#there was an earthquake when i was writing this lmao. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

madaqueue · 6 months ago

Text

eternally, yours

chapter 6 | innocence

synopsis: 'forever' is a peculiar concept - how can something persist, unchanged, throughout time? when our bodies halt their aging, do our minds continue to evolve? do our hearts? choso was comfortable with his version of forever, one of solitary loneliness; that is, until he meets you. forced to confront the harsh realities of being human, the fragility of life, his definition of 'forever' changes as he stares down the barrel of eternity.

pairing: vampire!choso kamo x f!reader

themes/content: non-curse modern au. fluff, smut. language, religious imagery, mentions of parental loss. degradation (slut, whore), fingering, p in v (doggy). 18+, MDNI

word count: 5.6k

a/n: GUYS I FINISHED THE SEMESTER YAYYY !!!! i can finally pour all of my thoughts into silly little writing instead of memorizing medication names lmao

previous chapter | series masterlist | next chapter

In the winter, Choso came alive. The darkness that falls allows his own light to shine, at peace in the cold air encompassing his skin, chilling the world to its core - but not him.

After your conversation about his true nature, you feel even more comfortable with him, bridging the gap between you with trust, a path you now dare to walk; things have changed, but you couldn’t imagine going back to how they were before. In his honesty you uncovered a new piece of his soul, slowly working to complete the patched-together mosaic of his past.

He easily weaves his way into your life, the golden thread of his presence in every moment, every memory. When the first snow falls, you and Choso pull Megumi and Yuji out of school, taking them through town. The serenity of winter falls over the four of you as you walk in silence through the white-coated sidewalks. Both boys sip their hot chocolate, the heat warming their bodies as their small hands grip the cups. When Megumi’s whines of, “I’m tiredddd,” fill the air, Choso picks him up, carrying him the rest of the walk on his back.

A warm comfort fills you, a pleasant calmness within your soul, as you watch the pair before you. Your life - and certainly Megumi’s - hadn’t been easy. The loss of your parents spiraled you into instability, a constant earthquake beneath you as you both struggled to find your footing in the world. The moment the chaos seemed to lull there was another shockwave, sending you both reeling. But now, with Choso’s firm grasp around Megumi’s legs as he rests against him, it seems like things have finally settled into place.

Small fingers return your thoughts to the present as Yuji tugs at your coat. “Hey,” he whispers, a devilish smile pushing up his rosy cheeks, “throw this.”

Cold ice is suddenly shoved into your hand as he passes you a loosely formed snowball. Mischief crackles between the two of you as you grin, fingers closing around the snow. Flashing a wink at the boy, you plant your feet, readying your throw.

“Hey, Cho,” you call coyly.

The moment he turns around, your arm swings, launching the snowball at him, hitting him square in the chest. Before he can even react, Megumi squeals in excitement, a new energy bubbling inside him as his arms wrap around Choso’s neck.

“Oh no you didn’t,” Choso laughs in shock, tightening his grasp on your brother as he runs to a snowbank on the opposite side of the road. Ducking behind it for cover, he releases Megumi onto the ground. “Okay buddy, we gotta get them back,” he states. “How’s your aim?”

Megumi beams, any hint of tiredness behind his green eyes dissipated as his hands form the nearby snow into a rough sphere. “It’s amazing,” he giggles.

While Choso and Megumi hide behind the pile of snow, you and Yuji take the opportunity to build up your arsenal, preforming icy grenades and stockpiling them beside you. In unison, Choso and Megumi appear from behind their hiding spot, a flurry of white being suddenly hurled in your direction.

“Yuji, now!” you yell through giggles as you return fire, an onslaught of snowballs tossed at the two across the street.

“Truce, truce!” Choso finally proclaims, stepping out from their protective shelter with his hands raised, Megumi standing behind him with a grin plastered on his face as he matches the older man’s motions, his palms held in the air.

Laughs echo through the otherwise empty streets, leaving the four of you soaked and cold as the heat of battle dies down. Continuing your path towards home, Megumi returns to his place on Choso’s back as Yuji tightly holds your hand. Despite the cool winter air, your heart is warm.

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ ༝ ˚ ｡⋆

As winter settles, Choso’s presence continues to grow, settling into the roots of your life. Which is why it’s no surprise that as Megumi’s birthday approaches, your brother absolutely insists on inviting Yuji and Choso, his pleas more of a demand than a request as he scribbles out a handwritten invitation addressed to both of them.

When the day of his celebration arrives, Choso finds himself in your apartment as you prepare to entertain twenty children. He’s busy in the kitchen, whipping up the cake Megumi requested to be “the most chocolatey chocolate with even more chocolate” while you tack streamers to the wall.

He maneuvers around your space easily, having grown familiar with it over the past few months - you’ve seen each other at least weekly, sneaking in visits between his work, even if it meant he’d come over just to hold you while you slept before he had to quietly sneak out to make another shift in the morning. He’s truly grateful for his body’s lack of a need for sleep despite the drawbacks intertwined in his vampirism, namely the ever-increasing frequency at which he consumes blood bags. Yet, it’s a trade he willingly makes if it means he’s graced with your presence. So, he takes all the time with you he can get. Every moment with him becomes cherished, a slowly growing gallery of your memories together. From the first day you met you felt at ease in his presence, your comfort only growing as the seconds together turned to hours, days, weeks, to months.

“Hey, could you c’mere for a second?” His deep voice tugs you back to the present as he beckons you to the kitchen.

In front of him lies a glass bowl, currently housing a chocolatey concoction. He takes the whisk he had been mixing with, gathering some of the batter and holding it out to you. Collecting some of the liquid on your finger you place it onto your tongue, sweetness immediately overtaking your senses.

“Holy shit, this is delicious, Cho,” you murmur in awe, licking your lips.

Immediately you poke your finger into the mixture, grabbing another glob before you shove it between your lips.

A smile graces his lips before he smacks your hand away as you reach back towards the bowl. “Thank you,” he chuckles, “but save some for the cake.”

You can’t help but laugh as he continues swatting away your attempts to maneuver your hands around his, ultimately forfeiting as you reach your hands around his waist and pull him into a hug. “I didn’t know you knew how to bake,” you hum, leaning up to place a kiss to his lips.

A hint of chocolate lingers on your tongue as you lean into him, his palms finding your back as he pulls you closer.

“You think I lived this long without picking up a few skills?” he smirks, amusement lacing his tone before pressing his lips back to yours.

Upon your confirmation that his work was sufficiently appetizing, he pours the dark batter into a pan and slides it into the oven. Gliding into the living room, Choso assists you in hanging up the remaining decorations, his height easily granting him access to nail the hand-made ‘Happy Birthday Megumi’ sign you two constructed the night prior into the wall.

Plopping down on your couch, you both alternate blowing up and tying balloons until they cover your floor. By the time you’ve finished, your apartment certainly looks festive, covered in various shades of green, Megumi’s favorite color, along with printed posters of his chosen dinosaurs.

There’s a certain innocence to it, a childlike wonder that fills your chest in warmth. When you were his age, your mom was trying to take care of you by herself - you knew she worked hard, that she’d give anything for you. And sure, that knowledge helps ease you now, but as a seven-year-old it felt impossible to grasp, like she was always just out of your reach. So it was no surprise you never had parties, never were celebrated like this; she felt ashamed of the life she provided you, an implicit knowledge that her work wasn’t enough.

She never asked you to care for yourself, but how could you not? When she’d come home late, exhausted, of course you learned to cook dinner; when she’d have to pick up extra shifts on the weekends, of course you learned to entertain yourself; and when she got called in on your birthday, despite the card she left on the table, despite the love she meant to shower you in, of course you learned to celebrate yourself.

It wasn’t her fault, really. She wanted a better life for you than the one you were granted, and you couldn’t fault her for that. You certainly couldn’t fault her for giving into the promises your father whispered to her when he returned to your life, promises of protection, prosperity, family. She craved it as much as you did, the safety of being cared for by another. And you couldn’t fault her when he left, again, the day she found out she was pregnant with Megumi.

Maybe it was too much for him, maybe he didn’t feel like he was ready, like he could provide what you needed, fill the hole that was left in your life where innocence should be. All you could hope is that Megumi never felt that; he deserved a childhood, he deserved the love you had to learn to give yourself.

As you stand back to admire the work you and Choso completed, banners coating the ceiling, balloons covering the floor, the scent of chocolate wafting through the kitchen, you can’t help but smile.

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ ༝ ˚ ｡⋆

Children’s laughter fills the air, Megumi’s the brightest of all. He bounces between friends, smiling wide enough his cheeks hurt as he converses and plays. Every so often he runs up to you, face flushed in excitement, chanting “thank you, thank you, thank you!” as he throws his arms around you before returning to the chorus of his name from where his classmates sit on the floor.

Seated on one of the chairs surrounding your dining room table, a smile rests on Choso’s face seeing you interact with your brother, seeing how you care for him. Yuji is obviously ecstatic to be spending the party with his best friend, Megumi’s excitement similarly bouncing off him as he unwraps his presents. Choso hasn’t seen Yuji this happy - shit, ever? He can’t even remember the last time he’s seen him laugh like this, with such ease. Yuji had always been energetic, his happiness infectious, but he often seemed preoccupied with the emotions of others, worrying about what he could do to make them happy. At times Choso found himself thinking he was almost too mature for a child, too aware of the pain of the world, as though he was born with the duty to alleviate it. Which is why, as he watches his younger brother throw his head back in laughter, his pink hair catching the sunlight filtering in through the blinds as his cheeks blush a similar hue from the warmth of his joy, he admires the pure happiness in it, an untainted innocence.

When it comes time to sing ‘happy birthday,’ Megumi manages to blow out all seven candles in one sweeping breath, cheers erupting from his friends. Locking eyes with Choso, you exchange grins from across the room.

There’s a certain tenderness behind his gaze, one that makes your heart flutter. Something in your soul draws you to him, taking every opportunity for the rest of the afternoon to saunter past him, fingertips gently gracing his collarbone or the back of his neck. At every touch his eyelashes flutter, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips - your motions come second-nature, easy, as though being near him was your natural state of being. When the kids are off in the other room as they play with some new game Megumi got, you can’t stop yourself from caressing him, your lips leaving gentle kisses along his neck as you whisper how grateful you are he’s here, how lucky you are to have him, how stunning he is, how handsome, how sweet.

When your palms linger, your breath grazing his neck, a new flame ignites within him. In your flowy pink sundress, a reminder of the warmth of summer despite the flurries of snow falling outside, you look absolutely perfect, your movements so fluid, your skin so soft. Each stroke of your fingers along his arm makes him long for more, his adoration threatening to overflow, his love for you nearly enough to drown him.

Eventually, the party begins to dwindle. Yuji and Megumi leave together, taking Sukuna up on his offer to host the boys for a sleepover. Standing in the kitchen, you begin to clean up the mess left behind by the dozens of children that have finally cleared out from your apartment, a comfortable silence settling in. Suddenly you feel Choso’s arms wrapping around your waist from behind, his warm breath hitting your skin as he nuzzles into your neck.

“Hi, Cho,” you purr, reaching a hand up to ruffle his hair.

“Been thinkin’ about you all night,” he hums, never lifting his head from between your shoulder.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” he whispers, beginning to trail wet kisses up your neck. He’s not sure what comes over him, normally proud of his self-control, but something in watching you with Megumi has his heart swelling; beyond that, your lingering touches throughout the night, the sly smiles, the sweet nothings you whispered when nobody was listening, has had his mind fuzzy for hours. “Been thinkin’ about how bad I need you…” he trails off before he leans forward, his words carrying a certain desperation.

You giggle as his hands slowly make their way over your body, your heart beating in excitement at just how hot and bothered you had managed to get him. “Is that all, baby?” you taunt through a devious grin.

Slightly arching your back, your hips grind against him, evoking a low groan from his throat. The words are spilling out before he can stop himself. “Was thinkin’ about how much of a fuckin’ tease you are.”

A shiver runs up your spine at the gruffness in his voice, desire beginning to build in your chest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you smirk, tilting your head to give him more space as he continues working his lips across your skin.

