling. but, what was comforting, was knowing that his smooth fingers were always there to wipe them away… for however long it took.

“yeah?” he asked, lips coming down over your face, kissing various parts; under each eye, your nose and forehead, until lastly your lips. “it might’ve been just a dream, but i can see that it hurts.” he whispered. “what was it about?”

“i-i,” he stayed silent, ready to listen while letting you take your time. he pulled your head into the crook between his shoulder and neck, putting you to rest. his arms caged you against his body, chest to chest; pressure to stop you from panicking. he could feel your beating heart as you tried to speak—as he tried to comfort you the way you started to gradually let him. “it was them.”

you alluded the reason, but he needed no further context. he knew. he always knows.

he once stayed up all night researching and reading people’s stories on depression and panic disorders; he could tell you all about the chemical imbalances and what synapsis misfire in the brain now. he once stayed up all night watching you sleep, jumping at any sudden (or-not-so) movements; he could recount every time your breath hitched, and eyebrows came together that night. he once stayed up all night to understand something he’s never experienced—to better understand you.

your tears started to run faster, and at one point he had almost gotten emotional too. he hated to see you hurt, because he knew how special you really were. he hated to see you try and undo the coding your parents had programmed you with as you grew up. but, despite that, he knew he’d always be the one to hold you tight, and remind you that you didn’t have to contort yourself to fit into his world—you were his world.

the good, bad, and exceptionally ugly.

he loved you as the snot coated your bottom lip. he loved you as you drooled in your sleep. he loved you when you swayed with the music in your headphones, doing miscellaneous tasks. he loved you when you’d smile so wide it made your cheeks hurt. he loved you when you’d wretch over the toilet, your hair in his hands. he loved you when you were curled up on the shower floor, crying your eyes out. he loved you when you’d talk about nothing, and everything, all at once. and, he wished he could take away every bad memory, replace them, and make you feel like you deserved to be on this planet.

nonetheless, he’d spend his whole life reminding you—of that, he was more than sure.

his heart beat for you; you were his twin flame that burned blindingly bright. you were his red string and olive theory. you were his other half. you were his soulmate that he was lucky the stars aligned for.

he was lucky to have you, and he’ll be damned if you ever thought anything else.

he’d never let you be alone again. he’d never let you stand at the edge of the cliff by yourself. he’d never let you jump. he’d never let anything take you away from him—and if it ever came down to it, he’d proudly hold your hand and topple over the edge with you.

it was you and him until the end of time, and then whatever came after that.

“don’t ever forget,” he mumbled, pulling you closer to him. he’d let you cry into his shoulder the entire night, until your eyes were red and puffy, until you finally had enough. no matter how many of his shirts you soaked through with tears and snot. no matter how much it broke his heart, because he knows deep-down it heals yours just a little bit more. “i love you.”

and, he’d never stop saying it. even after you two were buried in a stone garden together, cold and rotten. a pile of nothingness. he’d still love you like it was the first time; blood, teeth, bones and all.

reblogs, likes and comments are greatly appreciated! thank u!

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[valkyriexo]

You're Drunk | Changbin

ᑉ³pairing; Changbin x Reader

ᑉ³genre; Sickfic , Comfort, angst with a happy ending

ᑉ³warnings; Alcohol, Arguments, sorrow

ᑉ³Authors Note; a little different that the other ones in this collection. Thank you for all the love :)

Part of the "He helps you when.." collection. Other members parts: Chan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Han | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin

"I can't believe you're seriously considering this," Changbin says, his voice tight with barely concealed frustration as he looks at the job offer in your hand.

You can feel his disapproval like a weight on your shoulders, but you can't ignore the excitement bubbling inside you.

"I know it's a big decision, Changbin, but this job could be the opportunity I've been waiting for," you reply, your voice full of hope.

"But what about us? What about our relationship?" Changbin counters, his tone pleading as he searches your eyes for reassurance.

You take a deep breath, the weight of the decision bearing down on you. "I don't want to give up on my dreams. Can't you see that?" you reply.

Changbin's face contorts with hurt and frustration, his voice wavering as he speaks. "Well, it sure seems like you don't care about me," he says, his tone laced with bitterness. "You're willing to throw away everything we have just for some job on the other side of the world."

Tears well up in your eyes as his words hit you like a punch to the gut. "That's not fair, Changbin," you protest, your voice cracking with emotion. "I care about you more than anything. But I also need to think about my future."

Changbin's brows furrow in frustration, his voice tinged with desperation. "But I can provide for you," he says, his tone pleading as he searches your eyes for reassurance. "You don't need to take this job. We can make things work here."

You feel a pang of guilt as you meet his gaze, knowing that his words come from a place of love and concern. "It's not about the money Binnie," you reply, your voice gentle but firm. " I appreciate it. I really do. But I need to work too. I want to have something for myself, I need to have something for myself."

Changbin's expression darkens, hurt flashing in his eyes. "So what, you're saying I'm not enough for you? That I can't provide for you?" he says, his voice rising with each word.

"No, that's not what I'm saying at all," you protest, the tears welling up in your eyes. "You provide so much for me, Changbin, but this is something I need to do for myself. Can't you understand that?"

Changbin's shoulders slump in defeat. "I understand," he replies quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I understand it clearly," he says, grabbing his things and beginning to leave.

"Binnie," you start, your voice trembling with emotion, but he cuts you off with a shake of his head.

"I need some time to think," he says, his voice distant as he turns away, his footsteps echoing in the tense silence that follows.

It was a memory, clear and defined, of a scene that had unfolded just a few days ago. Each detail remained vivid in your mind, as though etched there permanently, refusing to fade with time.

You were alone in the dimly lit apartment, and you found yourself transported back to that moment. The weight of the decision still heavy on your heart, the echoes of your voices reverberating in the quietude of the room. You could almost feel the tension in the air, the raw emotions palpable as if they were still swirling around you.

As you sat there, lost in the labyrinth of your thoughts, you couldn't help but replay the scene over and over again. Each time, the words exchanged between you and Changbin felt sharper, the emotions more intense, as if the memory itself was trying to etch its significance deeper into your consciousness.

With each sip of your drink, you tried to drown out the pain, to numb the ache that resonated within you. But no amount of alcohol could erase the memory, nor could it silence the inner turmoil that ate at your soul.

Days passed in a blur of anguish and solitude. Your apartment became a sanctuary for your sorrow, the only constant in a world that seemed to be crumbling around you. You retreated further into yourself, the outside world fading into insignificance as you grappled with your inner demons.

You hardly had the energy to tend to your basic needs. Your phone lay forgotten and uncharged, its silent screen a stark reminder of the darkness in your life. Meals became an afterthought, mere distractions from the relentless ache in your heart.

Most of your days were spent in tears, the weight of your emotions too heavy to bear alone.

You found yourself curled up on the couch, the soft glow of the lamp casting long shadows across the room. Every corner of your mind is consumed by thoughts of Changbin, his hurt expression haunting your every thought. You replay the argument over and over in your mind, dissecting every word, every nuance, searching for a way to make things right. But no matter how hard you try, the same conclusion stares back at you, cold and unforgiving: 

You and Changbin were drifting further and further apart.

Tears stream down your cheeks as you consider all your options, weighing the pros and cons with painstaking detail. But no matter how hard you try, you can't shake the sinking feeling that no matter what path you choose, it will lead to heartbreak.

With a heavy heart, you bury your face in your hands, the weight of your decision crushing you from all sides. The thought of losing Changbin, of being without him, is almost too much to bear.

As you continue to drink, the tears continue to flow, mixing with the bitter taste of alcohol on your lips. Each sip brings a temporary reprieve from the pain, but as the alcohol dulls your senses, the weight of your sorrow only seems to grow heavier.

Your vision blurs as the room spins around you, the sounds of your own sobs echoing in your ears. You try to steady yourself, to cling to some semblance of control, but the weight of your emotions is too much to bear.

With a heavy heart and weary limbs, you sink further into the cushions, the warmth of the alcohol washing over you like a heavy blanket. Your eyelids grow heavy, the exhaustion of the day catching up with you in a rush.

As the tears continue to fall, you find yourself drifting, slipping further and further into the comforting embrace of sleep. The weight of your sorrow lifts, if only for a moment, as unconsciousness claims you, pulling you into a dreamless slumber.

In the quiet of the room, the only sound is the soft, steady rhythm of your breathing, a stark contrast to the chaos of your thoughts just moments before. 

But in the midst of your slumber, a persistent sound breaks through the silence, pulling you reluctantly back to reality. At first, it's just a faint noise, a distant echo in the depths of your dreams. But as it grows louder, more insistent, you're jolted awake by the realization that someone is knocking at your door.

Your head throbs with the remnants of your earlier drinking, the room spinning as you struggle to sit up. With a groan, you push yourself off the couch, stumbling towards the door with unsteady steps.

Outside, Changbin's voice cuts through the fog of your mind, his words urgent and frantic as he calls out your name. "Hey, are you in there? Open up, Y/N," he says, his voice tinged with worry.

You fumble with the lock, your hands shaking as you struggle to grasp the key. With a click, the door swings open, revealing Changbin's anxious face staring back at you.

He rushes forward, his arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace. "Thank God you're okay. I've been calling and knocking for days," he says, his voice trembling with relief. "What happened? You haven't answered my calls or texts"

But beneath the relief in his voice lies a simmering undercurrent of frustration and concern. "Where have you been, Y/N?" he asks, his tone tinged with reproach. "I've been worried sick. I didn't know if you were hurt, or... or worse."

You flinch away, a surge of anger coursing through your veins. His sudden appearance only serves to reignite the flames of frustration and hurt that had been smoldering within you.

You take a step back, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you glare at him. "Oh, how thoughtful of you to grace me with your presence again," you say, your tone laced with bitterness. "Are you here to torture me some more, or have you finally come to your senses?"

Changbin recoils slightly, his eyes widening in surprise at the venom in your words. "No, Y/N that's not why I'm here," he protests, his voice tinged with desperation. "I came back to apologize, to make things right."

You scoff, the sound bitter on your lips. "Apologize? Is that supposed to make everything better?" You retort, your anger bubbling to the surface. "You left me alone, Changbin. You walked out without a second thought."

"Y/N, I... I'm sorry," he begins, his words cautious, as if walking on eggshells. "I shouldn't have reacted the way I did."

You scoff, your anger refusing to abate, fuelled by the raw hurt festering deep within you. "I don't want your apology, Changbin," you snap, with bitterness in your tone. "You don't get to waltz back in here and expect everything to be okay. You hurt me."

Changbin's expression crumples with remorse, his desperation evident in every line of his face. "Y/N, please," he pleads, his voice thick with emotion. "I know I messed up, but I want to make it right. Please give me a chance to make things right between us."

