#trust me when i say i have felt and been wronged and hurt many times

[criminalamnesia]

HIIII!!! I just wanted to say that i really love ur writing! I've read ur traitor series and I can't wait for part 4! I'm a new author, and english isn't my first language, so it's sometimes very hard for me to write bcs i'm stil not that good, but ur fics have helped me improve<3💗!

thank you so much!🫶 im glad you’ve enjoyed the series! and speaking of part four, here it is :)

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

simon didn’t turn to watch you leave the gym.

he stood there, eyes forward, mask clenched in one fist. he could feel the blood drying on his skin. he made no move to wipe it away.

he didn’t blame you for your anger— he couldn’t. he understood the rage. had felt it himself a time or two.

but he couldn’t take everything lying down.

did he deserve your wrath, your fury? yes— and he knew that. there was no making up for what he did; he realized that, but why couldn’t you understand?

he’d never fully taken his walls down around you, and that was no fault of your own. he was a guarded man, and his past gave him every right to be.

he had been burned and broken too many times. he’d seen the people he loved murdered because of him.

he swore he would never let that happen again. he put those walls up, and you knocked some of them down.

but there were some you’d never gotten through, at least, simon told himself you hadn’t. there was always something he was holding back, a piece of himself he wouldn’t give freely. he told himself it was because he couldn’t stand to love you so deeply and then watch you leave.

but really, it was because he needed an out. he needed a way to justify his leaving if something ever happened— and that’s what got him here.

simon trusted the 141 with his life. he trusted his captain with his life. price had never led him astray; john knew his face well before any of the others. well before you.

and when someone you trust so deeply, someone you’ve followed for years, tells you that the person you love has betrayed your team?

you can’t help but believe them. and that’s what simon did.

the evidence was coincidental at first. wrong place, wrong time. but then, everything started to seem like more than a coincidence. pieces of a complicated puzzle were fitting together. things only you and the rest of the 141 would know were leaked.

and all the signs pointed to you.

and although he didn’t want to, simon couldn’t help it. the second price had confided in him that you may be the rat, simon began to distance himself. you had been confused, but he had offered no explanation.

price was the one to question you first. it was a heated conversation in his office, consisting of him showing you the evidence and you becoming furious at the accusations.

johnny came to you next, buttering you up with his flirtatious and unarming words before asking if you’d leaked information.

then there was kyle, who pleaded for the truth. he told you that a case was being built against you, and that if you came clean now, things wouldn’t be so bad.

simon never tried to talk to you about it. the other men would tell him what you’d said, but he had never gone to talk to you himself.

maybe it was pride. simon wasn’t trusting, not after his past. he had let the 141 in, had let you in. and now you were a suspected traitor, and he was angry at himself. angry he hadn’t seen it sooner; angry he’d let you in at all.

but maybe it was hurt. hurt that you’d done this to him, to the team, after knowing everything they’d been through. after stitching up wounds on the battlefield and taking bullets for one another. after sharing simon’s bed and whispering you loved him.

all he knew was that he trusted price. and as evidence built, so did the distance between the two of you, until you were tied to that chair.

and simon had taken his hurt, his anger, out on you. he wasn’t proud of it, and he knew now that he was wrong. but he was still a little angry. angry because you couldn’t see his side of things— not like he could see yours.

so, he was an ass. he didn’t apologize. he snuck flowers to your bedside but kept his distance. he told you to watch your tone because you were still part of the team, and speaking to price like that was only something an outsider would do.

and he told you that he’d spared your life because he had. anger had consumed him, and truthfully, you were lucky he hadn’t done worse.

even if he’d smothered his feelings for you with rage, he still harbored love for you, and that’s why some part of him held back.

he knew you would probably never forgive him. he had made his peace with that.

but he couldn’t stand the fact that you couldn’t understand why he’d done what he did.

the creak of the gym door opening broke simon from his thoughts. he pulled his mask back on before turning around and making his way to the door.

it took one firm knock on the door for price to answer.

the door clicked open, and price sighed when he saw simon, scrubbing a hand over his unruly beard before letting the taller man in. price turned, walking back to his desk chair, while simon closed the door behind him and locked it.

“this is a bloody mess,” the captain said, falling heavily into the chair. it squeaked at the sudden weight, old leather crinkling and crackling.

“doc came and saw me earlier, ‘fore she left for the night. told me about some new injuries, and yelled at me for letting that happen.”

simon didn’t speak. price’s eyes met his, and he sighed again.

“fuckin’ hell, simon. what the fuck did you say? doc said she had to stitch up both their hands.”

“doesn’t matter what I say,” simon spoke, eyes still on the captain “they won’t fuckin’ listen.”

price shook his head. “that’s not true, ‘nd we both know it,” he sounded tired as he spoke, dark bags under his eyes. he paused for a moment, then spoke again.

“spoke to laswell after you left earlier. she said she’ll try to speed up the transfer process. tryin’ to avoid more fuss, and im not fightin’ it any longer.”

“they’re part of our team,” simon spoke, tone rough.

price shook his head. “they are, but I can’t keep doin’ this. can’t keep pushin’ off transferin’ because of you lot. it may be better for us, but not for them.”

the room fell quiet. simon inhaled, exhaled. his fists clenched at his sides before quickly unfurling once more.

he didn’t have a right to be mad at you for leaving, but he was.

“laswell say anythin’ else about tha’ transfer?” simon asked.

price leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. “not much. no word on where or with who, but even if she knew, doubt she’d tell us. for their sake.”

simon gave a small nod and made to turn, but froze as price spoke again.

“she did say she didn’t know if it would go through. they’d have to pass another eval.”

they both knew what that meant. if laswell said that, then she didn’t believe the transfer would happen. kate wouldn’t outwardly say it, but price had known what she’d meant.

pushing the transfer through wouldn’t matter if you couldn’t pass a physical and psychological evaluation— and laswell didn’t think you could.

although he wouldn’t admit it, price was unsure, too. torture was something that took an incredibly devastating toll on the mind and body.

but torture at the hands of your team? there was no telling the damage that that would do to someone. to you.

an honorable discharge was more likely. and, if that was the case, then your rage would likely grow tenfold.

you career, your livelihood, taken from you by the hands of the men you trusted the most. your family, cutting you up and pushing you out.

damned by your team and your country, regardless of everything you’d done for both of them during your service.

you were just another cog in the machine, one that had been damaged and discarded, and a discharge couldn’t make that any clearer.

he thought back to what you had said in the gym earlier, before you’d left.

‘you should have killed me.’

maybe he should have.

thanks to everyone for your patience! also just incase you didn’t see my post about it—

im no longer doing a taglist! my side blog @troiastitans will reblog my works from now on, so if you want to know when I post, follow that account and allow notifications!

as always, thank you for the love! (also I hope you all enjoyed a little peek into simon’s head!)

[bernardsbendystraws]

[ I made this like 4 pages. I apologize lmao. Read at your own discretion. Violence involved but nothing like really vulgar. This is NOT proofread. ]

You wanted your skin to peel off your bones. That’s how uncomfortable you felt. It wasn’t your typical Saturday night, this was way past your comfort zone. 

“I’m gonna say hi to a couple people and we’ll leave soon, alright? Can you just stick with these girls for a couple minutes?” Matt asks.

He didn’t even wanna be here. But for some reason, it was practically a requirement. Not really, but he was tired of people on social media accusing you for his lack of presence in parties and events. They twisted that picture to make it seem like you were the villain. Matt knew it stressed you out. It seemed like a good compromise. 

“Yeah, just…be quick. Please,” you mutter. 

Matts nods, pressing a swift kiss to your temple before walking off. He doesn’t wanna be here anymore than you. You can tell by the way he pulls Chris and Nick subtly that he’s trying to make this as quick as possible. 

A couple minutes pass and you can’t help but feel a bit uneasy. These girls have been chill, but a little too chill. Honestly—you’re not sure if even one of them will remember a single sentence when they wake up tomorrow. 

Your nerves peak when you feel a slight brush on your arm as someone stands next to you. It’s a man—the same guy who had been handing out little bags of gummies and powder all night. 

“Hey, noticed you’re lookin’ a little to…” he looks up and down, making you tense and cross your arms tighter against your chest. “---yeah, too uptight. Here,” he nudges your arms with a closed fist, but you simply shake your head from side to side. 

“Not interested but thanks.” 

The slight rim of red clouding his eyes becomes more visible as he stares down at you. Anxiety seems to still as you revel in this feeling—pure adrenalin. Almost as if your body knows something is wrong. 

“Oh, come on. Won’t hurt ya, just try some.” He’s unrelenting. You simply mutter no under your breath as your eyes scan around you. 

It’s only these girls and you. The girls who can’t even keep their eyes staring in one direction for more than a second. Everyone had piled inside, wanting to be as close to the screaming bass of music as possible. 

You’re fucked. 

“Look, I…I’m not interested, okay? I,” 

Panic shrivels through your veins as you watch him open his hand, revealing a pill. It’s not one you’ve ever seen before. But, you don’t have much time to process anything before he starts lifting it towards your mouth, his other hand scooping underneath your jaw.

“Live a little, damn—so fuckin’ bitchy. This will help you, trust—”

The man lets out a hiss as you swat his hands away. “I don’t want your stupid pills. Just—just leave me alone, okay?” you announce. 

Substances seem to have consumed everyone within your radius. Those girls are just…gone. You feel bad leaving them, but the second you see him start to lean down to pick up the pill, you quickly walk inside the booming house. 

The silence from your adrenalin is gone. Sweaty bodies rub up against you as you try to swerve through and find the familiar head of brown hair. 

You try to stand on your tippy toes to get a better look. But, that’s a mistake. You feel an arm crawl around your hips from behind, pulling you into a hard chest. 

“Dude! Let—go!” you huff, attempting to rattle the man's hold on you. 

Eventually, his grip loosens, but only to shift and grab your wrist instead. “What the fuck is your problem?” he spit, his words slurring. 

Frustration builds in your chest, panic makes your limbs feel like feathers as bodies push and pull around you. It’s an overwhelming wave of madness. 

“Just—fucking hell, can you just stop?” you screech, trying to individually peel his fingers from around your wrist. 

You can’t tell if it hurts. There’s so many noises, so many sensations. You can’t even hear your own thoughts except for the racing mantra screaming danger. 

It’s just then you see the small glimmer of familiar rings only a couple people away from you. Matt. You try to yell out his name, but it just isn’t enough. He can’t hear you. If only he’d turn around. 

“Tell me. What’s your issue, huh? You’re at a party. What the fuck do you expect to—” The guy is still spitting in your face. Adrenal and fury shift to instinct. You want to get away, you want his hands off. 

Biting on the side of your cheek, you let your leg swing up to kick him right in the groin. His grip immediately falters. You squish through people as fast as possible, hearing a slur of insults from behind you. 

If this doesn’t work, you’re truly fucked. 

Your fingers clasp onto Matt’s shoulder desperately. Almost instantly recognizing your touch, Matt turns his head to see you, swiftly pulling you to him by shoving another person out of the way. 

“Hey, I thought you were gonna wait with those girls—what’re you—” 

Matt is confused to say the least. You’re never one for PDA, but right now—you don’t care about anything besides avoiding the man trying to catch you and screaming sentences of ‘where’s that bitch,’ over and over again. 

“Just hide me.” 

Squinting his eyes, Matt obeys. You stand in front of him. You’re shielded from the angry eyes as you hear the man stomp past the small group. 

A breath of relief finally escapes your lips as you let yourself relax the smallest bit onto Matt. 

“What….what happened, doll?” he asks into your ear. 

You don’t even know where to start. 

A shake of your head lets Matt know to ask later, but as of right now—he knows. It’s time to leave. He doesn’t have to know it all, he just wants to protect you. 

__________

The car ride home was deadly silent. Chris and Nick were confused at the anxious energy radiating in the car, but no explanations were left for them. Matt had immediately pulled you into his room, closing the door for privacy before giving you that look. 

“Sweetheart, should I—should I be worried? What even happened?” 

Rushed words are still numb. Honestly, even a couple of laughs peel from your lips as you explain everything. It doesn’t feel like it actually happened. But it did. 

“I…are you okay? I’m so sorry I left, I thought it would be safer out there with those girls than inside in that fuckin’ chaos. You….” he trails off, unsure. 

You’re quick to confirm you’re okay. It could’ve ended so much worse. 

Matt isn’t entirely convinced. It’s a little later when you're both showering together when he sees the red mark around your wrist, along with a couple scratches from your own nails when you were trying to peel that man's hand off. 

He lets out a heavy breath while lightly massaging suds onto the area and rinsing it off carefully. Matt looks up at you with sympathetic eyes, letting them close as he presses his lips right above the wounded skin. 

“I’m sorry, doll.” 

It makes it feel a little heavier seeing the mark and seeing just how saddened his own eyes look. But, it’s okay. You’re here, you’re safe. 

“We’re never going to a party again.”  The way he emphasizes his words makes your heart flutter. Relief floods your system as you look forward to a normal night tomorrow—a cozy, sunday night. Just how you both like it.

[rmview]

they want you back, ENHYPEN.

featuring — enhypen members x gn!reader ( masterlist )

summary — a reaction of what happens when the enhypen boys realize they still have feelings for you after they broke up with you! ( can be read as part 2 of this )

contents — mentions of past relationships, hurt and comfort.

hee ⊹ seung

heeseung never took relationships lightly. when he ended things with you, it wasn’t because he didn’t care. it was because he thought he owed it to himself — and to you — to confront lingering feelings for his ex. he hated hurting you, but he convinced himself it was the right decision.

months passed, and the closure he sought didn’t come. instead, it became painfully clear that his feelings for his ex had long since faded. what lingered was his guilt for breaking your heart and the empty ache of missing you.

one evening, heeseung found himself scrolling through old photos on his phone. there you were, smiling at him in that way that made everything feel lighter. his heart clenched as he realized he hadn’t smiled like that in months. without thinking, he typed a message hoping you hadn’t blocked him: “can we talk? i know i don’t deserve it, but i need to apologize.”

surprisingly, your text came a day later in agreement and heeseung spent the entire week rehearsing what he’d say when he’d see you. sitting across from you at a quiet café, he felt uncharacteristically nervous. “i’ve been a coward,” he admitted, his voice low. “i thought ending things was the right choice, but all i’ve done is regret it.”

he paused, his hands clasped tightly. “i know i hurt you, and i can’t undo that. but i need you to know… it wasn’t because i didn’t care. it’s because i was scared. scared of how much i feel for you. i’m not sure if it’s love yet, but i realize you’re someone i can be happy with. and i want that with you.”

he didn’t ask you to forgive him right away. instead, he let his actions speak. over the weeks that followed, heeseung found small ways to show you his sincerity: sending you messages that reminded him of you, leaving handwritten notes on your doorstep, and being there when you needed support.

“i’ll do whatever it takes,” he told you one evening, his gaze steady. “even if it takes years, i’ll prove to you that you’re the only one i want.”

jay ⊹

jay was confident in many things, but when it came to his feelings, he was often harder on himself than necessary. breaking up with you had been his attempt at doing the “right thing.” he thought unresolved feelings for his ex were unfair to you, and he didn’t want to risk holding you back. but what he hadn’t anticipated was how much your absence would affect him.

the realization came slowly at first — a quiet longing when he saw something that reminded him of you. then, one night, it hit him like a wave. he was sitting alone, scrolling through a playlist you’d made together. as the songs played, memories of your time together flooded back, each one sharper than the last. he felt so stupid realizing he wasted moments with someone like you over brooding feelings.

“i was an idiot,” jay muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair. picking up his phone, he typed out a message: “i know i don’t deserve your time, but please, can we talk?”

your reply back was late, but a godsend, and meeting you again felt like a second chance he didn’t deserve. “i’ve spent months trying to figure out what went wrong,” he began, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “and the answer was staring me in the face the whole time. it wasn’t my ex. it wasn’t anyone else. it was me… being too blind to see what i had right in front of me.”

jay wasn’t one for empty promises. over the following weeks, he showed you his sincerity through thoughtful gestures — sending flowers with notes that said, “thinking of you today,” or surprising you with small things he remembered you loved. “i don’t want to rush you,” he told you one day. “but i’ll wait as long as it takes for you to trust me again.”

jake ⊹

jake believed in following his heart, but breaking up with you had been the hardest decision he’d ever made. he thought he needed to confront lingering feelings for his ex before moving forward, but as time passed, it became glaringly obvious: it wasn’t his ex he missed. it was you.

one evening, jake found himself at a bookstore you’d both loved. his fingers brushed over the spine of a book you’d recommended, and the memory of your excited voice came rushing back. his chest tightened as he realized how much he’d taken you for granted. he found himself staring at the book for a few moments in silent contemplation. what was wrong with him?

without overthinking, jake dialed your number, his gaze never leaving the book. “hey,” he said, when you answered after a few rings, his voice shaky. “can we meet? there’s something i need to tell you.”

when you agreed, jake felt equal parts relief and anxiety. seeing you again, his usual bright demeanor dimmed. “i was wrong,” he admitted, his voice raw with emotion. “i thought i needed closure, but the truth is… i really needed you.”

jake poured his heart out, apologizing for the hurt he’d caused and promising to make things right. over the weeks that followed, he was relentless in his efforts to show you he’d changed. he left little notes on your doorstep, sent you your favorite snacks, and even wrote you a heartfelt letter.

“i know i don’t deserve another chance,” he told you one day. “but i’m asking for one anyway. because i truly can’t imagine my life without you. i know i hurt you once, but i promise to never make you feel that way again.”

sung ⊹ hoon

sunghoon always carried himself with an air of calm and composure, but breaking up with you had shattered that facade. he’d convinced himself that lingering feelings for his ex meant he wasn’t being fair to you. however, as days turned into weeks, he realized he had made a terrible mistake.

the memory of your shared moments haunted him — your laughter, your quirks, the way you made him feel understood in ways no one else could. he found himself going through old photos and videos that you’d take on dates and send him, his heart aching with each one he swiped through.

one day, as he passed the skating rink where you’d gone on one of your first dates, and the sight of all the sweet couples skating around only deepened the void in his chest. he couldn’t hold back anymore. sunghoon sent you a message, simple but heartfelt: “can we meet? there’s something i need to say.”

meeting you at a quiet café the next day, sunghoon struggled to find the words. he sat across from you, his fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of his jacket. “i thought i was doing the right thing,” he began, his voice barely above a whisper. “i thought i needed to sort out my feelings… but all i’ve done is realize how much i missed you.”

he looked into your eyes, the vulnerability in his gaze striking. “i was scared. scared that i wasn’t enough for you. but losing you made me see that you’re the one i can’t live without.”

over the next few weeks, sunghoon showed his sincerity in quiet but meaningful ways. he’d leave handwritten letters in your mailbox, recounting the things he loved about you. he even invited you to one of his skating practices, a place he rarely shared with anyone, just to let you see a deeper part of him.

“i know i messed up,” he said one evening, his voice steady but emotional. “but if there’s even a small part of you that can forgive me, i’ll spend every day proving myself to you.”

su ⊹ noo

sunoo had always been emotionally intelligent, but even he wasn’t immune to making mistakes. breaking up with you had been an impulsive decision, driven by his insecurities. he thought he needed closure with his ex, but the moment he walked away from you, regret began to creep in.

the realization hit him fully one day as he scrolled through his phone, stumbling across a picture of the two of you. in it, you were laughing at one of his jokes, your face lit up with pure joy. his heart sank. it wasn’t just the memories he missed — it was the warmth you brought into his life.

unable to hold back after days of contemplation, sunoo sent you a text: “i know i hurt you, but can we talk? i need to explain.”

when you agreed, sunoo met you at a park you both used to visit. his usual bright energy was subdued, replaced by a nervous vulnerability. “i don’t even know where to start,” he admitted, his voice soft. “i thought i was doing the right thing by letting you go, but all i did was hurt the person i care about most.”

he paused, his eyes welling with tears. “i thought i needed to figure out my past, but i realized my future… it’s you.”

sunoo made it his mission to win back your trust. he’d send you thoughtful messages, reminding you of the little things you loved. he’d surprise you with your favorite snacks or leave flowers at your door with notes that read, “you deserve the world, and i want to be the one to give it to you.”

“i know it’ll take time,” he told you one evening, his voice earnest. “but i’m not going anywhere. i’ll wait for as long as it takes.”

jung ⊹ won

jungwon had always been the steady, thoughtful type. but even the most composed individuals could falter under pressure. breaking up with you was a decision he thought through meticulously, convinced it was the right thing to do. he believed he needed clarity about his lingering feelings for his ex before moving forward with you.

at first, he tried to rationalize his decision, telling himself it was for the best. but the emptiness that settled in his heart told a different story. every day without you felt heavier, and the clarity he sought didn’t come. instead, it was replaced by the aching realization that you were the one he truly loved.

one quiet evening, jungwon sat in his room, staring at a picture of you both on his desk. the memory of your laughter, the way your presence brought him comfort, and the love he’d seen in your eyes haunted him. he couldn’t keep pretending.

gathering his courage, jungwon called you. his voice was steady but tinged with vulnerability. “hey… i know i’m the last person you want to hear from, but could we meet? i need to talk to you.”

when you agreed, jungwon met you at a park you used to frequent. he was quiet at first, gathering his thoughts as he looked at you, guilt and longing etched into his expression. “i don’t know how to start,” he admitted softly. “i thought i was doing the right thing by letting you go. i thought i needed to figure things out… but i was wrong.”

his gaze met yours, steady despite the turmoil in his heart. “i hurt you, and i’ll regret that for the rest of my life. but i need you to know… my heart was never confused. it’s always been you.”

jungwon didn’t rush you for forgiveness. instead, he let his actions show how much he cared. over the weeks, he’d leave thoughtful messages, remembering little details about your day or sending you your favorite snacks.

he’d show up when you least expected it — not to push but simply to remind you he was there. “you deserve someone who shows you how much they care. and i want to be that person again… if you’ll let me.”

ni ⊹ ki

ni-ki had always been the youngest, but he prided himself on being mature for his age. however, when it came to relationships, he still had room to grow. breaking up with you had been his attempt at handling his feelings responsibly, but instead, it left him feeling empty and directionless.

at first, ni-ki tried to convince himself that he’d made the right choice. but the more time passed, the more he realized how much he missed you. little things — your laughter, the way you supported his dreams, the comfort of your presence — kept replaying in his mind.

one evening, ni-ki sat in his practice room, staring at his phone. his fingers hovered over the screen before he finally typed out a message: “can we meet? i need to tell you something important.”

when you agreed, ni-ki met you at a quiet spot near the dance studio. he looked nervous but determined. “i messed up,” he began, his voice low. “i thought breaking up was the right thing to do… but it wasn’t. it was the worst mistake i’ve ever made.”

he looked at you, his eyes earnest. “i thought i needed to figure out my feelings, but the truth is, i was scared. scared of how much i care about you. but now i know… you’re the one i want.”

ni-ki’s efforts to win you back were both heartfelt and creative. he’d dedicate his dance routines to you, recording them and sending you clips with messages like, “this is for you. always for you.” he’d leave small gifts with notes that said, “i’m sorry. let me make it right.”