“I think you do.” His palms snake around your body, brushing under your dress as his fingertips drag along the outline of your clothed pussy. Even through your panties, the coolness of his skin makes you shiver, leaning back further into his touch. His lips curl into a smirk against your neck as he feels just how wet you are. “Because you can lie to me, but this cunt can’t.”

Heat floods your cheeks - he never acts like this, the unabashed directness - and hearing his crude words only emphasizes how absolutely and utterly desperate he is for you right now. He can feel it too, his standard eloquence gone as he falls deeper into the trance of his lust, one you had been slowly lulling him into over the past few hours.

A soft moan leaves your lips as his thumb brushes over your clit through your now-soaked panties, your knuckles turning white as your grip on the counter stiffens. His free hand tightens its hold on your hip, allowing him to press his growing erection against you through his jeans.

“I think you’re just needy,” you weakly hum as his thumb picks up its pace, rubbing agonizingly slow circles over your bud.

A low chuckle rumbles through Choso’s throat, a certain darkness to it you can’t see but can certainly feel. “Oh, I’m needy?”

The moment you open your mouth to reply, any sound dies in your throat as he suddenly pulls your panties to the side and inserts his middle finger into you. A choked “a-ah mmm” falls from your lips as he languidly pumps his hand in and out of your heat.

Grinding down onto his palm, desperate for any additional friction, your body knows that it’s not enough. “M-more,” you whimper, mindlessly circling your hips in an attempt to drive him deeper.

All Choso does is laugh, a breathy deepness to it that has knots forming in your stomach. Every motion is too slow, as though he’s purposely avoiding grazing his fingertips against the one spot that would have your legs shaking. “More?” he taunts, clearly taking pleasure from seeing you squirm. “I thought I was the one being needy, hm?”

“Cho, please,” you pant, eyes screwed shut. It’s nearly tortuous the way he moves, some cosmic retribution for how you had tempted him throughout the night, the universal scale finally tipping in his favor.

“Please what, darling? If you’re going to be so demanding, at least use your words.”

“I-I want your cock in me, please,” you stammer - you intended it to come out much more commanding, more in control, but the words end up breathy and desperate.

Again, Choso chuckles from behind you. Before you can process it, the sound of his zipper being undone lands on your ears as cold air hits your heat, your panties ripped down to your knees. The tip of his cock slides against your wet folds, making your hips rut backwards reflexively, a carnal plea.

“Tch, needy little thing,” he mutters to himself as you writhe under his grasp, your body now pressed between his chest and the counter from where you still stand in the kitchen.

After what feels like an eternity he finally slides into you, an involuntary moan leaving your lips as he stretches your walls so sinfully. His palms hold you firmly in place, preventing any movement as he bottoms out. But instead of moving, he stills, returning his lips to your neck and gently sucking on the space above your collarbone.

“C-Cho?”

“Mhm?” he hums, not bothering to lift his head from where he rests against your shoulder.

“What are you doing?” The words sound pitifully close to a whimper as they leave your throat.

“I’m doing what you asked, love, remember?”

Electricity courses through your body, your breathing picking up as desperation threatens to consume you. You can barely think straight with his cock inside you like this, his hips pressed against your ass; it’s so close to what you need, your salvation, yet for some reason he refuses.

Your feeble attempt at grinding your hips backwards fails as his hold on your hips tightens. “Sorry baby, but I wouldn’t want to risk doing anything else, since I was being so needy earlier,” he muses sarcastically.

A whine leaves your lips, your skin hot in lust. He’s punishing you, he has to be, pulling you from the heights of heaven into the ground until you feel dirtied in sin, left begging for more.

“Please, Cho, just move,” you breathe. “Move, fuck me, anything, please.”

“Aw, how sweet,” he coos, trailing kisses up your jaw. Your cheeks burn red beneath his cool lips, yet his breath is hot as it fans across your face. “Didn’t know this was all it took to have you begging like a needy slut.”

A wave of heat courses through your body, pussy clenching around his cock as the words hit your ears. Something in them has your mind dizzy, tension already building in your core.

“Holy shit,” Choso chuckles in awe as he feels the way your body automatically reacts, “you like that, huh?” His mind races, words spilling out. “Like being fucked in the kitchen like a whore? Couldn’t even make it to the bedroom, y’had to get dicked down out here?”

Another tsunami of pleasure crashes over you, your thoughts clouding and legs beginning to shake. A weak “mhm,” the sound already close to a whimper, is the only response you can muster.

“Fuuuck,” he groans, “you’re clenchin’ around me like you’re gonna cum already.” He suddenly adjusts, moving one hand up to grab your jaw and turn you to face him over your shoulder. Slowly your gaze manages to focus on him, the sight of your glassy eyes enough to make his cock twitch inside you. “Don’t worry, I know a depraved slut like you can take it.”

He can’t hold back any longer, finally pulling his hips back before roughly thrusting into you. After so long of teasing you, when his length finally prods against your walls, your eyes roll into your skull, a weak moan vibrating past your parted lips.

As he repeats the motion he tightens his hold on your jaw, pulling you into a rough kiss. His tongue swipes against yours fervently as his pelvis smacks against your ass. Gone is his precision, his reservations - all he knows is a feral need for you.

Moaning into each other’s mouths, he pumps into you. If it wasn’t for his tight grasp around your waist your legs surely would have given out by now, the ecstasy overcoming every muscle, every cell, within your body.

Pulling away for a moment a string of saliva connects your lips as he gazes into your eyes, their normal hue now nearly black through blown-out pupils. He looks equally fucked out, his bangs sticking to his sweat-coated forehead, cheeks flushed a soft pink.

A rough hand reaches over to your neck, the other trailing down your back, pushing you into a sinfully deep arch with your forearms braced against the cool marble of the counter. “C’mon baby, I know - hah - I know you can do better than that,” he breathes. Rising your hips slightly further off the ground, a guttural groan vibrates his throat. “Uh huh, juuuust like that.”

“S-so deep, Cho,” you whine out, overtaken at the sensation brought on by the new angle, his length absolutely ravishing your insides.

“Know it’s deep, baby,” he coos, “but y’can take it, yeah?” Bring a palm to your stomach, he finds the spot where his tip presses through your skin. “Feel me right here?”

All you can do is loosely nod, knees buckling under the pleasure, immensely grateful for the tight hold of his other hand on your hip and the table for providing a shred of stability.

His actions are greedy, thighs clenching with each pump into you. Grasping at the path to heaven, he claws his way up the stairs until the gates stand before him. Each thrust another step towards salvation, each choked moan a call for redemption. He’s never felt such electric desire, an insatiable need to consume every ounce of you.

The lewd sound of skin on skin fills your otherwise empty kitchen before being broken by Choso’s deep rasp. “You’re all mine, y’know that?”

Your thoughts are slow, too focused on the burning pleasure to give a more coherent response than a weak, “mhm.”

It’s enough for him, though, the affirmation sending waves of warmth through his body. As your bodies meld into one, he knows it: you are his, and he is yours.

His motions become increasingly erratic as he pulls you both closer and closer into the height of ecstasy. Faint little repeats of ‘ah, ah’ leave your throat with each thrust, knocking the air from your lungs each time his cock hits deeper. Your chest heaves with each forceful breath, unable to move your gaze from his.

He can tell you’re getting close as he leans forward, angling his cock somehow further into you. His words slur together, his standard clarity muddied. “Y’gonna make a mess? Y’gonna cum f’me?”

You whine a soft “mmm”, his voice making it harder and harder to form full sentences. All of your nerves are on fire, heat building and building within your chest as your walls begin to clench around him.

A smirk plays across his face as he murmurs, “Gonna let me finish inside you? Let me fill up this filthy cunt?”

All you can choke out is a weak cry of “p-please,” the combination of his words and actions enough to throw you over the edge. Tidal waves of bliss wash over you again and again and again, your legs shaking beneath you - certainly they’ve now given out as Choso takes over carrying your body weight. As your cunt flutters along his length he loses himself, pumping thick ropes of seed into you as he buries his head into your neck to muffle his whines.

Both of you are left panting, your head falling forward in exhaustion as his arms wrap around your torso to hold you up. In contrast to the roughness of his body just moments prior, he peppers gentle kisses along neck, your collarbone, any inch of skin he can find.

His breathing finally slows enough to speak. “Y’know I don’t actually think you’re a slut or anything, right?” he asks hesitantly.

A soft giggle bubbles from your lips into the now still air of your apartment. “I know, Cho.” Turning to face him, you see an earnestness behind his gaze, full of endearment. Leaning up you place a peck to his cheek as you ruffle his now-messy hair, your fingertips trailing over the contours of his jawline. “And for the record,” you slowly kiss him before pulling away, “there’s nothing wrong with being a little needy.”

“I know,” he blushes, a bashful grin tugging at the corners of his lips, “I just…sometimes I feel like I don’t know what to do with all the love I have for you. It feels like it’s eating me from the inside but I just keep feeding it more and more and more until there’s nothing left of me in there. But honestly, I don’t even mind - I’d happily give myself to you every day until the end of time if it means you’ll be happy.” Pausing, he shifts uncomfortably before sighing. “See? Like that, I didn’t mean to ramble, or get so serious, I just-”

Cutting off his nervousness, you press your lips to his, hands cupping his firm jaw. Warmth blankets your skin as you melt into his touch. Pulling you in closer, your body melds to his, souls blending.

“I love you,” you murmur into his parted mouth, “so much.”

“I love you too,” he whispers.

Pulling away you lean back against the counter, a soft smile plastered across your features as he gingerly lifts your panties back into place. “Now, will you help me actually clean up from the party?”

Choso grins, reaching down to pick you up as your legs wrap around his torso through a surprised squeal. “Of course,” he laughs as he spins you around, “just let me clean up my beautiful girl first.” Carrying you down the hallway, your shared giggles echo through your apartment.

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ ༝ ˚ ｡⋆

Days continue to shorten as the cold bite of winter settles, now a familiar gnawing inside your chest whenever you find yourself outside in the darkness of late December. Choso, of course, remains unbothered by the cold, consistently offering you jackets or mittens or anything he can think of to share warmth with you during your limited outings. Instead, the two of you find yourselves inside more and more, spending nearly every free moment together wrapped in blankets on your couch. Since Yuji and Megumi began their winter break from school, you take the opportunity to celebrate the close of the prior year with the four of you in your apartment.

New Years celebrations were never something you thought much of, often brushed aside as an afterthought. What is there to celebrate, anyways? The passage of time? The chronic aging? The loss, pain, and sadness of the past twelve months? The idea never made sense to you until now, when you finally have others to share the moment with.

Which is why, on December 31st, you find yourself drumming with excitement. Megumi and Yuji’s shared energy certainly has something to do with it, you think, as the duo runs from room to room, verbally reporting how many hours, minutes, and seconds remain until midnight.

Choso tries to follow them before their unending enthusiasm becomes too much for even him, opting to lay on the couch next to you until the boys tire themselves out. When they finally return to you, panting through grins, Choso takes the opportunity to share the New Year’s traditions he has collected over his lifetime (one he never explicitly specifies the duration of in front of Megumi and Yuji, of course).

He details superstitions, their corresponding tales captivating you and the boys as his eyes glimmer in recollection. The four of you attentively eat your soba, giggling under your kitchen counter as you pop grapes into your mouths, and silently wrap coins in tinfoil before placing them outside on your balcony. The magic behind the motions fills you with glee, a shared belief that your behavior can finally be doing something good.

Around 9:50 p.m., you find yourself on the couch, Choso sprawled on the opposite side with Yuji and Megumi lying between you. The boys’ eyes grow tired, slow blinks growing increasingly longer as a New Year’s Eve countdown plays softly from the television. The announcers are preparing for the actual countdown, one that replays every hour to account for audiences from various time zones. Your gaze meets Choso’s, an idea silently shared between you. Glancing around quickly, you confirm the absence of any visible clocks from the couch before enacting your plan.

Yawning dramatically, you stretch your arms out, garnering the attention of Yuji and Megumi. “Wow, I can’t believe it’s already almost midnight,” you muse, allowing the words to hit the air.