"Why? Why should I?" you counter, your voice tinged with bitterness and hurt.

Changbin's eyes plead with you, his anguish laid bare for you to see. "Because I love you," he whispers, his voice cracking with emotion. "Because I can't bear the thought of losing you."

You scoff at his words, the pain in your heart too raw to be assuaged by mere declarations of love. "Oh? Is that supposed to erase everything?" you retort, your voice laced with disbelief. "You let your fears and insecurities drive you away, Changbin. You left me when I needed you the most."

Changbin's shoulders slump with the weight of your accusations, his gaze dropping to the floor in shame. "I know," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "And I'm sorry. I let my own demons cloud my judgment, and I hurt you in the process. But I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make things right. Please, Y/N, give me a chance to prove it to you."

His words hang heavy in the air, a fragile plea for forgiveness amidst the wreckage of your relationship.

"I know I can't take back what I said, or the way I left," Changbin admits, his gaze unwavering as he meets your eyes. "But I want you to know that I never meant to make you feel like your dreams didn't matter. They do, Y/N , and I was wrong to make you feel otherwise."

Tears well up in your eyes at his apology, the sincerity in his voice piercing through the wall of hurt and anger that surrounds you. Despite your efforts to remain stoic, your face betrays the conflict within you, the emotions waging a silent battle beneath the surface.

"I understand if you need time," he continues. "But I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me. I promise to do better, to be there for you, to support you in pursuing your dreams, no matter where they may lead."

Your vision blurs as tears stream down your cheeks, mingling with the remnants of anger and hurt that still linger within you.

"I... I want to forgive you, Changbin," you manage to choke out between sobs, your voice wavering with emotion. "But it's just so hard..."

Your words trail off as you stumble slightly, your balance compromised by the lingering effects of the alcohol from the night before. Changbin's eyes widen in concern as he reaches out to steady you, his touch gentle against your trembling form.

"Are you okay, Y/N ?" he asks, his voice filled with worry as he takes in your disheveled appearance and the telltale signs of a hangover.

You shake your head, the room spinning around you as you struggle to remain upright. "I'm fine," you say, your words slurred with the remnants of sleep and alcohol. "Just... a little dizzy, that's all..."

You feel his arms around you, his warmth a stark contrast to the chill of the night air. Despite your anger, a part of you can't help but lean into his embrace, seeking comfort in his familiar presence.

Changbin's grip tightens around you, his concern palpable. "You're not fine, Y/N," he says, his voice soft but firm. "You're drunk, and you need help."

"I'm fine," you mumble, your words slurring together as you try to steady yourself against him.

But he isn't convinced, his brows furrowing with concern as he studies you intently. And then, realization dawns on his face as he pieces it all together.

"Did you... did you drink because of me?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with a mixture of guilt and sorrow.

You can't bring yourself to meet his gaze, the weight of shame and regret settling heavily on your shoulders. "I... I don't know," you admit, your voice barely audible as you struggle to find the right words. "Maybe... maybe I did..."

Changbin's expression softens, his eyes filled with compassion as he wraps you in a comforting embrace. "I'm so sorry, Y/N," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. "I never meant to drive you to this. I never meant to hurt you like this."

His words cut through the haze in your mind, and for a moment, you feel a flash of resentment. But as you struggle to keep your balance, you realize he's right.

You're not fine, not even close.

Changbin gently lifts you into his arms, cradling you like precious cargo as he carries you to the couch. With careful movements, he sets you down, ensuring you're comfortable before he disappears into the kitchen.

You watch him go, feeling a mix of emotions swirling within you. Despite the lingering tension, you can't help but appreciate Changbin's efforts to take care of you.

Minutes pass, and Changbin returns with a glass of water and a plate of sliced fruits. He places them on the coffee table before sitting beside you, his gaze filled with concern.

"Here, drink this," he says, handing you the glass of water. "It'll help with the dehydration."

You take a sip, grateful for the coolness of the water as it soothes your parched throat. Changbin watches you closely, his brow furrowed with worry. With a soft sigh, he reaches for the plate of sliced fruits, carefully selecting a piece and holding it out to you.

You hesitate for a moment, but the earnestness in Changbin's eyes urges you to comply. You take the fruit from him, feeling the sweetness of it on your tongue as you chew slowly, savoring each bite.

Changbin watches you intently, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he observes your reluctant compliance. He looks relieved, as if seeing you eat brings him a sense of comfort and reassurance.

Once you've finished the fruit, Changbin disappears into the kitchen once more, returning with a small packet of liquid IV and a fresh glass of water.

"Bottoms up." He says handing it to you.

"I don't need you to baby me," you snap, the words sharper than you intended.

Changbin recoils slightly, his expression a mix of hurt and concern. "I-I'm sorry," he stammers. "I just... I just want to make sure you're okay."

You sigh, the weight of your words settling heavily on your shoulders. "I know," you say softly, your tone gentler this time. "And I appreciate it, I really do. But I'm not helpless, Changbin. I can take care of myself."

Changbin's gaze softens, a tender smile playing on his lips. "I know you can, Y/N," he says, his voice filled with warmth and affection. "But that doesn't mean I can't take care of you too. I love you, and seeing you like this... it hurts me too." With gentle care, he offers you another piece of fruit.

You sigh softly, and without a word, you reach out and take the fruit from him.

As you finish the last of the fruit, you notice a shift in your body. The warmth from the alcohol is slowly dissipating, leaving you feeling cold and shivery. Changbin notices your discomfort immediately, his brows furrowing with concern.

"Are you feeling cold?" he asks softly, his voice filled with worry.

You nod weakly, the tremors becoming more pronounced as the alcohol wears off. Changbin springs into action, disappearing into the bedroom to retrieve some blankets. He returns moments later, a stack of soft blankets in his arms.

"Here, let me help you get warm," he says gently, draping the blankets over you with careful hands.

As he tucks the blankets around you, you feel a sudden urge to be closer to him. His warmth is inviting, comforting, and you find yourself reaching out to him, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards you.

"Binnie," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, "can you stay with me?"

Changbin's eyes soften at your request, a tender smile gracing his lips. Without hesitation, he settles beside you on the couch, wrapping his arms around you in a warm embrace.

"Of course, Y/N," he replies, his voice filled with warmth and affection. "I'll stay with you as long as you need me."

"I'm sorry, Changbin," you whisper, your voice laced with remorse. "I didn't mean to push you away. I know you're just trying to help."

Changbin's smile softens, his gaze filled with understanding. "I know, Y/N," he says, his voice gentle. "And I'm sorry too. I didn't mean to make you feel helpless. I just want to take care of you because I love you."

You lean into his embrace, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest. In that moment, you realize how much you truly love him, how much he means to you.

As you snuggle closer to Changbin, resting your head against his chest, you feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. It's a comforting sound, a reminder of his presence and the love that surrounds you.

But as you listen to the gentle thud of his heart, you feel it begin to quicken, a subtle shift in tempo that doesn't go unnoticed. Changbin's arms around you tighten slightly, as if he's trying to hold you closer, to shield you from the storm of emotions brewing within him.

"Y/N," he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper, "I'm sorry for everything. I was wrong to argue with you about the job. You should take it. It's an incredible opportunity, and I shouldn't have stood in your way."

You lift your head from his chest, meeting his gaze with a soft smile. "Changbin, it's okay," you say gently, reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair from his forehead. "I understand why you were worried, but you were just looking out for me."

Changbin's expression softens at your words, but there's still a hint of sadness in his eyes. "I know, but I shouldn't have been so selfish," he admits, his voice tinged with regret. "You deserve to chase your dreams, Y/N, even if it means being apart from me."

"Y/N," he murmurs, his voice tinged with uncertainty, "I want what's best for you. And if this job is truly the opportunity you've been waiting for, then you should take it."

You lift your head from his chest, meeting his gaze with a furrowed brow. "But what about us, Bin?" you ask softly, your voice filled with apprehension. "What about our relationship?"

Changbin's expression softens, his eyes searching yours for reassurance. "I want to be with you, Y/N," he says earnestly, his voice filled with conviction. "But I also want you to pursue your dreams. You shouldn't have to choose between us."

You feel a pang of guilt at his words, the weight of his sacrifice settling heavily on your shoulders. "I don't want to lose you, Binnie," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Changbin's fingers trace gentle circles on your back, his touch a soothing balm to your conflicted soul. "You won't lose me, Y/N," he assures you.

For a moment, there's silence between you, the weight of your words hanging in the air like a promise. And then, without warning, Changbin pulls you into a tight embrace, holding you close as if he never wants to let you go.

"I love you, Y/N," he murmurs against your hair, his voice filled with love and gratitude. "I love you more than anything in this world."

And as you melt into his embrace, surrounded by the warmth of his love, you realize that this is where you belong - in Changbin's arms, with his heart beating in time with yours.

ઇଓ M.LIST | Ko-Fi | Taglist | Thank you for your support ♡ | Consider leaving a comment, reblog or like ♡ | © 2024 Valkyriexo 

[pickingupmymercedes]

She's here and so is he - Lewis Hamilton

Series: She's here and she's ours / She's here and she's not only ours / She's here and she's just like you / She's not here, but she'll be / She's here and she won't be the only one / She's here and he won't let her give up / She's here and so is he / She's here and so are we - (they can all be read as one-shots)

request : "hi can we get a fluff one where their son said /do something hurtful to reader so lewis said to their son something like "okay that is your mother, but that is my wife" - anon

pairing: dad!Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

wordcount: +2k

a/n: Hi anon, sorry it took this long but the request was too good and I wanted it to be incorporated into this story! Hope you like it ❤️

______________________________________________________________

The kitchen was a storm of emotions as Y/n and Lewis walked in, their footsteps halting at the sight of their two children in the middle of a heated argument. The tension was palpable, hanging in the air like a thick fog. The younger of the two, their ten-year-old son, stood with his fists clenched at his sides, his face flushed with anger and frustration. Opposite him, their thirteen-year-old daughter, tall for her age and with an air of maturity that often belied her years, looked just as upset, though her demeanor was more controlled.

“I’m tired of it!” their son shouted, his voice cracking slightly. “You’re always the brave one, the perfect one! Everyone says it—Grandma, Kaiden, even my friends at school. You’re never scared of anything, and I—” He broke off, his voice catching in his throat. “I’m nothing like you. Or dad.”

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, there was silence as y/d/n tried to reach for her brother. Then, in a quieter voice, almost a whisper, he added, “You don’t understand! You’re brave and smart, and I’m just... I’m just like Mom,” he breathed out bitterness lacing his tone. “But I wish I wasn’t”

A sharp silence fell over the kitchen. Y/n’s heart constricted at his words, the pain of them cutting deeper than she could have imagined. She took a step forward, her voice soft but firm. "Honey, that’s not fair—"

But before she could finish, he turned on her, his eyes filled with a mix of hurt and anger. “I’m always going to be a failure, just never quite good enough” he snapped.