“i’m young, and i’ve made mistakes,” he admitted one evening, his voice steady. “but i’m learning, and one thing i know for sure is that i don’t want to lose you again.”

notes: thank you for requesting! i guess i’ve been traumatizing yall with too much angst xp fluff coming soon!

[peanutpinet]

You Are Loved - Sylus x Insecure Fem Reader

Prompt: “I’m going to prove everyone who made you feel like you don’t deserve love that they’ve been so, so fucking wrong. And I’m going to make you understand that you deserve so much more than you realise.”

Prompt is from: @dumplingsjinson

Blurb: When you thought that you were not worthy of love and are always worried that you would get hurt in the process, Sylus proves you wrong

Trope: I don't really believe in love girl x let me show you what love is guy

Warnings: Light angst, insecurity, soft and loving Sylus, reassurance

Disclaimer: I do not own the images nor the characters or you (the MC). All images were taken from Pinterest and credits go to the images' respective owners.

“You’re dozing off again, is something wrong, sweetie?” Sylus pointed out as the two of you had dinner together

You immediately snapped out and looked at Sylus, reassuring him. “No, no. Just work…yeah” you went back to look at your food and started to pick at it which didn’t go unnoticed by Sylus

Sylus let out a sigh and used his hands to stop you from picking at your food. Instead, he interlaced his fingers with you, rubbing your knuckles. “Hey, tell me. What’s wrong? What’s in that pretty head of yours, hmm?”

You honestly didn’t want to admit what you were thinking. It was silly and you were being insecure because Sylus was your first-ever boyfriend. Sure, you were aware with love, the idea of dating from the books you read, movies you watched but when you’re the one who’s actually going on a date with your boyfriend, it just feels off.

“Hey…” Sylus called out to you again, rubbing your knuckles and getting your attention

“Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to doze off again. Umm, what were you saying?” I asked, trying to get into the conversation

“Something is on your mind. What’s wrong, sweetie?” Sylus asked, gripping my smaller hand tenderly but firmly at the same time while you tried to avoid his gaze because you knew that if you did, you would actually give in and admit what was wrong

“Sweetie?” Sylus called you again, his grip a bit tighter but not too much that it would hurt you. “Tell me, why are you picking on your food, avoiding eye contact with me? Did I do something wrong?” Sylus asked as you immediately shook your head

“Then? What is it, sweetie? Do I really need to use my aether core and look into your mind? You know that I can do it but I’m not out of respect for your boundaries” Sylus added on, getting a little frustrated on why you wouldn’t tell him what was going on

“Sometimes I just wonder…” you started, trying to unscramble the words to create a concrete sentence while Sylus rubbed your knuckles with his thumb, reassuring you that he’s not going to judge you. “Go on, sweetie. What do you often wonder, hmm?”

You took another deep breath, not wanting to meet Sylus’ eyes as you spoke. “I just wonder…what made you pursue me and to keep going until now? You know I’ve never been in a relationship and I’m not someone who seems to be capable for long-term because of trust issues and all”

Hearing your reply, Sylus gripped your hand a bit more comforting instead of tight and rough. “Sweetie, look at me”

You still tried to avoid Sylus’ gaze until you felt his large hands creep under your chin and gently turn your head so that you were facing him. Instead of looking annoyed or angry like he normally does when he’s out, his eyes showed a softer, more vulnerable side of him. One that you almost never saw.

“Is there truly a need for a reason to pursue you other than the fact that I adore you?” Sylus asked, his hand on your chin rubbing your face gently and lovingly to the point you almost leaned into his touch but held back and shook your head. “It’s just weird. You’re practically the most powerful man in the N109 zone, you’re wealthy, and handsome might I add. Why pursue me when you can have many other gorgeous and much more successful girls?”

Sylus felt his heart swell when he heard you put out all the compliments to him. “You really think I’m that handsome?” Sylus smirked as you scoffed, trying to pull your hand but Sylus being Sylus, he wasn’t going to let you go that easily

“Seriously? That’s the only thing you caught when I talk?” Sylus chuckled at your sudden outburst, finding it cute. “I assure you, sweetie, it’s not. But it’s not everyday you call me handsome though I know you thought about it. But for real sweetie, what does all my trait have to do with wanting to pursue you? Why should I pursue other girls when there’s you”

“That’s the thing, Sy. I’m just me. I’m no one special. I’m not even that pretty, not that smart, not a business owner or anything outstanding” you argued back

“But you see, I don’t care about you being someone famous, special, or outstanding. I adore you because you’re you. You’re special to me whether you see yourself as special or not. I adore the way you ramble on about the little things of life. I adore how kind, gentle, and caring you are. I adore how raw and real you are with me. You don’t try to hide your bad side or be fake. You’re always yourself with me and that’s what I adore. You” Sylus reassured you, bringing your hand closer to his face as he kissed each of your knuckles before rubbing them again.

“Sylus…people will talk. Well, people already talk…” you mentioned but didn’t get to continue as Sylus immediately cuts you off

“Let them talk. I don’t give a damn what they say. They can think, assume, or judge the hell they want. But I’m going to prove to everyone who made you feel like you don’t deserve love that they’ve been so, so fucking wrong. And I’m going to make you understand that you deserve so much more than you realise”

“You should know very well that I adore you. There is no love purer than mine” Sylus kissed your knuckles, making sure his lips linger on your skin a bit longer

And somehow, the gentleness of Sylus’ touch and the raw feelings he poured out today brought a sense of relief and reassurance. Bringing a new feeling for you that maybe, for once in your life, it’s okay to be selfish and allow yourself to be loved.

A/N: I hope that you all are well, here is the fic I promised where you, the girl, doesn't really believe in love and Sylus reassures you by asking you to trust him and show you what love truly is :3 xoxo, peanutpinet

[lagomorphique]

an overlooked curly line from the HFIM DLC which highlights curly's fundamental loneliness as a character.

he feels at home neither in space nor on earth. people who spend a lot of time in space in this universe losing touch with friends and family bc they've been away for so long.

jimmy is the one constant that he has. he thinks curly is the life of the party, but he strikes me as the kind of guy to have a lot of acquaintances but not so many friends. he knows a lot of people, but none of them really Know Him.

the way curly talks to anya about jimmy, it's clear that he knows jimmy is volatile and lashes out. when jimmy berates him, curly gives up defending himself immediately. i very much associate him with dog imagery - jimmy can do or say anything he wants to him. curly will keep going back for more, craving that dynamic even. although it hurts, it's familiar, and there's comfort in that pain's familiarity

by the time of the crash, curly doesn't even trust his own perception of reality any more. gaslighting gets thrown around a lot these days, but it's what jimmy does to him in the exact textbook sense of the word at several points in the game. 'your recollection of things is wrong. the way you feel is wrong. the way you felt and reacted was different to how you remember them.'

he has to keep this professional distance between himself and the crew. it's one of the things that stops him grabbing on to anya's olive branch of friendship. the end result is that both of them are so fucking lonely

the only one without a piece on the board... the crew choose to spend their leisure time together, even jimmy, but curly isn't there. is it because he's working? is he being self-sacrificing, because only four people can play the game? either way, he isolates himself from the others.

curly's hallucination/flashback/prophetic stress dream in ch3 (maybe out of chronological order?). he's alone, with nowhere to go but blindly onward. the broken off ladders that lead nowhere in either direction.. he can neither ascend nor descend, just stuck halfway up with cold, dark water constantly lapping at his heels

in all of curly's dialogue you get this profound sense of unfulfilment, of always trying to run away from something. he wants to be better, to do more, but the prospect of change terrifies him more than anything else.

tldr; curly is lonely as fuck and pretty much no sense of self

[pensthoughts]

Hi…HIIIII!!!! So…call me crazy if you don’t see the vision, okay, Spider-Woman! Reader x Big Spider-Woman fan! Van…. Like, I see it, don’t you? Like it’s perfect. Like you are my favourite writer on Tumblr so…yeah

sticky situation | v.p

a/n: i always see spiderman au's for other fandoms so i was really excited to write this when i got it! also i'm not a big superhero fan so please don't judge if i get things wrong lol. hope you enjoy!! pairing: superfan!van x spiderwoman!reader summary: after getting into a big fight in the city, you turn to your best friend to help you out. too bad your best friend happens to be your biggest fan. word count: 3.2k

the city is loud tonight. not the kind of loud that mkes you feel alive—but the kind that tells you something's wrong. the kind that seeps into your bones and whispers: this is gonna hurt.

you don't even remember how it started. you were patrolling over lower manhattan, crouched on the edge of a rooftop and watching the streets below with tired eyes. it was supposed to be a quiet night. you were even thinking of cutting it short, maybe texting van to meet you at that twenty-four house diner she loves—the one with the cinnamon milshakes and sticky booths. she always pretends she hates the place, but you've caught her smiling into her fries too many times for that to be true.

but then the explosion happened. not big enough to take out a whole block, but enough to blow out windows, throw sparks into the night, and make your heart lurch. by the time you swung down, the scene was chaos—two masked guys hauling duffel bags into a black van, one already holding a crowbar like he was waiting for a fight.

and of course, you had to be a smartass. "hey," you called, landing in front of them. "you left your manners at home."

needless to say, they didn't think it was funny.

the fight was messy. one of them was stronger than he looked, swinging wild but heavy. the other ahd a shock baton—probably stolen. you dodged the first few hits easily, landing a couple of clean web-assisted kicks, but you were tired, running on half a protein bar and whatever adrenaline you had left. the baton guy got lucky. got you in the side while you were mid-flip. you felt it before you saw it. a burst of heat that made your whole right side throb.

you kept going. you always do. you took them both down eventually, left them webbed to a streetlamp with a little note: nice try. but by the time you were scaling a building to get away, your suit was already sticking to your skin from the blood.

you tried not to panic. you've been injured before. you have plans for this. safehouses. contacts. places to hide.

but not this close. not fast enough.

so your brain did what it always done when you're scared. it went to van.

you've been best friends with van since sophomore year of high school. she was the loud redhead in the back of your chemistry class who cracked jokes under her breath and made paper footballs out of pop quizzes. you were new—nervous, quiet, still trying to figure out if you could balance a secret double life and algebra II. van figured you out faster than you figured out the cafeteria schedule. not the spider-woman part, of course. just the important stuff. that you liked the weird flavored gatorades. that you doodled in the margins of your notebooks when you were thinking. that your laugh came out in stutters when you were really caught off guard.

you weren't supposed to get close to anyone, not really. but she made it hard not to. van has this gravitational pull—bold and ridiculous and so painfully genuine it hurts. she got you to open up in pieces, to trust in increments. you had sleepovers in your house, movie marathons at hers, birthday dinners that always ended in karaoke. she knew when to tease and when to let you sit in silence. when you got detention for the first time (not your fault), she faked being sick just so you wouldn't have to serve it alone.

and now, you're still in new york—freshmen. van's studying film at nye, already making weird little shorts with her classmates and pretending she's not going to be famous one day. you're juggling classes, homework, and a part-time superhero gig that would kill your gpa if your professors found out.

somehow, in the mess of it, you've stayed close. late-night bagels. shared playlists. phone calls when you're in the suit and trying not to sound out of breath. she doesn't know the truth, but she still keeps you sane.

you knew that there was one problem about this plan—van loves spider-woman in ways that shouldn't even be allowed.

she's got posters, figures, even a hand-painte mug with your symbol on it. you once caught her watching a shaky phone recording of you flipping off a rooftop and landing with perfect form. she didn't even look embarrassed.

and now here you are, bleeding through your side, scaling her fire escape.

you tell yourself it's fine. she won't know it's you. you'll keep the mask on. you'll be just another bleeding superhero in need of some neosporin.

inside, her room is glowing with that golden warmth you've always loved. strings of lights loop across her ceiling, draped haphazardly over posters and shelves. her bed is a mess—blankets half on the floor, pillows thrown to the side like she was in the middle of remaking it and got distracted.

and she's dancing.

you blink, momentarily forgetting the blood pooling in your suit.

she's got music blaring through her speakers, something unapologetically pop and aggressively catchy. she's singing into a hairbrush, spinning in circles, nearly tripping over her own socks. her pajama shirt is oversides and slightly ripped at the collar, her shorts hanging low on her hips. she's grinning like she doesn't have a care in the world.

you lean against the window frame, watching her for a second.

you should knock.

but it's hard to tear your eyes away. there's something about her like this—unguarded, ridiculous, beautiful. you've fought monsters, out swung bullets, stared death in the face without blinking. but standing here, watching van palmer lip-sync to a song about heartbreak with one sock on and one off?

that's what makes your pulse trip.

you knock.

she doesn't hear it. you knock again, harder this time.

her head snaps up.

she sees you.

freezes.

and then she vanishes below the windowsill like she's just seen a ghost.

you smile weakly, pressing your forehead to the glass. "hey," you say, voice low, shaking. "it's okay. it's just—i need help."

there's a beat.

then she reappears. slower this time. careful. her eyes rake over you—your mask, your trembling hand, the dark red stain seeping from your ribs.

she lifts the window.

"get in," she says, breathless.

you climb through with more effort than you want to admit. your balance is off, your legs wobbly. as soon as you land inside, you stumble, and she's there—arms around you, solid and warm.

"whoa," she mutters, steadying you. "okay. you're real."

you try for a joke but only manage a hiss of pain.

"okay," she says, dragging you gently. "sit. i'll get the first aid kit. don't touch anything. or die."

you let yourself collapse onto her floor against her bed, your hand pressed tight against your wound. you watch her leave the room, backing out like she doesn't want to blink and miss it. her expression is a mix of awe and panic. she's always been good in emergencies, though.

you close your eyes for just a second.

you're not sure if this was the smartest decision, but you're here now, and van palmer is about to see a side of you she's only dreamed of.

she's back in under a minute, a little red box under her arm and her other hand holding a towel she probably didn't think through—white, of course. she takes one look at the blood and immediately swaps it out for a dark t-shirt from her laundry pile.

her eyebrows are knitted in concentration like she's still processing the fact that this is really happening. like you're really here, bleeding all over her hardwood floor.

"okay," she announces as she kneels in front of you, "this is the part where you don't judge my lack of any and all medical experience."

you lean back slightly to give her space, the fabric of your suit pulled enough to reveal the deep, ugly gash along your side. it's still weeping, though not as badly as before.

"god," van murmurs, wincing. "what even did this?"

"guy with a crowbar thing," you mutter, teeth grit. "he didn't like my jokes."

van lets out a breath. "typical new-yorker."

she sets the kit beside her and cracks it open, pulling out alcohol, gauze, tape, and bandages in a practiced sort of messiness. she's moving fast but not carelessly. her fingers, warm and steady, prod gently around the wound as she leans in close. you try not to flinch. she smells like oranges and something woodsy—familiar in a way that makes your chest ache.

when the alcohol touches your skin, you hiss involuntarily.

"shit—sorry!" van's hand flies back like she's been burned. "i knew that was gonna suck, i just didn't know how much."

you shake your head. "it's fine. i've had worse."

van gives you a quick glance. "that's kind of the scariest thing you've said all night."

she presses the gauze down carefully, holding it there. you feel her exhale, warm against your shoulder. then she tapes it into place with slow, focused movements. her touch is light but precise.

"you're good at this," you mutter.

she snorts. "what, being a hot florence nightingale?"

your lips curve, despite the pain. "something like that."

she tapes a clean bandage over the gauze and begins wrapping the stretch of gauze around your waist, threading it under your arms and around your back, leaning in close with every pass. her fingers graze your ribs once and you flinch—not from the pain this time.

she notices.

you watch her work, and she tries not to meet your eyes, though you catch the smile tugging at her lips.

"i'm just saying," she says, voice light. "i imagined meeting spider-woman a lot of ways, but none of them involved gauze and my kitchen scissors."

you chuckle. "and how did you imagine it?"

she shrugs, looping the bandage again. "you know. saving me from an explosion. swinging in through the window. a dramatic pose."

you arch a brow. "i did come through the window."

"true," she says, mock-serious. "i feel honored."

van's eyes lift to yours for a split second too long. then she looks away, focusing too intently on tearing the end of the bandage.

it's quiet for a beat, just the sound of the city outside, muffled by distance. you glance down at her hands—freckled, careful, still slightly shaking,

she speaks again, but this time her voice is lower, like she's trying to puzzle something out.

"you... you sound familiar," she says.

your stomach tightens.

she shakes her head, mostly to herself. "sorry, i don't mean that in a weird way. it's just—your voice. i swear it's on the tip of my tongue."

you force a shrug, not trusting your voice.

but then it slips out, too naturally—your instinct when she presses the gauze too hard.

"dude, gentle. i'm injured, not invincible."

van stills. completely.

you feel her gaze flick back up to your face. her brows draw in, not confused—curious.

you've said that line to her a thousand times before, back when you two were roughhousing in high school, back when she'd throw popcorn at your face during horror movies or shove you off the couch when you said something smartass-y.

van squints slightly, eyes narrowing in that familiar way when she's focusing hard on something.

"...what did you just say?"

you try to cover, to laugh it off. "uh. nothing?

"no. you said—" she sits back on her heels, studing your face like it's a riddle. "that line. you've said that before."

"i mean, i'm sure spider-woman's said a lot of things."

van doesn't laugh. she just stares, mouth parted, like she's standing on the edge of a realization she's not ready for.

you feel the tension shift between you, coiling tight. the bandage is finished, but she doesn't move away.

"you're weirdly good at pretending you're not in pain," she says softly.

you meet her eyes. "i've had practice."

"you're not like... famous-famous, right?" she asks, almost playfully. "like, under the mask? you're not secretly, like, florence pugh or something?"

you snort. "do i sound british?"

van grins, and then—it softens. almost fades.

"i don't know," she murmurs. "you just... feel familiar."

your heart thuds unevenly. you open your mouth to say something—anything—but her phone buzzes on the desk. she blinks, dragging herself away from whatever rabbit hole her brain was going down.

she walks over, still frowning slightly, and picks it up.

her thumb hovers over your name in her contacts—your civilian name.

she hesitates.

then taps out a message:

bro you'll seriously NEVER guess who's in my room. plz come over later so i can tell you🙏

the buzz that follows is barely audible, but van hears it. her head snaps toward you like a bloodhound catching a scent. she sees the shape of your phone in your boot that you took off upon entering her room.

the screen lights up—her message, your name, right there.

slowly, she walks back over.

your phone still glowing her her hand.

her eyes are wide now, but not panicked.

she looks at you. and all she says is, "...no way."

she says it like a prayer. like a punchline. like a memory unraveling in real time.

you freeze—completely, utterly still.

van is holding your phone like it's glass, like it might vanish if she grips it too hard. her eyes flick from your face to the cracked screen and back, and you see the moment it clicks. her mouth parts slightly.

you could lie. play it off. say someone else borrowed your phone. say you're just a really convincing voice match. say anything.

but you don't. because you know her. and because, in some stubborn part of you, you want her to know.

she exhales a quiet laugh. "dude."

you sigh, tugging your mask off fully now. "yeah. it's me."

van sinks down to the floor across from you like her knees give out. she doesn't look scared. or angry. she just looks...amazed. like she's staring at a skyline for the first time.

"i can't believe—" she laughs again, shakily this time. "oh my god, you've been her this whole time? my best friend is spider-woman?"

"sorry," you say, giving her a sheepish smile. "i didn't really know how to bring it up. like hey, pass the popcorn, also i fight crime on the weekends."

she shakes her head slowly, in awe. "no, like, what? you've been to my house. you've held my spider-woman bobblehead. you made fun of me for watching that fan edit seventeen times."

"i didn't make fun of you," you argue. "i said it was impressively edited."

van squints. "you called it 'fanfic with a budget.'"

"okay," you admit, grinning. "that does sound like me."

she stares at you for a moment, her smile faltering into something softer. she's still holding the medkit between you, like a strange sort of offering.

"so all those times you ditched plans," she says. "it wasn't because you were flaking. it was because you were saving people."

you nod.

"and tonight—you came here. out of everywhere in the city, you came here. to me"

you look down at your bandaged side, then back up at her.

"i trust you," you say. "even when you don't realize you're flirting with me."

that makes her snort—sharp and incredulous—but she doesn't deny it. instead, she reaches over, gentle fingers tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"you know what's crazy?" she says, and her voice is quieter now, like she's confessing something she didn't plan to. "you show up at my window, bleeding and brave and real, and i think... of course it's you. it had to be you."

your breath catches in your throat.

van leans back slightly, giving you space again—but not too much.

"i liked spider-woman because she was fearless and funny and always five steps ahead. but i think i liked her because... she reminded me of you."

you bite your lip, warmth pooling in your chest. "you said i reminded you over a superhero once. i thought you were just being nice."

"i wasn't," she says. "i just didn't know how right i was."

the silence between you stretches, but it's not heavy anymore.

van eyes you for a long moment, then adds with a grin, "i'm keeping the bobblehead though. i don't care how famous you get."

you laugh, wincing slightly, and she catches your arm instinctively, steadying you.

you look at her—really look—and you know it's not just the suit or the powers or the danger that brought you here. it's her. it's always been her.

"you saved me," you say softly,

van smiles, hand still resting on your arm. "you started it."

she helps you to your feet with a quiet grunt, slipping an arm around your waist for support.

"so," she says as you lean into her, "what's the plan now, hero?"

you glance toward the window. the skyline glows like embers. sirens wail somewhere far off, fading into the hum of the city.

and you look back at van.

"honestly?" you say. "i think i need to sleep for a week. but maybe first...i owe you a real explanation."

she grins, walking toward her bed like it's no big deal. like she's not half-carrying a literal vigilante.

"you can start with why you always bailed on movie night."

"and end with why your first stop after almost dying was me," she adds, teasing.

you smirk. "maybe i just wanted to see your dance moves again."

van laughs, red creeping into her cheeks as she helps you settle against the pillows. "don't push it, spider-girl."

as she settles beside you, legs crossed, fingers fidgeting with the corner of the medkit box, you feel the air between you settle into something warmer than it's ever been. you saved a city. you survived a fight.

but this? this is the part you were fighting for.

she settles beside you, cross-legged and still buzzing with adrenaline, even if she’s trying to play it cool. her shoulder brushes yours, warm and steady. and for a second, everything feels almost normal. like it’s always been this way—just you, her, and the glow of the city outside her window.

she starts rifling through the medkit again, mumbling something about finding the good band-aids, and you catch yourself watching the way her brow furrows in concentration, the way her fingers move like she’s done this before, like she knowshow to take care of people, how to take care of you.

it sneaks up on you, the realization.

you’ve spent years with van palmer. late nights, shared secrets, laughter that made your ribs ache. you’ve trusted her with everything except this one, impossible truth. and now that she knows, now that she’s looking at you like you’re still you—just maybe a little more sparkly around the edges—

you think you might like her.

not just as your best friend. not just as the girl with a room full of superhero merch and a laugh you could find in a crowd. but like… like like.

and the worst part?

you think she might like you too.

but for now, you lean back against her shoulder, let your eyes flutter shut, and let yourself rest. because spider-woman can save the city tomorrow.

tonight, you’re just a girl with a secret and a little bit of a crush.

and van palmer is still your favorite person in the world.