Megumi and Yuji almost immediately perk up, a brief burst of energy as they turn excitedly towards you. “No way, already?” Yuji squeals excitedly before grabbing Megumi’s shoulders. “We made it, we stayed up!”

Megumi giggles, overjoyed at their shared accomplishment.

“You sure did,” Choso’s deep voice fills your apartment as he smiles. “Look, they’re about to start counting down,” he observes as his gaze falls to the TV.

The boys cheer in excitement, Megumi’s hands clapping joyously as they attentively watch the numbers flashing across the screen. “Ten, nine, eight,” they begin.

You and Choso join in, chanting with them. “Seven, six, five, four, three, two, one!”

Cheerful laughter erupts from the four of you as Megumi runs to you, wrapping his small arms around your body in the tightest hug he can manage. Yuji follows similarly, launching himself at Choso as he catches him on his lap.

“Happy new year,” Megumi murmurs into you through a soft grin, his futile fight against sleep becoming increasingly challenging with each passing second.

“Happy new year, buddy,” you smile, reaching down to ruffle his hair. “Now, let’s get you guys to bed, hm?”

“Okay,” he hums, resting his head against you as his eyes flutter closed. Looking across the couch, you see Yuji out cold against Choso. As his eyes meet yours, you both smile contentedly.

Tucking the boys into their makeshift beds on the couch, you and Choso retire to your bedroom. Illuminated by warm lamplight, his dark eyes seem to sparkle as they flit across your face. Cool fingers trace small patterns along your back as his other hand absentmindedly plays with your hair, the comforter soft beneath your skin.

The remaining hours to midnight pass easily, and before you know it the sound of fireworks breaks the tranquil silence you found yourselves in. Glancing to the clock resting upon your bedside table, a bright “12:00” shines into the darkness of your room.

A smile tugs at the corners of his lips. Under the flashing lights of fireworks you seem to glow, absolutely radiating beauty. Choso similarly had never understood the point of celebrating the closure of a year, the date one that primarily signified nothing more than the passage of time. Throughout his extended life he had been forced to watch those he loved pass away, plagued with the finality of senescence. Each year more lights went out, in spite of his best efforts to keep them illuminated, to prolong their flames; yet, every time, his attempts remained futile.

Over time, he detached himself, as though ignorance could protect him from the unrelenting march of time. He willingly purged his mind of dates that served to remind him, forgetting his own birthday, the anniversary of his family’s death, anything that recalled the tortured memories of his past. Maybe if he could remove himself from his own existence it wouldn’t be as painful when he was forced to confront the loss of others’.

Yet, as your eyelashes flutter, your cheeks pushed up as you softly grin, the smooth skin of your fingertips tracing his collarbone, he’s overcome with the notion that maybe, just maybe, he was wrong. Every moment with you seems to slow, the seconds stretching as he silently gazes at you. In all his years he had never felt like this, this alive. Finally, he found something worth looking forward to, the fire of his love bright enough to warm you both.

The crackle of fireworks returns his attention to the present, adoration flowing from his very soul. “Happy new year,” he whispers.

“Happy new year, my love,” you hum.

Placing your lips to his, he kisses you gently, a newfound tenderness in his actions. He’s unhurried, patient, allowing every second to slowly pass you by.

Falling into a comfortable sleep, your thoughts wander to all the things the future holds, the moments you have yet to experience. All the time you’ll get to spend with Choso. Yet, you can’t seem to shake the nagging fear in the back of your mind, the whisper of darkness clouding your peace. How many more years do you have left? When will your flame go out?

previous chapter | series masterlist | next chapter

91 notes · View notes

foxyarchive · 10 months ago

Text

Your Guardian Angel(Or Devil) P3

You go on a date, and Adam can't resist being a dick about it. Set between chapters 1 & 2.

Cross Posted on AO3!

Warnings: Drinking, mild spice, brief dubious consent with Adam(nothing bad, promise).

Words: ~6k

Well found out I'm bad at writing stuff that's not plot LMAO like Reader and Adam shitposting. Wanna do more of it but it's hard for me to write... So probably plot either next chapter or next. Tried to prolong as long as I could soz.

Tags in comments! Ask to be added to the Taglist!

P1 | P2 | P3

You step out of the shower with a sigh, toweling off your body and drying your hair as best as you can for the time being. You had a few hours until you were going out, so you were going to take your time getting yourself looking nice and presentable. You wrap the towel around your body, bending over your sink to wash your face and brush your teeth. When you’ve finished that, you move to adjust your towel so it doesn’t fall, trying to decide what you want to use on your hair.

“Weeeeelll, looks like I popped up at the right time.” You scream in shock, your hand fumbling as your towel drops and pools around your feet. You hear a whistle, and look over with a burning face as you see Adam standing just outside your bathroom door, biting his lip and wiggling his brows.

“A-Adam! Fuck– S-Stop looking!” You crow, trying to cover your bits as best you can as you bend down to pick up your towel. He just laughs, pointing a finger at you as you try to remain a shred of modesty. Your face and body are unbearably warm right now in embarrassment. You can’t even look him in the eye.

“Chillaaaax, sweet-tits, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” Comes his too haughty for your liking response. Somehow, you burn even more at that as you try to wrap your towel around yourself.

“W-What? You’ve… Seen me naked before?” You tremble a bit, feeling a shiver run down your spine at the sudden admission to the lack of privacy.

“Duh. I have this orb thing that lets me just look in on you whenever I want. I don’t really use it, though, don’t care enough to watch your boring ass life.” He says it so nonchalantly, you can’t help but to feel goosebumps raise over your skin. The look across your face must’ve caught his attention, as he just gives another wave of his hand and roll of his eyes as he turns away from you. “It’s a Guardian thing, don’t make it fuckin’ weird now. I mean, unless you wanna.” He looks back at you with a sly leer, raising his brows once again.

“No!” You respond, almost immediately, appalled at the implication. One that an angel was making, no less! Wasn’t he supposed to be more… Virtuous? You do remember the last time you saw him, though… Implied he could really get away with whatever he wanted. There has to be certain boundaries that can’t be crossed, though. He just shrugs, turning away boredly.

“Your loss, babes.” He makes his way into your bedroom, and you follow after him as you finish fixing your towel around yourself.

“Isn’t lust a sin?” You can’t help but ask as he spreads out his wings and flops back onto your bed carelessly.

“‘Isn’t lust a sin!?’” He mocks you in that stupid ass voice again, and you puff out your cheeks in annoyance. “I don’t sin. I’m fuckin’ Adam, in case you forgot. I’m perfect.” He grins, pointing at himself. He then proceeds to roll over to his side, propping his head up with a hand as his elbow rests on the bed. You just suppress a sigh, shifting from foot to foot awkwardly. Wait… He was here. Did that mean…?

“Was I about to die?” You suddenly gape, looking around the room, wondering what was going to happen. An earthquake? Maybe you use a blow dryer and you almost get electrocuted? Slipping and falling out of the shower, perhaps? You look back when he doesn’t respond at first, and you see the face he makes.

“The fuck? No, what?” He frowns, and you mirror the confusion on your face.

“But… That’s why you’re here… Right? You come around to prevent my death…?” You inquire, slowly, and a small look of realization passes across his features.

“Oooh… Yeah, nah, I was just bored. Wanted to swing by, see how your shitty mortal life was going.” He declares, flopping onto his back once more, resting his hands on his stomach. His horns rest over the side of your bed. So does most of his body. He’s massive.

“Are you allowed to do that?” You blink. He turns his head slightly towards you, exasperated.

“‘Tits, we just went over this.” He deadpans. Oh. Right. He’s Adam. He can do… Whatever he wants, apparently.

“Err. Okay, right, well…” You shift from side to side, somewhat nervous. Some droplets fall from your hair onto your shoulders and back, despite having tried to dry it off earlier. “Sorry to… Disappoint you? But I’m going out tonight, so I can’t… Hangout??” What do you even say? Did he want to hang out? Just say hello? What kind of weird relationship were you starting to build with your divine fucking angel?

“Wow, finally doin’ something on a Friday night besides binging a shitty show, doing a game, or jilling off?” He remarks, sitting up now as your face heats up even more.

“D-Don’t say that!” You groan, turning away as you cover your face with your hands at his crass words. He really does look in on you! You’re not proud about how you spend some of your weekend nights… You like to go hangout with your friends when you can, but everyone can get so busy. You hear him mockingly laugh, which only makes you heat up more in embarrassment. “For your information, I have a date tonight! So if you can just… Fly off or whatever so I can get ready, that would be great, thanks.” You snip over your shoulder, turning and walking back in the bathroom.

You squeak in surprise as Adam suddenly appears in front of you, wings flared as he hunches over your smaller stature. “A date, huh? Really? You?” He sneers, and you scoff, anger flaring in your chest.

“Yes, me! That’s rude. I’m attractive! And capable of dating. And holding conversations. I’m doing it with you right now!” You pause, briefly. “The conversation part, I mean.” He hums, giving a small nod of his head, crossing his arms as he tucks his wings back against his side.

“Uh-huh, suuuure. And you don’t want me to go with you?” He rubs his chin, and you squint at him.

“What are you getting at? Why would I want you to come with? So you can distract me?” You roll your eyes, inching passed him to go and gather some makeup to put on.

“Babes, if you’re that distracted by me, maybe it’s best to not go out with some other bozo while you’re thinkin’ about me. After all, I am right here.” He grins, slinging an arm across your shoulder. You stiffen at the contact, swallowing nervously as he dips his face close to yours. Why did your Guardian Angel have to be so horny? Looking at the size of him as well, even if you both did end up tangled in bed, you’re not even certain it’d fit… “Thinkin’ about this dick? Don’t blame you.” He lightly grips your chin with the arm around your shoulder, pushing it to look towards him. He cranes his head closer to you. You’re horrified he caught on to your train of thought. “Don’t worry, it’ll feel fucking great. I’ll make sure that pretty little pus–”

“No, no, stop!” As he begins to ramble, you suddenly pull yourself away from him, breathing more rapid. To your relief, he just looks irritated, but he doesn’t pressure you or crowd you again. He pulls back, even seeming to flatten his wings a little more against his side to make himself appear less large. “I’m not– You’re not– This is… Inappropriate! I’m like… Your client, or whatever!” You grimace at the wording, even if it’s true. Adam just rolls his eyes and crosses his arms.

“I fuckin’ told you, it doesn’t matter. We can do whatever the fuck we want.” He pauses. “Almost anything. Fucking is on the list, though.” He confirms with a nod. You just groan, putting your head in your hands.

“I… I don’t… I mean… How could you even want to fuck me?” You can’t help but ask, as you consider this more and more.

“Uuuh. Because you’re hot and got a rockin’ bod?” He lifts a brow. Well, guess that’s some sort of an ego boost for you… or is it? Adam seems like the kinda guy to stick his dick in anyone with a pulse that throws mild attention his way, really. Maybe you should take that comment with a grain of salt, then…

“No, I mean– You’ve watched me my whole life. Don’t you feel some sort of… I don’t know… Protective, parental kinship for me?” You can’t help but ask, grimacing a bit at the thought. You don’t know whether to feel angry or embarrassed as he starts laughing at you, full blown, even hunching over a bit. “Why are you– That’s not funny!” You stutter out. It’s anger you feel, alright. He straightens up some, trying to calm down, wiping a tear from his eye.

“Oooh. Oh, that’s fuckin’ hilarious, ‘tits. Really, super funny.” He wheezes, an easy grin crossing his features as he puts his hands on his hips. “Nice try, but ah, no. You’re right, in a sense. You’re basically just my nuisance client.” He pauses, tapping his chin. “Mm… Maybe more like a pet.” He mumbles in thought, and you feel another flare of anger.

“A– A pet!?” You cry in outrage.

“Yeah! But like, a fuckable one. Shit, wait no, that sounds fucking weird, back that up–” He puts his hands up, and you decide to bite your tongue as you resist the urge to go and pluck his wings. “Uuugh, why are you making me describe this shit! Look.” He finally breathes in, clasping his hands together as he takes a step towards you. You shift a half step back, and he stops, but continues talking. “To me, you’re just this lady I gotta look after. Like I said, I didn’t really actually watch you. Checked occasionally because Sera was on my dick about it, but that’s whatever. You’re like, what, thirty something now, though?”