The word "failure" hung in the air like a dark cloud, its impact immediate and profound.

Y/n recoiled slightly, the hurt evident in her eyes. It wasn’t just what he said—it was the raw emotion behind it, the pain he was clearly feeling. She opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out.

Before she could respond, Lewis, who had been standing silently beside her, took a step forward, his presence commanding the room. His voice calm but filled with authority. He placed a hand on his son's shoulder, guiding him away from the scene of the argument.

“Okay, that’s enough. That is your mother you’re talking about” he said, his tone firm but laced with a protectiveness that couldn’t be missed. “And she’s also my wife. I get that you’re upset, but we don’t talk to her like that.”

Their son’s face crumpled slightly at his father’s words, and the anger seemed to drain out of him, replaced by the tears that started to fall. He looked down at the floor, his shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible.

Lewis placed a gentle hand on his son’s shoulder, guiding him away from the tension in the room. “Come on, let’s talk just us” he said, his tone softening as they headed toward the study.

The kitchen, now quieter, still buzzed with the tension that had erupted moments before. Y/n stood in the middle of it all, trying to steady herself as she replayed his words in her mind, her heart heavy.

The quiet hum of the refrigerator was the only sound that filled the space.

Y/n stood by the counter, her hands gripping its edge, eyes staring at the spot where her son had been standing just moments ago.

Her daughter remained by the table, her arms still crossed, but the defensive posture had softened. Her eyes were focused on her mother, the earlier conflict giving way to concern.

“Mom?” the daughter spoke softly, her voice hesitant as if she wasn’t sure how to begin.

Y/n looked up, meeting her daughter’s gaze. She could see the worry etched in her features; the same worry she often saw reflected in her father’s eyes. “Yeah, love?”

There was a brief pause, and then the girl unfolded her arms, taking a step closer to her mother. “I hate that he feels like that” she admitted, her voice tinged with frustration and sadness. “I hate that he feels like he doesn’t belong, like he’s not... enough.”

Y/n’s heart ached at her daughter’s words, the pain of the earlier exchange still raw. “I know” she replied, her voice gentle. “But he’s just—”

“He’s just like you,” her daughter cut in, not out of rudeness but out of understanding. “And that’s what makes him special. He’s thoughtful, he’s careful. But... I think he feels like that’s a bad thing.”

Y/n nodded slowly, the truth of her daughter’s words sinking in. “I suppose he does. And that’s probably on me... maybe I haven’t shown him enough how being like that isn’t something to be ashamed of.”

Her daughter moved closer until she was standing right by her. “Do you remember when I started kindergarten?” she asked suddenly, her voice quiet but steady.

“And how I used to hate that I couldn’t go to the races with Dad anymore? That I couldn’t follow him around like I used to?”

Y/n turned slightly, looking at her daughter, a small smile playing on her lips despite the heavy mood. “You were so upset. I had to bribe you with chocolate just to get you to stay in the classroom.”

Y/d/n smiled faintly at the memory but then sobered quickly. “It wasn’t just that I couldn’t go with him... it was that I felt like he wasn’t with me, you know? And at the same time, I knew that y/s/n had you. It’s like... he had you to guide him, and I had to figure it out on my own.”

Y/n’s heart squeezed with a mix of guilt and understanding. “You were never alone. Your dad and I were always there for you, even when we weren’t physically with you.”

The daughter nodded, her eyes glistening in the afternoon light. “I know that now. But back then... I guess what I’m trying to say is that... he completes us, Mom. Even if he doesn’t see it yet. Just like how Dad and I are always pushing forward, you and him are always there to make sure we don’t fall. We balance each other.”

Y/n felt a tear slip down her cheek, but she didn’t bother wiping it away. She pulled her daughter into a hug, holding her tightly. “Gosh, how are you only thirteen?” she whispered into her daughter’s hair. “I guess we do balance each other.”

Her daughter hugged her back just as tightly and as they pulled back, Y/n looked into her daughter’s eyes and smiled through her tears.

“Thank you for reminding me of that,” Y/n said softly. “And I promise you, we’ll make sure your brother sees it too.”

In the quiet of the study, Lewis sat beside his son, who was hunched over, staring at the floor with a mixture of shame and sadness etched on his young face. The earlier outburst still hung in the air, but the space between them was calm now, filled with the low ticking of the wall clock and the distant murmur of the waves outside—a stark contrast to the storm that had raged in the kitchen.

Lewis placed a gentle hand on his son’s back, rubbing slow circles in a way that was meant to comfort but also to remind him that he wasn’t alone.

“You want to tell me what that was about?” Lewis asked softly, his voice carrying the weight of a father who knew there was more to his son’s pain than just the argument.

The boy hesitated, his small fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “I didn’t mean to say it like that,” he finally whispered, his voice cracking slightly with emotion.

Lewis nodded, letting out a small sigh of relief. “I know you didn’t, buddy. But words have a way of sticking around, even when we don’t mean them. And that’s why it’s so important to talk about how we’re feeling, instead of letting it all build up inside.”

The boy’s shoulders sagged further, the weight of his emotions pulling him down. “But it’s true... I’m just like Mom, and I wish I wasn’t.” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lewis felt a pang in his chest at those words, but he didn’t let it show. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, trying to understand where his son’s feelings came from. “Why would you say that? What’s so bad about being like your mom?”

His son looked up, his eyes wet with unshed tears. “Because I’m not brave like you” he said, his voice trembling. “I can’t just... go for it like my sister does. She’s never afraid, and you’re always so confident. But me... I’m just slow, always thinking and worrying. I feel like I weight you two down.”

Lewis felt the weight of those words, realizing how deeply his son had been struggling with these feelings.

He leaned forward, making sure his son could see the sincerity in his eyes. “Hey,” he began, his voice firm but kind. “Being like your mom doesn’t make you any less brave or strong. Your mom is the one who made me strong through so much of our lives.”

The boy shook his head slightly, his eyes still searching his father’s face for answers.

“And because she thinks things through, I knew I was safe” Lewis continued, his tone steady. “She doesn’t just jump into situations without understanding them first. She takes her time, makes sure everything is right before she takes that step. That’s not fear—that’s wisdom. That’s being brave enough to care about the outcome, to want to make sure everyone is safe and okay.” Lewis said softly, his voice filled with conviction.

“And you do that too, son. You’re thoughtful and caring, and that’s a strength. A huge one.”

The boy’s lower lip trembled as he listened, absorbing his father’s words. “But it doesn’t feel like it,” he admitted quietly.

He pulled his son closer, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “You don’t have to be like me” Lewis said softly, his voice filled with conviction. “You’re not supposed to, anyway. Because who you are—that thoughtful, careful, and deeply kind kid—is exactly who you’re meant to be. And that’s more than enough.”

His son blinked up at him, a flicker of understanding beginning to take hold. “Really?”

Lewis shook his head, a small, understanding smile playing on his lips. “Your mom and I— we’re different, just like you and your sister are different. I might be the one who charges ahead, but your mom is the one who makes sure we’re headed in the right direction. You don’t rush into things, and that’s not a flaw—that’s a strength. Your mom is like that, and it’s one of the things that give me security. She’s the reason we’re where we are today.”

Lewis smiled gently, brushing a stray tear from his son’s cheek as the boy looked up at his father.

“And just like your mom, you’re going to find your own way, at your own pace. You don’t have to be like anyone else. You need to be you. And that’s more than enough. It’s who you are that makes our family work. Without you, we wouldn’t be us.”

His son was silent for a moment, the tension slowly easing from his small frame as his father’s words sank in. “But what about Sis? She’s always so... brave.”

Lewis smiled, recognizing the heart of his son’s fears steaming from the comparisons between sibling. “She sure is. But bravery doesn’t always look the same. Sometimes, it takes more courage to stand still, to think things through, and to make sure you’re on solid ground before you take the next step. And that’s what you and your mother does. And it’s just as important.”

His son looked down at his hands, turning his father’s words over in his mind. “I’m sorry for what I said to Mom,” he murmured, guilt heavy in his voice.

Lewis nodded, understanding the weight of his son’s apology. “I know you didn’t mean it,” he said gently. “But you still need to make it right. Your mom loves you, and she knows how much you love her too.”

The boy nodded again, more firmly this time, and Lewis felt a swell of pride in his chest. “Come on,” Lewis said, standing up and holding out his hand. “Let’s go talk to Mom.”

And as they walked into the kitchen, revealing Y/n and their daughter still there, the boy’s steps quickened.

Lewis watched as he crossed the room to his mother, and as Y/n pulled him into a tight embrace, Lewis knew that, despite the struggles, they would always find their way back to each other.

Their daughter, who had been standing quietly by the counter, watched the scene with a soft smile on her face.

Lewis stood beside her; his heart full as he took in the sight of his family finding comfort in each other. He felt a gentle poke and looked to see his daughter by his side, her eyes shining with relief and pride.

"You know," she whispered, leaning into her father’s side, "I used to think I was the lucky one because I was like you. But now, I see that being like Mom... that's pretty amazing too."

Lewis felt a lump form in his throat at her words. He placed a tender kiss on the top of her head and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. "It is" he agreed softly, his voice thick. "It really is."

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[pandora-writes-one-piece]

Lament

Source for pic

Lament

Word Count: 551

Tags: Hint at angst; Hint at Fluff;

Special Warning: English is not my first language!

Notes: I can't get this song out of my head and I can't get this scene out of my head... It's part of Kid's meet-cute story and yes, it's a spoiler, though you won't understand what you're being spoiled about. Chances are I won't even write it like this when the time comes, but I needed this out of my head!! This has helped me destress the day away... I hope you enjoy it, even though it's small and just a piece of something that's not unfinished because it isn't even started.

Masterlist

He had taken you to the overlook again, that calm spot where only you and the stars were witnesses to the ghosts that haunted you both. The silence felt heavier than during those other times, something unsaid hung in the air. Not something bad, like the anger that had been left in the past - the misunderstandings or the hurt - but something far deeper. 

“How can ye love someone like me?”

His words sounded rehearsed, like he'd been replaying them in his head over and over, too afraid to whisper them to you, too afraid to voice his inner thoughts. 

A small sigh parted your lips. You had been waiting for the literal bomb to drop, but it was more destructive than you had initially thought. 

“What do you mean, Kid?”

“Ye know what I mean!” Kid passed one hand through his fiery red hair, the heavy motorcycle creaking with effort as he leaned against it. “After everythin’ I've done, all I've put ye through, the pain I've inflicted on ye… I…”

Kid sighed heavily, a frown pulling his lips downwards. His next words were a mere whisper, thick with emotion and all that was left unsaid in between. 