💌 taglist: @callsignwidow, @freakyjorker, @imlike-so-gaydude, @yellowjacketsslvt69, @moonwateraura, @gracynparsons, @casualclamturkey

[glowettee]

✧ if i’m so dramatic, why am i always right? ✧

✦ intuition vs gaslighting ✦

hi lovelies, it’s mindy 🌷🕯 i’ve been off tumblr for a few days, things have just been really overwhelming lately, and i needed a little breather. but writing always brings me back to myself. it’s my favorite kind of comfort. the glowettee x pll series has seriously been such a joy to create… every post, every idea, every digital piece for my gumroad has been healing in its own way. this next post is something close to my heart. it’s about gaslighting... something i’ve experienced a lot, especially from people i thought i could trust. it’s such a common thing, but so many of us don’t realize it’s happening until way later. i used to second-guess my intuition constantly because people convinced me i was being “too much.” but every time… my gut was right. so i wanted to write this to help you tell the difference between real intuition and someone twisting it. if you’ve ever felt that quiet confusion or started to doubt yourself after talking to someone, this post is for you. i hope it brings clarity. and softness. and maybe even a little validation if you’ve been there too. - mindy 🤍🩰

sometimes i wonder if girls like us were born with a sixth sense or if we just got so used to being hurt that our bodies evolved. hyper-awareness as a survival trait. intuition as our most sharpened weapon. people love to call it being “dramatic,” but let’s be honest... i was right every time.

𓆩♡𓆪

❝ if you’re so emotional, how come your instincts always come true? ❞ they never have an answer to that, do they?

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

✧ the 'dramatic' girl dilemma

there’s a reason why every group chat has a girl they secretly call “too much.” the one who always has a weird feeling. the one who picks up on tone shifts and changes in energy and tiny inconsistencies like it’s her full-time job. she’s the one who says, “this doesn’t feel right,” and gets labeled a buzzkill. the killjoy. the overthinker.

but i’ll let you in on something i had to learn the hard way: they only call you dramatic when they don’t want you to notice what’s really happening.

girls like us don’t get the luxury of being chill. we’re watching. always. we had to learn to be. we’re the first ones to feel the shift in a friend group dynamic. we clock the fake laugh. the silence in the hallway. the DM left on read. and when we bring it up? “you’re imagining things.”

they say "you're too sensitive" like it's a flaw. like feeling deeply makes you unreliable. but being sensitive never meant being wrong. it just meant you felt the betrayal before it became undeniable.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

✧ trauma turned my gut into a siren

there’s something about growing up being ignored, bullied, overlooked, or manipulated that turns your whole nervous system into a radar. suddenly, you’re the girl who notices everything.

like, i still remember being 14 and realizing that one of my friends always laughed at my jokes in front of boys, but never when it was just us. or how she'd call me pretty but then immediately ask if i was wearing makeup. subtle stuff. stuff that sounds dumb when you say it out loud. stuff that makes people go, “you’re reading too much into it.”

but i wasn’t. i never was. that’s the exhausting part.

emotional intelligence feels like a superpower until it starts to drain you. like being psychic, but without the option to turn it off. you don’t just read the room, you analyze it, archive it, cross-reference it with past data.

i used to hate this part of myself. now i know it kept me alive.

you’re not paranoid. you’re perceptive. there’s a difference.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

✧ you knew, even when it didn’t make sense

sometimes your body knows things before your brain catches up. your heart races before he lies. your stomach drops before the betrayal hits. you get that pit-in-your-stomach feeling and then brush it off, until the truth slaps you a week later.

trust me, i’ve been there. i once had a gut feeling that a friend was turning people against me... but there was no proof. just a weird energy. until one day, someone accidentally sent me a screenshot that wasn’t meant for me. and suddenly the feeling made sense.

they call it “bad vibes.” i call it early intel.

start decoding the patterns:

the too-long pause before answering your question

the “i didn’t mean it like that” when you call it out

the subtle digs framed as compliments

the way people say your name when they think you’re not listening

you noticed for a reason. trust the noticing.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

✧ what gaslighting actually feels like

gaslighting doesn’t always sound like “you’re crazy.” sometimes it sounds like “you’re overreacting,” or “you always assume the worst,” or “why do you make everything a problem?”

but the worst kind of gaslighting is the kind you do to yourself. when you feel the red flags and immediately shut yourself down. when your first instinct is right, but your second thought is “i’m just being dramatic.” that’s emotional self-betrayal. it hurts. a lot.

i once told a guy that something felt off, he’d been cold, weird, distant. he said i was insecure. i said sorry. two weeks later, i found out he’d been seeing someone else the whole time. lesson learned: don’t apologize for what your body already knows.

you can’t logic your way out of a feeling that was never lying to you in the first place.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

✧ intuitive doesn’t mean irrational

“dramatic” is just a word they use to discredit girls who are too emotionally accurate to manipulate.

your feelings are data. emotions are not the opposite of intelligence, they’re the early warning system. they tell you what’s not being said. they tell you what the energy in the room is doing. they tell you the truth before the truth shows its face.

what if you’re not “too much,” what if you’re just always one step ahead?

what if the real problem isn’t that you feel too deeply, but that you feel accurately, and that makes people uncomfortable?

i’m reclaiming the word dramatic. to be dramatic is to see danger before it arrives. to feel something shift before it collapses. to be emotionally clairvoyant. and i think that’s beautiful.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

✧ how to protect your knowing

your intuition deserves protection. here’s how i keep mine sacred:

✧ journal your gut feelings ~ even if they don’t make sense yet. time-stamp them. track patterns. ✧ make a screenshots folder ~ for receipts, subtle shifts, digital clues. memory gaslights too. ✧ create a ‘weird vibes’ note in your phone ~ no explanation needed. if something feels off, log it. ✧ meditate or walk after intense conversations ~ let your body process what your mind can’t yet. ✧ check in with your inner child ~ would 13-year-old you trust this person? she knows. always.

𓆩 ritual for the emotionally haunted 𓆪 › write down a time you were right, but told you were wrong › throw it away, or rip it up › whisper “i trust myself now.” › repeat every time the world tries to confuse you.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

✧ you weren’t crazy, you were correct, and ahead

they’ll tell you you’re crazy until the moment you’re proven right. they’ll call you dramatic until the danger becomes undeniable. they’ll gaslight you until the truth surfaces, and then pretend they never doubted you at all.

the girls who trust themselves become the women no one can lie to. so feel everything. sense everything. believe yourself.

being dramatic is how you survived the world they tried to confuse you in.

and if you’re always the first to notice the danger, maybe it’s not a flaw. maybe it’s your gift. maybe it’s what will save you.

✧ love always, mindy

[naughtyneganjdm]

Back Pain

Summary: After you find Negan on the floor of his cell in pain when he hurt his back, you offer to give him a massage. With how touch starved Negan is, you find yourself taking advantage of the moment and make Negan feel good in other ways.

Characters: Negan & the reader (OC, second person)

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50901724

Warnings: 18+, Swearing, smut, little to no plot, hurt/comfort, submissive Negan, dominant reader, praise kink, p*ssy job, begging Negan, etc.

Notes: This is pure filth. Not gonna lie. I thought I would make it innocent at first, but that's not how this story wanted to be written. I hope you enjoy it.

You would never admit this to the rest of the people in Alexandria, but days like these were your favorites. Getting to be the person to go and spend some time with Negan when you gave him his meals for the day actually was something you looked forward to. Many people hated the job, but you took it whenever you could. Talking to Negan was something you enjoyed. Even though people didn’t really give Negan credit, he was quite intelligent and knew a lot about books. You always enjoyed having conversations with him. Sure, he was a bit of a smart ass and was always very inappropriate at times, but you liked it. You liked him. So any chance you could take to do this, you would. And people wouldn’t often fight you on it when you offered. Negan rubbed a lot of the people in Alexandria the wrong way, but you felt like you saw more to him than everyone else did.

Heading down to the cell that they kept Negan in, you clutched tightly to the tray that Negan’s food was on when you didn’t see him sitting at either in the corner of the room or on the cot that they had for him, “Negan?”

“Oh, hey,” Negan’s voice responded raspier than normal causing you to drop your head to see that he was laying on the center of the floor face first on the ground. His head turned toward you and he let out a small groan. “I’m…here.”

“Are you okay?” you wondered noticing that he wasn’t moving much and he let out a hesitant breath.

“I think I pulled out my back,” Negan was honest, his words coming out in a slow slur. His eyebrows bounced up and he let out a groan when he tried to push himself up but let out a hiss when he braced his hands on the floor. “My tennis ball went underneath the cot. I bent down to grab it and well…the rest is history.”

“Oh,” you chuckled, setting his tray of food down on the ground to slide it under the bars for him. “Do you need some help?”

“You trust me enough for that?” Negan managed to pull himself up to his knees, his hands still bracing on the floor when he winced. “Getting older sucks. My back has always been shit, but this fucking cot doesn’t help any.”

“I trust you,” you assured him pulling out the keys to his cell. Opening up the door, you closed it behind you when you entered it and headed over to Negan. Wrapping your arm around his waist, you reached for the other arm and wrapped it around your shoulders. Using your strength, you helped pull him up from the ground and heard him grumble under his breath. “Let’s get you seated.”

“If people could see me now,” Negan winced, his left hand reaching behind him to press over the small of his back. “Big bad Negan pulls out his back and he’s in agony. I’d love to say I hurt it doing something incredibly wild, but nope. Just reaching for a tennis ball.”

“It happens to the best of us,” you cracked a smile and thought about it for a moment. “Do you want me to massage your back for you? Try to help you loosen things up?”

“I don’t know,” Negan began looking toward the window in his room letting out a long sigh. “They really don’t like you in here with me.”

“I could care less what they think. Lay down,” you instructed, getting up from the cot that you were sitting on together. Pushing into Negan’s shoulder, you could see the resistance in his movements before he finally lowered down face first on the cot. Adjusting the pillow under his head, Negan wiggled a bit until he found himself in a comfortable position. “Do I have permission to touch you?”

“Yes ma’am,” Negan grumbled when you carefully lowered down onto the cot with him. Crawling in over him, you rest your knees at his sides. A loud exhale fell from his throat when you lowered your hands to start caressing over his lower back. Watching his body language, you wanted to make sure that you weren’t going to hurt him while you did it. Carefully you caressed further up the length of his long back and then up toward his shoulders. Taking your time, you paid attention to him learning what areas seemed to affect him by his breathing changes. Putting a bit more pressure into your touch had Negan groaning out. “That’s good.”

“Are you sure? You’re shaking,” you noticed, pulling your hands away from Negan when he looked back at you over his shoulder. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

“No, it’s not that. I just…” Negan turned on his side, visible pain in his face when he stretched his back a certain way. There was embarrassment flooding into his features, when he forced himself to look away from you. “I haven’t been touched in a very long time. Never by someone being gentle or kind at least…”

Frowning, you reached out to palm in over the side of Negan’s face. You were tender in the way you touched his face and Negan let out a tremoring sound. His eyes came to a close, his lips parting when he leaned into your palm showing how much he missed simply just the touch of another person. Cuddling his face in against your palm, you felt your heart rate quicken with the way his short beard tickled at your flesh.

Using your free hand, you outstretched it to drag your fingertips over the top of his hand hearing his breathing getting louder. Stroking tenderly at his flesh, you took your time noticing the way that his shaking got more intense. Hooking your fingers with his, you leaned forward to place a faint kiss over his temple.

“Lay back down,” you commanded and he did as you asked of him. Going back to the original plan, you continued to rub his back. The knots that you had worked on started to loosen up and you noticed that it made Negan much more relaxed beneath you as well. Sliding your palms down Negan’s back, you reached the back of the gray t-shirt that he was wearing. Tugging faintly at the material, you managed to sneak your fingers in underneath it for your fingers to come in contact with the warmth of his flesh. The sound Negan made showed you that he was alright with it. A breath caught in your throat as your touch raised up toward his shoulders. There was no question that he was enjoying what you were doing by the sounds that he was making. “Feeling better?”

“So much,” Negan breathed out, his head cuddling in closer to the pillow. Dragging your hands down Negan’s back, this time you slid your hands down over his sides and toward his lower abdomen. That had his back arching up and you repeated the motion up again. Multiple times you did the same thing and what sounded like a moan fell from Negan’s throat. “Stop.”

“What’s wrong?” you questioned almost losing your balance over him when Negan pulled himself from underneath you and toward the opposite end of the cot. Almost instinctively he reached for the pillow that he had been laying on and covered the center of his pants with it. An amused sound escaped your lips when Negan’s face flushed over with red.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” Negan looked ashamed and you knew what he was insinuating was going on. “I wanted this to be as innocent as possible, but the way you were touching me…”

“That’s okay Negan,” you hushed him, reaching out to place your hand in over his and he seemed to tremor. “I’m not mad.”

“You’re not?” Negan confirmed with you, his Adam’s apple bouncing in his throat. Dropping his head, Negan looked toward the pillow that was covering his lap and he shook his head. “If you want to leave, I will understand. Shit, I wouldn’t blame you.”

Nodding, you stood up from the cot. The expression over Negan’s features showed that he was disappointed at the thought of you leaving and it made your heart flutter in your chest. Stepping forward, you reached for the pillow that was over Negan’s lap and he clung tightly to it. Shaking your head, you hushed him and grabbed the pillow. Setting it beside Negan, your eyes lowered to see the bulge that was at the center of his pants showing that he did get a hard on from what you had been doing.

“Lift your arms,” you instructed with Negan’s hazel eyes locked on yours. At first, he seemed nervous and like he didn’t want to listen, but when your fingers grabbed the bottom of his shirt he obeyed.

“Yes ma’am,” Negan’s tongue dragged out over his bottom lip lifting his arms for you. Pulling his shirt up and over the lengths of his slender abdomen, you tossed the shirt aside and heard him breathe out shakenly. Dragging your fingers across his shoulder had his pupils dilating. His lips parted and he didn’t take his eyes from yours. Teasing your fingers further down over the center of his chest had Negan leaning back against the wall. Stroking over his slender abdomen, you circled your fingers through the dark curls of hair that covered his flesh. It had Negan breathing unevenly and he was trembling again showing how much this was truly heightening everything for him. Sliding your fingers down further, you reached the belt in Negan’s pants and heard him whimper. “What is this?”

“Relax,” you ordered once more not giving him an answer when you started to pull apart the material of the belt. Once you got the material separate, you went for the button in his jeans and unhooked it. Leaning forward, Negan’s lips hovered in over yours. The warmth of his breath lingered, his eyes narrowing with how close you were to him. “You shouldn’t have been treated like this Negan. You deserve better than you were given.”

Negan’s hazel eyes fell to your lips as you dragged the zipper down in his jeans. Faintly your lips dragged over his and it made him let out what sounded like a whimper. Pressing forward, his lips claimed yours in a hungry, passionate kiss. One that surprised even you. Negan’s fingers curled around the back of your neck while the kiss lingered. There wasn’t much time to separate from Negan because he was eager to keep kissing you over and over again. Purring against his lips, you went to pull back, but he was eager to meet you again, his tongue brushing between your lips causing you to place your hand over the center of his chest to stop him.

Tugging at the material of Negan’s jeans, you got them down his long slender legs and tossed them aside after pulling off the boots that he was wearing. Curling your fingers around the back of Negan’s calf muscle, you caressed over his body and watched hm tip his head back. The vein at the side of Negan’s neck was bulging while you squeeze and caressed at the flesh of Negan’s thighs.

The large bulge at the center of Negan’s gray boxer briefs was very evident and you felt your mouth go wet at the sight of it, “We’re going to finish your massage.”

“But…” Negan’s head lowered back down, his lips parted and he looked disappointed to hear you say that. “I thought…”

“We will, just not right now…” you whispered making him frown when you admitted that. “Lay back down on your stomach.”

Following your instructions, Negan did as he was told laying back face down on the cot, getting comfortable again. This time you crawled in over him again and caressed over the planes of his back. Your touch was more sensual making sure to slide over his shoulders, down over the side of his torso, toward the front of his lower abdomen and back toward his lower back.

Adjusting your weight, you moved down lower and allowed your palms to drag down over his small bottom caressing over the flesh. Sliding further down, you squeezed at the back of his thighs and heard him moaning. Sliding your hand between his thighs, you cupped his balls through the material of his boxer briefs and it had him moaning out.

Reaching for Negan’s boxer briefs, you tugged the material down and heard his shuddering exhale that followed. Unhurriedly you exposed Negan’s small ass to your sight and smiled. Caressing at his lower back had his hips arching slightly and you caressed lower.

“Lift,” you instructed sliding your hand around Negan’s side around to the front. Doing what you asked, he arched his hips up slightly allowing your fingers to connect with his rigid manhood. The moan that followed from Negan drew chills to fill your own body. At first your strokes were slow, taking the time to test Negan’s flesh in your grasp. Lowering further in over Negan, you pressed kisses over his earlobe and felt Negan lazily bucking his hips up toward your caresses. “Are you being a good boy or a bad boy?”

“A good boy,” Negan panted, his head stealing a glance back over at you. His eyelids were heavy, his hazel eyes locked on you while you continued to take your time jerking him off.

“You are such a good boy,” you praised him, kissing over his jawline. Another deep, raspy moan fell from his throat when you nibbled at his flesh. “But when I need you to be, you’ll be my bad boy, won’t you?”

“Yes ma’am,” Negan nodded his head, whining when you pulled your hand away from his cock. “Please…please don’t stop…”

Snickering, you caressed over the lengths of Negan’s back and sighed, “Get on your back…”

Shakily he moved on the small cot and stretched out beneath you, his hands settling in over your thighs when you rest yourself on your knees over him. Your eyes fell to his swollen cock and it made you suck at your bottom lip. There was a vulnerability in Negan’s eyes and it was such an interesting thing to see. You weren’t used to this idea of Negan, but you loved it.

“Just lay back, relax and be my good boy,” you praised Negan caressing over the lengths of his lower abdomen and it had him licking his lips again. Curling your left hand around Negan’s girthy shaft, you started to stroke over him again and watch his abdomen sink in with his deep breaths. “I want you to come for me. Do you think you could do that for me?”

Nodding his head, Negan looked down toward your hand watching it pump away at his flesh. Outstretching his hand, he stroked down over the side of your face in a gentle sweep. Turning your head toward his hand, you kissed over the center of his palm before taking his index finger between your lips. Nibbling at the tip had his faint moan filling the small cell and when you took it further into your mouth you had him hissing out.

Sucking at his finger had him panting when your other hand joined to help stroke over Negan’s body. It was throbbing in your grasp and you knew that Negan’s body was eager to come. Hell, he wanted it so bad.

Pulling your mouth away from Negan’s finger with a wet sound, you allowed your grasp to get stronger while you jerked Negan off and felt his hips arching up toward you. Rocking your hips forward had the denim of your jeans rubbing up against the ridge of the tip of his cock and it had him grunting loudly.

You hated to admit it, but this turned you on more than you planned on it doing. Getting up from the cot had Negan whining and you saw his cock twitching with the anticipation of not getting to finish. When he saw that you were undoing your pants, he let out a shuddering breath. The way his eyes ate you alive when you pushed your panties down with your pants and then crawled in over him brought an incredible amount of confidence to you.

Eagerly Negan pushed up onto his hands, his mouth claiming yours again in a passionate sweep. Pressing your hand into the center of his chest, you forced him back down onto the cot. Huffing out, Negan’s hands settled in over your hips giving them soft sweeps with his thumbs. Lowering his left hand, Negan grabbed the base of his erection in attempt to lead his cock to your entrance, but you pulled your hips back and shook your head.

“You’re supposed to be my good boy, don’t be bad…” you warned him watching Negan pout and he nodded his head. “You’re not allowed to enter me. I told you we’ll have sex and you can be in me however you want, but right now it’s just a massage.”

“I don’t understand,” Negan’s hands brushed up and under your shirt, his rough fingertips caressing over your torso. Pushing up the material of your shirt, Negan lifted up enough to pull the cup of your bra down. Taking your breast into his mouth, Negan’s tongue circled your nipple before sucking faintly at the flesh. Pulling back with wet lips, Negan allowed his thumb to circle the bud. “You are so fucking beautiful.”

“You’ll start to understand,” you hushed him, using your left hand to caress over his length. Bringing the tip of it to your wet folds, you traced the swollen head between them. His moan vibrated against your lips and you bit faintly at his bottom lip. “Lay back…”

Pushing into his chest, you forced Negan back on the bed again. Reaching for his hands, you put them over his head and allowed his cock to rest against his lower abdomen. Hovering your hips over his length, you started to rock your hips over Negan’s shaft allowing your sensitive folds to rub up against his cock again and again. Every roll of your hips would have the tip of his cock rubbing against your clitoris and it was giving you the right amount of friction to make this just as pleasurable for you.

“Does that feel good?” you demanded an answer, your free hand reaching to grab a hold of Negan’s jawline to get him to stare up at you. “Do you like this kind of massage?”

“So much,” Negan growled against your lips when he lifted up enough to kiss you again. You put a lot of power into the rolls of your thrusts and you hoped the sounds the two of you were making wouldn’t draw the attention of those outside. “You’re teasing me.”

“I am,” you hushed him sucking at his bottom lip, dragging your tongue out over his flesh. “I’m going to let you do whatever you want to me, but we’re going to give that back a rest for today. Let it heal and then tomorrow, this pussy is completely yours.”

“You could ride me,” Negan begged against your lips, his breathing broken with his eyebrows furrowing while you continued to rub up against his cock. Shaking your head, you felt your heart hammering inside of your chest and this was doing wonders on your sensitive bundle of nerves. You were so wet and you could hear it by the way you were rubbing up against Negan. “Please.”

“No,” you shook your head, keeping his hands forced above his head. Hot, wet kisses were pressed over his lips while his moans grew louder.

“I’m begging you,” Negan huffed against your flesh, his hazel eyes rolling back to a close while you used his cock for both yours and his pleasure.

“You want to come inside of me?” you inquired watching Negan desperately nod his head. His dimples were prominent, his eyes full of lust and want for you. “You want to be balls deep inside of me?”

“I do,” he whined, lifting his head to see that there was precum developing at the tip while you continued to rub your pussy up against the length of his cock. It was a wet sensation and he loved it, but he was so desperate for more. “I promise it will feel so good.”

“This already feels good,” you corrected him cooing out with the friction it caused against your clit. “I promise you, tomorrow you can fill me with your cum you beautiful, gorgeous man.”

“I can’t wait until tomorrow,” he whined once more and you tsked against his lips, pulling your hips up and away from him. Your own body hated that move, but you were trying to make a point of who was in charge. “Maybe just the tip?”

“If I get the tip inside of me, I’m gonna want the whole thing beautiful,” you licked at his lips drawing Negan to moan once more. “I can stop all together if you want. You’re being a bad boy Negan.”

“No. No, please,” Negan begged once more, his expression growing more upset. “I promise to be a good boy.”

“Of course you do,” you smiled using your hand that wasn’t holding his wrists above his head to drag your fingers through his wet hair. Adjusting your hips over him again, Negan was eager to arch his hips up toward you to have you rubbing yourself over his throbbing manhood. “You have such a pretty cock. You know that?”

“I do?” he breathed out and you smiled. You didn’t realize you had it in you to be such a dominant in a situation like this, but Negan was so touch starved that it was easy for him to be your submissive. “You are so fucking beautiful.”