“I’m–” You begin to offer him your correct age, but he just waves you off.

“Whatever, you’re old.” You huff at his comment. “You’re an adult, you can make your own fuckin’ choices, yada yada. All I'm saying is: Original dickmaster, right here.” He grins, pointing to himself. You remain silent, still eyeing him, face still slightly scrunched up. Even if you both were two consenting adults(with him falling more along the lines of… primordial demi-God way older than you), you're not losing sight of what you have in mind tonight. Especially not for Adam, who has been quite callous with you. You're not even sure he actually likes you.

“Okay, well… Thanks for all the clarification. I guess.” You utter the last part under your breath, turning away from him. “Still going out with my date tonight. Still would like it if you weren't there.” You then declare, moving past him once more to go and get ready, and you just hear a scoff leave his throat.

“You sure ‘bout that? Hear men on Earth are pretty shitty. What if he tries to… I dunno, kill you or something?” He states, and you can see the squint he’s eyeing you with through your mirror.

“Then you’ll protect me? Like you’re supposed to?” You can’t help but to bite out in response, growing tired of this. Adam hisses out a slow, quiet breath through his teeth, clicking his tongue.

“I dunno about that… I mean, what if it’s your time? What if this is where you meet your fate? At the hands of some dude you think is cool?” The seed he sows in your head makes you pause at what you’re doing. He did say that he knew when you were going to die, but… He’s just fucking with you. He has to be.

“Okay, well, even if this was where I was going to die, then who cares? It’s fate, right? You can’t interfere with that.” You roll your eyes, trying to quell the now uncertain flutter in your stomach. He walks forward once more, hovering right behind you as he cranes his neck down slightly to peer at you. You don’t turn around to meet him, only eye him uncertainly through the mirror.

“Don’t you remember who I am?” He utters to you, quietly, and that makes you pause. There’s no shot he can circumvent your death… Right? Besides, he was just bluffing. You were going to be fine tonight. He backs off, though, abrupt and with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. “Just saying. Lotta stuff can happen.” Then he disperses in a flitter of gold. You’ve never felt more uncertain in your life. You assume he’s just trying to get your goat, but the anxiety in you is beginning to try and spin a tale otherwise. You look ahead, just focusing on getting ready.

The rest of the time you doll yourself up, it’s blissfully quiet, which acts as both a blessing and a curse. You can just focus on the night ahead, but it also lets you mull over your thoughts about what Adam said. He’s just fucking with me. He’s not serious about it. Why is he even saying stuff like that? You ponder as you finally get into your car, heading towards the bar you were supposed to be meeting your date. You park, check yourself in the mirror, and head inside. There you spot your date, sitting at the bartop, and all you can think of currently is thank God you didn’t get catfished.

“Hey! Ryan, right?” You smile as you approach, and he looks at you, offering a smile in return. He inquires your name, and you nod, unto which he shakes your hand when you hold it out. Well, it starts as a handshake, and turns into a somewhat unprompted hug, which you gingerly return before you sit next to him.

“It’s great to meet you in person! You look lovely.” He compliments, and you offer a bashful smile, returning a compliment yourself. After you both decide on what to drink and order, he faces back towards you. You both begin to divulge the basics of one another– What you do for work, what hobbies you have, some places you’ve visited before. It’s going fine, and he’s awfully nice, but you can’t help but to feel… A little bored. Any spark you had felt over texting him through the app you’d met him in is slowly beginning to drain. You have a few things in common, but not much, and you can’t help but to feel a little worn down with the conversation. It certainly doesn’t help that you’ve ordered another drink as well. Why the Hell did you do that?

As you’re beginning to feel your eyes glaze over when he talks about a very… Uninteresting work trip he had in a rather monotonous way, something catches your attention. It’s out of the corner of your eye. A flicker of gold. You glance over, seeing nothing of the sort, and shift a bit to draw your attention back to Ryan. Suddenly, your date flinches a bit, and you frown, sitting up. “Are you okay?” You ask, and he rubs the side of his head, glancing around. You look down, noticing a partially discarded peanut shell next to his barstool.

“Yeah, sorry, I… I thought I felt something.” He frowns, looking back at you, giving a sheepish smile. “Guess it was nothing. Anyways, as I was saying, we arrived at this studio where–” You see the peanut shell coming this time, smacking Ryan square in the ear. He looks behind him, and slowly, you do as well. Your eyes stretch wide in mortification. You see Adam, sitting at an empty table, a smirk on his face with an array of used peanut shells on the table. Someone had just left, and looks like he decided to sit there and bug your date. For a moment, a flicker off worry runs through you. Can Ryan see him? You crane your neck over a bit, but by the look of stark confusion on his features, it’s clear that he can’t. “Did– Did you see anyone throw something at me?” He frowns, and you bite the inside of your cheek. You can see Adam’s grin widen.

“No.” You respond, because truthfully, you didn’t actually see Adam do it. You’re sure it’s him, though… Ryan just rubs the back of his neck, giving you a sheepish look.

“I swear, I keep feeling something pelting me… I guess it just must be my imagination.” He murmurs, and your eyes shift past him. You see Adam lining up another shell, biting his tongue in concentration. You give him a warning glare as best as you can without making it seem like you’re pointing your stare towards Ryan, but either Adam doesn’t catch onto it or doesn’t care. He flicks his middle finger, and the shell goes flying, thunking Ryan right on the back of his head. This time, Ryan stands up, flustered as he looks around to try and catch the culprit. You dig your nails into your palms as Adam begins to laugh, pointing at your date as he leans back in the chair.

“Ahah– You should– You should see his face. He’s so pissed. And confused. Not– Not sure which he’s more of.” He cackles. You try your best– You really, really do. You want to be upset with Adam interrupting things, but you can’t help giving a snort of laughter. You then cover your mouth, trying to stifle it as best as you can as Ryan’s head swivels around to catch the culprit.

“Are– Are you okay, Ryan?” You try not to wheeze or show that much of a smile as he huffs out, clenching and unclenching his fists.

“No– I mean, yes, I just– There is somebody here who is pelting me with… With something.” He finally looks at the ground, near him, seeing the shells. “With peanuts, I suppose… I can’t find out who.” You feel guilty, now, as you see the embarrassed look across his features. Even more guilty that you have to pretend like he’s crazy. Is this gaslighting?

“Are you sure? I haven’t seen anyone doing anything.” You finally say. You don’t feel good about it, but what can you do? Tell him your primordial guardian angel that acts like a twelve year old is flicking used peanut shells at him?

“Yes, I’m sure! I think I am, at least.” He’s looking more and more uncertain now, sheepishly sitting back down. You offer him a comforting pat on his hand as he takes a sip of his drink, trying not to draw your eyes away from him as Adam comes over.

“This dude is soooo boring. Why don’t you fuckin’ leave already?” He scoffs, crossing his arms as he glowers down at Ryan. You stiffen as you see someone walking in the path of Adam, but to your slight surprise(and relief), the person walks right through him. Adam’s body shimmers and ripples a bit as it happens, but it doesn’t seem to disturb him at all. For obvious reasons, you can’t respond, especially as Ryan speaks back up.

“I’m sorry, maybe I’m just… Being paranoid. I’m a little nervous, sorry, but the date has been wonderful so far! You’re really interesting, I’m so glad I got to come out here with you.” He admits, smiling a bit bashfully, and you can’t help but to smile at the rather sweet admission as well. You feel your cheeks warm. You see Adam faux gag himself with a finger, and you suppress the urge to snip something to him.

“I’m glad we got to do this, too.” You respond back to Ryan. Well, even if you didn’t really click, it was still nice to get out and get a drink. Speaking of… Maybe you should finish your second one a little faster. A flicker of guilt passes through you. Perhaps… You could make a bit more of an effort. Ask additional questions about his trip, engage more where you can. “What, uh… Made you want to work as an interior designer? Family, or just something personal?” You decide on, because that can always be interesting. Ryan seems to perk up at the question.

“My grandmother was one, actually! I didn’t realize how much I liked it until I went with her one day when I was younger to work in an emergency.” He chuckles. “I got to see how she worked, who she worked with, and how she would put some things together.”

“Ask him if he’s sure he’s actually interested in women.” Adam pipes up, moving to stand beside you, and you grit your jaw at his comment. That almost makes you snap out and snarl at him, but you try not to as Ryan continues to go on about the experience, as well as what pushed him further towards it. “Fucking– This guy is so boring. It’s boring me and I don’t even have to pretend to be listening.” He groans out, tilting his head back.

Why doesn’t he just leave? You can’t help but to think in irritation. Adam isn’t bound here. Unless… Something is going to happen, but you don’t get that feeling. You watch as your Guardian moves to stand beside your date, now, making a talking motion with his hand while he mimics something similar to ‘blah, blah, blah’ with his mouth. Trying to stifle a noise of anger, you quickly slam down your drink with a sigh, just as Ryan finishes his story. He can see the force you put your drink down with, and he blinks.

“Are you alright?” He inquires, and you sigh out, giving him a smile. Adam is really grinding your gears. Your head is just a bit fuzzy thanks to the drinks. You can think clearly enough, but you also feel on the edge enough to spite Adam with all of his comments tonight.

“Yeah, fine. Sorry. Getting a bit loud in here is all. Wanna head back to my place?” You find yourself asking, quirking a brow.

“Are you fucking kidding me!” It’s more of an exclamation than a question Adam shoots out, and you suppress a smirk, opting for the smile on your face. Ryan seems a little taken aback, a faint pink dusting his cheeks.

“I got some streaming services, if that’s to your fancy.” You add in. Ryan was boring, sure. You thought that, but hearing Adam say it and egg you on to leave just pushed you to do this. Plus, Ryan was really attractive. Like, totally your type.

“O-Oh. Yeah, sure, okay.” He smiles, bashful again, how sweet. He finishes his own drink, pays, and the two of you head out. You can see Adam standing in the background, irritation written all over his features, and you can’t help but to sneak a look back at him and stick out your tongue. He just flips you off before he disappears. You tell Ryan to follow you as you get into your car, and he gets into his, and you lead him back to your apartment. It’s quiet when you both walk in, and Adam isn’t even around anymore. Suddenly, you’re a bit irritated he didn’t stick around. You were supposed to be rubbing this in his face… Or something! Maybe not. You wanted him to leave, wanted to spite him, and clearly you did enough to make him piss off.

You’re… Almost a little sad, now. How awful of you.

“Sorry, uh… Don’t have a lot of people over. Or room in here.” You admit, as you motion to only the beanbag. It’s giant, sure, but it’s not a couch. “I could grab a chair from the nook, though, if you prefer.”

“No, no, this is fine! I really like it.” Ryan laughs a bit, taking a seat on one end of the beanbag, and you do the same. You flick on the television, and open up a streaming service. You both look through it, trying to decide what to watch, and finally decide on some documentary(courtesy of Ryan choosing it). You settle in, beginning to watch, and you’re just waiting for Adam to pop up at any moment. Nothing. You tap your finger on your arm. It’s quiet. A bit awkward. Ryan is fidgeting a bit, and so are you, and you suddenly wonder how this is going to go. He has the same idea, as he’s stealing glances at you occasionally.

Well. Fine, then. You didn’t invite Ryan over because he was a good conversationalist. You inch closer to him, and he does to you as well. His arm moves around your back, and you lean closer, gingerly resting your head on his shoulder. A few more minutes like that before he starts to rub his hand up and down your back. You play with the buttons on his top, undoing one deftly. He glances down at you, and you peer up at him, smiling somewhat shyly as he offers back a similar look. He’s the first to lean in, but you’re the first to meet him in a kiss. It begins chaste, even if both of your hands don’t remain so much, before it begins to progress further.