“How can ye look at me and still find somethin’ worthy of bein’ loved?” 

You moved away from the edge of the overlook, the arms you had wrapped securely around your body opening up as you shed your defenses for him. His vulnerability called to yours like twin flames, burning with the same intensity. 

“I know you're not perfect–”

“Perfect?” He interrupted you with a loud bark. “I'm not even good! Let alone perfect! I'm angry, volatile, loud, and–... and a bloody coward.”

Just one step took you closer than you’d been to him in the last few weeks. Just one step turned your heart into a drum, beating wildly and fast. 

“If only you'd let me finish…” You admonished, a slight playful edge to your tone. Kid grumbled but stayed silent, so you continued with your thoughts. “You're not perfect, but I never asked for perfection. I see the way you're trying so hard to make amends.”

Kid's eyes fell on you, and his hand twitched at your proximity, though he didn't push the unsaid boundaries you’d put up since he broke you apart. He didn't even try to touch you. 

“I see the man who shows up every day; the man who slowly wins my trust back; the man who shares ghosts of the past with me, even though they take part of his soul when he's reminded of them.”

Another one of your steps brought Kid closer to touching you. His scent enveloped you and invaded your senses, making your heart clench at the distance you’d created. 

“And I see the man who cares in his own way, even though he doesn't say it, most likely never will, but he shows it with every small gesture.”

The way you smiled at him must have hit home, because Kid let out a small whine, his brows furrowing as his lip trembled. 

“So no, Kid. You're not perfect.” Lifting your arm, you let just the tips of your fingers trace his jawline, following the shiver the touch created down his neck and settling on his flesh arm. “But you're damn worth it.”

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[unboundprompts]

Hi! I just wonder whether you can do scenarios about heavy angst? Like the character lost someone dear and is in self guilt or scenarios about fighting action?I am currently trying to improve my writing skills. 🙏 Tysm.

Angsty Prompts about Losing Someone (ft. Self Guilt)

-> feel free to edit and adjust pronouns as you see fit.

He felt like he was going to be sick. God, if only he had done something. If he hadn't frozen the way he did, if he had reacted at all, then maybe everything would be different. Maybe they would still be here. He hated himself for being so scared.

She felt hot tears prick at her eyes, a sob building up in her throat. Her chest was heavy, she couldn't breathe. She opened her mouth, desperate for air, but all that escaped was a choked a sob. Her legs crumpled beneath her, and she collapsed to the floor.

They had killed her. No matter how many times they replayed the scene over and over in their head, they couldn't convince themselves that nothing could have been done. There was always something that they could have done differently, but why hadn't they done it? If only they had done something else, then maybe they wouldn't blame themselves.

He couldn't stop the tears. The overwhelming grief and anger hit him like a truck. He didn't know what to do with these emotions, couldn't handle them all at once. His fist connected with the wall. It hurt, it hurt like hell, but as he examined his bloody knuckles through misty eyes, he didn't think twice about punching the wall again.

She had no one to blame but herself, and that made the sinking feeling in her chest all the more painful.

They had never missed someone more in their life than him. And now there was an empty, [Name]-shaped hole in their heart and they were the reason it was there. Nothing would ever come close to filling it, and they were certain they would never feel whole again.

If you like what I do and want to support me, please consider donating! I also offer editing services and other writing advice on my Ko-fi!

[yueebby]

littol sneak peek at syth 2 bc i feel bad for taking so long :3

You haunt his dreams, he’s sure. Gojo never believed in superstitions or the supernatural— despite what all those old geezers preached. That was until you started appearing everytime he closed his eyes.

The familiar scene of you gets cloudier every time it appears in his dreams, but he knows it is still you. It’s nearly comical how even his subconscious knew of your everlasting beauty. Everytime, the same sequence replays: a grand celebration he had hosted in the palace in honor of a prosperous year of his reign. The two of you were overlooking the guests, seated at the head of the room.

You’re wearing court attire that was altered to fit solely you (it hugged your body in such ways that made Gojo’s head spin), fabrics and dyes all originating from foreign lands. In your hair sits beautiful hair ornaments, swinging with every movement you make.

However, Gojo knows it is not the materialistic items that make you beautiful, no, he knows that it was simply you.

“Has anyone told you how unnerving your eyes are?” You quietly comment, eyes still trained on the party in front of you. Satoru cracks a slight smile, not ashamed in the slightest that he was caught ogling you.

“I thought you said you loved them?” He blinks at you, attempting to lean closer to show off his blue orbs. “You’re starting to hurt my feelings, beloved.”

You purse your lips, subtly leaning away before he can initiate improper conduct. He does not take your action well, snaking an arm around you to firmly cage you in his hold. Normally, you would welcome his advances but you’d rather not be publically humiliated in front of the entire Imperial Court and all of the influential clanheads of Japan.

“Please have mercy on me, Your Grace,” You whisper, eyes flitting across the room, making sure there were no eyes on you. Luckily, everyone was too absorbed with the luxurious goods Gojo had imported for the occasion. It was the anniversary of his coronation, after all.

He makes a noise of disapproval, “Can’t. Must let these people know that you’re mine.” Gojo closes the gap between you and sniffs your neck, softly moaning at your scent. He knows that if the geezers looked up from their silver spoons they would have a heart attack at his public display of affection. Not that he cares, considering they had no power over him. His unorthodox ways may make them livid, but Gojo knows they won’t do anything. He was going to pave the way for the Golden Age of Japan— with you by his side.

[b0ng05]

Over this - Toxic!Amber Freeman x Reader

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Word Count: 6151

Prompt: Y/n receives a text from an unknown number. Only to find out it's her ex. She can't help but think about all the toxic stuff Amber did to her.

Warnings: Toxic Relationship! Mentions of abuse! Angst!!

Also, Not Proofread💅

Masterlist

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Unknown: Hey, you awake? 11:21 p.m.

Unknown: It’s Amber 11:22 p.m.

I thought I was over it. I thought things had been left in the past. I thought she forgot about me. But after receiving a text from an unknown number, it was clear she didn’t. I laid in my bed, gazing at my ceiling as tears streamed down my face. It had been over 3 years. Yet the traumatizing memories that flooded back in felt so very fresh. Each incident vividly clear as my eyes fluttered shut.

Amber stares into her mirror, adjusting her dark hair and touching up her makeup. My arms were wrapped around her waist, my hand gently rubbing her stomach as I watched over her shoulder. Her TV was hooked up to her phone, playing her playlist that wasn’t all that rangeful. Most of the songs were just replaying, mainly the same artist’s songs. It was getting quite bland hearing the same voice over and over for the past hour. But I endured it while staring at her, utterly smitten.

“Isn’t she kind of overrated?” I tease playfully, referencing the artist singing, knowing she was one of Amber’s favorites. While poking Amber’s side in a playful manner, hoping to gain her attention for at least a moment. Having had been watching Amber for a while with no commentary or affection on her end for 15 minutes. Not that I minded, being with her felt more than enough.

Instead of hearing a sarcastic quip back from her like usual, my head is whipped to the side faster than I can register. Her hand hung in the air, giving me an explanation to my now turned face. “You just slapped me.” I say slowly, registering what the fuck just happened. “Yeah. Quit saying dumb shit.” She scoffs, turning back to her reflection, quite unfazed with her own actions.

I remove my arms from her waist after seeing the forming red print of her hand on my cheek in the reflection of her mirror. I backed up, going to grab my phone off her charger to leave, wanting out of the situation. But before I can even make it three steps away, her hand is wrapped tightly around my wrist in a strong grip. She turns me to face her, one hand trailing my hip.

“Where are you going?” She asks, her tone turning seraphic and sweet. “I’m leaving, I don’t want to be here.” I say, trying to move away from her grip to no avail. “Oh don’t be a baby. You know I didn’t mean it, Y/n/n. You know I wouldn’t hurt you like that seriously.” Amber's deceptively sweet tone calls out. Her hand moved to caress my cheek softly.

“Don’t go. Please?” Amber hums softly, a small pout on her lips and her eyes pleading with my own. I give in, unable to ignore the ache in my heart at the desperate look in her eyes. I put my phone down and move to sit beside her once more.

That was just the beginning of a toxic relationship that was to soon blossom. A lesson that I wasn’t aware I needed to learn. You hear the stories of toxic relationships and think it could never happen to you, that you would never fall for the sob stories and the twisted manipulative ways of lovers that seek oblivious prey.

Amber and I were at Tara’s house, all sitting in her living room watching some action movie on the TV. I was curled up to Amber’s side, her arm wrapped around my shoulder. Tara was sitting on the other side of me, her arm resting on the armrest and her chin resting in the palm of her hand. Tara lets out a huff of a laugh as a new actress enters the scene of the movie.

“Don’t you think that chick’s dress is ugly?” Tara jokes, the dress the actress wore was adorned with yellow and orange polka dots with a weird neckline that was not at all flattering for the actress’s figure. “I don’t think you should be judging Tara, especially with your body,” Amber chuckles as she glances over at Tara with a douchy smirk. Her hand rubbing along my shoulder as they have a moment of a silent stare off.

“Fuck off,” Tara mumbles, before setting her popcorn bowl down on the coffee table and walking upstairs to her room. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” I whisper, looking at her completely disgusted with her rude behavior. “Oh come on, it was just a joke. She’ll get over it.” Amber rolls her eyes, attempting to pull me closer to her embrace.

“No. That was seriously fucked up. You don’t comment on someone else’s body.” I state, removing her arm from me as I stand up, going to follow Tara upstairs to apologize for Amber’s unacceptable behavior. “Seriously? Tara made a mean comment and you didn’t give her the cold shoulder!” Amber huffs, as she stands up, her arms raised outward in anger as she tries to make an excuse. “No. She commented on a dress design that was ugly. Not the woman’s body.” I scoff, walking over to the stairs. Fully intending to apologize to Tara on Amber’s behalf.

As I step on the landing to walk up the stairs, my vision goes black. Everything was too fast to understand. I feel a heavy pressure around my neck, and the back of my head aches with the force it slammed into the wall with. My body feels a numb tingly feeling, my legs much like jelly. As my vision tunnels back in, the sight I’m met with is Amber’s hand around my throat, slamming me against the wall behind me. Her grip was so tight that I could barely gasp for breath, surely to bruise later on. Her eyes were darker than before, the look was terrifying and had a sadistic essence that left my skin crawling and spine shivering. Her cocky smile no longer there, in place was a twitching snarl. I felt my heart drop in utter fear.