Lowering yourself closer to him, you released Negan’s wrists and felt him wrapping his arms around you while you upped the speed of you rubbing your pussy up against his erection. Your cries grew louder, matching the sounds that Negan was making. Between kisses, Negan would steal quick looks to see what was happening between the two of you. There were chills flooding your body, your pulse jumping in your throat when you cried out.

One over exaggerated roll of your hips with him arching up led the tip of his cock to enter your wet and ready entrance when you slid back. It immediately made you moan out against Negan’s mouth when his thick cock stretched you on your rock back. Digging your nails into his shoulder had him hissing out and you lifted your head to stare into his desperate hazel eyes.

“You bad boy,” you shook your head feeling the ache with having Negan’s cock inside of you. Your movements stopped and Negan threw his head back.

“I’m so sorry. It was an accident, I swear,” Negan pled with you, seeing that you were unhurriedly sinking down over his cock. Once you had him filling you to the brim, you rocked your hips in a circular motion over him. You told yourself you wouldn’t let this happen, but fuck it felt so good with him inside of you. Neither one of you were going to last much longer. But hell, you were going to take advantage of it. Starting to bounce your hips over his length powerfully had his moan raspy and his eyebrows furrowing. “You feel so good. So wet…so tight…”

Your movements were strong and steady setting a pace between the two of you that had the cot squeaking with the motions. You were still laying over Negan having his hips bouncing up toward your movements eagerly. The wet sounds of your bodies moving in unison grew louder. Negan’s left hand was caressing over the back of your neck, urging you to his lips while his right reached between you to allow his thumb to caress over your clitoris. With your motions, you helped aid to that friction and fuck it felt so good.

“Negan,” you panted his name, tossing your head back feeling your thighs start to tremor and shake against him. Burying your nose against the side of his neck, you paused your movements over him when you felt your walls clenching tightly to Negan’s cock after you orgasmed with him inside of you. Panting against his flesh you were in awe of the way he caressed over your neck and his other hand slid around to palm over your bottom.

“Permission for me to come?” Negan requested and you laughed, gaining enough strength to bounce your hips over him repeatedly. Winces became more frequent from his throat when you felt the first twitch of his cock inside of you. The warmth of Negan’s release was felt and you looked down between the two of you to see his cum dripping down the base of his cock and your mixed fluids pooling at his groin. It surprised you how Negan clung to you when he came, desperate to kiss you and hold you close while you milked him completely of his release. Falling in over his chest, you stroked your fingers over the center of it and heard him breathing loudly. “If you don’t punish me and you still want it, I promise I will make tomorrow perfect. It will be all about you and only you.”

“This wasn’t all that bad Negan,” you slurred, tracing your fingertips over his wet lips noticing that he was nervous about how you would respond to things. “It actually felt pretty nice, didn’t it?”

“Yes ma’am,” he growled, rolling you over onto your back with him over you. A thick rumble of a moan fell from his throat when he pulled his hips back allowing his cock to pull from you.

“You filled me up good, didn’t you?” you stroked your fingers through his wet hair and he gave you a single nod. “Maybe you should clean up your mess. Don’t you think?”

“Yes ma’am,” Negan smirked kissing your lips one final time before peppering kisses down over the lengths of your body. In this moment you found yourself thankful that Negan was so touch starved to begin with because you were certain now after everything you could tell Negan to jump and he would ask how high.

----

Tags: @slutlanna976​ @fuckthis-and-fuckthat @jennydehavilland @de-gabyconamor​ @ibelongtonegan @smallsadjellyfish​ @labyrinthofheartagrams​  @msjamesmarch @thebeautysurrounds @hotfornegan​ @redmercysugar @caprithebunny​ @tuttifuckinfruitty @emoryhemsworth​ @a-girl-interupted @akumune​ @stoneyggirl2 @xsarcasticwriterx​  @insertneganhere​ @haleygreen23​ @xhannahbananax03​ @sanctuaryforthelost​ @burningredaffair @killaweiser @dead-of-niight​  @ayumi-wolf @hollyismentallyillhelp @promiscuousbarnes​ @tone-stark @lanadelnegan

[pome-seed]

The Soldier's Keeper ★ 33

Pairing: Winter Soldier!Bucky x Doctor!Reader

Summary: A question you asked yourself, over and over again, through the past year, was is safety real? Is freedom real? Even now, as you lay in a warm, clean bed, surrounded by kind faces, you didn't trust it. Could you ever be safe again?

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: Mention of torture. Needles. Angst. Loss. Missing Bucky.

Authors Note: I loved all the comments on the last chapter!!!! Thank you guys for always messaging me and commenting. I love the interactions. ALSO, if you want to be apart of the taglist, let me know :)

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

Seeing is believing. You’d heard the saying many times before throughout life. And as a scientist, you were one of the people saying it. 

When you see it, you’ll believe it. 

But one day, something changed, and even sight felt like a lie. You couldn’t trust yourself anymore. Your thoughts, your senses, your mind. But even when you started to believe something was real, so real you could feel it, you couldn’t trust that it would last. 

Because safety wasn’t something you could see. It was something you had to be. And you never thought you would ever feel safe again.

Your name is Y/n. 

You remember your name. You remember your family. You remember your past. You remember the pain. You remember the fear. You haven't forgotten who you are. 

You couldn’t.

And yet, everything felt wrong.

You laid in a clean, warm bed. White light surrounded you. Needles stuck in your veins, feeding an IV into your system. Your body was clean. Your hair was combed back out of your face.

You stared numbly at the ceiling, lines of fluorescent lights blinding you. 

Everything was so bright, and felt so clean. 

A stark contrast to the dark, cold hole you’d been left to rot in for weeks.

A figure moved to your left. You didn’t feel the urge to look, to move. You just wanted to sleep. But that figure moved again, now facing you. You blinked up at them, and the kind smile you were faced with. It was a woman, one you’d never seen before. 

The woman fretted over you, but you could barely hold your focus. Your eyes rolled back as she drew close. You succumb to darkness.

The next time you woke, there was a woman with red hair sitting at the end of your bed, staring out the nearest window. Your lashes fluttered in a blink, your lids still crusted together slightly. The woman hadn’t seemed to notice your eyes rolling open. The woman chewed at her thumb nail, her pale nail turning red under the pressure.

You watched her through the corner of your eye, dragging your gaze over her form. She seemed familiar, but you just couldn’t place it. A part of you wondered if it was real at all, if you were real. 

Weeks in solitude turned your mind into a stranger, and over time everything became warped.

You licked your cracked lips. “I-” no sound left your throat at first, your mouth too dry. “I know you,” you whispered.

The woman’s gaze snapped to you, the surprise in her eyes quickly shifting. “Hey,” she stood, slowly approaching the bed. You stiffened, the soft beeping from the machine beside you picking up. The woman raised her hands, offering peace. “I’m not gonna hurt you, you’re safe.”

The woman's voice was deep, slightly scratchy, but kind. Your gaze flickered over her face, recognition slowly dawning on you. “I’ve-” you licked your lips again, clearing your throat. “I’ve seen you…” you whispered, your voice cracking. “On tv.”

The woman nodded, “I’m Natasha. You’re…Y/n, right? I’ve seen you too, on tv.”

You blinked slowly, a shaky breath leaving your chest. You hadn’t heard someone else say your name in a long time. “You have?”

She nodded. “You’ve been on the news a few times. You’ve been missing.”

“Where…where am I?” Your head lolled to the side, seeing the large expanse of a high tech lab.

“You’re in the Avengers tower.” Natasha informed you. “You were being held captive in a Hydra base in Slovenia, out of eastern Europe.” She continued, her voice quiet, almost like she was trying not to make you panic. 

“Slovenia…” you muttered, closing your burning eyes. Hot tears stung and dripped down your temples silently. An ache traveled and throbbed through your skull.

You're in the Avengers Tower. They found you.

They found you.

“Y/n, why were you there?” 

Images of guilty blue eyes burned in your mind. You wondered, absently, how long it had been since you last saw him. It didn’t feel like it had been long, but you couldn’t tell. You dragged a heavy hand up to your left shoulder, sliding your fingers beneath your papery gown. Natasha watched you, confused. 

Without much thought, you pressed gently against the bandages that wrapped around your previously gaping bullet wound. You winced, a sharp ache traveling through the previously torn muscles. The pain was noticeable, but not fresh. It had long since begun to swell closed.

Which could only mean it had been a long while since you last saw Bucky.

“Y/n?” Natasha called out to you.

“How long have… how long?”

“How long what?” Natasha responded.

“How long have I been gone?” A long silence followed, making you turn to look at the woman. The uneasy look on her face made your stomach turn. “Please…” 

Dread built inside your stomach, curling and knotting.

“It’s been a little over a year since you disappeared from your lab.”

Those words, the reality of it all, sent a sickening ache through your body. Your throat closed up, bile rising. Your cheeks soured and you turned your head quickly. Natasha seemed to get the memo, and fetched a small trash can.

You retched, your body convulsing as saliva dripped into the bin. Your stomach was empty, which only made you feel more sick. You pressed your cheek into the pillow, shivering.

A year.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay-”

You shook your head. “I can’t-” you heaved, your spit smearing on the pillow. You squeezed your eyes closed, thoughts of your family and friends- your life- flashing through your head. You’d lost it all. 

You knew it had been a long time. You had seen calendars in the corner stores. You had seen it in the changing weather. You knew time had passed. But actually hearing it changed everything. 

You felt sick.

Your birthday had passed. Christmas, halloween, your friends and families lives. It had all flown past you.

You’d lost so much of your life. And there was a reason you stayed away.

“Y/n-”

“I can’t be here-” you whispered, realization dawning on you. “I was gone- I can’t come back.” You lost that time because there was no coming home. There was no coming back. They would find you. “They’re gonna kill me-” your trembling hands reached for the wires stuck to your chest. You needed to get out of there. You needed to go-

“Y/n, breathe-!” Natasha grabbed you by the wrists, keeping you from yanking out your IV. “Breathe!”

“They’re gonna kill me!” You sobbed dry tears.

“No one is coming!” Natasha urged. “You’re safe! You’re safe, Y/n!” Natasha held you still, slowly wishing she would have switched places with Steve. He was much better at things like this. “You’re with the Avengers, I told you.” Her voice softened. “We brought you straight here, nobody knows we have you.”

Those words took a moment to sink in, but when they did, your entire body went lax. “No-No one knows?” You whispered between staggered breaths. 

“No one knows.” You stopped fighting her, allowing Natasha to slowly release you. “But we need to know, Y/n, why were you there?” 

You took a second, hanging on her first words. No one knows. You’re a ghost, back in the states. The dread you’d grown so familiar with shifted from a sizzling burn, to a warm prick in your veins. 

You released a trembling breath, your muscles relaxing. 

Your ease lasted only a second, as Natasha repeated her question. Why were you a prisoner of Hydra? Why were you there? Your eyes slid closed, horrors flashing in the dark space that was your mind. The question was an easy one. But it wasn’t simple. 

James Barnes was the reason you spent the last year and a half as a ghost. Bucky Barnes was the reason you had slipped into the shadows. The Winter Soldier was the reason Hydra wanted you dead.

Bucky.

Where was he? Was he safe? Had they caught him? They couldn’t have, or else they would have gotten rid of you on sight. He was alive. He was safe. 

Natasha sighed softly, glancing at the machine that tracked your heartbeat. “I’ll let you get some sleep.” She muttered. You heard her footsteps fade, but your consciousness was already fading. 

You were floating. Like a leaf, dropping from its home in the sky to drift along an icy river. You were foreign in your own body, like a dream blurring at the edges.

Nothing was real.

It was all just your broken, warped mind. 

You couldn’t trust yourself. You couldn’t trust anyone. 

You were lost. 

Steve was the next to visit you. You had just woken up, having not realized when you fell asleep. You whimpered when you tried to stretch, your malnourished, bruised limbs aching. You heard the chair at the end of your bed creak, and then he was right there.

“Are you alright? Should I get the doctor?” Were his first words. His blonde hair seemed white under the fluorescent lights. 

He looked different, standing before you now. You’d only ever seen the man in his famous suit, dressed in the flag of freedom. You’d only ever seen pictures. But here he was now, dressed in casual wear, staring down at you with these wide blue eyes.

You blinked up at him in awe. 

Before all of this, before you were taken, before your life was destroyed, you’d had a fascination with his story. You always thought that Steve Rogers was one of the most incredible things the world had ever seen. A man out of time. 

But now you looked at him with so much more than that childhood wonder. You looked at him knowing things he didn’t. You looked at him, your mind reeling and begging to spill everything you knew about Bucky.

But you couldn’t. Not yet. You didn’t know anything yet, and you needed to be sure.

“You…” you whispered, “you’re real?”

He cracked an awkward smile. “Yeah, I’m real, kid.” 

You smiled ruefully, the nickname reminding you of Bucky. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he chuckled. “How are you feeling?” His big blue eyes looked droopy, soft and kind. For such a large man, he seemed so sweet. 

“Awful,” you whispered, your smile wavering. He nodded in response, waiting for you to continue. “What’s going on?”

“We recovered you from a Hydra base located in Slovenia. Natasha said she already filled you in on that bit. Why you're here, that's a whole different matter.” Steve started, his voice steady, like he was still on duty. “You were the only prisoner there. They seemed awfully keen on keeping you hidden, too.”

You listened, staring blankly at the ceiling again. You had never left the small room they kept you in, so you really had no idea if there were others there, in that cold tunnel system.

“We brought you here because it seemed like the safest option,” he continued. “We haven’t alerted the media yet, or your family. We wanted to know what the circumstances were, first.”

“They can’t- they can’t know.” You blurted, your gaze darting back to his. He nodded, watching you with a pinched brow. “No one can know.”

“Why?”

It was such a loaded question, but such a reasonable one. How could you answer without giving everything away? “I…” you trailed, a guilty feeling turning in your gut. Steve waited, patiently. 

What could you even say?

For a moment, you believe it was best to just tell him everything. But then you thought better of yourself. No one would want to find Bucky more than Steve. And that would be the most sure fire way to expose Bucky to the world. To every threat out there waiting for him.

You gaped up at him, shaking your head lightly. “I…”

Steve pressed his lips together, looking dissatisfied, but not surprised. “Alright. That’s okay.” His hand moved forward, but paused mid air, like he was going to pat your shoulder but thought better of it. “Can you at least tell me about your condition? The doctors did what they could to treat your surface wounds, but we didn’t want to do anything further until you woke up.”

You licked your cracked lips. “I, uh- can I get some water, first?” 

Steve’s eyebrows shot up, like he hadn’t even thought about it. “Right- of course!” You watched his figure retreat around the corner of a short curtain pulled beside your bed. He returned after a moment with a plastic cup of water.

With your permission, he helped prop your bed up so you could drink. The water felt like it came straight from a clear glacier, the way it slid down your throat. You gulped it down with a gasp, then clutched the cup to your chest. After catching your breath, you continued. 

“I’ve had more than a few problems…” you whispered. “They didn't carve into me, this time, thankfully.” After they’d scooped you up in Romania, you were expecting the worst. Only, there were no knives or clamps charged with electricity. They used the older methods, simple, like waterboarding, or pressing against the open gunshot wound in your shoulder. But nothing new.

You weren’t important enough.

“All of my internal wounds have… healed, somewhat.” You avoided the man's gaze, feeling the weight of his questions. You knew what he was thinking. She’s been with them for two years. Bucky’s been with them for decades. What had he endured? “I’ve been in the dark for weeks. That’s it. They just…waited.” 

“What for?” He cleared his throat, his Adam's apple bobbing.

“To use me.” You knew the only reason they had to keep you alive was to find Bucky. You were their next best clue. And they would wait you out, if they had to. They wanted their asset back. “I knew something. That’s it. They just…They wanted to know.”

Steve nodded, his arms crossing over his chest. “That something, it's what you can’t say, right?” You nodded. “Alright. So, all of your injuries are either surface level, or somewhat healed? There's nothing pressing to worry about?”

You knew what he was asking. “They didn’t experiment on me.”

He shifted, but nodded. “Right.” He paused. “Look, Y/n, whatever it is you know- what you’re too afraid to say, you’re safe here. We can protect you. We can help you.”

You shifted uncomfortably under your covers. “I just…” you cleared your throat. “I just need time. I need to think, please.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Okay. When you’re ready, we’ll be here.”

But could you ever be ready? What was the right choice? If you told Steve, he would charge through Romania to find Bucky. Bucky would be left exposed. If he were to return to the states, he may just be locked up. He may be set to death. But then again, was Steve Bucky’s only chance? There were too many moving variables. 

You just couldn’t make that decision.

Recovery, as you once said before, was awful. It felt like you were in a constant state of disrepair. Over and over again, your once perfectly healthy body was mangled and abused. You tried to keep a brave face and push through. You tried to tell yourself this would be the last time. 

But you said that last time. 

You said it every time.

You were starting to accept the fact that you may never be fine.

So with that, you started your journey again. From the bottom. You were pumped full of fluids and set on a detox journey from all the drugs that had been flooding your system for weeks. You were finally able to eat again, and real food at that. One of the perks of finding sanctuary in the Avengers Tower was Tony Stark's money. 

Your medical bills were non-existent and your meals were completely free. You knew there was a silent price, but you tried to ignore that in favor of focusing on your recovery. 

You made that choice a lot lately. Pocketing all thoughts for later. The good and the bad. The one that recurred the most though, of course, was Bucky.

It would always be Bucky.

You still had no idea what to do. You wished the decision wasn’t up to you. You wished you didn’t have to make the choice, expose Bucky, or let him sink into the shadows forever. 

But only you had the information. Only you could help him. 

As the days passed, you were set up with a nutritionist and a physical therapist. You could barely stand on your own, after so many weeks without motion. So you desperately needed the help.

They started small, with minor exercises and stretches. It ached and burned, but it felt right. It felt good to move your body again. 

Between moments of fitful rest and physical therapy, you researched. You had requested a laptop be loaned to you, so you could catch up on all the time you’d lost. 

It was true. But you wanted it for more than that. You needed to know what was out there about you, about Bucky, about Hydra.

And god, did you learn. 

You learned that your family spent months in constant search of you. There were GoFundMes, blogs, news articles, and fliers posted all across your old corner of the city. Your dad never gave up hope.

You learned from your sister's instagram that she got pregnant with her first child shortly after your disappearance. A little baby girl. On the celebration post announcing her birth, it showed the child's middle name as Y/n. 

Your sister posted about you every month on the anniversary of your disappearance. She raised hell for you.

You sobbed into your fist as you scrolled through her posts, and those of your friends, aching and weeping over all that you’d lost. All that they’d lost. 

And god, you were so close you could almost taste it.

You wanted to go home and throw yourself into your loved ones arms, but you couldn’t yet. It was too dangerous. You had to stay gone until you knew it was safe. Until you knew that Hydra was gone, or until your worth was outweighed. 

Over time you met the world renowned Avengers. 

You met most of them in passing, seeing them through the med bay windows, or as they stopped by the lab. You were basically chained to your bed, your legs barely able to hold your own weight. 

Natasha and Steve stopped by the most. As well as another woman named Wanda. You’d heard of her, back when Sokovia was under fire. You watched the news. But in person, she recluse. Human. 

She originally stopped by out of curiosity, but then was put on watch duty. It wasn’t that they didn’t trust you, they just didn’t take chances. And you were one of the biggest chances around.

Wanda was a kind woman, though sometimes a bit sharp and melancholy. She had a dry sense of humor. And she was always able to help lull you to sleep when your nightmares woke you. 

Tony Stark was one of the people you were most aghast to have met, though. He was exactly like you expected him to be. Self absorbed, boisterous, always lacking a certain room-reading skill. He had an out of tune quip for just about everything. He felt particularly awkward with you though.

A woman who spent the last year and a half teetering on death. How did one make light of that?

Although, he had his own experience with it, so he was able to make light of his own trauma to ease you. He popped by the lab the most. Your little corner was in the med bay, which was a few glass doors and a bridge away from the lab. But he always popped by. 

When you started your physical therapy, a week in, he started offering solutions to your heavy limp. “We could get you into surgery for that, you know. Unless you want to keep hobbling around like that.” He pointed at you with the tip of a pen. The physical therapist beside you was silent, continuing to help you step along. 

“For my leg?” Your brows lifted. 

“No, for lipo. Yes, your leg.”

You fought the urge to clench your jaw. The offer was actually something you hadn’t dared to dream of. “I…I would love that. But- wouldn’t I have to go to a hospital?”

Tony rolled his eyes, setting something metal on the counter top. “If you’re still keeping your secrets locked up, then no hospital. You make me feel like a prison guard, you won't even get too close to the window.” He lifted a brow. “We could have it set up here.”

You released a breath of relief. “I’d like that, just-” you paused, staring down at yourself. “Not yet.” Your body couldn’t take another recovery, not like this.

“You’re basically a walking wound. It makes me feel icky.” He muttered, turning back to whatever he was working on.

“Thank you.” You huffed, taking another slow step with your PT.

One dark night, as you stared up at the sparkling lights of the city scape, you decided. 

It had been days. Weeks. Too long. You didn’t know what was happening out there. You didn’t know what the chances were. But you knew one thing. Bucky’s only chance at a free life was Steve. 

“Hey, kid.” Steve popped his head around the corner of the privacy curtain. “You wanted to see me?”

You fisted the knit blanket thrown over your lap. “Yeah…” you nodded. “Can you sit?”

He dragged over a stiffly modern chair and sat at your bedside, his brows furrowed with patience. He watched as you picked at your nails, chewing your words. Your mind was a whirlwind of fast thoughts and half baked confessions. 

“I’m a doctor, you know?” You blurted.

He nodded. “Yeah, I read your file.” He said thoughtfully.

You chewed at the inside of your cheek. “They took me because I’m a doctor. I’m good at what I do.” You paused. “Not to boast about myself, it's just a fact. That's why they picked me.”

He watched you silently. You couldn’t bear the weight of those big blue eyes.

“You’d wonder why- I mean, Hydra has an arsenal of everyone they might need.” You squeezed your eyes shut, remembering the descriptions of the fate of the doctor before you. “They’re impatient people, you know? They had a patient and they wanted results. I could give that to them.”

“Are you saying there’s another hostage?” Steve interrupted, his back straightening slightly.

You shook your head. “No, not any more.” You turned to look at him now. “The patient-” You paused. You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t bear this weight. “The patient was Bucky.” The words slipped out before you could think to word it better. Steve's brows shot to his hairline. His throat bobbed as he physically swallowed your confession.

“What?”

“I…I was taken because The Winter Soldier was experiencing unknown side effects from his cryo chamber- and their shotty serum. He was experiencing heavy muscular degeneration and weakness.” You rattled off, slipping into the safest world you knew: doctor. “He was sick, but I fixed him.”

Steve stared at you with a slackened jaw. “He was there? At the compound?” He rushed out the words like he was already finding new ways to blame himself for failing his friend. 

“No! No, he wasn’t.” You urged. “He wasn’t there.”

“Where is he?” His brows knit tightly together as his jaw set. 

“Romania. Bucharest, Romania. That’s where we were hiding out- but we got separated.” Your voice grew quiet. Your gaze drifted to the blankets. “It was my idea, my fault.” You huffed. “But it happened, and we got separated.”