You sit up a bit more, slinging one leg between his own, stradling one of them now. You feel him lift his leg up a bit, and you can’t suppress the small groan that leaves your lips as you feel rub right up against your crotch. He gives a receptive groan and roll of his leg as you grind against him, bringing one hand to run through his hair, tugging on it. His palms slide down your back and sides, before one comes to grope your ass, and the other briefly fondles your breast, before he tugs on the hem of your shirt. You oblige, popping open another one for his own shirt, and he gets the message. You both briefly split from the kiss to remove your shirts, before diving back in with more fervor.

As you grind yourself on his leg, you allow one of your hands to travel down and palm him through his pants, able to feel how he’s straining already. For a moment, you both break the kiss for air, and he takes the time to tilt your head to the side, trailing sloppy kisses down your neck and collarbone as he works his hands on the back to unclasp your bra. You pant against him, head tilted, eyes half lidded, before you catch sight of something out of the corner of your eye. You gasp in shock just as your bra comes off, recoiling in fear as you see Adam standing off to the side. To your credit, he looks completely unimpressed, arms crossed, eyebrow raised as he watches the scene.

Ryan pauses, thinking you were startled by what he was doing. He looks flustered, gaze heavy with lust and confusion. “Sorry! I thought we were… Going to…” He begins, trailing off, and you look back at him, feeling flustered yourself.

“Yeah! Sorry, I thought… I saw something…” You begin to apologize, and you hear Adam blow a raspberry and give a thumbs down.

“C’mon, it was just gonna get good! Thought you wanted to fuck him, ‘tits. That’s why you invited him over, right?” He sneers, walking over now, looming over the two of you. You can’t help but to stare up at him, eyes wide, body incredibly warm in both arousal and embarrassment. It looks strange to Ryan, obviously, and he draws you back to him with a hand slowly creeping up your back. “Are… Are you okay?” He asks, quietly, tentatively.

“Y-Yes, I’m…” You taper off, unsure what to say. Adam shifts to stand behind you, putting a hand on your neck, slowly pushing your body closer to Ryan.

“Well, go on. Fuck him. You wanted to, right?” He hisses out, and you find yourself trembling. Why is… Why is Adam doing this? Why is he egging you on, when it sounds like he doesn’t actually want you to be doing this? Is this a test? Your trembling doesn’t stop, and that’s finally when Ryan grimaces a bit, pushing you back. Adam doesn’t force you forward anymore, letting you go as your date sits up.

“We don’t have to do this. It’s fine. It’s, um… A bit late, anyways, I should probably… Head out…” He clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck as he takes his hands away from you. You let out a breath, giving a small, spaced out nod as you shakily roll to the side. Ryan grabs his shirt, deftly slipping it back on and buttoning it up. All you can do is sit and watch, feeling Adam squinting at you out of the corner of your eye. Ryan gets to his feet, finally, clearing his throat once more as he looks down at you. “It was… Nice to meet you.” He winces, rubbing the back of his neck, and all you can do is purse your lips and nod in response. He takes that as his queue to leave, awkwardly turning and shuffling out to the door.

“...Drive safe.” You balk, weakly, after him as the door shuts behind him. You’re still topless, arms covering your breasts, and once he’s gone, you hear Adam sigh out.

“FINALLY. Holy shit he was soooo boring. Can’t believe you were trying to prove some point by inviting him over.” The angel huffs, plopping down next to you on the beanbag as you grab the remote. You just sit there, frozen, unsure of what to do or say. You feel as awkward as Ryan felt earlier as he begins to flip through channels. “I mean, not like that guy would’ve actually gotten you off I bet.” He laughs, flaring a wing out to slap you with it. You sputter lightly, shifting forward as you feel the soft feathers against your back. “Be a babe and get me some chips, will ya?” Numbly, you just stand up, still trying to process everything that’s happening. You still feel flustered. The inside of your underwear are slick, a true testament to how long it’s been since you’ve fooled around with someone else.

For a moment, you just stare down at Adam. He glances up at you, looking bored, and then irritated. He opens his mouth to say something, but you finally find your voice. “What– Why– Why did you do that? Interrupt us? Do you know how… How inappropriate that was!?” Now that the shock and embarrassment is wearing off, you finally feel anger broiling to the surface. You wave your hands about somewhat for emphasis. “You could have just interfered with something big for me! What if him and I were like… Fate, or something!? He could’ve been the love of my life! I’ll never know what could’ve been, now, because you popped up and were fucking weird!” You’re flushed again, baring your teeth in anger. What infuriates you even more is that, even though Adam’s eyes don’t have pupils, you can very clearly tell that he’s staring at your boobs. Right, you’re still shirtless.

“Adam!!” You shriek in frustration, grabbing your shirt and throwing it at his face. It’s his turn to sputter out, grabbing the garment as you snatch up your bra and begin to storm away, starting to put it back on.

“Chill, bitch, I’m listening! Why the fuck you getting so uppity for?” He snaps out, and you hear him get up too. Well, you hear the beanbag shift slightly, and you don’t even hear him as he seems to glide effortlessly over to you, grabbing your arm and flipping you around to face him. At this point, your bra is back on, but his eyes are actually on your face this time. “I literally helped you!”

“Helped me!?” You blanch, incredulous at his claim. “How the fuck did cockblocking me help me!? Everything was consensual!” He just sneers at this, poking a finger into your chest.

“Because you didn’t actually want it. You were just trying to prove a point, weren’t you?” He snips back, and your mouth opens. Goddammit, he’s right… Partially. You had just done it as a ‘fuck you’ to him, with how rude and openly he was complaining about Ryan, but… He was also hot, and it was just a casual fling. What was so bad about that? “Oh, come on, don’t tell me that walking snooze-fest actually was a turn on for you.” He scoffs, and you just shut your mouth. You feel your cheeks burning, and look away, feeling too embarrassed to have this discussion.

“W-We’re not talking about this!” You finally stutter out, and he makes an incredulous noise as you turn to leave. He just grips your arm again, though, pulling you back towards him.

“No. Fucking. Chance.” He grits his teeth, hand reaching down to pop the button on your jeans. You squeal out, trying to writhe out of his grasp, but stop with a gasp as you feel his fingers push right past your panties and slide between your folds. A squeak leaves you, thankfully, instead of a moan that wants to come out. You’re still aching, afterall, even after getting upset with this whole ordeal. Adam brings his fingers out, looking over the slick that thickly covers his gloves, and a sneer appears on his face. “Un-fucking-believable that guy got you this worked up.” He snips, glaring at you and your flustered features. That sneer quickly winds into a smirk, though, as he brings his fingers up to his mouth.

“Don’t–” You try to take control, but can only bite your lip as you watch his golden tongue poke out and drag the two digits covered in your slick down it, before he sucks on them. “Oh my God!” You whine, finally pulling yourself free as you turn away, hands covering your face.

“Good girls don’t go to Heaven when they use the Father’s name in vain.” His hands are on your shoulders, his head craning near your neck. You feel his breath hot on you, and a shudder runs down your spine as you try to suppress whatever primal urge is inside of you that wants you to turn around and beg Adam to shove his fingers back down your pants again.

“I– I’m going to bed– Alone!” You finally manage to work out of your mouth, shrugging away from him, rubbing your arms as you try to stem the heat flaring through your body. He doesn’t give follow, and just scoffs once more.

“Really? You just gonna go to sleep blueballed?” You hear him huff. “Dickmaster right here, remember!”

“Fuck you!” You snarl back, the events of tonight playing out in your mind once more, making you terse and aggravated. You turn around once you’re in your room, ready to slam the door, and he’s just standing there, eyebrow raised, arms crossed.

“Yeah, sure, I’m right here.” He grins, and you snarl in frustration, slamming the door. “Your loss, bitch! Have fun with your hand!” You hear him bark, and you can only assume he’s gone, as you don’t hear anything else outside your room. With a groan, you walk over to your bed, flopping onto it. You rub your hands across your face, grimacing as you see some of your makeup come off in the process. Tonight had been a clusterfuck, to say the least, and you feel on the verge of tears from it all. Part of you wants to cry, but you do your best to suppress the urge, biting the inside of your cheek.

“‘Have fun with your hand’.” You find yourself scoffing out his words, glaring up at the ceiling, before you promptly flick it off. “Fuck you, pervy asshole. Bet you would like me to do that so you can watch like some fucking weirdo.” You don’t even know if he can hear you, but you can only hope so. Or maybe not. How desperate are you to get a jab in, after all? You just groan out, getting up. You clean the makeup off your face, and change into night clothes as you crawl back into bed. The first thing you do is go to the app you met Ryan on and unmatch, because you are far too embarrassed about this situation to want to see him again.

…And, Adam was right. Ryan was really boring.

#reader insert #adam x reader #adam x you #hazbin adam x reader #hazbin hotel #x reader #you #hazbin hotel adam #reader

57 notes · View notes

lucysarah-c · 3 months ago

Note

Hi, how are you? I hope everything is going well for you :) I really enjoy your writings, and after reading your thoughts on sexism and homosexuality in Aot I was wondering if you have any thoughts about life inside the walls? Like about their culture, politics, every day life etc. No pressure tho, it's supposed to be fun for you too lol and it's just a silly little request. Thank you for reading and I hope you have a lovely day ! :)

Hi! �� I’m doing great, thanks for asking! How are you? Oh, that’s a lovely question! As someone who loves writing about life inside the Walls—especially in my main fic, Holy Ground—this question is right up my alley.

I think most celebrations inside the Walls would be related to the monarchy, the Church of the Walls, and local events. For example, this might sound a bit silly, but in Argentina, there are small agricultural towns that have celebrations like “The Potato Festival,” “The Cow Festival,” or “The Wheat Festival,” where they have fairs with games for kids, presentations, and competitions for local farmers. I believe similar events could happen inside the Walls.

Barley was particularly important back in the day because it’s hardier than wheat in tough weather, and you can make beer as well as bread with it. I wrote a story where they hold a barley festival twice a year after the main harvest to celebrate and hope for a good season. This helps boost local trade and consumption, especially during the long winter, which would create many struggles. I imagine Wall Rose, which isn’t as cosmopolitan as Wall Sheena, would have such festivals. Each region likely has its own “main” source of income and celebrates that. You could explore that idea a lot in a fic.

I also think there would be religious celebrations. Most of the characters we meet in Attack on Titan are more on the “radical” side of beliefs, but I bet the common folk were deeply religious. After the fall of Wall Maria, it’s mentioned that the church regained significant influence. Historically, natural disasters like earthquakes or pandemics were often seen as signs of divine anger, and I think many people inside the Walls would interpret things similarly.

Isayama didn’t fully explain how the religion of the Walls works, so I don’t have deep thoughts on it, but I’m sure they’d have celebrations and traditions around it, just like we do. Interestingly, many religious holidays worldwide coincide with similar times of the year because they’re often rebranded versions of older celebrations, like those of the Romans. So, I wouldn’t be surprised if the people inside the Walls celebrated something like the birth of Goddess Sheena around the time of the winter solstice, much like the Romans and later Christians did. Just to clarify, this isn’t meant to discredit any religion—I’m just providing historical examples!

Monarchy plays an important role in many societies even today, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they celebrated the birth or coronation of the royal family. Maybe there are portraits of the king displayed around the Walls—in schools, public buildings, etc.

I think, though I could be wrong, that Isayama mentioned somewhere that Eren, Mikasa, and Armin attended a “private” school and received better education than most kids. I remember wondering how Eren or Armin could afford private school when they weren’t particularly wealthy. But if there’s private schooling, there must be public schooling too! I imagine there’s a basic public education system, though it probably doesn’t last as long as ours—maybe something between kids of 6 and 12 years, where kids of different ages are mixed and taught reading, writing, and basic math. If they wanted to continue their studies, I bet there were institutions similar to colleges. I can’t see education being mandatory though—can you imagine MPs knocking on your door because your kid isn’t in school? Lmao, me neither! There were probably girls-only, boys-only, and boarding schools for wealthier kids.

Aside from the Scouts, I can clearly see the other two military divisions having multiple headquarters since they have more soldiers. They probably have food fairs on specific days of the week to sell cheaper groceries, and maybe even traveling fairs or circuses.

In Wall Sheena, which is wealthier, I can imagine art exhibitions, book fairs, and theaters hosting opera performances or orchestras. Universities are probably only within Wall Sheena too.