Before I could say an attempt to stutter out anything, she tried to play off her violent actions after seeing the fear written on my face. Her lips shifted into a flirty smirk, and leaning in to kiss me, her lips pressed against mine in a bruising manner that left mine aching and not in a good way, her hand still gripping my around throat tightly. As my senses start to come back to me, I push her away as hard as I can, making her stumble back a bit, and then I rush upstairs to Tara’s room, not bothering to knock. I open the door and shut it behind me. Tara looks up at me bewildered as she sees the fear, betrayal and confusion written on my face.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Tara asks, getting up from her bed to wrap her arms around me in soft gentle embrace. “I- I um- I’m sorry for how Amber was acting, it wasn’t right.” I apologize, struggling to find the words that I desperately wanted to speak. Fear eating at my mind, knowing Amber was just beyond the door. “Hey, hey, no, you don’t have to apologize for her, Y/n. She is her own person, and so are you, okay?” Tara soothes, her hand softly rubbing my back trying to comfort me. “I-”

Before I could speak another word, the door swung open, Amber entering the room. Her gaze hardens at the sight. She walks over and grabs my wrist, pulling me towards the door. “We gotta head out,” Amber states, but her tone was more so demanding. “What- wait-” Tara tries to intervene but to no avail with the intense glare that Amber sent her way.

Amber drags me out of Tara’s room towards the stairs, and once we got downstairs, she didn’t waste a second getting us out the front door and into her car. “What did you say to her?” Amber demands as she enters the driver’s seat of her car.

She quickly floors it out of Tara’s driveway, taking a left turn, wheels squealing, meaning we were going in the direction of her house. My stomach turns, a sickening feeling overcoming me at the sound of her tone and the look in her eyes. Mentally, I couldn’t help but think back to the psychology class Amber and I had attended yesterday at school. More so the lesson, the one on gut-brain connection. Never thought I’d actually use the information, but seeing and feeling it happen in real time made something click in my brain. I didn’t deserve this.

“I just apologized for you being an asshole.” I huffed, a new found confidence bestowed in my mind. “Excuse you? I was the asshole? No. You were a bitch for running off when I was trying to kiss you and make up.” Amber quips, her face contorting in anger and annoyance as she grips the steering wheel tightly. “You’re the one that wants to be a stubborn bitch about everything.”

“You put your fucking hands on me. I had a pretty good fucking reason to run. Pullover.” I uncross my arms, one hand going for the door handle. “No! I’m not fucking pulling over.” Amber seethes, running a hand through her hair in frustration.

“I don’t want to be near you right now! Pull over.” I demand, my head whipping to the car door when I hear her press the lock button on her side of the car. “I’m not fucking pulling over, we are gonna talk this out. I don’t wanna lose you!” Amber starts to make herself cry, a skill she had mastered in order to manipulate me into letting her have her way.

My phone starts to ring in my back pocket, I pull it out and check the screen, the caller ID showing my mom’s name. I let out a sigh of relief. “My mom is calling.” I state. I don’t bother to glance at her direction as I answer the phone. My parents taking priority over my highschool girlfriend. “Hey honey, we need you to come home and watch the dog. Your father and I are going out for date night,” My mom’s soothing voice informs.

“Yeah of course, I’ll be home in a few.” I say before ending the call, making sure to say an ‘I love you’ at the end. “My parents need me home.” I state. “Okay, so we’ll talk this out at your house.” Amber nods, wiping her tears with the sleeve of her hoodie.

“No, my parents don’t want anyone over while I’m home alone, and they just got new cameras installed last week.” I throw in a lie at the end, just craving some space away from her.

I had spent my whole summer, every single day at her home, at her side. It was already halfway through the school year and I still barely had room to breathe with her constantly at my side. Not only that, but she had been so controlling. The whole summer, she would refuse to let me go home when I wanted to unless my parents called me practically begging me to come back home. She went through my phone, blocking every friend that she deemed a threat to our relationship, some that didn’t even do anything wrong at all. All just so she could feel more in control of our relationship.

“Okay, so you can still facetime me when you get home right?” Amber asks sternly, her hand moving to grip mine in a tight grasp. “Yeah, I’ll call you after my parents leave.” I lie through my teeth, planning to fake a low battery before the call.

“Okay… Promise?” Amber asks, glancing at me for a brief moment before her eyes turn back to the road, taking a turn towards my house to drop me off. “I promise.” I nod, lifting her hand up to my lips to kiss the back of it. She smiles and caresses the back of my hand with her thumb. “Also, we gotta talk about Tara. I don’t want us hanging out with her anymore.” Amber commands. “But why? I thought you liked Tara? She’s nice.” I say bewildered by her.

“Yeah, a little too nice to you.” Amber scoffs, her hand moving to grip my thigh possessively, “You are mine, and I don’t want you seeing her. Is that clear?” Amber questions, her hand gripping my thigh in an increasingly painful grip. “Yes ma’am.” I mumble, wincing in pain.

“Good girl.” Amber smirks in satisfaction as her hand gently rubs over when her nail marks are now indented. Amber turns into the driveway of my house, parking her car in the driveway. She turns to me, reaching out to caress my cheek. Looking at me with the same look that always won me over. “I’m gonna miss you.” Amber pouts, tracing over my bottom lip with her thumb.

“I’ll see you later, okay?” I say, feeling a pang of guilt at the sight of her pout. “Okay… Give me one more kiss?” She asks, leaning closer, her breath brushing against my lips. “Okay,” I nod, leaning in to kiss her softly before pulling away. “I love you,” Amber calls as I unbuckle my seatbelt and open the car door. “I love you too…” I say back before closing the car door behind me.

I walk up my driveway, feeling her eyes on me as I get to the door. I quickly get inside and lock the door behind me. Upon entering, my mom appears from the entrance of the kitchen. “There you are,” She walks over to me, “Your dad and I will be back in a couple hours, take care of our dog, alright? Make sure he isn’t lonely.” My mom laughs a bit at the end as she hugs me.

She grabs her purse and coat, “Let’s go!” She yells up the stairs to my dad who was taking his precious time on his hair. He quickly rushes down the stairs, nearly tripping down them, but catching himself with a nervous smile as he looks over at my mom who was unamused by his inability to be careful. “We’ll be back soon, love you kiddo,” My dad grins, patting my shoulder before offering his arm out to my mom as they walk out to their car.

Once they exit, I make sure the front door is locked, checking the back door too. No, I wasn’t expecting Amber to show up again, but I wouldn’t put it past her. Once I made sure they were secure, I called my dog to come with me up to my bedroom.

Unknown: Hey, you awake? 11:21 p.m.

Unknown: It’s Amber 11:22 p.m.

Unknown: I miss you 11:24 p.m.

I sigh as I rub my eyes with the back of my hands. It hurts to think I was so naive. And now, with her texting me, it was all just carving open old wounds that weren’t fully finished healing. A speedy thump to the heart in my chest, one that I didn’t want but couldn’t control. My mind flashes with memories that I wish I could forget.

We were laying in Amber’s bed, her head resting on my chest as we watched videos on my phone that I held on my stomach. Her hand was softly rubbing my hip. “She looks familiar.” I comment, referring to the woman in the video who was explaining an ongoing situation in the world. “You think she’s pretty, don’t you?” Amber scoffs, lifting her head off my chest to look back up at me with an unamused look, her eyebrows furrowed.

“No, I’m just saying that I think I’ve seen her videos before,” I elaborate, softing stroking her hair trying to ease her mind. “Don’t fucking lie to me.” Amber scoffs, sitting up and taking my phone out of my hand. “I’m not lying, baby. I promise.” I say softly, my hand moving to gently caress her cheek, but she pushes my hand away. “I can’t even trust anything you fucking say.” Amber gets up from the bed, pacing her room, her face contorted in anger, that dark look in her eyes coming back.

I felt my heart race in my chest, not liking when she got like this, usually I could calm her down before a total meltdown. “You’re such a fucking liar! I saw you at school talking to Tara on Tuesday, y’know that?!” She seethes, lifting her arm back as she chucked my phone with no intent in direction. It felt like it happened in slow motion as the phone smacked me right in the face, hitting my nose and lip in a harsh manner. My hands quickly rush to cradle my face in pain.

“Fuck!” I cry in pain, blood gushing from my nose, my lip now busted from being pinched hard between my tooth and phone. Blood dripped down my lip and momentarily stained my teeth. “God don’t be so dramatic, it was an accident.” Amber rolls her eyes as she grabs a towel that was hanging off the back of her closet, walking over to hold it to my face.

“One that you could have fucking prevented!” I scoff, trying to push her hands away as I tried to hold the towel myself. “Baby, you know I didn’t mean it, I wouldn’t do that to you on purpose, I just got angry” Her tone turns sweet and soft, her hand running soothingly through my hair. “But you did!” I say, trying to move away from her. “It wasn’t my fault!” Amber huffs, pulling me into her arms, tight enough that I couldn’t get away.

She leans down and presses soft kisses on my cheek, whispering sweet nothings to calm me down and get me to stop trying to squirm away. After almost 20 minutes, I no longer fought her embrace, rather leaning into it as she rubbed my back softly. Her hand holding the towel to my face, coddling me. My mind was busy thinking on how I would explain the injuries to my mom when I got home.

Unknown: Hey, you awake? 11:21 p.m.

Unknown: It’s Amber 11:22 p.m.

Unknown: I miss you 11:24 p.m.

Unknown: Please baby 11:27 p.m.

I let out a shaky breath, my eyes closed as I stewed in my thoughts. My hand brought up to my face, tracing over where the bump on my lip used to reside, the memories felt so fresh that I could almost feel the old wound. Then another memory flashed through my head, an invisible stake of pain piercing through the back of my skull. Remembering her was only gutting my stability further.

Amber and I were walking around a bar in a busy part of town, her mom was a busy woman, and one of her friends was having a cancer benefit. Her mother was only able to attend for 30 minutes before having to leave for a work meeting. She requested that Amber and I stay behind in her place, also asking us to make sure her name was at the top of all the raffle items for the benefit. Amber agreed after being lectured by her mother. I remained by her side, trying to be a supportive girlfriend.

We walked into the room that held the raffle buckets next to the items and the clipboard to list your name along with your bid for the item. Amber’s mother did not spare a dime with the tickets she bought, wanting to be as supporting as she can for her friend, as well as wanting to win a full massage and mani pedi. “God this is boring,” Amber whispers, guiding me to a wall for us to lean on. I lean my back against the cold brick wall, Amber moving to stand in front of me, her hand caressing my waist. “Calm down, we only have to be here for a bit longer like your mom asked.” I mumble quietly, my eyes scanning the room, observing the people in the crowded area. “Why not make it a little interesting~?” Amber smirks, her hand moving to cup my jaw as she leans in and connects her lips with mine, trying to start a heated makeout session, I push her back slightly. “I don’t feel like this is appropriate. This isn’t the time or place, I don’t feel comfortable doing this here.” I voice my concerns softly, trying not to upset her as I caress her cheek gently.