“Where in the city? I-”

“He won’t be there anymore.” Your own words hit you with a deep ache. “We planned for this. If something happened to me, he was supposed to relocate to somewhere I don’t know about.” You snubbed his lead short. “I’m…I’m sorry, Steve.” You whispered. 

The hopeful glint in his eye didn’t die out. In fact, he looked more determined than ever. “Could you please tell me everything in your plan? Safe houses, routes, drop sites, anything.”

You blinked at him, your stomach twisting. “You have to be careful.”

He tilted his head, confusion mixing in his expression. “What?”

“You’ll lead them to him.” You whispered, your body almost seizing up with panic at the mere idea. “This is what they’re waiting for. I read online- well, there’s a lot on there about this but- I read that you are the reason Pierce is dead. Right?”

He nodded thoughtfully, quietly hearing you out.

“People seem to think that what happened a year ago- the fall of Shield and Hydra- means Hydra is actually gone. But it’s not. They never will be- they’re buried so deep, you don’t even know.” You rambled, panic swelling in your chest. “They’re like a weed. I read that the Avengers routinely clear out old bases. So you think you’ve squashed them. But you haven’t. They’re waiting for this. They want to find him.”

“Hey, breathe,” Steve reached a hand out, patting your arm. You hadn’t even noticed you’d started to hyperventilate. “I know, okay? I do. I know how corrupt this world is.” His deep, steady voice washed over you. “I know how deep it all is. But if I don’t get to him, then they will. So please, help me find him.”

In that moment, as you looked at Steve, he looked just like the boy Bucky once told you stories about.

The search for Bucky died almost immediately, as Steve was called away on an urgent mission in Lagos Nigeria. He’d taken half the team with him, and a whole lot of your hope.

The night of your confession, you spent all hours until dawn telling him everything you knew. You told him about your capture, about Bucky’s health, about the conditions of your captivity, about your escape. You told him about the countryside, and your first decent into the city. You told him about the first ambush, and then the second.

After all the critical information was shared, Steve paused. He took a second to look at you, really look at you, and ask about Bucky. 

"What's he like?"

In some way, you were the only person that really knew the Bucky of this world. The Bucky that lived on. The part of Bucky that survived the fall.

You smiled softly to yourself at his questions. “He’s kind.” You whispered. “He’s stubborn, but kind. He’s still good, Steve. That good never died.”

The answer made him smile. It eased something in him. 

But the drive to find Bucky, however strong, was still pushed to the sidelines.

You watched on the tv in the corner of the med bay as live news rolled in from Lagos. Something big was going down. Something important. It didn’t hit you just how big it was until Rumlow’s picture flashed across the scene. 

You flinched, those dead eyes boring right into you. You hadn’t seen his face since he dragged you from Bucky’s cell, over a year ago. But you still remembered him. You remembered the feeling of his boot driving into your stomach. You remembered his fists.

You remembered it all. 

And as you panicked about Hydra, and Rumlow, and Bucky, the world of the Avengers erupted into political turmoil. You had no right, nor knowledge on the technicalities of what was going on. 

You’d only recently been moved out of the med bay and into a room of your own in the tower. You had only recently begun to settle, begun to heal.

So as you peered around the corner through the glass walls of the briefing room, you felt dread. You had no idea what was happening, but you knew it was bad. 

Whatever was happening in that room drew you no closer to finding Bucky.

A/N: Wow, I think this is the longest chapter of this series that I put out. I like it like this, so I think I'm gonna focus on writing longer chapters. GUYS... Every time I start to move towards healing and safety I start thinking I rushed and didn't add enough pain and torture....maybe I'm just too deep in the angst stuff. But if you feel it was rushed, I'm sorryyyy.

@rafesgurl @pleasecallmeunhinged @jason-todd-fangirl-14 @frog-fans-unite @lonelyghosts-stuff @cherryandsugar @a-world-with-pure-imagination @unicornqueen05 @cupids-mf-arrow @sharkylalala @littlesuniee @meineguete @hawkinsavclub1983 @theconsultingdoctor10 @dollface-xoxo @bloodmocha @natalia42069 @nicolebarnes @fallen-w1ngs @justachillgirllui @avaout @local-crazy @nynxtea @cherryheairt

[poetforher]

I love it! Like EVERYTHING!

Can I request angst? I love Agatha

— °˖ ⊹ ꒰ 🌑 ꒱ we wave goodbye at moons shine. — agatha harkness

content warning;          angst content mdni, young! agatha harkness, kissing, agatha is saying goodbye but reader doesn't realize, established relationship, hinted time accurate homophobia | 1.07k words

a/n.                                       okay this might be lame as angst, but honestly, THIS KIDN OF THING HURTS ME THE MOST, LEAVING STUFF. so i hope it's good, nice and acceptable for you nice readers <3 thank you for reading

the moon hung low in teh sky, casting long shadows across the village outskirts as agatha made her way to the old fishing cottage next to the pond, not far from the village. her heart was a heavy stone in her chest, each step weighing more than the last. she couldn't let her falter.

not tonight.

you were waiting, just as agatha had known you would be. you kneeled on the plank pier, beneath the towering branches of an old oak tree, your soft silhouette bathed in silver light, as if the moon itself grieved for what neither of you knew was coming.

you didn't know, but agatha did- this was the last time the two of you would see each other. her mother and coven probably figured it out by now that she was reading into books she wasn't supposed to, that she had dabbled in dark magic despite her coven's rules not to. it was only a matter of time before they would capture her and put her on a real trial.

agatha paused for a moment, watching you, etching this scene into her memory. she would need to carry it with her when she left- something to hold onto when the loneliness crept in.

"agatha," you called softly, your voice a balm to agatha's wounded soul. she stepped closer, a soft smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, but there was a question in her eyes. "I have missed you."

agatha swallowed hard and forced a smile in return. "I'm here now."

she wanted to say more. she wanted to pour her heart out, to tell you that she had missed you too, that she had spent every waking moment these past few days wrestling with what she had to do.

but she couldn't.

there were no secrets between the two of you, a poor human like you who was foolishly and madly in love with a witch would never tattle on her, and agatha also trusted you enough to not keep such a part of her hidden, despite her coven's instructions. but not this, the truth would have to stay buried, like so many other secrets that had kept you both safe in this cursed village.

you stepped closer, your hand reaching out, brushing against agatha's. "you have been distant lately. is something wrong?"

agatha shook her head. she couldn't let you see her fear, couldn't let you guess at the storm brewing just beyond the village's borders. if you knew- if you even suspected- everything would unravel and you'd be in danger of being prosecuted.

"i have had this headache," agatha started, her voice steady, though it felt like a lie. "there's been a lot on my mind."

you frowned, unconvinced. you stepped even closer now, so close that agatha could feel the warmth of your breath in the cool night air. "whatever it is," you smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and simultaneously pulling the hood of her cloak down. "I'm here to listen to all your trouble."

the young witch's chest tightened. she wanted so desperately to tell you, to share this unbearable burden. but if she told you the truth, she would only be placing you in danger and she also couldn't risk you wanting to follow her, afraid of what might the coven do if they ever found out about someone who could affirm their suspicion about her use of the darkest of magic.

agatha shook her head, trying to keep her voice steady. "there is nothing to worry about," she lied. "I just needed to see you."

she couldn't keep risking losing her composure, and without thinking, agatha leaned in, pressing her lips to yours. it was soft at first, tentative, but it deepened as the unspoken words between the two of you surged to the surface. agatha kissed you as if this moment was all she had left- as if, through the kiss, she could somehow tell you everything she was forbidden to say.

her love.

her fear.

her goodbye.

you responded in kind, your hands slipping around agatha's waist, pulling her closer. the kiss was full of longing, a silent promise, though neither of you spoke a word.

when you finally broke apart, agatha kept her forehead resting against yours, her eyes closed as she tried to hold back the tears threatening to spill. this was goodbye, even if you didn't know it.

"i should go," agatha whispered, her voice barely audible in the quiet night.

your grip tightened around her waist, unwilling to let go just yet. "stay a little longer," you pleaded softly, your breath warm against agatha's lips.

agatha's heart ached at the request. she wanted to stay, to hold you and pretend you had all the time in the world. but every moment she lingered made it harder to leave, harder to walk away for the slim hope of seeing you ever again.

"the burning should be over by now," she whispers, pulling back slightly, her hand brushing over your cheek. "but we'll see each other soon."

you smiled faintly, though there was sadness in your eyes- no matter how much time the two of you spent together, it always felt like just a few minutes. "promise?"

agatha nodded, lying through her teeth and smile. "promise."

the two of you kiss once again, but this one is much slower and longer. it lasts until your fingers are cold, until your lungs burn for air, until the stars shine brighter above you, shining just as brightly as you shone below. agatha pulls away, her hand still lingering on the curve of your jaw. she has to tear herself away. she can't stay any longer.

and so she took a step back, feeling the cold rush in between you where warmth had once been. you stood still, your arms slowly falling to your sides, the space between you now more than just physical.

with one last glance, agatha turned and began walking away, but not without waving you goodbye like she always did, her steps slow, deliberate. after that, she couldn't look back, because if she did, she knew she might never find the strength to leave.

in the clearing, the young witch's goodbye lingered, carried by the wind to you and though you didn't know it yet, your last kiss was already a memory.

[sonotpattismith]

My Lost, Fearless Leader. (yuta okkotsu x reader)

As the men masqueraded, I hoped you’d return with your feet on the ground, tell me all that you’d learned, because love’s never lost once perspective is earned.

word count: 9k warnings: angst, me never making it easy for poor Yuta a/n: inspired by Peter by Taylor Swift. Lowkey a self-insert as I too am a therapist, tee hee. I hope y’all enjoy it, I absolutely love writing for Yuta even though I make him suffer every time 🥹🫶🏻

masterlist.

Dear Okkotsu,

I know you only landed last week, but you left me with so many questions when you said goodbye. At the risk of sounding too forward, I thought for a moment that you would kiss me before you left. You had a look in your eye, one I’d never seen before, and I even thought I saw you square your shoulders like you were about to charge into battle.

Inumaki offered to give me your number when I asked about you, but I feared too quick of a response if I were to text you. After all, I love to torture myself. Somehow a letter felt safer, more disconnected. Still, I hope you have the time to write back to me while you’re out there growing as you so desperately wanted to.

You still have me in your corner here in Tokyo.

With kind regards,

L/N.

Dear L/N,

I hope this letter gets to you soon, though I know it has some way to go— I don’t want to leave you waiting again. I wondered if I should just text you, but you’re right, maybe this is best for wimps like me who were too scared to kiss the girl they like before traveling oceans away. There’s more courage in me hiding behind a pen than I ever had standing in front of you.

No matter how badly I wanted to show you how I felt, I didn’t feel worthy enough when I looked at that scar on your face— one I should have been able to prevent. There’s so much for me to learn about this world, and Gojo-Sensei says Kenya is where I need to be. I trust him implicitly, and I only hope here I’ll be able to grow into someone worthy of coming back to all of you at Jujutsu High. Maybe I’m getting ahead of myself, but I hope to become someone worthy enough to indulge myself in you as well.

I hope you can find it in you to wait for me all the way in your corner of Tokyo.

Respectfully,

Okkotsu.

Dear Okkotsu,

You were right, your letter did travel far, and after two weeks, I feared I may not ever hear back from you.

What happened with Geto Suguru wasn’t your fault, and, if I remember correctly, you were the one that saved all of us that night. It breaks my heart that you feel you don’t have a place here with us. I never thought you needed to prove yourself, and if that’s the only reason you went thousands of miles away— then you should board the next flight back over.

If I had known it was the scar on my face that stopped you, I would have covered it just for you. No one else around here is willing to take the blame for me when I break one of Maki’s spears— that alone should earn you a spot right beside me over here. Speaking of, I hope the bump on your forehead has gone down.

Luckily for the both of us, patience is my best virtue, but I do hope you don’t make me wait terribly long. You don’t have to be the strongest.

Holding my breath,

Y/N.

Dear L/N,

Maybe eventually I’ll work up the courage to call you, but our weeks of waiting in between will just have to do for now.

I think you’re beautiful— regardless of your scar, and I hope I didn’t send the wrong message when I said it’s what stopped me. I only meant that it reminded me of the kind of guy that deserves your attention, one that has brought about more good than he has bad in his life.

I’ve hurt so many people, and it wouldn’t be right of me not to try to make up for the wrongs I’ve caused. It’s only been a month, but Miguel has taught me so much, and I’ve seen so many wonderful things. I’m not sure if you’re interested, but I’m sending you some pictures of all my favorite parts.

I hope Maki has been merciful to you, and, yes, my bump is gone. Still, the little scar there reminds me of you each time I see it. So, I suppose I should thank her.

We’ve been talking so much about me, but I want to hear how you’re doing back in your corner of the world. How have your classes been going? I almost miss hearing everyone arguing with Gojo-Sensei every morning.

I don’t want to be the strongest, but I want to be strong enough to be worthy of you. The last thing I want is to keep you waiting too long, but however long it takes for me to be able to make a mark on those who have shown such faith in me.

Thinking of you,

Okkotsu.

Dear Yuta,

Surely that’s not you in that picture beside the giraffe? It’s only been two months— what are they feeding you over there? I had to do a triple take. You look well, Okkotsu.

I’m starting to wonder if it’s really you behind that ink. You were never so bold when you were here. Do you have a ghostwriter? I have my doubts, but I still hope all those thoughtful words really are coming from you.

I can see how hard you’ve been working, and I hope you’re beginning to find in yourself the pride I and all us here at home have always had in you. I don’t think anyone blames you for the unfairness that’s clung to you thus far, and no one expects you to make up for any of it— at least I know I don’t. If you really insist on doing so though, maybe you can start by giving me a call every once and a while? I’m sure you're busy, but I’d love to hear your voice again.

Classes have been going well. We’re almost going into our second year now, and everyone still talks so fondly of you. We wish you were here to start the year with us. I certainly miss having someone who was equally as clueless when it came to this world— it felt like you were the last shred of normalcy I was hanging onto. It’s okay though, I suppose I have some growing to do too.

Also, you don’t need to be so formal with me, I think you’ve earned the first name basis. Unless of course, you need to build up the courage for that, too.

I only felt it was fair to send some pictures of all of us here as well— though they’re nowhere near as badass as your safari photos. Please keep sending them— I’ll cherish the ones I have here for now though.

Still waiting for you,

Y/N.

Three months following Yuta’s departure from Tokyo, you first received an actual call from him. You had just turned in for the night, muscles aching from the mission you and Maki had just returned from only an hour or two prior. Truthfully, you were having a difficult time with the added responsibility that was accompanying your new year at Jujutsu High.

Last year, at the very least, you had Yuta there who seemed on a fairly level playing field with you. Still, he held more of a determination to move forward in his life as a sorcerer than you did. After your encounter with Geto Suguru that had left you partially blinded in your right eye, it was difficult for you to find that gusto you had when you first arrived.

The deep lulls of slumber had just begun to penetrate your exhausted mind, and you could swear a more pleasant dream was just beyond your reach. When your phone began vibrating underneath your still cool pillow, your brows furrowed at the intrusion. The sound caused an electric-like jolt in your body that had you shooting up as if someone had just pulled the fire alarm. Calming your racing heart, you reached down to snatch the device up. Your eyes squinted to adjust to the blue light emitting from the screen, and you saw a number you didn’t recognize. Under the caller location though, it indicated that it was coming from Kenya.

Sitting up with a gasp, you gaped down at the device, uncertain excitement bubbling in your stomach and up your chest. Without a second thought, you swiped to answer the call. Amidst your anticipation of who you thought might be on the other line, you forgot to greet the caller.

“Um… uh- hello?”

A smile spread across your cheeks at the sound of his timid voice.

“A call from Kenya,” You began teasingly, your voice still hoarse from sleep. “I wonder who it could be.”

There was an abrupt shuffling on the other line, and you could already picture him pacing around whatever space he was currently occupying.

“You got me!” Yuta quipped nervously, quickly checking the time on his phone upon hearing the sleepy tone that laced your voice. It wasn’t too late over in Tokyo, and he figured if he didn’t call you now while he still had the nerve to do it, he never would. Okkotsu had determined during his time in Kenya that his confidence somehow peaked right after a successful mission. Naturally, this was when he calculated it would be the best time to call you with the lowest possibility of making a stuttering fool of himself. “Di-Did I wake you? I can call back another-”

“After you took three months to gather all that courage up?” You joked with a fond smile, reaching down to toy with the corner of your pillow. Despite the fact that he couldn’t see you, you shook your head. “I think I can stay up for a few minutes.”

He was grateful, so eternally grateful that you couldn’t see the way the blood rushed up his neck and into his face. Pressing a cool hand against his cheek as if it would make the heat die down, he forced himself to sit on the edge of his bed, bottom lip caught between his teeth. It had been too long already since he last spoke, and the silence on the call was becoming overbearing as he thought of anything to say.

“You there, Yuta?”

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m, uh-- still here.” The boy chuckled pathetically, pounding his balled up fist against his thigh, willing himself to quit being such a loser. Shooting up to begin his short trek around his room once again, he took a deep breath. “I-I wanted to thank you. You know, for writing to me the past few months. I think they’ve been kind of motivating me, actually.”

“Yeah?” You smiled, lying back down on your pillow to stare stupidly up at the ceiling of your dorm. In hearing that shy voice that you had been missing for so long, you had forgotten about the aching, abused muscles that had been assaulting you just minutes prior. In its place was the rushing endorphins of your child-like crush on the boy on the other line. “So, when you come back strong enough to beat Sensei’s ass, I can take partial credit, right?”

His soft laugh filled your once silent room, inciting the overwhelming butterflies in your stomach to erupt in a fluttering haze.

“It’ll all be you.” Yuta joked halfheartedly, rubbing the back of his neck in relief that he’d gotten past the awkward silence unscathed. He flopped back down onto his bed and looked out the window at the slowly setting sun. “Uh… speaking of Sensei, how is everything over there? The exchange event is coming up soon, right?”

This made your smile slowly wane.

“Yeah, it’s next month. There was some drama with the first years, but everyone else seems to be pretty excited.”

“Everyone else? It sounds like you’re not including yourself in there.”

You sighed gently. Yuta was always so determined about growing as a sorcerer, so these types of events were always right up his alley. Not to mention the manner in which he absolutely wiped out the sister school at last year’s event. It actually caused a bit of second-hand embarrassment to watch the whole ordeal play out— no matter how quickly it concluded. After the atrocities of the past few months though, you couldn’t find it within yourself to be excited for the goodwill event.

It wasn’t that long ago that you watched all your friends meet near death at the hands of Suguru Geto, and you weren’t too far behind. They had all seemingly moved on from it all so fast— all of them except for Yuta Okkotsu. It seemed that all it had done was given him more ammunition to spark his journey of self discovery. You wished it had had the same effect on you. In truth though, all it sparked was a fear that your life, along with your friends, was constantly at the mercy of a crueler fate than most your age would be subjected to.

It felt wrong. Yuta shouldn’t have felt the need to bear the weight of you and your friends’ injuries all on his own. He shouldn’t have needed to go off to search for some unknown answer to all the insecurities his grueling life had thrust upon him. Still, it was so important to him. You could see the way it gave him purpose, a will to keep going despite all that he’d been through. It wasn’t his fault, but you always wished you could have found that same purpose within slaying curses and putting your life on the line.

A soft call of your name on the other line pulled you from your self-depricating thoughts. Shaking your head, you attempted to lighten the mood.

“Last name again? So formal. I thought we were past that, Okkotsu.”

“Oh-- right, sorry.” He stammered out before trying your first name out on his lips. It was delicate in the way it rolled off his tongue, sending warmth straight through your chest. Recalling your sudden silence once his nerves subsided, his lips pulled pensively into a thin line. “Um, have you been doing okay? You know, since…”

Brows rising just a hair, you were shocked at how easily he read through your sudden change in tone. Your lip quivered into a slight frown. A deep breath was suddenly pushing down that biting urge you had to tear up.

“Yeah, I’ve been okay. Just… wish you were still here is all.” You confessed into the dark, lonely dorm room. “I think you were the only one who understood how overwhelming this all was.”

Yuta felt his chest constrict at your earnest confession. Part of him felt guilty for not being there, but he knew deep down that he was doing the right thing by building himself up before he allowed himself to come back— especially to you. Still, the boy knew where you were coming from. It wasn’t easy being the newcomer in a world where your peers had a fifteen year head start on.

The two of you understood each other—empathized with one another. You both strived to make sure the other was doing okay; whether that be sneaking out late at night to practice with one another in hopes you both wouldn’t make fools of yourselves in training the next day, or just being someone that the other could glance knowingly at when one of your classmates mentioned something it seemed that everyone else was privy to, except you two.

“I’m getting stronger everyday.” Yuta offered earnestly, a soft, empathetic smile playing on his lips— the kind you could just hear through his gentle tone. “And I know you are too. We’re gonna kick some major butt one day, y’know?”

The boy was relieved when your glittering laugh filled his speakers, and he found himself laughing along with you. A comfortable silence blanketed over you two, and for a moment it felt as though you were laying right beside him, your gentle breaths lighting a fire within his soul. The courage that he thought he had lost upon hearing your voice for the first time in months was slowly flooding back to him, and he began pensively rolling his bottom lip between his fingers.

“Hey,” Okkotsu called out feebly, resting his hand down on his chest and feeling his heart pounding against his fingers. Reaching down to your discarded letter beside him, he picked up the picture you’d sent along with it. It was of all the second years, and he wondered with a smile if you had Gojo-Sensei take it for you all, and, if so, how much he complained about not being included.

You stood in the middle of Inumaki and Maki, Panda standing proudly and towering behind you. His thumb reached out to graze softly over your face. In the photo, one of your hands was teasingly covering your right eye, and he blushed as he remembered your earlier conversation about that scar. You hummed in acknowledgment on the other line. “Did you mean it? You know… when you said you’d wait for me?”

“Did you mean it when you said you were gonna come back for me?” You countered quickly.

Yuta exhaled nervously, the churning in his chest making him feel as though he might pass out. Staring back at your smiling face in the photo, he nodded breathlessly.

“Of course, I meant it. I meant every word.”

“Then so did I.”

Yuta Okkotsu’s reassuring promise helped ground you in your studies of jujutsu for a while longer, but you could still feel the aching insistence in the back of your mind that told you this wasn’t where you were meant to be. Your friendship with the sorcerer continued to grow even over the thousands of miles that separated you.

He’d call you whenever he had the chance to, and you’d text him about updates on what all his friends had been up to without him. Although both Inumaki and Maki kept up with him regularly, he allowed you to retell stories he’d more often than not already heard from them.

He could tell that you were struggling to find and hold your place as a sorcerer. You always listened enthusiastically when he’d tell you about the new techniques he was learning or the missions he’d been sent on, nodding along on the other line and hanging onto every word he said. Still, when he’d await to hear the progress of your training or how your latest mission had gone, you didn’t have the same enthusiasm in your tone.