I also believe that depending on the region, people have different local foods and accents. I bet people from the north don’t sound the same as those from the south. Sasha apparently had an accent she tried to hide. They might also prioritize worship of one Wall over another, depending on where they live—for example, Wall Rose’s celebration might be bigger in Wall Rose.

As for clothing, we shouldn’t forget that before the industrial revolution, clothes were expensive, and dyeing them was even more costly. My great-grandfather used to tell my mom that he would take his shoes off to walk to work barefoot and only put them back on when he arrived to preserve them. I think inside the Walls, colorful clothes would have been a luxury, and most people only had one or two good outfits. Society was far more divided economically, with those who were slightly well-off doing much better than commoners.

For example, I have one MC who’s very rich, and she’s always wearing tartan or detailed patterns because different colors and threads were expensive. The same goes for lace—my great-grandmother used to knit bridal veils, socks, and gloves and made a lot of money because it was so costly to produce.

Isayama once mentioned that hygiene inside the Walls isn’t the same as our standards today. He implied that most people don’t shower often and re-wear their clothes. He even said that Levi falls asleep in his chair without changing his uniform. So while Levi is more invested in hygiene than others, even he wouldn’t meet our modern cleanliness standards, haha.

OMG, this turned out SO long! I’m sorry! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did because I ADORED answering this ask! Thank you so, so much! <3

#levi ackerman #attack on titan #captain levi #levi aot #attack on titans #snk levi #shingeki no kyojin #levi #snk #aot #aot anime #aot headcanons #snk fandom #snk headcanons #snk fanfiction

26 notes · View notes

latenightsimping · 2 years ago

Text

THE EDGE

“...There is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who’ve gone over.” - Hunter S. Thompson, Hell’s Angels

Summary: A part of the deal to freedom included a stay at Pennhurst. It’ll take everything to keep the hope that one day the locked doors will open, the windows will no longer have bars that block the view, and that one day, the name Eddie Munson will be synonymous with the word ‘innocent’. The hope, he never realised, would also come to be synonymous with your name.

Chapter: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

Pairing: Eddie Munson x reader

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: angst, heavy themes of inpatient treatment/hospitalisation, heavy themes of mental health, institutional deprivation of liberties, body injuries, mentions of suicidal ideation, themes of institutional abuse, can be a dark read (continue with that in mind, look after yourselves), canon divergence, Eddie survives the demobat attack, post-S4 timeline, slow burn romance, eventual smut, 18+, eventual fluff, there will be a happy ending

AN: First of all, thank you so much to those who left lovely comments and reblogged. I’m blown away by the support over a little idea I had, based on my own difficulties with the inpatient system. This is a series I’m really looking forward to, and still planning as I go? This second part is the last like, ‘scripted’ part, so I’m gonna have to actually light a fire under my arse and open up a dreaded planning doc lmao. Hope you enjoy this part!! also massive shoutout to @mantorokk-writes for putting up with my rambles and making me an amazing header image, you’re my beloved 💕

Taglist: @edsforehead, @idkidknemore, @harrys-tittie, @gaysludge, @smileygoth

Nothing ever changed in this place. Waking up to stare at the same four walls until your door was opened. Same four walls that you showered and brushed your teeth in. Same four walls that you spent the majority of the day in, following a bullshit routine that was supposed to promote ‘positive mental changes’ and ‘the tools for a successful future’.

You were smart enough to know that it was all a load of bullshit. For the first six months of your committal, you believed in it. Practically bent over backwards to show the doctors that you were making progress, holding onto the slim chance that you might finally get the news of being released after the bi-annual panels that were akin to placing your heart on the scale. Balanced against the feather of your guilt, of the timeline of events that still haunted you every waking moment. It took you a year to realise the odds were stacked against you. Two years in, and you’d given up hope of ever walking back out the front doors. Two years of the same day, over and over, no end in sight.

Even the earthquake that had rocked the town of Hawkins didn’t really change things. It had meant lockdown for a couple of days until damage could be assessed, and it had spurned a lot of orderlies, nurses and doctors bouncing for a better life in another city. Leaving only the ones that were most likely too stubborn to leave, now more bitter and jaded for having to keep the job that made their lives that little bit more miserable. With less staff, it had meant a closer eye on behaviour, lest the patients got any bright ideas and decided an uprising was sorely needed. Any infraction could get you put in the hole, no matter how small and stupid it seemed. You’d seen one of the old timers be taken away for a couple of days when they decided to steal a pen from the nurses station. You knew it was because they wanted to write down their thoughts before they forgot. But you also knew that the staff got jumpy when a patient had something capable of being made into an improvised weapon.

The day had started just like any other. Your name being called out as the door to your room was unlocked, tone already weary of the shift ahead and none too gentle. An escort to the bathrooms to get washed up and ready for the day, government issued toothpaste bitter on your tongue and the smell of cheap soap lingering on your skin. Yet another escort to the day room, the doors slammed shut after the last patient passed the threshold. You were still barely awake when the tinny audio system kicked to life, the shrill voice of nurse Koehn calling everyone to line up in front of the glass window of the nurses’ station for medication. How you hated those paper cups with medication inside that you didn’t even know the names of and didn’t get a reply when you asked about, the shitty juice used to wash them down barely tolerable. It had become a Pavlovian response; each sip meant that little bit less freedom, a sluggish haze descending over you that made everything numb and fuzzy at the edges. But at least there were small victories, coming in the form of a pack of Marlboros as a reward for taking the fucking things without a fight. You tapped the pack against your palm as you made your way over to the table you usually sat at, taking one out and dangling the filter between your lips as you nodded your head towards an orderly for the use of a lighter. Because God forbid you were allowed to hold one for more than two seconds, lest you burn down the building. A thought that had admittedly crossed your mind once or twice.

By mid afternoon, you were six cigarettes down and in the middle of a game of solitaire when the door to the day room opened, and you turned your head on instinct to see what was happening. Miller’s hand on the door as she corralled a man you hadn’t seen before into the room, closing the door behind him and leaving him to fend for himself. He looked scared shitless; eyes frantically darting around the room, his hands curled into fists so tightly that it made his knuckles turn alabaster. Wild and frizzy curls that tumbled past his shoulders, failing to hide the red and angry scars that marred his neck and face. A little lost lamb in the den of poorly concealed wolves, the sight pulling at your heartstrings that you swore had been crystallised a long time ago. You never really believed in ghosts, but it was as if you were looking at a spectre. A shell of a man, barely holding on by a thread. He was a reflection of you, when you’d first got here.

Gathering up the playing cards, you puffed out an air of nicotine as you shook your head. “Are you just going to stand there? You’re making the place look untidy,” you muttered, already dealing out two piles of cards before he realised you were talking to him.

You glanced back over to him, his muscles tensed and a deer in the headlights expression staring back at you. It took a few heartbeats for him to catch on, and one glance back before his umber eyes settled on you again. “You talkin’ to me?”

His words were softly spoken, a hoarseness to them that you’d heard from other patients who seldom uttered a word. A slight tremor to his cadence, that you easily picked up on. You nodded as you gestured your head to the wooden chair opposite you, leaning back in your seat as you studied your cards. “Staff get a bit jumpy if you stand by the doors too long. Suggest you find yourself somewhere to be that’s away from them.”

The conversation seemed to hang in the balance; no doubt he was weighing up the pros and cons of talking to someone deemed a lunatic. You couldn’t blame him. A couple of residents here were like that. Would smile and make pleasant conversation, fooling you into thinking they were perfectly reasonable human beings. And perhaps they were. But you also knew their reason for being here, and one or two made you feel sick to your core. You heard the shuffling of rubber soles get closer, until he finally took a seat at the table. You kept your face neutral as you took another drag of your cigarette, settling the stick between pointer and middle finger. “You know how to play gin rummy?”

You lifted your eyes as he picked up the cards, a look of confusion evident as his other hand scratched the back of his neck. “Haven’t played for a long time,” he admitted, the volume of his tone still not rising above the level of when he first spoke.

You shrugged as he made the first move, noticing the way his eyes darted towards the carton of cigarettes in the middle of the table. You set your hand down for a moment, picking up the pack and pulling one out. “Doesn’t matter about winning, what matters is looking like you’re occupied,” you explained, using the cherry of the lit cigarette to ignite the other. Dropping the fresh one into the ashtray, you pushed it slightly towards him in offering as you picked the cards back up. “Idle hands are the Devil’s tools and all that shit.”

His body language seemed to change at your actions, eyes narrowed as they flickered from the ashtray to yours. It was a look of incredulity, if you were reading it right. You couldn’t blame him; if the roles were reversed, you’d think twice about accepting, just like he was. “And you’re telling me this because…?”

You held up your hands in mock surrender, offering a slight smile that didn’t show teeth. “Because you seem to have your shit together for the most part, and I’m sick of trying to have conversations with lunatics.” Technically the truth. He didn’t have to know about your burning curiosity just yet, but the thought of having someone around your age who still had his faculties to talk to was an offer that you couldn’t refuse.

You were greeted with a slight eyebrow raise as he scratched at his scarred cheek, something that you could now assume was a tell that he was nervous. The fear still evident, yet a spark of something only just alight in his eyes. “Aren’t we both technically lunatics?” There it was. A ghost of a smile, a blink and you’d miss it moment.

“Depends on who you listen to,” you offered with a slight grimace. “Some of us locked in here are innocent.”

“Are you one of them?”

Your stomach twisted at the ever so slight tone of disbelief you were sure you picked up on. How many times had you sworn on everything you ever loved that you never did what they accused you of, screamed your innocence at the top of your lungs to never be heard. It made that cage you kept your heart in that little bit stronger, the muscle decaying from lack of oxygen. “Depends who you ask.”

His body language seemed to change in small increments, the small shifts only recognisable if you were really paying attention. To see them meant hope; how many times had you spoken to another patient, to be met with a blank stare and slackened jaw? Under the surface, no matter how deep it was, there was life. No doubt beaten down so intensely that he’d locked it away for self preservation. But it was there, all the same. Another ghost of a smile as he finally picked up the cigarette, taking a deep, sharp pull and his eyes slightly fluttering with the relief that nicotine could bring. “I’m asking you.”

It felt like an impossible question. If answered truthfully, you could still be seen as a liar. He didn’t know you, hadn’t heard your side of the story, or even the story at all. All he had to go on was an offer of a cigarette, and an invitation to sit down.

But what did you have to lose?

“I am,” you finally murmured, bringing the cigarette filter to your lips to fill your lungs with smoke as acrid as you felt on the inside.

There was a nod of his head as he looked down towards the cards, letting the silence settle as you played a few turns. Both of you avoiding the subject as much as the situation allowed, neither one meeting the other’s gaze. But it was him to break it, a soft sigh just before his admission.

“I’m innocent too.”

So he wasn’t here voluntarily. The circumstances not being one of contemplating suicide, or having a nervous breakdown. An admission like that meant he was accused of something, just like you. Whether he was telling the truth or not, you had no idea. It was pushing your luck to ask for more, but you had nothing else to lose. “What did they say you did?”

You saw his whole body tense again, as if the question was a bullet through the chest. His grip on the flimsy playing cards tightening, jabbing the remnants of tobacco into the ashtray with a little more force than needed. “Doesn’t matter.” His voice had got impossibly quiet again, an edge of frustration to it. He was guarded again, no doubt starting to get lost in the negative memories that you guessed crowded his head every waking moment. Maybe similar to the ones that crowded yours.

You exhaled deeply through your nose as you chipped your own cigarette out. “Just as a heads up, you don’t have to tell me now. But around here, secrets don’t stay secrets for long. They’ll ask you about what you did in group therapy.”

You heard his sharp exhale, noticing his eyes getting glassy with unshed tears. His fingernails scratched the scars on his neck, near frantic as he shook his head. Over your time here, you could see what this was. It was a panic attack, in its infancy but rapidly devolving. It twisted your gut to see, knowing that it was technically your fault. But why bother lying about it, when he’d find out himself in the next few hours?

“Haven’t seen you around before,” you said softly, mind working overtime to try and head whatever he was going through off at the pass. Distraction seemed to be what instinct was telling you to do. “You get admitted today?”