“Uhuh sure~” Amber’s smirk doesn’t falter as she leans in and forces her lips against mine once more. My hands move to her shoulders trying to push her back. Her hands move to grip my waist tighter, trapping me between the wall and her. With the crowd as busy and as drunk as they were, didn’t notice my struggle. Except for one woman, who just so happened to be working at the cancer benefit. “Excuse me, you two need to go. Out. Now.” An older woman with dark brown hair and a Monroe piercing scolds, her thin eyebrow quirked up.

I recognized her as one of the women Amber’s mother was talking with earlier before she took her leave. I felt a disgusting guilt building up inside me. I felt dirty, not in a good way, in a vile way. Amber knew how I felt about PDA, especially in settings like this. “Yeah, yeah.” Amber rolls her eyes, smiling cockily as she grabs my hand dragging me out of the room into the bar area where they would soon announce the winners. I went to sit down on one of the only empty stools left, but Amber stopped me, sitting down in the seat, making me stand in front of her as she wrapped her arms around my shoulders. A blonde woman with glasses in an olive green dress stood up to begin announcing the winners from the raffle and bids. After a harrowing thirty minutes, all the winners were announced, none of which were Amber’s mother. My legs were killing me, having stood the whole time with the pressure of Amber’s head and arms resting on me.

“Whatever, let’s go.” Amber scoffs, feeling some sort of selfish anger for having wasted her time. I couldn’t understand her anger. But Amber got mad over a lot of minor things, so it wasn’t really a surprise that this was sparking a flame of anger in her. Amber grabbed my hand and dragged me through the crowds of people in the small bar. We get out the door and after a few steps outside, Amber stops me. She was shivering, having worn only a t-shirt and jeans in the middle of fall.

“Give me your hoodie.” She states, holding out her pale ringed hand. “Why? You chose to not wear a hoodie when I told you to wear one.” I say, my eyebrows furrowing, still kind of pissed off about her making me stand up the whole half hour. “Maybe because I’m your fucking girlfriend and your ride home.” Amber snaps back, her jaw clenching as she snaps her fingers, cueing me to give her the hoodie. “Okay..” I sigh, peeling off my dark green hoodie and handing it to the girl, leaving me in t-shirt and cargo pants. I didn’t want to walk home tonight, so I didn’t see the point in arguing with her further. I could feel the cold dry sting of the air hit me. I shivered, and we began to walk to her car. When we got to her car, she was livid, the parking meter had expired, a ticket sat under the windshield wiper. Her eye twitched a bit as she hastily walked over, snatching the ticket off the windshield and getting in the car. I quickly follow suit, not wanting to piss her off more. I get into the car, shutting the door behind me. I buckle my seatbelt, feeling an absolute need to, knowing she’s seething in anger. As I got in, she seemed cool for a minute, before her fist drove into the steering wheel, punching repeatedly. I reached out and held her hand with mine, preventing her fist from hitting it again, not wanting her to hurt herself. I unbuckle my seatbelt and lean over, holding her head to my chest, embracing her tightly. I move over to straddle her lap. Her arms wrap around me, holding me breathlessly tight, letting out a frustrated and muffled cry out into my chest.

I felt guilty. She was having a hard day already, her mom yelled at her earlier, a woman scolded us, she was upset about the raffle, I argued about the hoodie, and now she has a ticket. I kissed the crown of her forehead and whispered sweet nothings trying to calm her down. Once her breathing was more normal, I pulled back and looked back into her eyes, feeling a jolt to my heart as hers met mine.

“You okay?” I whisper softly, kissing her cheek a few times. Her lips were puffed out in a small pout and her eyes were teary as she stared back at me. “I’m sorry, I just- I got overwhelmed.” Amber mumbles, pressing her face back into my chest

Unknown: Hey, you awake? 11:21 p.m.

Unknown: It’s Amber 11:22 p.m.

Unknown: I miss you 11:24 p.m.

Unknown: Please baby 11:27 p.m.

Unknown: I need you 11:30 p.m.

I bit my bottom lip, as I thought about her eyes. Back then, I thought I always saw her eyes softening when she gazed back at me, but now that it’s been years, I have come to realize it was her loving the power and control she had over me. The way she had me wrapped around her finger no matter what.

It was a few days after the incident where she had slapped me over a joke I made about her music.

Amber and I were cuddling in her bed when my phone buzzed in the sheets next to us. She picked it up and checked the notification. My head was nuzzled into the crook of her neck, her hand that wasn’t occupied with my phone was stroking my hair softly. “Your ex fucking texted you.” Amber scoffs, opening the text. Her hand stopped stroking my hair, moving to aid her other hand with the phone.

“Block her,” I mumble, too sleepy to care about whatever my ex wants. “She said she found your hoodie and wants you to come pick it up.” Amber says after reading the text. ��Tell her to throw it away.” I say, pressing a soft kiss to her neck. “No, actually…” Amber pauses thinking, “Go pick up the hoodie.” She states, pushing my head off her neck. “Why? I don’t want it.” I huff, a bit pouty about her ruining my comfortable position.

“Well I do, because then the next time that bitch stalks your instagram, she’ll get the pleasure of seeing me in your hoodie.” Amber smirks, handing my phone back to me. “Why does it matter if it’s that one? You’re on my instagram wearing my hoodies in most of our pictures,” I ask confusedly as I lean over to kiss her cheek before putting my phone in my pocket. “Because, I get to rub it in that you’re mine. If she’s willing to go through the trouble of giving you your hoodie back, she gets to go through the trouble of seeing me in it later.” Amber states before kissing me softly. “Now go get that hoodie.” She smiles, waving me off. Within a ten minute walk, I was outside my ex’s house. She stood on her burgundy colored porch, holding a familiar black hoodie in her hands. I walked up to the stairs of her porch. She smiles at me, sitting down on one of the steps as she hands it to me. “Hey… how are you?” She asks, her tone nothing but friendly.

Before she and I had broken up, we used to be close friends. Even after the break up, we remained friends until I met Amber. We broke up for the main reason that while being with me, she discovered that what she thought were romantic feelings towards me were nothing but platonic. I had felt the same way and hence the being friends thing. “I’m okay, how are you?” I ask, my voice a little rough from having walked over on a hot summer day with no water. “I’m alright. But I’m worried about you,” She pauses, “Mindy told me that you stopped talking to most of the group. What’s going on with you?” She asks softly, her hand touching my shoulder in a comforting manner. I let out a shaky sigh as tears welled up in my eyes. “Things have been difficult lately.” I state vaguely, running a hand through my hair. “What do you mean? You can talk to me. You know I won’t say a thing,” She says, knowing I’ve had a past of people telling my business to other people who have no right to it. “Amber has been getting more controlling, and well…” I sigh and wipe my face with my hand. “And what?” She whispers softly, trying to remain supportive and comforting. “She slapped me the other day,” I mumble, not wanting to have to face the reality, but knowing I need to. “What? Y/n, that’s not okay,” A small gasp comes from her mouth as she rubs my arm comfortingly. She knew this kind of behavior from anyone, especially a teenager, wasn’t okay whatsoever. She didn’t honestly have any other words besides, “You need to tell an adult.” She pauses her words, to try to lay them out more kindly, “What she’s doing isn’t right. You don’t deserve to be hurt.” She says. My phone buzzes in my back pocket, I pull it out to check it. The realization of how much time had passed brings me concern as the notification from Amber popped up. She asked what was taking me so long, and told me to hurry up.

“I gotta go, I’m sorry,” I say, slipping my phone back in my pocket before turning to walk off, missing the look of pity that my ex sent me as I walked off. I quickly hurried back to Amber’s house, despite the smoldering heat that threatened to wind me down to the sidewalk. I get back to her house, to see her waiting on her couch with her feet propped up on the dark brown coffee table in front of her. “You get the hoodie?” Amber asks, looking up from her phone. “Y- yeah.” I say through heavy breaths. I toss it over to her. She picks it up, inspecting it and the design.

“What took you so long?” She interrogates, looking back up at me with a bated stare.

“It was a long walk in hot heat,” I excuse, moving to sit beside her as I pick up her water bottle off the table to take a swig. “BS, what took you so long?” She scoffs, turning to face me with a raised brow. “My ex asked how I was doing,” I admit, looking up to meet her eyes. “And what did you say?” Amber asks, squinting her eyes. “I said I was fine,” I shrug, setting the water bottle back down on the table. “And that was it?” Amber asks, not convinced at all. “That was it.” I say, my eyes accidentally diverting from hers out of guilt. “Bullshit. What else?” She demands, grabbing my chin to force me to look at her. “She said that Mindy told her I wasn’t coming around the group as much anymore.” I admit further, wanting her to let my chin out of her tight grip. Amber lets out a dark chuckle, pinching the bridge of her nose. “A whole month without speaking to you and she still can’t keep you off her damn mind. No wonder I felt the need to keep you away from her.” Amber rolls her eyes, pulling me into her lap. I don’t say anything, not wanting to argue and cause a bigger reaction from her. Instead I silently snuggled up to the crook of her neck as she ran her ringed hand over my back in small soothing circles.

Unknown: Hey, you awake? 11:21 p.m.

Unknown: It’s Amber 11:22 p.m.

Unknown: I miss you 11:24 p.m.

Unknown: Please baby 11:27 p.m.

Unknown: I need you 11:30 p.m.

Unknown: Answer babe 11:33 p.m.

I didn’t hate her, after all the bullshit she did then. Not until Richie. That’s when I started to.

I walked into Amber’s home, a happy grin along my lips. I came over planning to surprise her with a cute box of snacks and drinks I made for her. I spent hours on the box alone, painting each side, attempting to recreate her favorite Stab movie covers on each side, paying close attention to each detail to try and make it near perfect for her. The box was nearly overflowing in her favorite snacks and drinks. I walked up the stairs towards her bedroom, my eyebrows furrowing in confusion as I heard a bed creaking. I didn’t see anyone else’s car in the driveway so I made the stupid assumption of her having a reasonable explanation like taking care of her own needs. I balance the box on the side of my hip as I open her bedroom door. What I didn’t expect to see was Richie on top of her as she moaned out his name. The box dropped from under my arm, loudly crashing to the floor, capturing the attention of both of them. Amber’s eyes widened as she was at a loss for words. I saved her the brain power by running out of the house and driving away before she could even reach me. By the time I reached my house, I ran inside, tears leaving my eyes as I called one person that I thought I’d never call again. Tara. I called Tara. No explanation, just telling her I needed her to come to my house immediately. I went to each door and window in my house, making sure they were locked and if possible covered with the curtains and blinds. Knowing that Amber was persistent and if I didn’t pick up her calls eventually, she’d show up. I just prayed Tara would be here before then. I needed to tell someone the truth, because I didn’t quite frankly know what to do with it. Being a teenager, you don’t expect to be used like a punching bag or cheated on with a grown ass man.