It had been almost a year since he’d been gone. The two of you had never implicitly discussed the nature of your relationship, but your lingering promise to each other seemed to be enough to keep your hearts locked safely away for the other’s return. As the months dragged on though, you couldn’t help but wonder if it was worth staying in the world of jujutsu that seemed to so expertly traumatize you and your peers.

You insisted on video calling him for once, eager to once again put a face to the voice that had been filling your every night for the past few months. Maybe, you thought to yourself, if you saw those warm, inviting eyes again paired with that timid smile, you’d find it in you to hold out just a bit longer.

“Ca-Can you see me?” Yuta’s ever anxious voice filled your quiet room once again. The palm of his hand briefly covered the camera before it was moved away, and it appeared as though he had propped you up on a dresser of some sort. He stepped back, hunching over so his face was still in the frame, staring hesitantly into the screen.

A brief exhale of disbelief left you at the sight of him. He had changed so much over the past year; from the inches he’d sprouted up, to the new broadness of his lean shoulders, right down to his more maturely parted hair as it swayed in his face.

His features appeared sharper than when you’d last seen him, a testament to how much he’d grown physically as well as mentally. The dark circles you remember being everpresent under his long, midnight-blue eyes seemed even more pronounced now, and you wondered just how hard this Miguel character had been working him. Despite his apparent lack of sleep though, he grinned cheerfully upon seeing your face.

Forgoing your previous concern, an ecstatic smile of your own lit up your face as you took him in. You had always thought he had a sort of innocent, gentle cuteness to him, but time and knowledge seemed to have morphed those characteristics into the sharp, hauntingly striking ghost of the boy you once knew presented before you. For the first time since knowing him, you thought you felt more nervous than he did at the moment.

“Wow! You look--” He paused, a slight flush filling his face, and suddenly he was that timid boy again, staring down at you with the false promise of a kiss. Your heart melted at the sight. Yuta was still looking nervously back at you, mouth hanging open as if his mind was running faster than his tongue could process. You raised your brows expectantly at him, hiding your amused smile. “Uh—pretty! You— you look really pretty.”

A soft blush fell across your cheeks.

“Thanks, Yuta.” You laughed softly, eyes fluttering across his face admiringly. “You look like you’ve… grown.”

“Oh, me?” He laughed skittishly, hand coming up to rustle through his jet black locks. His brows were furrowed slightly as he looked down at his own appearance as if he was only just now noticing the growth spurt he’d had in the past year. “Yeah! I guess—”

“Is that blood on your shirt?” You suddenly noticed, leaning forward so your squinting eyes could get a better look at the dark matter that clung to his white top. His eyes shot up to meet yours, and in an instant, his fumbling hands were working to unbutton his uniform shirt. It was no use though, the white t-shirt underneath was also stained through.

“Sorry, I just got back from a mission.” He admitted dejectedly, grabbing the phone and sitting on the floor, resting his back against the bed behind him. “I would’ve showered, but I didn’t want to keep you up too late.”

You sat back against your headboard tentatively. It was incredible to you how he was never phased by the violence and bloodshed that shrouded this lifestyle. There were so many nights that you lay awake, eyes unblinking as you tried to forget the horrors you’d witnessed just long enough to get some sleep.

“How do you do it, Yu?” You asked timidly.

Yuta took in the way your wide eyes glimmered with the threat of unspilled tears. There it was again— that underlying fear in your tone and demeanor that told him that something wasn’t quite right, and it hadn’t been right since you came so close to death.

“What do you mean, love?” He wasn’t sure where that term of endearment came from, maybe from the concern that had been pooling in him for months and had now suddenly burst upon seeing that broken look in your eyes. Either way, it was too late to take it back now.

“Act like everything’s normal when you come home covered in blood and guts and watch people die— watch your friends—”

“I’m doing this for my friends.” His response had a defensive edge to it, but his wide eyes were gentle, taking in your vulnerable state carefully. “And for the people I’ve had to watch die. Bad things will happen whether I’m a part of them or not. How can I sit back and do nothing when that’s all I’ve done my entire life?”

You suddenly felt small in your corner of the world. He was selfless, fearless, purposeful in his mission as a sorcerer, and you couldn’t fault him for it. Moreso, you faulted yourself for lacking that same drive.

“I just– sometimes I feel like this isn’t for me. I’m not like you, Yuta. I don’t think I’m strong enough for this. I’m not strong enough for this.”

Yuta continued to insist upon believing in your growth, just as you had believed in his. His persistence in your strength of character only served to break your heart more. You knew the deeper his faith in you ran, the more crushing his disappointment would be when you inevitably let him down.

In the weeks following your dismayed conversation with him, you weren’t answering his calls as often, afraid he would be on the other line hoping to hear of your growth and the things you’d overcome— but you had none to show for. You usually texted him with false excuses that you were on a mission, or that you were simply too tired to talk that night. No matter how hard you tried to pride yourself in your little victories, your faith in your abilities as a sorcerer was waning quickly before your eyes.

He had always said that he was the one undeserving of his place in this world— of his place beside you. The stronger he grew though, the more you only noticed the opposite.

It was a month after your phone call that you received a small package from Kenya, recognizing the stamp immediately as one of the various animal themed ones Yuta seemed to keep stockpiled just for you. Chewing at your bottom lip, a sense of guilt washed over you, knowing you hadn’t been keeping up with him as much as you once did. Despite this, he continued to try, desperate to get through to you somehow before you slipped from between his fingers all together.

Ripping open the orange, padded envelope, you overturned the contents onto your bed. The wooden beads of a bracelet clacked softly against one another as they fell upon the comforter, a letter landing gently atop it. You ran your fingers along the thin bracelet, thinking maybe if you concentrated long enough, you’d be able to feel the warmth of his fingers lingering from when he’d carefully placed it into the envelope for you. You picked up the accompanying letter.

Dear Y/N,

It seems like they’ve been keeping you really busy over there in your corner of the world! I had so much I wanted to tell you, but I thought maybe it’d be best to put it all into a letter so you could read it at a time that’s best for you.

Gojo-Sensei says that I’ll probably be coming back soon, maybe in the next couple of months even. If all goes well, I hope to be joining everyone for our final year. It’d be nice to all be together again. It’d be nice to actually see you again.

You don’t have to tell me everything, but I know you’ve been going through a hard time recently, and I’m sorry I’m not there to help you. You were wrong the other night on the phone— you are stronger than you think. This life isn’t easy, and I don’t want you to feel like you’re not fit for it just because it hurts you right now.

When I felt I had no strength left in me to keep going, it was you who lent me some of yours until I could stand again. I’m sending it back to you now, so please use it to keep moving forward until I can lend you some of mine. Please, keep waiting for me.

The beads on the bracelet I sent you represent all the things I wish for you. The red represent bravery and strength, the kind I know you have in you still. Until you find them though, let these be a reminder. The yellow are for growth, and until you can see it coming your way, let these motivate you.

I got one just like it for myself, so I can be reminded everyday of the things I love about you. I’ll keep it on me always, and I hope as you’re waiting that you’ll do the same.

Still yours,

Yuta.

Tears were streaming freely down your cheeks and staining the precious letter before you. With wobbling lips, you bit back a quiet sob as you carefully slipped the thin bracelet onto your wrist. Strength. Bravery. Growth. They were all pillars that seemed so far away from you, but Yuta was convinced you held them just within your grasp. If anything, the beads would serve as a reminder that someone important was counting on you, and you’d rather suffer the uphill battle than disappoint him.

The next morning, you woke early to speak with Gojo. He was lounging lazily in his large, plush chair, laptop sat carelessly on his lap when you came in. As if expecting you all along, he looked up from his bored typing to offer a sly smile— the type that told you he was always steps ahead of you.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Gojo greeted, closing his laptop and setting it haphazardly on his desk. Leaning back, he laced his fingers casually in his lap, jutting his chin toward the seat in front of him.

Hesitantly, you sat down. Your posture was rigid as you stared back at his half-covered face. Although your sensei had never given you a reason to fear him, you couldn’t help but feel anxious at the thought of how he might react to your request.

“I… I don’t know how to say this.”

He stayed silent, allowing you to collect your thoughts. The small smile tugging at his lips said he already knew what was plaguing your mind. Fiddling with the bracelet on your wrist, you were reminded of the importance that you stand your ground here.

“I’m not sure I’m cut out for being a sorcerer.” It was out there, and it hung heavily in the air around you. Looking down at your twiddling fingers, you felt that familiar lump building in your throat. Your sensei was silent before you. Glancing up at him through tear soaked eyes, you shrugged your shoulders in defeat. “I’m not like the others. I can’t bounce back like they do. It scares me; the death, the fighting, the loss— it terrifies me, Gojo. I can’t do it anymore. I-I just—”

“You’ve been struggling for a while now, haven’t you?” It was more of a statement than a question— an observation he’d been holding onto for some time. The older man wasn’t oblivious, he could see when his students were beginning to slip away; physically and mentally.

“How did you know?” You briefly wondered if Yuta had mentioned something to him during their regular check in calls, but you doubted it.

Standing abruptly from his chair, he strolled leisurely around the room, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

“You remind me of someone, is all.” Gojo’s cryptic message left more questions than answers. Though you had grown used to his dodgy answers and coded messages, now was really not the time. Before you could express your annoyance, he continued. “You’re not stuck, you know.”

Your mouth hung open as you stared at him in disbelief. Standing up to face him as he stared out the window, your mind was racing at the possibilities.

“You mean— I could leave? Just like that?”

“Just like that. I’d talk to the higher ups today for you if that’s really what you want.” Still, the edge in his tone indicated that he wasn’t about to let you off that easily. As if sensing your apprehension, he tilted his head playfully toward you, a fond smile on his face. “I’ve seen what this gig can do to people. I don’t need to see you fall victim to it too.”

“I mean— I…” You were stumbling over your words. For the past few years, you were sure that your future was set for you— one you were apprehensive about living, but one that was secure nonetheless. Where would you go from here?

Gojo hummed pensively— invitingly. God, how you wished he would just spit out what he clearly wanted so desperately to say. Of course, he always wanted his students to come to their own conclusions, set their own fates.

“The Night Parade of a Hundred Demons.” The sensei announced dramatically, taking another lap around the room. You shivered at the mention of that night. He leaned toward you with a raised brow. “That’s when this all started, am I right? You almost died, if I remember correctly.”

“I would have if it hadn’t been for—”

“Yuta Okkotsu.” He cut you off, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips, and for a moment you thought you saw his head tilt down as if to look at the bracelet you were currently rolling between your fingers. Nodding softly, he continued. “Still, you cut it pretty close. Must have been traumatizing. Partially lost your sight, almost lost your friends, your life.”

You nodded silently, unsure of where he was going with this long winded rant. Of course, him giving you a simple out was just too easy for Gojo-Sensei’s ‘everything is a life lesson’ style of teaching.

“Tell you what, why don’t I set up a meeting for you to meet with a counselor? Someone who specializes in all our creepy-crawly problems?”

“Like… like therapy?” You questioned with furrowed brows. A therapist for sorcerers? You didn’t even know such a thing existed. Still, the prospect sparked a certain hope in your chest, one that the six eyes saw instantly. He didn’t bother to conceal his victorious smile.

“Yup. Nice, comfy couch and everything.” He advertised as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. His long fingers began typing purposefully against the screen before he looked up at you again. “Of course, she’s kind of running a one-man show, so her schedule is pretty tight. I can pull a few strings for you though.” His words rang in your mind with a faint echo. That suggestive, underlying tone in his voice, it was beginning to seep through, and your gut was telling you his suggestion was a lot more calculated than you would ever give him credit for. “That kind of work is in high demand, you know— what with all the new curses popping up since Itadori came along.”

Gojo was continuing to drop hints, but you had already heard him loud and clear. This was something he thought you could do— somewhere he knew you would fit within this hectic world. As a teacher, it was his job to train the up and coming sorcerers for the perils that lay ahead of them. In the same prospect though, he had also become incredibly adept at discovering their potential and nudging them toward it— even if it wasn’t as gently as he thought.

The following week you met with the therapist Gojo had supposedly pulled so many strings to get you in to see. She had a small office just minutes away from the school, and you wondered why she wasn’t on campus. She hadn’t suggested it to you first, though she was well aware of what Gojo was trying to do when he set up this meeting.

So, amidst your explanation of everything you had been experiencing since that night, you dropped in questions. How did she know this was the right path for her— how closely did she work with Jujutsu High— how did she get where she was?

By the gentle and encouraging manner in which she answered all of your questions, you had a gut feeling once again that Gojo had already been three steps ahead of you. You were set to transfer out of Jujutsu High the following week.

Your sensei funded your education through an outside university, who’s higher ups had connections with the school. Kaori, the god-sent sorcerer counselor who’d seemingly fallen from the heavens right when you needed her, was more than happy to take you under her wing as well. In truth, she was relieved to have some help around the office given the influx of referrals she’d been receiving recently.

Everything had been falling into place, yet there was still one last loose end you had yet to tie up from your life as a sorcerer. You looked down at the box of letters you’d kept over the past year or so from Yuta.

Following his last letter, and how determined he seemed to be that you would make it as a sorcerer— you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that you had given up. After everything he’d done to grow himself into the man he was now, a fearless and loyal sword to his friends and the innocent— and you had given up. In the end, despite his insistence that it was him not worthy enough to stick around, you realized it had been you all along.

You weren’t worthy of Yuta Okkotsu.

Your trembling finger hovered over his contact, but you couldn’t do it. Clicking your phone off, you stared up at the ceiling of your now empty dorm room and allowed the hot tears to burn your cheeks, dripping down your neck and into the hem of your shirt. He was still finishing up his training, growing into a man he could be proud of, experiencing the things that made him feel alive. It would be selfish of you to drop this on him now.

Setting down the box on your desk, you pulled out a spare sheet of paper and sat down to draft your last prose to Yuta Okkotsu.

Dear Yuta,

By the time you’re reading this, I’m sure you will have already heard about my departure from Jujutsu High. I wanted to call you and tell you everything that’s been on my mind, to give you a proper goodbye, but I didn’t want to interrupt your progress overseas.

I wanted to thank you for the kindness you’ve shown me over the years. I’ll cherish each bit of it as long as I live. You kept me holding on through my lowest points, even if it wasn’t the life of sorcery that I was holding onto.

I know I’m cowardly, but I just couldn’t look you in the eyes and tell you that I had given up. You’ve worked so hard and sacrificed so much to hold your place here, and I suppose a part of me feels foolish for giving mine up so easily.

Your passion for undoing the wrongs in this world is so beautiful, and although I couldn’t share it with you, it only ever made me love you more. Please never take it for granted. Continue to fight to hold your place here, because you hold more power than you could ever come to know. I can feel it, even when you’re not here.

I’m sorry that I couldn’t wait for you.

Forever yours,

Y/N

When Yuta Okkotsu arrived back at Jujutsu High three months later, he had already been sitting on the news of your departure for two weeks. His friends thought it best to at least prepare him for when he returned, but he figured so much when you stopped responding to his calls and messages. No amount of preparation could have stopped the hole from opening up in his chest upon reading the letter you’d left in his dorm room. It sat neatly on his untouched pillow— a ghost that haunted him the second he stepped in.

He tried with fervor to be excited for his return, smiling along half heartedly when his friends shoved a party hat on his head and insisted upon celebrating all the birthdays they’d missed. Those haunting blue eyes only stared lifelessly at the cake before him, his soul still sat on the edge of his bed where he’d read your letter.

Forever yours.

Yuta wondered if those simple two words meant the door was open for him to swing in and come find you as he so ardently promised he would. Gojo-Sensei said you were happy though— working toward your place in the world. It was one he no longer felt he had a place in— not when his life consisted so wholly of the very things you were running from.

Months passed, and the both of you tried so desperately to move on. Despite being content in the roots your lives had sprouted, there was always a missing piece that stopped the both of you from blossoming. You always held your breath in hopes he’d come back to you like he said he would, and he always hoped you were still waiting for him despite his insistence that you were happier without him. The both of you were only kids when you’d carelessly thrown out such a vow, after all.

Gojo felt whole-heartedly confident in his whim to have Kaori train you. There was a spark in you, one that wanted to heal those that this world had so carelessly wounded, even if that meant you having to heal yourself first. In the end, it was the right decision, and he prided himself in the fact that there was a happy medium to keep your talents within the jujutsu world still while also fulfilling your purpose. There was a missing piece of the puzzle that lingered ever present though, and that was the infuriating case of you and Yuta Okkotsu.

It was getting depressing— watching the boy mope around pretending to not have the very obvious chip on his shoulder all the damn time. Your old sensei still kept up with you and your progress often, seeing as the school worked closely with Kaori to refer in need sorcerers on a regular basis.

Each time he’d pop in for a visit or called unexpectedly, you’d always ask how everyone back at the school was doing. Sure, you really did hope your old friends were doing okay, but you were really holding your breath for when he’d mention Yuta. Gojo always spoke of him so highly, and you couldn’t help but smile fondly each time, thinking of how proud you were at how much he’d accomplished— just as he said he would. Still, the six eyes never missed that morose glimmer in your eye as you’d nod along to his stories.

“Have you ever tried sleeping at night, or are those dark circles just a part of you now?”

Yuta was snapped from his stupor when his sensei dropped unceremoniously beside him as he looked on at his friends ahead of him. As if having just been reminded of his perpetual exhaustion, he reached up subconsciously to rub at those aforementioned dark eyes.

“Oh, haha,” Yuta’s halfhearted attempt at a laugh only served to drive Gojo’s purpose right home. “Yeah, guess my sleep schedule never really adjusted back to normal, huh?”

“You aren’t performing like you should be, Okkotsu.”

He gaped exasperatedly at his sensei, blinking a few times as if maybe he just hadn’t heard him correctly. Frankly, he had been kicking ass lately, and everyone around him knew it too. Still, if Gojo-Sensei was telling him he was falling behind, it was seemingly the only opinion that mattered. Even if it wore him down till only his skeleton remained, he would keep getting better until he could prove himself to the man who took a chance on him.

Already picking up on the look of determination on the boy’s face, Gojo put out a solemn ‘slow your roll’ hand in front of him. Sighing in amusement, the sensei thought the boy would crush a semi-truck between his hands if it’d make him grow— meant he could prove himself.

“Your mind isn’t here. Hasn’t been since you got back. I can tell, you know.”

Okkotsu’s shoulders slumped dejectedly. No matter how much he worked to train physically, to learn to control his cursed energy and techniques, there was always that one lingering barrier that seemed to keep him from reaching his potential. Of course, he knew he had been more distracted since your departure, but he figured— hoped— it would pass eventually. He thought maybe if he ignored it long enough, pushed down that frenzy to rip his hair out by the roots and bellow out every frustration he’d held in for allowing you to slip away, each day as the urge melted away into dreams of you at night that woke him with a crater in his chest— maybe eventually it would fade just as you did.

“Try to get some rest, clear your mind. Do what you gotta do.” Gojo emphasized, leaning down to tower over his apprehensive prodigy with a knowing smile. His covered eyes flicked down to where Yuta’s fingers were rolling the beads of his colorful bracelet pensively. He hummed in amusement. “You know, I know someone who has that same bracelet.”

His student perked up ever so subtly upon hearing this. The prying man quickly moved to grasp his wrist and inspect the bracelet closer. It made Yuta feel exposed, wanting to crawl under his covers and not come out again if it meant no one else would lay their eyes on the one connection he still had to you. Gulping thickly, he snatched his wrist back, covering the wooden jewelry protectively under his other hand.

“Oh, you know her, don’t you?” Satoru feigned remembrance, snapping his fingers dramatically. “She used to go here.”

The stunned boy stammered out your name in question. It still felt so natural, so effortless rolling off of his tongue despite the prolonged period that had passed since he’d uttered those syllables.

“Yeah! Saw it on her just last week.”

All the blood seemed to drain from Yuta Okkotsu’s face. His wide, haunting eyes suddenly transfixed hazily on the smiling man before him in a manner that would have been terrifying had it been directed at a stranger. You still wore the bracelet he got you? The prospect had his mind spinning, and his stomach churning anxiously. The poor guy looked as though he would short circuit at any moment; brows twitching into a deep furrow, the corners of his lips fluttering in uncertainty. He blinked a few times before looking up at his sensei with a new sense of determination clouding his eyes.

“Where did you say she went?”

Bingo!

The clock’s ticking mocked you menacing as you raced to finish your assessment notes within the hour. Kaori was always merciful with you, understanding that you were still learning and would likely take more time with things, but you couldn’t help but urge yourself to do better.

It had been almost a year that you had been studying while working alongside the counselor, and you had blossomed in a way you never thought would have been possible. Granted, you weren’t able to do any of what you had lovingly labeled as ‘the fun stuff’ yet, you had adjusted surprisingly well to the countless intake assessments and documentation your mentor had entrusted you with. Of course, it wasn’t the same as having a second counselor there with her, but anything helped ease the weight of her overwhelming caseload. She knew it was good experience for you too.

Despite her hectic schedule, Kaori still found time to meet with you often to check in regarding the struggles that brought you to her in the first place, insisting it would be a crucial step in your training as well. Slowly but surely, you were beginning to rebuild that confidence in yourself and your own purpose in this monstrous world. It felt cathartic, being a part of the process of healing for those torn down by the very things that hurt you so long ago as well. It was meaningful— fulfilling.

You wondered if this was how Yuta felt when he was out there, helping people as well, just in his own way. A sharp pang struck you each time your mind wandered too far though, and you were always quick to reel it back in.

Your bottom lip was caught ruthlessly between your teeth, and it seemed the clacking of your keyboard was fighting against the ticking of the clock for dominance. A small spark of defeat struck you as you heard the door of the office creak open. Looking up at the time, your brows furrowed in confusion. You were sure that you had already completed the last intake Kaori had scheduled for you today. Scrambling into the drawer beside you to pull out a new form, you hoped you would at least look somewhat prepared whenever the unexpected patient came to your desk.

“Hi, there!” You called out from your tucked away cubicle, fumbling to save the document you were working on. “I’m back here, you can come on in.”

Slow footsteps approached closer and closer before pausing in front of your desk. Pushing the hair from your eyes, you looked up with a warm, inviting smile.

Oh.

The smile on your face slowly faded as Yuta Okkotsu towered over your desk. It wasn’t the version of him you once knew; this one was taller, more refined, more calculated with the manner in which he held himself. His wide, midnight-blue eyes regarded you carefully, but his face revealed nothing. Your mouth opened and closed pathetically, your mind desperately trying to catch up with the way your day had suddenly progressed. Stepping forward, he calmly sank down into the chair in front of you, hands gripping the arms casually.

“Yu—”

“I heard you offer counseling for sorcerers, right?” He was suddenly smiling sweetly at you, but there was a controlled glint in his eyes— holding him back. Not allowing you to respond, he continued. “Well, I have some things to get off my chest, so it’s lucky I found you, huh?”

You sank back into your chair, allowing the papers in your hands to slip from your fingers and swoosh softly onto the desk. Nodding gently, you urged him to go on, anxiety balling up in the pit of your stomach. He launched off on a long-winded story, one you already knew like the back of your hand— you lived it, after all. Your already knowing the climax didn’t stop the furious blush that overtook you as he recalled the letter he’d found in his dorm upon his arrival back to Tokyo.