He shook his head, unruly curls swaying as he did. “No, I uh… It’s been four months, I think.”

Your eyebrow raised as you shuffled the cards in your hand, deciding to avoid eye contact to give him a little breathing room. “You get upgraded from minimum, or downgraded from supermax?”

“It was uh… A downgrade, maybe? I haven’t seen much of the place.”

You let out the incredulous laugh that bubbled in your chest, clicking your teeth with your tongue. “Must have friends in high places. Rumour is you don’t get out of there unless it’s either a miracle or a body bag.”

There was a spark of something unreadable in his features, your best guess one of realisation. You didn’t have enough information, so you decided to ignore it for now. “Is it as bad as they say it is down there?” you asked, cocking your head to the side.

“Probably, don’t know what they say,” he answered with a slight shrug, his breathing slowing back down as he focused on the questions given to him.

“They say rats crawl over you when you’re sleeping, and the guards carry tasers.”

You got a slight smile in reply as he shook his head, focusing on the cards that you’d both long forgotten about. Becoming something more like a prop to dissuade the conversation being interrupted. “Not true. It’s just… Suffocating down there.”

“Well, sorry to be the bringer of bad news, but it’s not that much different here,” you sighed, rubbing a hand over your face. “Anybody tell you the routine of the day? Where you gotta be at what time?”

He shook his head slowly, and you let out a long exhale. Of course nobody told him. But he’d be expected to follow the rules all the same, getting punished for something that wasn’t his fault. So, you laid it out to him. The whole routine that was the backbone of your life, and would probably be so until you either left this world or the Earth stopped revolving. Wake up, get washed up for the day. Breakfast, then community meeting. Recreation time. Lunch. Group therapy. More free time, though the option to go outside was there if it was a nice day and the staff were in a gracious mood. Some other form of bullshit therapy, depending on the day. Dinner. If you were deemed trustworthy enough, some form of manual labour was assigned to you to help run the hospital, totally not because they couldn’t afford the staff to do it, that would be absurd. Being guided to the bathrooms to clean up from the day and sent to your designated room for lights out and lock up. By the time you finished explaining, you’d managed to get a winning hand of cards, tossing them on the table as you reached for your cigarette pack. “Still jazzed about getting downgraded?” you asked with a wry smirk, raising your hand and getting the attention of one of the orderlies for the lighter.

“Trust me, it’s better than being down there,” he muttered, mindful to keep his voice low as the staff member approached. Now his hands were free of cards, you noticed how he fiddled with something on his left hand that wasn’t there, perhaps out of a learned behaviour that he’d had long before this place. You decided not to bring it up. It wasn’t your place.

“Guess beggars can’t be choosers,” you shrugged, grabbing another cigarette and lighting it with the cherry again. This time you handed it to him yourself, held out like an olive branch. One that he seemed hesitant to take, eyes flitting from your hand to your eyes in quick succession. “Never caught your name.”

The very tentative trust in a barely budding friendship, however small it was at that very moment, hung in the balance. It was likely that he’d either never had kindness before, or hadn’t in a very long time. It hurt to see, and it hurt even more to know that he was acting as a mirror. The last person who’d ever shown you mercy had long gone, and you were completely on your own. Trapped behind enemy lines, with no weapons to show for it. The only thing you could do was find allies wherever they may be, and pray to whoever was above you that they wouldn’t stab you in the back.

His hand reached out, mindful not to make any skin to skin contact as he accepted the token, bringing it to chapped lips as his eye contact dropped to the scratches on the table. “It’s Eddie.”

You nodded slowly as you mulled the name over, though nothing was coming back to you so far. You were pretty sure you’d have known of him if he was this distinct to look at back when you were out in the free world. Then again, you couldn’t remember much of that world at this point, so it was easy to lose background faces in a sea of other stronger, more horrific memories. You gave your own name in return, a small smile flickering over your features. “Guess you better get used to shitty card games and even shittier food, Eddie. Seems we’re in it for the long haul.”

As much as you tried for it to come out as a joke, it didn’t seem to land. You could see him wince a little at your words, as if they burned his ears, or perhaps it was the truth of them that smouldered. It had been a long time since you’d had a conversation that wasn’t around pills or therapy plans, and it showed. You cleared your throat as you tried again.

“I mean, if it helps, you’ll be stuck with me for a long ass time,” you said softly, trying to keep the tone light though the words stuck to your tongue. “You’ll probably be getting out far quicker than I will.”

His eyebrows came together, a crinkle between them as he gave you a slight expression of confusion. You could tell he was about to ask a question, mouth open and words forming on his tongue, but the buzz of the intercom being turned on made him jump out of his skin. It was a whole body reaction; tensed muscles and eyes darting about, no doubt an inbuilt mechanism formed from something in his past that let him survive something. You put a hand up slowly, a signal to wait a second, nodding your head towards the glass panel of the Nurses’ station as Sanford announced lunchtime.

“That sound will happen a lot around here,” you mumbled as you stood up, finishing off the last deep drag of your cigarette and stubbing it out in one fluid motion. “You get used to it after a while.”

When you noticed he wasn’t moving towards the doors as you stepped away, you turned back with a kind look, bowing your head a little to meet his lowered gaze. “C’mon, stick with me, alright? I’ll show you around.”

For a moment, you remembered being told that your first day. You could almost hear your voice morph into that person’s, the one who showed you initial kindness, and could see yourself in Eddie. You were yet to believe if he was innocent or not. All you had was his word. But all he had was yours, too. Truth and lies were a currency in this domain, with blind trust that the more valuable would be exchanged. But, if you were honest, you felt the need to tell the truth more and more these days, the bitter taste of them on your tongue and threatening to swallow you whole. But truth needed to be given to those who earned it, and wouldn’t run off screaming to the nearest orderly that you’d finally gone mad.

And you just hoped that with the arrival of another supposed innocent, those truths would finally be shared.

#eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie x you #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagine #stranger things x you #eddie munson self insert #stranger things self insert

155 notes · View notes

poisonioushearts · 1 year ago

Note

Hi! So sorry about your request just disappearing, that really sucks ): But from the description you gave, I think I'm the one who requested-

So Yamato ends up gaining a huge crush/falling in love with a very powerful esper, and he's absolutely in love with her (or them, if the fic ends up being gender neutral). And at first, his love interest/reader isn't interested in him at all because they've heard of him and all of the awful things he's done, but as Yamato continues to approach reader and be more genuine and honest with her as time goes on, she eventually returns his feelings and they get together (bonus if reader saves him from a battle and carries him in her arms to safety)🤭

Sorry if this was too long or weird, feel free to change things as you see fit!

THANK YOU

I went with a fic/hc mix type of 'writing style', idk lmao I just went with it.

Yeah...it's been a while. Hi.

Apologies school has been overwhelming.

Reader's powers are loosely based off of Kiana from Honkai.

Gender neutral reader

Warnings: mentions of possessive behavior, the end is the beginning of Yamato being a little sh!t lmao, not proofread, probably grammatical errors

Synopsis: As stated in the request

The Beauty in Power

He first saw you when he was at his lowest. Physically that is.

Wandering after you had completed a day-mission, you were tired. Not exhausted, just tired. Which was normal.

You lifted yourself over a particularly large rock that blocked your path and you slid down it with ease.

You had entered the rocky plains.

One of the places that were greatly affected by the miracle. Thing is, this place was never inhabited by a city, village, or town. Before the miracle came the place was already prone to earthquakes and bloodthirsty creatures that didn't have a name along with miramon.

There wasn't a single flower, weed, tree, or anything of the sort. It was just...rock. Everywhere.

So it would be an understatement to say you were expecting you'd be attacked. You didn't even flinch as a hoard of miramon burst through the rubble up ahead and began to speed towards you with a deafening roar.

Your gaze adjusted and you realized that they weren't going towards you, but a figure further ahead.

They were collapsed on the ground, seemingly passed out or asleep.

You concluded that something happened that'd cause them to be knocked out-because even you wouldn't nap in this location.

It's not even comfortable.

You took off in a sprint, leaping over the person's body with one hand raised up, dark purple void circles forming. When your feet hit the ground, you slammed your hand down and spikes were shot at the miramon.

Brushing hair out of your eyes you raised your hand, cubes of red and black forming beside the recovering herd.

Then you snapped your fingers. Instantly the cubes smashed together, the miramon in-between. They twisted around each other while you raised your other hand causing invisible swords to slash the cubes.

Effectively killing the entire herd.

You see, the person you just saved was a certain red-head manipulator...and he was awake the entire time.

He fell head over heals. Metaphorically at least since he was still on the ground fatality injured.

You were powerful. The aura around you was so strong he could almost see it.

But even this aura of power didn't compete with your beauty.

The way you fought was so simple and elegant. The way you turned and crouched beside him, eyes worriedly looking into his own.

The sun was setting behind you, causing a halo to glow around your head.

You were so ethereal -and if this is how he was going to die? Fuck yeah.

He passed out (lmao).

You recognized his face, but couldn't recall his name even though you got bad vibes. Nonetheless, when he lost consciousness, you quickly picked him up in your arms (whether easily or with struggle) you brought him to the nearest infirmary in a town a few (okay a lot) miles off from where you were.

The doctors told you that a lethal poison was injected into his body, and that if you hadn't saved him, well, he'd be dead. Like, non-revivable dead.

When he woke up, he asked to see you. Hoping that you weren't just a figment of his imagination due to the poison in his body.

Boy...

He was ecstatic when he saw you. Just as wonderful as you were when he passed out.

He grinned and introduced himself, holding out a hand to shake.

You cocked an eyebrow at the name, finally realizing who he was but in politeness introduced yourself as well.

You had not heard very much good about him in your life of work. And you weren't even part of an organization! You were, in fact, a wanderer.

So of course you'd be skeptical of Yamato! Not only does he give off a dangerous and mysterious aura, but you've heard of the things he's done.

So when he looks at you and gives you a small smile, you would've never expected for the words to come out would be: "Are you a god(ess)? I'd love to worship you."

Baffled, you tried to hide the fact that you were speechless. So you eyed the doctor in the corner of the room and asked, "Did he hit his head too?"

Even with this odd behavior you endured it and visited him throughout his short recovery period.

Sure he wasn't a good person but that did not mean you didn't care about his well-being.

Something he teased you about profusely.

Even after he was released and you two parted ways, you both still ended up running into each other.

Fate or coincidence?

It was Yamato.

An unlikely friendship formed because even after being still wary of his checkered past (and probably even present) you still found comfort in his company and his flirting that gradually got cheesier and cheesier.

He was so smitten he didn't even feel obsession or anything of the sort. He was just that in love that people would've believed he was someone else entirely.

As time went on he began to love who you were and not just your power or what you looked like.

He realized this as you both were stargazing on a cliff that was covered in beautiful white flowers that seemed to glow in the moonlight.

You were both staring up at the sky, or more like, you were looking up. He was looking at you.

You smiled and pointed out the constellations you knew, and as he listened to the sound of your voice that lured him in like a siren's song it became as clear as a bright blue cloudless sky.

You were perfect.

You were stunning. Whether you met the beauty standards or not. Every part of you he loved. Any 'flaws' (acne, scars, etc.) you had he adored.

Your personality he loved even more.

The mistakes you made? What mistakes?

Your laugh, your walk, your comments, your voice, just...everything.

You may not be perfect to someone else, but to him, you were beyond that.

At that moment, he wanted to kiss you. But he didn't. Oh, how he wished he did.

When you found out one day that he defended you when people at his work were talking shit about you for whatever reason-something clicked. He truly did care for you.

And as you gazed into those flirtatious dark eyes, you knew that his love for you was so real and genuine that you started to accept the love for him that had been festering in the pit of your stomach for a while now. That feeling that you were pushing away-was now beginning to fight back.

So you concluded that'd you share your feelings...soon.

However, for him, it was beginning to be a different story.

These feelings of genuine love and affection began to slowly evolve into something more sinister.

Possessiveness, and even yandere like behavior.

You were so powerful. He needs you. He needs your power. He needs your love. He needs you to look at him like he's the only one in the world.