I was sitting on my living room couch, my phone was tossed on the coffee table, buzzing with texts from Amber. All I knew was that I didn’t want to hear it. As I cried on the couch, a knock on the front door broke me from my sob session. I got up quickly, making my way to the door quietly before peaking out the peephole, seeing Tara standing at my doorstep. I unlock and open the door, letting the girl in before locking the door back up.

“Hey, what’s going on with you?” Tara asks softly, seeing my tear stained face. I shake my head to prevent a sob from breaking through as I hug her, burying my head in her shoulder. As my cries wrack my body, she holds me close, stroking my hair softly, shushing my cries. “It’s gonna be okay, we’ll get over this.” She whispered, unsure of what the situation was, but more than willing to try and help.

Unknown: Hey, you awake? 11:21 p.m.

Unknown: It’s Amber 11:22 p.m.

Unknown: I miss you 11:24 p.m.

Unknown: Please baby 11:27 p.m.

Unknown: I need you 11:30 p.m.

Unknown: Answer babe 11:31 p.m.

Unknown: Fucking answer me 11:33 p.m.

“Babe, turn your phone off, I can’t sleep with the constant notifications,” A tired brunette groans beside me in bed. She turns over in the sheets, burying her face in the crook of my neck with a tired pout. “Sorry, love. I’ll turn it off.” I kiss the top of Tara’s head, turning the do not disturb on my phone. I hover my finger over the button on my phone screen. I press down on the block button. I’m over this.

[auras-moonstone]

hiii i rlly love ur writing so if u cld write this i’d actually pass out ‼️

u can pick urself if it’ll be jack, Ethan, hockey player Ethan or even smth else! But what im thinking abt is like where he breaks up with reader because hes convinced he lost his feelings towards her but later on realized he didnt?? Hope u have a good day 🙁

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ all you had to do was stay

ᡣ𐭩 word count: 1.4K

ᡣ𐭩 pairing: hockey player!ethan landry x fem!reader

ᡣ𐭩 summary: convinced his feelings are gone, ethan breaks up with y/n. when he wins the championship, he realizes he made a mistake.

ᡣ𐭩 contents/warnings: heartbreak. angst. make-up. fluff.

ethan truly thought his feelings for y/n had washed away. but it’s wasn’t until now, looking around the arena for her, having just won the hockey championship, that he realized that maybe he had rushed into conclusions and fucked everything up.

the team went to a bar to celebrate, and while his teammates drank and danced, ethan moped by the bar with a drink in his hand, replaying in his head, like a sad movie scene, the moment he ended things with y/n.

why had he been so stupid? he had set in his mind the idea that hockey should be above everything and anyone else, that it was the only thing that mattered. and not only he had managed to slowly tear the most important bond in his life, but he had also fooled himself into thinking the feelings weren’t there anymore.

“hey, man. i’m going home, tara’s waiting for me. talk to you later?” chad asked.

ethan forced a smile and nodded. “yeah, go. i’m leaving in a few, too.”

chad walked out of the bar, and ethan’s heart reached another level of heaviness. his best friend was going home to celebrate with his girlfriend, he had managed to maintain his relationship while having the exact same responsibilities than ethan. the difference? chad had never failed to find balance and see how important life outside hockey was. ethan hadn’t, and now that hockey was over for a while, he realized he had nothing left.

with an emptiness no amount of drinks could ever fill, he walked back to the dorms, where some people were still on cloud nine from the win. he was congratulated, patted in the back, yet he could not enjoy his win completely. not when the guiltiness and regret lingered heavily over him. was it too late to try get back on track the relationship he had drove off the road?

the celebration was certainly overwhelming for y/n because everything reminded her of ethan and the way he had locked her out when she was letting him in. hell, she was ready to say the l-word when he pushed her aside. the way he had broken her heart was one she remembered all too well, every word, every expression, every little movement.

ethan hovered over her, standing as she sat on the couch. frown on his face, pained expression, as if the act of letting out the words physically hurt him. “i don’t think i- i’m not sure if i… still have feelings for you. i don’t know, i just, it’s not the same as it was a months ago. it’s as if something is missing.”

“did it cross your mind that maybe the problem is that you put hockey first?”

“y/n that’s my future. of course i’m going to put hockey first.”

“sorry, let me rephrase that. did it cross your mind that maybe the problem is that hockey is all you care about? because it’s always about that. you have stopped having time for me since you became captain. do you even remember the last time you stayed over? that we went on a date? that we spend time together without you worrying over the championship or some other fucking match?”

“y/n…” he sighed.

“well, i can remember. three months, that was the last time you acted like a boyfriend. something was indeed missing in this relationship. you.”

“hockey is everything to me, y/n/n.”

“yes, and that’s the fucking problem, ethan. your whole life can’t revolve sorely on a sport. but you clearly can’t see that, so this is useless.”

that was the last time she spoke to him, but not the last she had seen him. it was impossible not to do that, he was blackmore’s hockey star, he was fucking everywhere. she, on the other hand, managed to hide in the shadows, so she made sure she stayed hidden and not bump into him. until now.

she was leaving tara’s dorm when her eyes caught his wide frame. her feet became one with the floor, not allowing her to move. like magnet, his attention quickly fell on her.

“y/n” her name fell out of his mouth absentmindedly.

at the sound of his rough voice, she snapped out of her daze. her lips parted, but she didn’t know what to say. and then his feet kept going until he was standing right before her. was it too much to ask to disappear?

“hi.” he said after a couple of seconds of silence.

“hi.” her soft voice warmed his heart, and he had to put his hands in his pockets to stop himself from bringing her into his arms. “um… congratulations. on the win.”

“thanks.” for the first time in the night, he truly felt like smiling.

“shouldn’t you be celebrating?” why was she still talking to him? her brain screamed ‘get out of here’ while her heart told her to stay.

“i wasn’t feeling it.” ethan shrugged.

y/n frowned. “you… weren’t feeling it? ethan, what are you talking about? you’ve worked so hard for this win.”

ethan let out a humourless laugh. “the funny thing is… it wasn’t until i lifted the cup that i realize that i wasn’t happy with the win.”

the girl blinked, trying to make sense of what he was saying. ethan landry, the boy who lived for hockey, was saying he wasn’t happy with winning a championship. what was wrong with the world? “i don’t understand.”

“what is succeeding if you don’t have anyone to celebrate it with? that trophy was a reminder of what i pushed away in order to get it. it made me feel miserable.”

“ethan…”

his sad gaze found hers. “what i’m trying to say is that i miss you, and that the win means nothing if you’re not with me. i looked around the stands, you weren’t there and it felt like a punch to the gut.”

she was certainly not ready to hear that. “let me remind you it was what you wanted, you ended it, ethan. you put hockey first, and it got us here.” maybe she was being a bit harsh, especially after he was pouring his heart out.

“i know. fuck. don’t i know it.” he was not going to cry. if y/n somehow managed to find it in her to forgive him, it was not going to be out of pity. but he wanted to sob so badly. “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry. i was so fucking blind, and i hurt you.”

hurt was an understatement. ethan had absolutely broke her, and she had been trying to pick up the pieces of the mess he had made.

“i want to punch myself for everything i’ve done. for taking this long to realize i made a huge mistake. i don’t want for my life to revolve around hockey.”

y/n nodded. “that’s a good realization.”

“i don’t know what to say. there’s no justification for what i did, i was stupid and that’s the only truth. i… i want us back.” the anguish was written on his face. “i don’t know what to do to fix it.”

“all you had to do was stay… you had me in the palm of your hand. i would’ve done anything for you.”

“i know, you were too good for me. and i promise you i’ll work everyday to be the person you deserve, if you let me.” he put a strand of hair behind her ear. “i’m never making the same mistake again. i love you. you don’t have to decide now, take as long as you need. i’d wait forever.”

“you know it can’t be like before, right? you can’t keep this relationship in the lowest rank of your priorities.”

“i know, and i won’t. i love hockey, going professional is still my goal but now i know that my dream isn’t only hockey, is having you by my side while i play it.”

y/n slowly broke into a smile. “i would hate to see you succeed without me.” she grimaced as soon as the words clicked. “shit, that sounded so awful. i didn’t mean that i don’t want you to succeed unless you’re with me. that would be so bitchy, and i know you hurt me but i would neve-“

ethan couldn’t help himself, he cut her rambling with a soft kiss. “you’re the absolute cutest. i love it when you ramble.”

“it’s rude to interrupt someone, landry. you need to learn some manners.” she gave him a quick peck. “i guess i’m taking you back, or whatever.”

the hockey player smiled like a little kid and lifted her up on his arms. “i love you. did you know that?”

“i know it now. and i love you, too.” she wrapped her legs around his waist. “now, let’s go celebrate, captain.”

“fuck, yes. i have so many ideas.” the mischievous glint in his deep brown eyes made her stomach swirl.

“i’m down for anything if it’s with you.”

[atxxokirina]

Seven Deadly Sins. | Lust.

Neteyam x Fem Na'vi reader

Part one, Gluttony with Lo'ak.

plot: you strictly told Neteyam not to bother you while you're with your friends, unless it's an emergency. But he needs you, he needs your body.. and that alone is an emergency to him.

contains: SMUT SMUTTY SMUT, rough, mean (ish) dom Neteyam, forced creampie (reader says no at first but eventually gives in), 2 sex scenes, exhibitionist Neteyam

Neteyam's sex drive was always high. No matter where, and when, as long as it was around you, he was practically hard the majority of the time. So much so that it hurts.

You've been at a party deep in the forest for the past hour. Dancing with your friends, drinking, and overall enjoying your time. Meanwhile, Neteyam is situated at your shared hut, failing to make himself cum. Thrusting his cock into his fist, tiny grunts and whimpers forming in his throat. He would have travel to where you are, just for a quickie, but he remembered what you told him before you left.

"If you're horny, touch yourself, or just wait for me, okay baby?" You gently kiss cheek. "Here's your comm, don't page me unless it's an emergency."

Fuck. He thought. This is so unfair. He needs you now. Now, now, now. Those words repeat in his head like a throbbing heart beat, never going away. Neteyam shakes his thoughts, leaning back and trying to focus on feeling good. He lets out a deep sigh, massaging his shaft as he uses his precum as lube. Images of you flash in his mind, your soft lips, perfect tits, and your ass.. oh, fuck. Your ass. He began forming it in his mind, replaying the times your ass bounced back on him while he held you down. This helped for a little, but it just wasn't enough.