“She always had this sweet way of signing off all her letters to me.” Yuta recounted with a soft smile, eyes glimmering as they looked back at you. Yours, on the other hand, were holding back the dam of tears that had been building up for countless months. As the first tear slipped down your cheek, you saw his resolve start to crumble, gaze chasing the drop as it raced down your skin. His bottom lip trembled. “She signed that last one— she signed it off ‘forever yours’, but I never saw her again.”

“Yuta—”

“Why didn’t you just tell me you weren’t happy?” He finally snapped, his own tears swimming in his eyes. Bracing his hands on the desk, he leaned forward desperately. “I would’ve understood, I would’ve—”

“I tried! I tried to tell you, but you were so sure that I was going to get through it. How was I supposed to look you in the eyes after you gave up so much of your life to train to be better? How was I supposed to tell you I was giving up?”

“You promised me!” His cry rang out in the quiet office, shoving his chair back to stand over you once again. You heard Kaori’s office door open abruptly, likely startled by the perceived altercation. Despite his dominating presence and lingering stance, you couldn’t find it in you to be intimidated by him. You shook your head softly toward your mentor, letting her know you were fine. As the door hesitantly shut once again, Yuta was sinking closer to you despairingly. “I would’ve come back for you— I wouldn’t have cared where I had to look, okay? I wouldn’t have cared that you left everything— but you weren’t supposed to leave me.”

His wounded tone finally caught up to you, and you let your head fall down onto your crumpled hands as you cried. Yuta sighed softly, almost regretting his stinging confession. Quickly looping around the desk, he settled down on his knees in front of you and turned you to face him.

“I’m sorry, Yuta.” You cried, falling into him as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you from your chair. He was stronger than you last remembered him being, but his touch was just as delicate. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. Hey, it’s okay. We’re here now, right?” He assured gently, pulling you away from his chest so he could look at you with a smile, tears still clinging to his lashes. His cool hand ran down from your shoulder to your wrist, and he traced the bracelet that hadn’t come off your wrist since you received it. A soft flush covered his cheeks. “You kept it, huh?”

“You kept yours, too.” You laughed breathlessly, wiping at your cheeks with one hand and grasping his bracelet with the other.

“I told you, I always meant everything I said to you. I still do.” His words almost made you break down again, but you worried if you started boo-hoo crying again that Kaori might just burst through the door with more determination than she had last time.

So instead, you took a moment to glance over his matured face, shaking your head in amusement upon seeing those familiar dark circles still hanging under his eyes. Your heart clenched as your eyes ran across the small scar that Maki left on his forehead. When you met his gaze once again, it gave you pause. Yuta had that look in his eyes— the same one he had all those years ago before he left for Kenya. The rapid patter of your heart could be felt in your throat.

Despite your nerves, your lips twitched up into a knowing smile. You reached up tentatively to place a hand over your right eye, covering the scar that had stopped him all those years ago. He pursed his lips at this action and shook his head. In an instant, his long fingers were wrapping around your wrist to pull your hand away from your face.

“Don’t.” Yuta said simply before leaning down to capture your lips in his, more assuredly than his sixteen year old self ever could have dared to, but just as sweetly as the boy who promised to come back to you would have.

masterlist | requests | talk to me ❤︎

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[kakashish0e]

Don't Leave me || Kankuro x Reader

༻Master list༺

Pairing: Kankuro x fem! reader

Content Warning: NSFW, Angst, Mentions of a previous argument, Wounded Kankuro, Make up sex, Unprotected Penetration, Breeding kink.

- Both Kankuro and the reader are +18

♕ Word Count: 4.1k Took longer than expected, Not sorry!

a/n: This was in my drafts for quite a while and it was about time my man Kankuro got some of the spotlight too ❤️

♛ Tried to make it the best I could, if anything seems off, I'm sorry.

Thank you so much for the amount of support I've been getting, I love you all!!

It had been a few days since you had last spoken to kankuro, after that intense fight you two had before he left for a mission, he came back and avoided you completely. The fire still hadn't cooled down yet, he was still very much upset about the way you raised your voice at him and accused him of something you knew he wouldn't do. He thought it would be best if you two gave each other some space but it didn't do you any good, the time you were by yourself you realized that you were in the wrong, you regret what you said to him and wished that you could go back in time and stop yourself from saying such horrible accusations to him.

You wanted him to come back, you hated waking up to seeing his side of the bed completely empty and cold. You knew he was busy, especially with having help to watch over the village to make sure the akatsuki wasn't within the area, because of that previous encounter konoha had a few years back, they were given information to watch if anyone appeared in a black cloak with red clouds.

Your biggest fear came to life because when that day happened, the village was under attack by two members wearing the cloaks identical to the ones kankuro had described to you. The moment when the kazekage was taken, kankuro rushed over to you to make sure that you weren't harmed in any sort of way. Once you reassured to him that you were okay, he told you that he was gonna go after the kazekage and wouldn't know when he'll come back. That was when you were scared that he would be seriously hurt or even killed, judging by how skilled those rogue shinobi were.

He promised you that he'll be okay, and that he would be back before you even knew it. When he left, you felt that pit of nervousness flow throughout your body. You didn't like it, you knew something bad was about to happen but you had to trust kankuro with all your heart.

But when word broke out in the village that the kazekage was kidnapped and Kankuro was severely wounded to the stomach with an unknown poison that was injected into his bloodstream, you rushed to the hospital as fast as you could. Just hoping and praying that what they've said about him wasn’t true, that maybe he was just slightly hurt.

It broke you everytime he was shouting in pain, the poison now spreading through every inch of his body, this was the first time in years since you felt so useless, all you could do was stand there with tears running down your face while the love of your life was in agony.

You overheard the conversation between the medical staff that was outside the door to the hospital room, your eyes widening when you heard them say that there was nothing they could do to help him since the poison already reached his vital organs and he had less than a day to live if they couldn't identify the poison on time so they could create an antidote.

A hand going up to your mouth to muffle your sobs, Out of all the people in this world, why did it have to be him? You thought, you weren't ready to lose him, not ever. You've already lost so many people throughout your years but you never actually thought that you'd lose him too, he was one of the few people who stayed with you the longest.

As much as there was no possible way of him surviving this unknown poison, you still didn't lose hope.

You stood at the foot of the hospital bed, watching him toss and turn. Wishing you could do anything in order to be helpful to him, hating that all you could do was watch the man you love laying down while the poison was circulating throughout his whole body. The silence in the room broke when you heard an unfamiliar female voice in the hallway and a few doctors explaining kankuro's data analysis.

The door opened, revealing a pink haired kunoichi and two other shinobi, one with blonde hair and other had silver hair and appeared much older than the other two, they had a leaf symbols on their headbands. Automatically knowing that they came from Konohagakure, Could she be here to help him? You thought to yourself when she tied up her hair and put on a white coat, she came up to kankuro and placed a palm on his forehead. Seeing him flinch from the sudden contact, and shined and flashlight over his eyes. Describing his current symptoms to the other doctors so they could document it.

Everything just happened in a blink of an eye, so many thoughts and assumptions rushed into your head. You were about to open your mouth to protest when she instructed everyone to clear the room and requested a few supplies she needed, you wanted to stay and make sure he was alright but you didn't want to be in anyone's way so you willingly waited outside the hospital room. Your nerves all over the place as you paced around the hallway, hoping it would soothe your growing anxiety after hearing his cries of pain.

"I think you'd feel a lot better if you sat down for a few minutes" The silver haired ninja said to you, he scooted a little to the side and offered you a seat beside him, you accepted and sat next to him. A little moment of silence before he started small talk, "So what's your connection to Kankuro? Are you a friend or relative?" He asked.

You shook your head as a sign of saying no, "I'm his girlfriend, we've been together for almost 4 years" You replied to him, the silence broken from another yelp from kankuro and following with the sound of the kunoichi ordering the medical staff to hold down his arms and legs to prevent him from moving so much.

"You should rest easy, Sakura was taught really well by one of the legendary sannin. She knows what she's doing." Kakashi reassured to you. "Right.." You replied. Hoping that what he said was true.

The door suddenly opened and revealed the pink haired kunoichi, and past her you could see kankuro laying peacefully on the hospital bed. "Is he going to be alright?" You frantically asked as you quickly got up from your seat, hoping for good news.

"I have cleared most of the poison but not quite all of it. It'll buy me some time to create an antidote but for the meantime you should let kankuro rest just for a few hours until he regains consciousness." Sakura said to you before heading off with a few staff members that were escorting her to the garden where the herbs were.

It made so much weight get lifted off your shoulders, He's going to be okay. You told yourself, looking at kankuro who seemed to be looking a little less in pain.

"You should go home, get some rest. You've been really stressed today and it's not good for you." Kakashi said to you, placing a hand over your shoulder.

"How exactly can I relax after what just happened today? The Kazekage is gone, Kankuro had nearly been killed, Lord knows if those Rogue shinobi are going to come back. I can't rest, not now!" You replied back in almost a cry, your bottom lip quivering to suppress a painful sob.

"Kakashi is right, Y/N. You should go home and rest, you've been up since midnight worrying about kankuro. I'll let you know when he receives the antidote." Temari said to you in a soft voice.

Arguing with them isn't going to get you anywhere so you willingly comply. Taking one more glance at kankuro before leaving the hospital.

-------

Once you've arrived to your shared apartment, you couldn't help but break down into tears, you felt so useless today. You weren't a shinobi, or in the medical field, it felt like today was a big slap in the face that normal civilians weren't really that much help to those that are in trouble. You hated that. You hated yourself so much because all you could do was cry in that hospital while kankuro was in there suffering.

You rubbed the dried tears off your face, eyes red and irritated from the amount of tears that were lost today.

- Long hours have passed since you came home, the sun sitting at the horizon and the sky darkening. You paced around the living room wondering when temari was going to stop by and let you know that kankuro is okay. You couldn't rest at all, you haven't slept for hours and you knew that exhaustion would soon catch up to you. How could you relax when your boyfriend is still in the hospital and you aren't there to comfort him?

You were so lost in thought to the point you were almost startled when you heard a knock on the door. Feeling your body light up in excitement and worry, is he okay? Did they finally make the antidote? You questioned when you rushed over to the front door and opened it, revealing something you didn't quite expect. It was kankuro, he had an arm over temari's shoulder for support and had crutches on the other arm, since he hadn't regained his full strength yet.

You pulled the door wider so you could let the two enter the apartment. "He made a drastic recovery, Sakura said he could come home tonight but he will still need some assistance because he lost a lot of chakra and a massive amount of blood." She explained to you while making her way to the bedroom and you helped her getting him on the bed.

"I'm sorry I wasn't much use for you two, I hate that there was absolutely nothing in my power to help.."

"Y/N, don't bring yourself down about this.. Even I couldn't do anything to help. We're just lucky that the leaf shinobi arrived here on time before he got any worse." Temari said to you in a reassuring manner, looking back down at her brother with so much sorrow. The lengths he went through just to try and retrieve his younger brother all on his own, those rogue ninja were definitely strong.

"I'm coming back in a few days to check up on the two of you, make sure he takes it easy. He gets really stubborn when it comes to recovering." Temari says to you before taking her leave. Taking one last glance to kankuro before leaving the two of you alone.

----

Had it been a few days since his discharge from the hospital? Of course not, it was only the first official day home and he's already trying to be up and going. You really tried to take Temari's advice under consideration and try to get him to take it easy but every attempt you made always ended up with him snapping back at you with irritation in his voice.

It had become really difficult by the minute, you didn't want to see your boyfriend struggle to push himself to his limits, he could hardly walk on his own without using the wall to stay balanced.

There was no doubt that he was still upset with you from the last argument you two had, even you could still feel that the tension was still there.

- You stand at the entrance to his repair shop, watching him from a distance. He was so concentrated on creating puppets of his very own, He said it to you himself that never will he be humiliated like that again, facing the opponent that happened to be the creator of his puppets.

You didn't know what he was trying to prove, your main concern was his health. He stays up late and has very few hours of sleep he needs in order to properly recover. He rarely eats, and when he does, it's only a little amount.

"What is it, Y/N? You've been standing there for quite a while."

"I just wanted to know what you would like for dinner." You say softly, really hoping for a good response.

"I'm not feeling hungry," He quickly says as he continues to connect the joints of his new puppet together, trying to test out the quality of his work.

"You said that during lunch, Please Kankuro, you need to eat something-"

"I said I wasn't hungry! What part of that do you not get?" He snaps back at you, slamming down the tool in his hand against the table. Shooting an annoyed look towards your direction.

You feel your stomach tighten at the cold response he gave you, never once have you thought he would raise his voice at you like that. It had you in a loss for words that it made you have no choice but to let him be, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you, but at least try to get some sleep." You say to him, trying so hard to hold back your tears from falling down your cheeks.

Those few seconds after he said that, he felt the immediate guilt bubbling up by the way he was talking to you. His problems had nothing to do with you, this was a battle he was fighting within himself and was bringing you down during the process.

He couldn't stop himself from calling out for you as soon as you turned your back to leave, "Hey, Wait. Look I'm sorry," He says to you, watching you turn back around to face him once again.

"This whole situation has me under a lot of pressure, my little brother is gone, I tried to save him and I failed. I already feel that the council will eventually reach out and have me take over the kazekages responsibilities during his absence for the sake of the village." He looks over to you with a sorrowful look on his face when he said it.

"Oh, I didn't know about any of that, I'm sorry." He was going through all this and just to think you had the nerve to act up before the situation started wasn't helping him at all.

"Don't apologize, it's not your fault, none of it was."

"No, I mean before. I shouldn't have started that argument with you a few days back, I was the one that was wrong. I shouldn't have said any of that before you left.. I just felt so alone when you received all those long-term missions, you never had time for us. It made me assume that you didn't care anymore."

His eyes began to soften up at your words, making his heart ache to the fact that you only acted up because you felt neglected.

"Come here, baby." Kankuro says as he extends his arms which made you automatically rush to him with a smile on your face. Feeling your whole body melt in his secure hold as you straddle his lap, "I didn't know you felt that way, I'm so sorry." He muttered against your ear, feeling him hug you tighter than before.

"You really scared me, I thought I was going to lose you.." You say as you look up at him with puffy red eyes and soaked lashes.

"You'll never lose me, I promise." He says, using his thumb to wipe away the damp tears on your cheeks, only for more to stream down your face.

All what he thought was how pretty you look when you cry for him, he doesn't deserve you, all what he ever does is push you away when there's a minor inconvenience in your relationship.

He never realized how it actually affected you when he isolates himself from everyone. He never wants to do that again.

He lifted your face to look up at him and he leaned down to press his lips onto yours. Your eyes fluttered closed into the kiss, arms going up to cling around his neck to bring yourself closer.

It was so long since you shared an intimate moment like this with him, you missed it, you missed him. It made you deepen the kiss a little more, both your tongues started to intertwine in a slow pattern, heavy breaths and moans soon left your mouth when things started to get heated. Awakening a painful need in your core, you couldn't remember the last time you felt this way. It had been so long since you've even touched yourself, which made you subconsciously grind your hips down against his crotch.

Earning a deep muffled groan from the man beneath you, the friction you offered made him break the kiss to catch his breath.

"You really missed me that much, huh?" He asked teasingly, repositioning his hands to your hips.

You nodded in response to his question, watching the look on his face morph into the same desirable expression you had.

The sparkle of pure need in your eyes was enough to drive him feral, Fuck.

With a blink of an eye, he used his strength to stand up off the chair with you in his hold. With a free arm, he dragged it against the wood surface of the table to shove the contents all over the floor, the pieces of his unfinished puppet falling down with it. Tonight, you were his top priority.

He lifted you up on the table, your back laying flat against it.

With quick hands, he unbuttoned your pants and pulled them down your legs with your underwear as well.

You grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head and dropped it down to the floor, reaching behind your back to unclasp your bra, your soft breasts falling free from it's confinement. You drop it along with the rest of your discarded clothing.

Your hand went down in between your legs to stimulate your clit, soft circles rubbing around the little bundle by two fingertips. Letting out a sigh of relief from the pleasure.

He retreated to do the same, his eyes focused only on you playing with yourself while removing his clothing.

What was once the look of need, turned into deep concern the minute he removed his shirt. Your eyes scanned his body only to see the bandaged wound just near his stomach. The injury that almost took away the love of your life. A mark that would forever remind you of the event that was about to take Kankuro away from you.

"Don't worry about it," His hand reaches up to cup your cheek in a reassuring way, "I'm here, aren't I?" He mumbles, trying his best to convince you that he's okay.

He's right, but still.. I don't want him getting hurt like that again. It was just our luck that the leaf kunoichi came here on time before anything worse happened..

"I won't leave you, ever." He speaks heavily, a hand going down to stroke his half-hard dick. Readying himself to fuck you like the most precious valuable he has.

"Kankuro.." You sighed out his name, feeling reminded of the painful need you have in your core, the need to have him. You didn't want to put your worries in the way, he's here, he's home with you. That's all what you need. You lock your ankles around his hips when his settles in between your legs, pulling him in closer.

"Getting a little impatient, are we?" He chuckles softly, not wanting to test what little patience you have any further, he aligns the tip of his cock to your already wet hole, teasing your labia just a little before starting, hearing you moan to the delicious stretch as he pushes himself inside you. Your needy walls instantly suck him in as you continue to play with your little nub.

"Fuck, so tight." He stops moving and let's out a pleasured groan, the feeling of your insides wrapped around him so perfectly had him practically rolling his eyes back. It also had been a long time since he had gotten off, this was exactly what he needed.

He placed his hands on opposite sides of your body, he began to move his hips at a slow rhythmic pace, taking his time to admire what a woman he's sharing this moment with. He doesn't deserve you, you're a gentle soul that's always by his side when things go wrong. No matter how many times he unintentionally pushes you away, you're always there.

His precious love now becoming a moaning mess in his place of work, what a sight he loves.

The movements he makes quickly drives you over the edge, it truly had been so long that it made you really sensitive, you need more, the slow pace he set earlier starts itching at whatever remaining patience you have.

"Please," You gasp out, feeling your orgasm fastly approaching. "Please, Go harder, I need more." You whine, completely missing the pleased look he had on his face.

He did exactly what you asked for, his hips going at a more rougher pace than before, causing your tits to bounce from the impact of his strong thrusts, his tip rubbing at that certain spot inside you that always drove you crazy.

Your moans increasingly became louder as you came around him, his rhythm faltering when he felt that familiar strong pulse around his length.

"..Shit." He moans out, he knows he's close, he could feel it. It was just then he notices that he has to pull out to keep it safe since he didn't use a condom, seeing the look on your face that the realization hit you too. "Kankuro."

"Yeah I know," He speaks as he continues to sloppily thrust into you, trying to reach his end.

It was just then that he had the lewd thought of just releasing inside you without a care in the world. He had never done such thing before, in the beginning of your relationship he always used condoms during sex just to prevent any accidents and you agreed. But now, it felt like all he wanted to do was to just cum inside you one time.

A smile started to form on his face, "Or maybe I should just do it inside you.. Maybe getcha' knocked up." He presses out, leaning down to cage you with his strong arms.

You whine in response to his filthy words, you feeling your pussy instantly tightening up again after processing what he just said. Your silky walls milking him just right.

Hearing him let out another heavy moan from your physical reaction. "You would like that, wouldn't you? Want me to put a baby in you? You're already good with children, why not have one of our own, yeah?" He adds, feeling completely drunk on the little reactions you give him.

"Yes.." You sigh out quietly to yourself, "I want it, fuck. Kankuro.." You plead.

A grin form on his face yet again when his movements completely stop, finishing with a groan. His cum painting your cervix white, hoping that his seed would take root inside of you. Your hands reached to tangle your fingers into his damp, sweaty hair. Pulling him down for a passionate kiss as both your bodies remain connected.

- His mind started to clear up after the orgasm, feeling a little bit of guilt that he brought up the subject of kids so soon and barely gave you the time to give a proper response. "Would you though?" He asks after breaking the kiss. "I just don't feel worthy enough for a wonderful woman like you to let me become a father"

"You will be a great father, and I would love more than anything to have a family with you." You say wholeheartedly, you want this, if a family is what he wants too, then you were more than willing to carry his first child.

"We should go to bed, it better if we continue this in a more comfortable location, yeah?" He says with a goofy smile before slowly pulling out to retreat both of your discarded clothing off the ground. While completely ignoring the mess he made beforehand.

You scoot yourself off the table to join him to the bedroom, where you could finally sleep together after the many nights of missing him underneath the covers.

Safe to say that the first round definitely wasn't the last..

@haseenamalik184 you previously asked to be tagged in future posts, here you go!✌🏽(if anyone else wishes to also be tagged in my posts, please ask!)

[signanothername]

Why do you like Killer?