And he will do just that if he needs to. All the while keeping up a facade. Something he's become quite the master at.

Because...it's all worth it if it's all for you.

Thanks for reading! Reblogs are greatly appreciated!

#dislyte #x reader #gender neutral reader #dislyte yamato #yamato #yamato x esper reader

43 notes · View notes

evansbby · 1 year ago

Text

guys remember how I told yall I was rereading this book series I read when I was like 12? it was called “sweet valley high senior year” and there’s like 45 books lmfao. I managed to find a bunch of them online and read summaries of some of the other books and lmfaoo some of the storylines are so wild… (this book is meant to be for ages 12+)

Like one of the main girls is Elizabeth and she likes this guy from her creative writing class called Conner. Conner is a classic pick me guy who is rude to Elizabeth bc he thinks she’s some dumb blonde cheerleader and Conner hates popular people/jocks/cheerleaders. (Lmao at Conner acting like he’s so different from them despite the fact that the books explicitly ALWAYS describe how hot Conner is and how nice chiselled his abs are lol… not to mention Conner’s best friend is literally the head cheerleader 😭).

Anyways Elizabeth and Conner hate each other but they both secretly have a crush on each other bc the books are from both of their perspectives (plus a dozen other characters but yeah)

But like it’s so funny how they try to portray Conner as this pick-me guy but actually he’s literally like… the popular fuckboy. Because it always mentions how sooo many girls have crushes on him, how HOT he is and has such a great body apparently bc the author keeps mentioning it, and also how he’s a complete manwhore who hooks up with a different girl every week.

Here’s a list of the fuckboyish things Conner does in this book series:

— hooks up with Elizabeth’s best friend Maria, despite having a crush on Elizabeth and flirting with Elizabeth.

— cheats on Maria with Elizabeth.

— dumps Maria after like a week, because she got too “clingy” (they’re making out, he abruptly asks her to leave bc he sees Elizabeth, Maria says “okay but promise you’ll call me tonight” and Conner’s like “omg she’s so clingy must dump her”

— kicks Elizabeth out of his house bc he’s also a moody and angry bitch (there’s like a subplot of him taking care of his alcoholic mother and also another subplot of Elizabeth moving into his house bc her house got ruined in an earthquake. I’m literally skipping over so much you guys lmfao).

— FINALLY starts dating Elizabeth but then gets moody with her bc she’s busy with work and school and doesn’t prioritise him.

— Remember his cheerleader best friend, Tia? He also cheats on Elizabeth with her :) MULTIPLE TIMES. And when Tia develops feelings for him, he’s like “wtf, those hookups meant nothing.”

— Then I think he becomes an alcoholic and goes into rehab. Then comes out and is better and hooks up with Elizabeth one last time during prom night.

NO BUT!!! No wonder I write fanfics the way I do… since THIS is what I was reading when I was 12???!! Also these kids are supposed to be high school seniors WHY IS IT SOOO RAUNCHY N DRAMATIC when the books say they are for 12 yr olds and above plsssss.

I kinda admire the author for unapologetically writing such an unlikable fuckboy of a character as one of the main characters. Boys truly are the worst and this series kinda embraces that lmfao.

#nobody is gonna read this but anyways 😭😭#I just found it sooo amusing bagagag #my thoughts 💭#sweet valley high

21 notes · View notes

hairstevington · 2 years ago

Text

mysterious ways (Steddie Week 2023)

Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington

Hello all! I am participating in Steddie week this year, and I am doing a seven part series reflecting each of the seven prompts. Thank you @steddie-week for the challenge! I will only have this first part on Tumblr, but will post the next six chapters each day on Ao3, so follow along over there if you're into it! :)

Summary: Steve feels lonely after the earthquake. Somewhere deep in the Upside Down, new life is born. (Prompts: Hunger - Pining - Somebody to Love by Queen)

WC: 1.4K (each part is going to be pretty short I think)

Warnings: Kas!Eddie/Steve, canon universe post-season 4, pining, angst, a bit darker than my usual fare but not by much, PS this fic will have a happy ending because all my fics do lol

A/N: I wasn't planning on doing Steddie week because I'm going through a bit of a tough time right now but I randomly felt inspired today, so I'm giving it a go. Shout out to @skjachukson for requesting Kas Eddie, I have a feeling I'll be writing him more after this lmao

Sometimes, when things are at their worst, Steve can shrug and say, “hey - it’s not the end of the world.”

Of course, in Hawkins, it often is the end of the world. So now, Steve has no idea what to tell himself.

His hometown, which - let’s be real - was never that glamorous, is now in shambles. After the “earthquake,” almost everyone fled, which was valid. The ones who stayed were mainly those who’d been directly involved, or those who have nowhere else to go. Many people lost everything, and Steve tries to give back where he can - they all do - but a lot of the time he’s just sad.

His hometown was split in four, and all of his friends are in love.

Steve feels so dumb for even caring, but he does. All he ever wanted was to be loved, really, and he’s gotten the short end of the stick the last few years. He used to feel on top of the world, and now he’s - well, he had been in the Upside Down, which was probably as close as he could get to the literal opposite of the top of the world.

His friends found happiness where they could - mostly through crushes and girlfriends and boyfriends. Steve doesn’t have any of that right now. He doesn’t even know where to look. Everything around him is sad.

Robin and Vickie had bonded over peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, of all things. Since then, she’s been volunteering every chance she can with Vickie. Steve joins too, sometimes, but he feels very much like a third wheel.

Some random dude with incredible hair and an even more incredible name (seriously, who names their kid Argyle?) showed up with Mike, Will, El, and Jonathan in a pizza van. A day later, the guy decided to drive back to Utah to visit his one true love or something. A woman with an equally badass name - Eden.

Steve wasn’t surprised when Dustin wanted to join, because apparently Eden lives with Suzie. Still, Steve was baffled by the whole thing. Usually, some sort of alarm would go off in his head about his surrogate little brother going on a road trip with a stoner, but Argyle seemed nice enough.

Although, he did unironically use the word “brochacho,” and Steve didn’t really know how he felt about that.

Steve knew Dustin was taking - uh, things - super hard, and so Steve encouraged any sort of break for the guy. Visiting Suzie seemed like the perfect way for Dustin to decompress, especially after what happened.

So, Dustin took off. Robin’s busy. Steve is too mortified to even look at Nancy after he’d basically professed his love for her and she brutally rejected him and stayed with Jonathan. Lucas spends all of his time with Max. El and Mike are inseparable.

That leaves Will. Steve doesn’t know Will that well, but he’s so lonely he doesn’t care if he comes off desperate or weird or whatever.

Steve shows up at the Byers’ residence one Saturday morning, looking like a total dork. Hopper answers the door, even though Steve would have far preferred Joyce. She’s less, uhhh -

“Steve?” Hopper asks, gruffly. “What are you doing here?”

“I, um - I’m looking for -”

“Is that Steve?” a familiar voice calls from the living room.

Ah, shit.

“Hey, uh, Nancy,” Steve says, giving a small wave.

“Is something wrong?” she asks, joining Hopper at the door.

“No, I -” Steve sighs. He’s mortified to even be in this situation. It was such a stupid plan in the first place. “I’m looking for Will. Is Will here?”

“Umm, yeah,” Nancy responds, retreating back into the house to presumably get her boyfriend’s little brother.

“What do you need Will for?” Hopper asks, suspiciously.

“Jeez, relax, Sheriff,” Steve replies. “I just wanted to talk to him. I’m the babysitter, remember?”

This explanation seems good enough for Hopper, even though Steve hasn’t really interacted with Will much prior to this. Not directly, anyway. He’d let the kids in to see movies for free back when he worked at Scoops, but that was it.

After a full thirty seconds of awkward, painful silence, Will comes to the door.

“Hey, kid,” Steve says. Hopper and the others had thankfully walked away to give them some privacy. “Do you - do you want to go to the music store with me?”

Will stares at him blankly for a moment, then shouts to the others behind him.

“Mom! I’ll be back later!”

Steve smiles, triumphantly.

“Okay, have fun!” Joyce’s voice rings from somewhere in the house. “Be home by 5 for dinner!”

“You got it, Mrs. Byers!” Steve yells into the void. “Okay, let’s go.”

Will hurriedly walks out of the house and shuts the door behind him, then sighs in relief.

“Thank god you’re here,” he says. “All the couples are driving me crazy.” Steve chuckles.

“You and me both.”

Will turns out to be excellent company. He has good taste in music, and he’s funny. A little nerdy, like Dustin, but much quieter about it. They get along great, and end up spending a few hours together.

“My brother said he’d be there for me, and now he’s back to spending all his time with Nancy,” Will complains.

“Yeah, well Nancy broke my heart into a million pieces, so,” Steve replies.

Then, they riff on how annoying Jonathan and Nancy’s relationship is for a while. They aren’t saying anything out of genuine dislike for either party, but it’s still some much needed venting. Steve listens to Will talk about Mike and El, and that’s when he picks up on some things in between the lines.

Maybe having a gay best friend makes him better at detecting that sort of thing.

They pick out a bunch of music and listen to it as they drive around for a while. They both are big fans of Queen, so they blast that first. They get a little too into singing along to Somebody to Love, but neither of them poke fun at the other for it. As much as Steve and Dustin tease each other, and as much as he complains about being the babysitter, Steve loves these kids with all his heart. All of them, even the ones he doesn’t know as well, like Will. He would do anything to protect them. He’d done quite a bit already.

He drops Will off before dinner as promised, then heads home. It’s only after he passes by Forest Hills that he starts to think about Things again. The Things that he tries to suppress. The Things that bubble beneath the surface at any given moment.

The Things that led up to the Earthquake. He isn’t ready to think about them. Not yet, maybe not ever.

So yes, it’s far easier to reach out to other people who understand, and to cling to them as long as he can. And then he goes home, and instead of letting his mind drift to those dark places, he starts singing Queen under his breath.

It’s stupid. It won't fix anything. But still, the need is there.

All he wants is somebody to love.

Hawkins has begun to crack open, and soon what lay beneath will rise.

It’s a dark place - somewhere that’s always on the verge of a storm. The energy in the air is thick with dread and impending doom. The creatures that live there are something that people may cast off as fictional, because their eyes aren’t open yet to how terrifying and big the world really is.

Monsters, of all kinds. Some who had once been human, some who prey on humanity. Evil forces that keep kids awake at night. Forces that their parents insist are in their imagination.

How foolish to think an imagination could be so vivid. Then again, perhaps imagination is what created this place to begin with. It could also be what sustains it.

A flash of lightning. Bats scattering.

There’s a body somewhere in the fog, going through a transformation. Wings, teeth, and hunger. It takes several days for the body to resemble its altered form - one of strength, intimidation, and a deeply-rooted instinct for evil.

Once complete, the body gasps in its new life. The soul of a tortured boy once occupied this space, but now there’s something else within him too - something ancient.

Eddie Munson’s glowing eyes snap open.

He’s starving.

----------------------------

@paintballkid711 @abraca-fxckyou @allbimyself26 @jellybabiesforall @allbymyselfexceptformycactus @justaloadofgarbage-blog @alliemunsonsstuff @undreamingnscatworld @hobbitnarwhal @calivanus @wreckmyplans-thatsmyman @antheia @goodolefashionedloverboi @lillemilly @missmagillicuddy @steviesbicrisis @gamerdano @menamesniall eyeslikewildflowers111 @callmesirkay @stringischeese @eds-trashmouth @mnl-enuh @redfreckledwolf @itsanarrum @soulsofstarsliveinyourveins @gregre369 @stevesbipanic @momotonescreaming @aryakanojiaa @wrenisflying @comicmadlover @lilacrobin @itch-my-b0nez @anonymousbandgirl @disastardly @dangdirtydemons @daisyellsong @val-from-lawrence @starryeyedpoet17 @taikawaiteatea @clumsiluni @hollysimone @swimmingbirdrunningrock @witchofhawkins @steddiegarbage @suddenlyinlove @ricekristytreaty @eddielives1986

#steddieweek2023 #steddie #steddie fic #kas!eddie #writing #eddie munson #steve harrington

95 notes · View notes