Neteyam reaches up to his neck for the comm you and him share. This wouldn't count as interrupting your night, right? And this is an emergency..

"Y/n?" You hear a faint voice in your right ear, heart dropping once you realize it's Neteyam. You press the button down on your neck. "Neteyam? Is everything okay?" You ask hurriedly, already looking around for your belongings.

"Everything is fine. I just.. fuck, I want to be inside you." You sigh and roll your eyes, setting your bags back down on the floor. "Really, Teyam? I said emergencies only." You huff, annoyingly. "This is a fucking emergency." He mewls, teasing the dip of his cock. "And watch your attitude. Don't make me come up there and fix it."

"Neteyam, I'm with my friends. I have to go-" Just as you were about to turn your comm off, you hear a deep, husk growl. "No. You're staying." He could hear your tiny pouts as he palmed his cock, closing his eyes to invision you. "Keep talking to your friends." You hum, unsure about what he's planning. "O-Okay." You follow his orders, conversing with your peers as he groaned in your ear.

"Yeah, fuck.. love hearing your voice," He moans, causing a flame to ignite in your stomach. "Neteyam.." You whispered, turning your head so your friends don't see you talking. "I can't do this." He grunts. "Is that so? Hm, why not?" He speaks through his strained moans. "My friends are here. Please, just handle this yourself." You whisper-yell, ripping the comm off of your neck, finally feeling relief.

But that sweet relif didn't last very long. It was only moments later before you hear Neteyam's voice piercing through the bud in your ear. "Think you can just hang up on me like that? I need you, now!" He yelled, voice crisp and looming. You grab your comm again, pressing down the button with annoyance. "Neteyam, are you serious? I'll be back for you later! Just wait." You plead, pure desperation in your tone.

"Yeah? Wait? You want me to wait for you?" You swallow another gulp. Feeling guilty for leaving him like this. "Listen." He commands, bringing the comm down to his cock, ensuring that you hear his precum and slick slathered around it. The friction of him stroking his shaft. Up and down, up and down. You hear his faint moans and whimpers in the background, instantly making you melt.

Feeling a heat form through your body, and river through your loincloth. It turned you on beyond words to hear him like this. Begging for you to come home and take care of him. "Does that sound like I can fucking wait? Bring your ass home, y/n. Right now." Neteyam growled, ending your call with a click.

You whined. As much as you wanted to stay and have fun with your friends, you were still scared of what Neteyam would do if you didn't get back immediately.

In defeat, you said your goodbyes to everyone. Promising to see them again tomorrow, even though you probably won't be able to walk by then.

Eventually making your way home, you carefully step in. "Neteyam?" You called out, feeling your body being shoved onto your cot without hesitation. You yelp, seeing Neteyam on top of you and holding your arms above your head. He's fully naked, not even wearing the jewelry he usually has on. "I should rip your little body apart for making me wait this long.." He whispers, grazing his sharp fangs against your jugular as he humps his cock against your clothed pussy. "Ah.. I-I'm sorry," You mewl at the pressure. "I don't think you are.." He trails down, sinking his teeth into your thin and flimsy loincloth, tearing it in two. "But you will be.

He holds your hips down, causing you to try to free yourself. "Don't fucking move." He grunts, slapping his thick, girthy dick against your clit. Your pussy clenches at the feeling, simply aching for more. He lines himself up with your pussy, slowly sliding in as your warmth envelopes him. You both moan in unison. "Ohhh fuckkkk.. yeah, that's better. A lot better." He groans, looking down as he starts to stroke inside of you. You gasp at how quick he starts off, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer. Neteyam desperately fucks into you, mewling and huffing in your ear. "Too much! Slow down, please Teyeam!" You cry, squeezing your eyes shut.

"This is what you get," *thrust* "..for making me fucking wait." *thrust*

"I'm sorry! I'm s-sooo sorry!" You whimper again as he lifts himself up, removing your arms from around them and pinning them above your head. "Yeah, take it. Just like that." He leans his body back, drilling his cock into you with almost zero effort, eyes rolling back at the way your walls tighten around him. Neteyam grabs your face, making sure you hold eye contact with him. "Don't look away," His hips stutter. "I want you to look at me while I fill you up with my fucking cum." Your pupils widen, shaking your head as you attempt to free your arms. "N-No! I don't wanna get- preg..nant, please!!" You beg and babble. Too fucked out to properly speak. "Hah.. what was that?" He teased, taking his cock out and shoving it right back in. Knocking the air out of your lungs. "You wanna get pregnant?" You mewl, followed by a whined squeal. "Shit, keep making those fucking noises.." Neteyam lets out a deep moan, still fucking you mercilessly. "Mm-mm!" You try to deny, but it sounds like more of a moan to him.

"No fucking problem. I'm gonna fill you up with my cum, that'll teach you not to make me wait anymore, won't it?" He thrusts deeper and deeper with every word. It feels so good. As if his dick had fucking drugs on it, even if you said no, you wanted this. You wanted his cum more than anything. "Oh? You're not gonna speak to me?" He chucked, slamming back down, making you yelp like a pathetic pup. "Or are you too drunk of my cock to say anything?— Fuck, I'm so close."

He speeds up, chasing his high like he'd die without it. "Ah, fuck! I'm cumming inside you.. shit, I'm filling this pussy up!" He moaned as small spurts of his seed spew into you, turning into thick ropes that filled your womb. "Oh fuck, Neteyam!" You gasp, arching your back as your body collapsed.

"I'm not done with you." Neteyam positions himself against the wall holding your body up and shoving it down on his still hard cock. He grips your waist, nails digging into your skin while he guides your hips, forcing your sensitive cunt to take more of him. "I can't do this, please.." Your head falls into the crook of his neck, whimpering in his ear.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," You repeat over and over again, but he couldn't care less. "Shut the fuck up, and take it." He demanded, aggressively moving you back and forth. Wet, squelching noises fill your hut. Along with your needy moans, and his painful thrusting. Your body is giving up, and you've decided to take the overwhelming pleasure. You moan and whimper after every thrust, slick drooling onto his cock. Neteyam holds the plush of your ass, shifting his hips and hitting you sweet spot.

"I'm gonna cum in this pussy again. You're gonna be so full of me, full of my seed." You moan in response, needy 'mhm's' coming out in pieces. "Fuck, I'm cumming.. Take it all, take all of this fucking load." He grunts, shuddering as he releases his cream into you again. "I'm filling you up baby, oh, fuuck," the rest of his seed flows into you. You and him out of breath, refusing to let each other go.

taglist: @pandorxxx @sweethoneycn @neytirishottie @sullybrosimp @tsireyafavgirl @teyamsbitch @encephalitis-on-sundays @sassypain @neon-groves @rosyj @hidingfrommanda @whore-for-hawks

[wastedr00k]

ditto II ; simon 'ghost' reily

in which Ghost can't get over his past lover, part 2

i'll make a part 3 to this, i can't and won't let this series end like this, thank you for reading <3

as Ghost wandered around the hall, with a black trash bag with the things he’s destroyed, all he could think of was,

‘promise me you’ll move on, Simon.’

he promised her but now he stands defeated to his own terms. the weight of the trash bag wasn’t even that heavy, but to Simon, it was enough to make his heart hurt.

he did everything in his power to replicate the warmth and comfort that she brought, but he never realized that he was chasing a ghost of a feeling. what you gave him had always been enough, more than enough to make his heart swell with affection.

throwing the trash, he stood as the same scenes replayed in his mind, the same way that the both of you stayed motionless in front of him then leaving him an empty shell was enough to trigger his fight or flight reaction.

perhaps his own heart wasn't ready to let her go, still insisting that he couldn't have another in his heart, that he couldn't replace her at all costs. but he couldn't lose you too.

he had to fix this, one way or another.

in his own twisted way.

-

with your gaze stuck on the cup of coffee in front of you, it was anyone's guess as to what you were thinking about, it could be the fight, who ditto was and perhaps even how to approach Ghost from now on, but luck was on your side, he was gonna come to you instead.

the coffee in your hands had gone cold by the time you heard the soft thud of his boots on the floor behind you. You didn’t turn around. You didn’t have to. You could feel his presence—heavy, magnetic, inescapable.

“got a minute?” Simon's voice was low, rougher than usual.

you nodded, expecting him to sit in front of you rather than beside you, perhaps he felt that he could connect to you better this way.

finally turning to face him, you saw through him even with his mask hiding whatever expression he might’ve been wearing. His eyes, though—they gave him away. they always did. the sharp, guarded gaze you’d come to know so well was softened now, dulled by something unspoken.

"i came to say," he huffed out with a pause, his own ego and emotional baggage was still holding him back, "i want you around."

your eyes started to well up with tears,

"i would be damned to let you go," fuck why was this so hard for him, he couldn't seem to push down the feeling of betraying her while he said all this words to you, someone who his head deemed a potential partner. his vision began to darken, his heart rate going up, this isn't good.

“I want you to stay,” he said, his tone as sharp as a blade. “even if it hurts. even if it’s ugly. I need you here. with me.”

the only way he could cut through his own guilt and feeling of betrayal was with the sharpest knife, his own honesty.

“Simon-” you started, but he cut you off.

his strong arms reaching out to grab your shoulder, making the both of you face each other even more.

"you're not going to reject me."

your puzzled gaze evident on your face, did he think that you were going to turn him down and push him away?

"Si, i'm not gonna-"

and suddenly, his own demons came out to play, to join the mix and cause a hurricane of disaster.

“I don’t care if it’s wrong. I’ve lost too much already—too many people I couldn’t save, too many things ripped out of my hands. but you? you’re mine. And I’m not letting you go. not ever.” he snarled and pulled you into his chest.

"Si- let me go-" you managed to cough out as you struggle against his chest, this wasn't the Simon you knew.

"ditto, i'm getting you out of here with me, we'll make it home together."

with the mention of her name, you knew what was going on, the grasp that his heart still has on her was one that you couldn't pry open, the weight of his guilt was too heavy for you to carry,

perhaps he was really broken beyond repair.

you felt the walls closing in, his presence overwhelming and suffocating. “Simon, this isn’t healthy. let me go, you can’t just—”

“watch me,” he interrupted, his voice dangerously quiet.

his words sent a shiver down your spine, a mixture of fear and something you didn’t want to name. you’d always known Simon carried darkness within him, but this? this was something else entirely.

“you can’t replace her,” he continued, his tone softening but losing none of its intensity. “but i'm keeping you with me, and if that’s selfish of me, then so be it.”

your own confusion and sadness growing and yet turning into fear,

"Simon, i just want you to apologize!" you struggled out as you kept pushing against him, desperately trying to get out of his grasp.

as you kept struggling, one thing was clear,

Simon Riley wasn’t just haunted by ghosts. he was one.

and now, you were caught in his shadow.