*Cracks knuckles* get ready

I don’t like Killer, I fucking LOVE HIM

He’s my number 1 fave au sans and has been for a very long time

Now to be clear, I’m talking about canon Killer here, i have mixed feelings about some fanon interpretations, some are good and i genuinely love them, others not so much

That being said, let’s actually talk about why i love my beautiful amazing wonderful son <3333

(All art used in this post is by Killer’s creator: Rahafwabas)

The very first hook for me is his very concept, the mere idea of a sans basically agreeing to go on a killing spree after so many genocide runs is just *chef’s kiss*

Killer knew it was wrong, he knew he shouldn’t, yet he did

Killer doomed himself by his choice, he could’ve stayed as “sans” but he chose to accept Chara’s offer, yet his choice came to be after he saw no point in refusing anymore (important addition and a correction here)

The canon comics had Killer saying that he’s the way he is cause he gave up, he said “you won, you’re the reason I’m like this”, he’s been on so many genocide runs that he felt a little part of him die each run, only to give up and go on said killing spree

It’s interesting how the player is a big part of Killer’s story, cause whether Chara was involved or not, the player is the root cause of his suffering

But what i love the most is that regardless of his backstory or reasons, Killer’s actions led to their inevitable consequences, and it forever changed him

The biggest change? His very soul, it went from a normal monster soul to his signature target soul, infused with Determination, something that supposedly hurts monsters, it’s almost like his soul was infected with it, and you can see how it physically affects him with the black liquid that constantly comes out his eyes, nose and mouth, and even at times, that sludge is too much that he chokes on it

And the amusing yet tragic parallel? Killer aimed to “feel something new” by his genocide runs, only to end up not feeling anything at all, at least at his default stage 2

Which brings me to the concept of his soul’s stages

I love Killer’s stages so so much, it’s such a beautiful unique and wonderful concept

Killer’s individual stages are sooooo intriguing to me, it shows Killer in a different light each time depending on which stage he’s in, stage 1 is the closest he is to being “sans”, the closest to he used to be, he can feel emotions and is generally back to his more lazy bones attitude, as well as his ability to actually show sympathy, and feel the pain he’s always in, but what’s interesting is that regardless of the fact he’s the closest to his old self in this stage, it’s still so clear that Killer isn’t really “sans” anymore, that no matter what, he truly had changed in a way that can never be reversed, a point of no return, even when Color saves him, cause his new habits? His fears? His pain? His trauma? They can never be taken away, Killer has to live with the scars of what he experienced

Stage 2 is who he’d become, he can’t feel anything at this stage, emotions nonexistent, and his nonchalant behavior towards himself and others is most apparent here, a parallel I like to think of is that Killer’s inability to feel anything at all is almost like prolonged sensory deprivation, when you’re deprived of sensory input/ simulation for long periods, your brain needs compensate, and so it does its job, Killer’s soul prevents him from feeling so he resorts to other methods (usually very self destructive) to compensate for his lack of emotional capacity

I also really really love how that especially during stage 2, Killer isn’t trustworthy, cause in stage 1 you can actually trust him to an extent, in stage 2 Killer’s actions, behaviors and mindset are completely unpredictable, but not because he’s random, cause he’s actually extremely calculated, yet regardless, his carelessness when it comes to his own life and other people’s lives is dialed to an 11 here, so he could either choose to kill/attack or simply stay and listen

we even get an actual in depth look at how Killer’s mind works in one of the canon comics, in which Killer contemplates whether to attack Dream or not as he listens to his own stages in his head, one of which tells him to Kill Dream, while the other tells Killer to talk to Dream first

How Killer comes to a final decision on whether he attacks or not is something I believe his calculated mind makes depending on the situation and the pros/cons of what act he chooses, Killer is pretty smart, he knows when to let his trigger happy self out and when to settle down

Stage 3 or the “crazy stage” is the stage in which he’d attack anyone in his way whether friend or foe, we unfortunately don’t have much canon info regarding this stage, but that ain’t gonna stop me from analyzing the shit outta it (and talk about how i perceive it)

I like to think of this stage as the combination between stage 1 and 2, yet it’s almost like his soul can’t truly decide on which stage to settle on and by extension founding stage 3 as a separate stage by itself, Killer becomes extremely unstable at this stage, his soul moves rapidly and it’s obvious he’s in pain cause of it, whether that pain is just emotional or both physical and emotional isn’t really clear, yet i’d like to believe it’s both, and i feel like Killer’s capacity to attack anyone at this stage is related to that pain, and something I really love to believe is that Killer can’t calm down enough to settle back to stage 1 or 2 unless he either wears himself out by fighting someone, or he’s left alone to his own demons long enough to pull himself together, if he were to be forcefully restrained during this stage, it would only serve to make it worse and prolong the time he stays that way (cough something i may or may not have made a quick comic about but never shared as always vjvjvjj)

Not to mention, one of the canonical responses Killer gives when asked if he’s ok at stage 3 seems to make Killer alternate between answers he wants to give between saying he’s “fine” and “i don’t know” which makes sense, Killer isn’t stable at all, it’s almost like his stage 1 self and stage 2 self are fighting over who gets to talk (stage 2 seems more dominant)

Yet the fact Killer is able to answer and comprehend his surroundings enough at this stage is very intriguing to me, cause it shows how much Killer is able to handle/endure (which is A LOT cause damn) and not only that, but it also gives us a very clear difference between this stage and stage 4

As for stage 4?? Woooh boi, it’s the stage I like to call “plunging into darkness”

We also don’t have much canon info about this stage, but one of the things i find interesting is the fact Killer deliberately keeps it a secret from everyone, when he tells Color about his stages, he only tells him up to stage 3, never bringing up stage 4, only for Chara to sneer at Killer that he shouldn’t keep it from his new BFF

It’s obvious Killer himself is very uncomfortable with the subject of stage 4, it’s apparent that it’s a stage that he rarely gets to, but it still bothers him enough to not want to even mention it, which makes sense, cause the comic we had of stage 4 shows that Killer gets to that stage when he’s reminded of all the murders he committed, and unsurprisingly, when he’s reminded of his brother, as what triggered this stage is actually a memory of Papyrus telling Sans to “see a puzzle”, only to be followed by memories of screams of anger, fear, and hatred of those he killed immediately afterwards, stage 4 is heavily related to his trauma

Not to mention it’s clear that when Killer gets to stage 4 he blacks out, he’s completely unaware of anything he does during this stage, and is only left to deal with the aftermath when he gets back to his senses, the fact it’s also a stage that seems to be “getting worse” is something that Killer definitely seems to hate

It sometimes makes me think whether Killer had gotten into trouble cause he killed someone Nightmare wanted alive while at this stage, cause with how he keeps it a secret, I’d assume Nightmare would be unaware of it for a while (comic idea perhaps >:) )

But y’know what’s better than talking about the stages?? Talking about Killer’s personality, behaviors and trauma

Killer can’t distinguish between what’s real or not, and it’s obvious he sometimes sees the world in the third person, as in he’s not completely there at times, not to mention the amount of voices he hears in his head, from his stages talking to him to hallucinations of Chara, Frisk and Papyrus, and oooh boi does he hate these hallucinations, the past obviously haunts Killer and it’s something he tries running away from constantly, yet he can never truly run from it when it follows him everywhere

Killer has a smile on his face most the time, but his attitude changes especially when Chara is mentioned, or when he’s reminded of his past in any way, he literally avoids food that reminds of his past life as “sans”, he freezes up at certain phrases such as “best friend” (something i also made a comic about that i never shared chchhchc)

He just absolutely hates to be reminded of the person he used to be, of all the things he used to have, cause in truth? They were all taken away from him by his own hands, only to be then forced to work under Nightmare, who only ensures that he never finds peace of mind

And the sad part? Killer let’s all those things hurt him, he lets Nightmare have his way with him, he lets Chara torment him, cause he thinks he deserves it, and most importantly, he deluded himself into believing that this is what he wants because it’s what everyone else wants, because it’s what the player wants

Killer even sometimes tries to force himself not to feel anything, cause come on, since when does he feel anything at all?

Killer, to put it bluntly, hates himself, and he thinks that his suffering is the Karma of what he’s done, and even at one point, he was going to erase himself out of existence cause he believed that’s what he deserved, as in Killer thought of himself as unworthy when it comes to Papyrus, that his brother doesn’t need him, that his brother is better off without him, hell he even tells Color that he needs to kill him if he ever reaches stage 3, it’s an obvious “ i want someone to put me outta my misery” attitude

Killer feels hopeless, and so he lets himself suffer thinking he can’t ever find peace or hope again

Yet the interesting part? You’d never know that Killer hates himself unless you’re a being of emotions (Nightmare and Dream) or someone who’s perceptive enough to notice Killer’s self-loathing like Color, that’s how good of an actor Killer can be, you’d think he’s a cold emotionaless killer but the truth only shines to those who actually can see through his act

Killer just has that amazing character depth and his story is genuinely so unique and beautiful, cause you in his story you can find details of other details within the details vhvhvjvj

All that? Mixed with really adorable little things like his love for cats, his silly attitude, his nonchalance with Nightmare, his capacity to be social with whoever, and his friendship with color? That is why I love Killer Anon <33333

[tan1shere]

Do you think you could please do something with eva like hurt/comfort ig? If you're comfortable maybe like reader had super bad anxiety and something triggers her and she basically has an anxiety attack and closes herself in her room but eva comforts her?

Here For You

Eva x female reader !

A/n: yes ofcourse ! If you are new here, welcome I am more than comfortable doing anxiety as I suffer from it and I know a thing or two about the stupid thing ! This is for my anxiety girlies I love you deeply <3 YOU ARE LOVED HEAPS !!!!!!

Summary: Eva helps calm you down when you need it most.

Warnings: anxiety, anxiety attack, think that's the main ones, lmk if I missed anything major !

Masterlist

It was as if you had been on edge lately and you had absolutely no idea why. Which worried you, why did you feel like this with no reasonable explanation. You have been traveling for awhile now to go see your long distance girlfriend, Eva. She had moved awhile back and you wanted to see a tour of her new place. You were tired, sick of driving. So you were incredibly thankful once you had pulled in, looking at the massive house infront of you. She greets you outside with a smile. "Hi baby girl." Her feet move towards your door instantly opening it. Your energy comes back, leaping out and into her arms. Wrapping your legs around her torso in the process. "I missed you." You say into her neck as you hug her tightly. Her hand makes its way into your hair gently stroking. "Not as much as I missed you."

After a few kisses it was time to see the inside. "This place is huge!" You beam, turning around in a circle to get a look at everything. "It is, has many rooms." You then look at her, smiling tiredly. "You look exhausted." She then says, coming over to you. You nod as a reply, sinking back into her touch. "I have some people coming over later on-" You pull away slightly to look at her. You were always an anxious person, social anxiety was a main. You hated meeting new people, you felt so incredibly awkward. Your brain makes you overthink, not to mention the panic and anxiety attacks you'd get.

"I know, but its ok I'll be here with you I promise. Besides I'd love for you to meet my friends. They'll love you." You sigh. "They won't once they find out im an anxious idiot." She looks at you sadly. "You're not an anxious idiot baby. I swear to you. You're the sweetest thing in this world." She speaks delicately as she goes to hold your face in her soft hands. You close your eyes, taking a breath. "I'm still unsure.." Her thumb rubs your cheek. "I'm right here. - promise."

You trusted that she'd keep that promise, and she did. But you couldn't help feeling judged by all these new people. Even if they weren't you couldn't shake the thought. You were staying super close to Eva, honestly wanting this to be all over so you could sleep, and spend your time with her. You tried your hardest to put on a smile, make out you weren't shaking in your boots. You felt pathetic, why did you get like this.

Then the worst happens. A question was being asked. "So, Y/n. How long have you known Eva?" A girl named Cricket asks. You pause for a bit. "Uhm, 3 years now?" You look at Eva, wanting a little bit of backup. You were so stupid God. "Yes! 3 years and more to come." She smiles at you, a smile that sets your nerves at ease for a moment. Feeling like all of this went away. But then she speaks again. "And where abouts are you from again?" Your head turns to her. "A few hours, uhm from here." You try so hard to sound confident but your voice indeed comes out shakey. And you heard it. The worst part.

Your overthinking comes into play.

Shes going to think I'm a weirdo. Why can't I just talk normal. What's. Wrong. With. Me.

That little voice clouds your brain making you miss what she had asked you next, you feel a hand come in contact with your back. Bringing you out of the thoughts slightly. "W-what?" You ask, more shakey than before. Eva rubs lightly. "Are you alright love-?" Cricket asks sweetly. The thoughts had time to creep back up on you in that small space of time. "I- excuse me.." You rushed upstairs into Eva's room, locking the door in the process so no one could come in. You clutch your chest, trying to calm down but you couldn't. It felt heavy, making you freak out more.

Tears begin to stream uncontrollably. Taking in breaths as you choke on air. You slide down the door, gripping your hair. Having the same little voice repeat.

You're stupid.

You're awkward.

You are weak.

"I'm stupid.." You breathe out, still holding onto your chest. Then there was a knock at the door, startling you. "Baby?" Eva's soft voice was heard. You don't respond, not trusting your voice. "Please let me in you're worrying me, beautiful." You hear the door knob, reluctantly going to open it. Moving a bit for her to come in. Shes on the floor with you in an instant. Considering she's been with you through many of these. "Hey hey, look at me ok." You couldn't as you're freaking out continues. "Baby.." Your eyes shut. "Can I touch you?" You just nod, shed always ask that just to make sure she wouldn't startle you.

Her hands come to your face, getting you to look at her. "Breathe angel breathe." Her eyes dart from yours, concern writen all over them. "You're ok, I'm here for you." "You are safe." You nod, understandingly. Slowly coming back. "I'm stupid Eva.. why am I like this." Her thumbs come to wipe your tears. "You are far from stupid my girl. For one you're tired. You've been driving all day, and you just feel things heavily. That's ok." Your head tilts slightly, taking in her words. "You're special, in the best way possible. And I love you so fucking much." She finishes, still having her hands on your face. "Im sorry." You apologize.

"Don't be, its ok. They're leaving now anyways." Your eyes widen. Was it because of- "And before that brain of yours tricks you. They were always going to leave at this time. I assure you." Her tone was steady and calm. Making your nerves ease again. "Do they think I'm weird?" Her head shakes side to side. "Crick, loved you. She said you were a breath of fresh air." The corners of your mouth move up, smiling as she says that. It only makes her smile too. "There she is." Her arms bring you into a tight hug. "My brain is stupid." You then say. She nods. "Incredibly." The smiles were still lingering. Just grateful to have someone like her. "Why don't we sleep this long day off?"

"Sounds, amazing."

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FOR THE BUDDING ROMANCE *  assorted dialogue, adjust as necessary

i never thought something like this could happen to me.

when they said you were hurt... i've never been so afraid in my whole life.

i almost lost you.

you are the most special person i have ever met.

are you blushing? did i make you blush?

here, take my jacket. you're shivering.

i don't know how to function around you. i struggle with words.

you have an easy way of making me feel breathless.

you have no idea what you do to me.

i've never met anyone like you before.

you've been a great friend to me. better than a friend. someone i can turn to in my darkest times.

next time, warn me when you pull a stunt like that. i want to be with you.

i don't know where i'd be without you.

you came right when i needed you.

i was just thinking about you, and here you are.

i had a dream about you.

i've tried seeing other people... but they're not you. they're not who i want.

i'll protect you. i promise.

i haven't taken my eyes off you since you walked in.

this is new for me. feeling like this.

i'm sorry. i just had to see you.

you mean absolutely everything to me.

is this what happens when you fall in love?

do you feel the same way about me?

i thought i could handle seeing you with someone else, but i was wrong.

i don't know what to say. you make me forget how to speak.

you make my head spin.

do that again. that was cute.

i couldn't wait around anymore. i have to tell you how i feel.

stop! you're making me blush!

i've never felt anything like this before.

go easy on my heart. please.

my heart has been broken so many times in the past... but you won't hurt me, right? i can trust you.

you're very distracting, you know.

was that flirting? were you just flirting with me?

you're different. you're not what i'm used to.

you can keep holding my hand, you know. you don't have to let go.

i like it when you held onto me. that was nice.

this stopped being a fling a while ago.

everything changed for me last week.

when i saw you with someone else... it broke me.

could you see yourself with me?

i wish i had the strength to tell you how i feel.

i could be your date.

what if i asked you out?

i've been flirting with you this whole time.

this doesn't have to be a date if you don't want it to be.

we could... try. see what happens.

meeting you was the greatest thing that ever happened to me.

sorry, what did you say? i wasn't listening. i was... distracted.

i came as fast as i could. they said you needed me.

just stand behind me. i'll protect you.

you are... so infuriating. you know that, right?

i know what i said before... but i was wrong. about everything.

maybe we could try again?

you mumbled my name in your sleep again.

[sapphiccup]

How about some comfort for the people that deserve to hear it?

Vi x reader drabble.

Cw: Reader is venting, comfort is being displayed by Vi, abusive father, strong language. Somewhat fluff, everything gonna be okay bebés!

Song: I’d rather pretend by Bryant Barnes 🌧🥀

Vi is on her knees listening to you vent every cry, every angered poisoned word that you have to say, waiting, and intently focused on you. She waits for you to let everything out that you must let your cracked words of sorrow be carried by gravity’s air. She continues to rub circles over your knee, to let your body understand that she is still present, and wants you to know that she will help soothe however she can.

“I just can’t believe that he would speak to me with—- so much disregard, act like I never helped him with as much as I could, bleeding myself over to deal with him every single day of my life.. and for what?”

Your words spilling from your heart that felt as though it was being squeezed by a being of upmost wrath, hinted with pain, the kind of pain that only oh so many people share, the kind of pain that Vi can understand, that you’ve been through troubled waters, and she’ll ride that wave with you, if that is what it will take to be there for you.

“I gave him everything of me, allowed myself to be disrespected, and.. he doesn’t want me. He does not want me as his child. He hates me. He wants me to die knowing he could care less for me, than to ever repair this—- this farce of a family.”

Your eyes slowly becoming less bright as they once were, something that Vi can recall as being her most swam through thought, that she almost brags non-stop about your eyes being stars that illuminate life. She does still brag about you, but to let in people to see her mushy side.. that’s not access to just anyone, it took her at least 2 in a half months to let you see parts of her that she wouldn’t dare show the world. Regardless of time… she has never witness you so upset, ever. If she could she’d take it and suffer herself.

Usually you are more, resilient to whatever comes your way. But until your father steps in, to remind you of how much he does not feel like you deserve love, kindness, respect, he takes it with him, takes all your energy, to the point— where you can’t even hide it. As much you try to hide it from Violet, as much as you’d give her one of your smiles that could make flowers bloom right then and there from how much it carries so much light. It is as if you were an eclipse. Something unfamiliar, something that just sits there until it is finished with you and you not finished with it.

Yet, she stays, regardless of the tears, the shuddering of your body, the wrath in you that hurts you all the same. She’s trying her best to keep herself calm but the more you are in despair, the more she finds herself in a split of wanting to comfort you and wanting to punch the lights out of this man that makes you feel inadequate to deserving of family. She wipes your tears with her thumb, reminding you to stop saying you’re sorry with her, reminding you that there is no reason for you to apologize for displaying emotion.

How much has he taken from you to be apologetic of your own sadness?

How long is he going to take, and take from you, until you are nothing?

“I’m so sorry Vi, I really didn’t mean to let all of this out, I’m not trying to be a burde-“

“Stop, you are not burden. You are not unworthy to cry, you are not wrong for shedding tears. You are a person. And that very person, that is you, has the right to be yourself however that is. I’m not here to only be for your good days. I would rather— I would rather be shot in the foot than to not see every part of you.”

And she means every word of it. She wants you to know that your life is not only to be given when you are just full of happiness, you’re human. You can be human, around her, around anyone you trust. You find yourself hiccuping and she just pulls you into a hug, bringing you down to the floor with her, your leg in between hers, taking shelter into her arms. You began to wail, as if you were a child again that just fell off their bike.

Vi is right there to envelope your hot tears in her arms, whispering comforting words to at least try to surgically heal your mental wounds, she hopes she’s doing enough for you, and she has no idea that these wails are not for your dad anymore. That these hot tears that press,sink, and drench her clothes, are for simply that fact that her heart is that big, to even have room for you. Which, you in fact— doubted anyone had room for your entirety.

You clutched at her clothes, gripping the cloth as if she was going to disappear at any moment, that this would just cease the very minute you open your eyes. Vi was right there to to permanently remove any knives of doubt that were deeply pierced into your back, rubbing your shoulders, to the small of your back, marking her warmth against you.

She breathed calmly and guided you to do the same, slowly you released your grip from her fabrics.

“So, you wanna tell me how long you’ve been holding that in, baby?”

“You’ll hate me if I-“

“I will never hate you for as long as I’m alive. Spare me the bullshit that he tormented your mind to think that I ever would.”

She says that never looking away from your teary, blood shot eyes, playing with your fingers, waiting for your response.

“Well aren’t you sweet.”

“As much as I can be, so out with it.”

You paused for a quite a while, though Violet is not the type to be patient, she could never see herself pressuring you to speak. She will wait as much as you need the air to breathe. After a half an hour past you finally find the alphabet to complete the words for your sentences to be physical.

“I.. never wanted to.. let you so deeply within me, that you’d see me like— well, like this. I can’t afford to be fragile, I am afraid that you’d unravel parts of me that you would not ever try to reach for. That you completely find me something that mirrors hollow.”

Violet could not believe you ever had any thoughts that you would simply throw yourself to the side as if you were not someone she completely adores, yes you are beautiful, you are witty, you are dumb sometimes who isn’t?, you are annoying at times but she rather have the full versions than to be, dismayed by one part of you. A part that isn’t even a deal breaker.

“Babe, do you think.. do you think that you are worthless?”

You’re body jerked at her question, that sentence you didn’t think she would ask you. Unprepared is an understatement of how your words didn’t want to stay glued to each other for you to hide away again, instead you choose truth, truth only being the view of your thoughts, only thing that would lace with your vocal cords.

“I..” you began with, hesitating to even think, I’m going to tell Violet, what’s been troubling me.. she’s.. she’ll never forgive me for keeping this, your eyes dancing with the floor then back to her face not being able to choose whether which to mingle with for longer. Then Vi, raising her hand to your face, you flinch, but she is only there to caress your supple cheek. Her brow furrowed with deep thoughts of your reaction, that she will ask about another day.. never seeing you in such a vulnerable state, she would not dare to step on a bomb that you were not ready to dismantle just yet.

“I did not.. want to upset you..” you let out. Eyes finally choosing the floor over her face, not being able to set your orbs onto hers..

“By shutting yourself out to not upset me.. from what? Tears? You’re disdain for your father? Your pain?” Word after word coming out as if they were just… not bothersome, not even a hint of annoyance came out her voice, instead concern.. Of course, Vi would be concern for you. Of course she would and you feel like a fool for even thinking.. she-

“Why would I ever get upset with you over something so normal?”

You slowly raise your blind, your heavy blinds that revealed your pupils, slowly drifting to find her face, not angry, not tired of your mood, not anything that wasn’t what you were more used to from your family, your dad.. Vi didn’t even show a glimpse of any of those things, your heart feeling heavy, but not with an earthquake of fissures, it felt that you were being filled. Filled with something you not entirely used to receiving, funny enough you’ve been with Vi long enough, that you should of been felt this, but this is the first time your heart was so.. accepting of it, as if it knew more than yourself, that you need this.

“I don’t know, I just.. I shouldn’t had assume that you would be..”

“An asshole. That’s an asshole that you’re describing——I have never shown you those actions, towards you.”

“Did he do that to you?”

You jerked again, Vi’s fist almost clench harder around your hand, but restraint prevailed. She took in a long breath in, and sighed

“This is what we’re going to do. I’m going to repeat what I’ve shown you for the past 6 months, for the rest of my life, we’re going to get up, and get some well needed icecream, and watch that bridgerton show that you adore so much, so much that you favor it to me.”

You let out a quiet laugh, slightly shoving her in a playful way.

“What? It’s true, you’d trade cuddles with me to watch that show instead in a single breath.”

“Oh shut up, I would never.”

“Babe, it’s bridgerton.”

“So? I can’t replace my favorite girlfriend over a show.”

“I don’t know.. I’ve seen how you get so.. passionate about your favorites- and hold that thought? I’m your favorite? Wait are there others?”

You end up bursting from laughter with her constant back to back unserious conversation, ah, yes, this.. this is your girlfriend. The woman who knows exactly how to tickle you without touching you, without forcing it out of you, effortlessly making sure you were indeed adorned, cared for, and especially...

“There we go, I love seeing all sides of you, but I could never bend you to be something unnatural. You hear me?”

“Yeah..”

“Good, now let’s go, I want to see what happens after lady whistle down tries to save her friend um.. what was her name?”

She says as she pats your leg, motioning you to get up with her, holding your hands, helping you to rise up.

“Eloise, and if I didn’t know any better I would say that you just wanted to an excuse to-“

And right before you finish your sentence, she quickly leaned in to give you a soft kiss on your lips, makeup messed up, smeared across your face, and still she doesn’t care, she kissed you, licking her lips tasting the salt that fell from your tears earlier, giving you a sly smile, with half lidded eyes.

“To what?”

You would of said to watch Bridgeton more than you did, however, your tongue didn’t feel the need to craft those words out loud.

“Never mind..” you say smiling to yourself as your ears burn with heat. Both of you walking hand in hand to retreat to the kitchen, to get your favorite ice cream of course, and ending the day on good note. A note that Vi makes sure she does not forget, prepared for more days that you will be hurt again, and knowing exactly how to be there for you, again, and again.