#waking up to this…. my heart is so full rn | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wttcsms · 2 months ago

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if you feel like falling (catch me on the way down) | TWO

ᝰ.ᐟ after getting your heart broken by professional soccer player, rin itoshi, all because he loved the game more than you, you officially swear off all men — especially athletes. your publicist doesn’t get that memo, though, and you find yourself roped into a fake relationship with yoichi isagi, who isn’t just a pro soccer player, but also your ex’s rival. things could get messy. ( fem!reader )

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pairing yoichi isagi x reader (endgame), past! rin itoshi x reader word count 5.9k chapter synopsis the busier your schedule, the less time you can spend thinking about rin. the only problem is, you see something you can't unsee. nothing a bottle of tequila can't fix, right? (spoiler: tequila isn't fixing a broken heart) chapter contains partying and drinking to cope, diet culture author’s notes i have nothing to insightful to add rn, but send me any asks discussing this fic and i will have a lot to say LOL

From: [email protected] To: [USER EMAIL HIDDEN] Cc: [email protected], [email protected], [email protected], [email protected] + 3 others Subject: 6/19 — [NAME] [SURNAME] AGENDA Attachments: 📎 [6.19 AGENDA.pdf]

All —

Attached is the PDF copy of [Name]’s itinerary for today. Reminder that these times are STRICT. Stay on schedule.

Fumiko Gima

Get Outlook for IOS

Your first alarm goes off at 4:50 AM to what you assume is the noise they play on repeat in hell (By the Seaside, an Apple classic). After waking up, you roll over in your king size bed (the problem with always choosing to go big instead of just going home is the fact that when you’re all alone, the luxury of extra space just becomes empty space) to promptly hit the snooze button. You’ll allow yourself five more minutes of sleep (as a treat). When the second alarm you set up goes off at 4:53 AM (By the Seaside, once again), you scream into your pillow, and shut it off for real this time. You knew you weren’t going to give yourself the full five minutes, but it felt really good to trick yourself into believing that you would. You always start the day with this tiny disappointment; that way, no one has the privilege of being the first person to piss you off.

At 4:54 AM, you slide your feet into your Ugg slippers, readjust the loose straps of your silk camisole, and shuffle into your marble-floored bathroom. You rub the sleep from your eyes, brush your teeth with your pink electric toothbrush, and wash your face. By the time you’re done with your morning skincare, it’s 5:06 AM. You honestly can’t remember the last time you did your own makeup, but you bring your makeup bag with you anyway. If there’s downtime between shoots, you’ll post a faux-GRWM TikTok where you apply three miniscule dots of concealer on your seemingly already flawless skin and add a fresh layer of the brand new, limited edition Rhode peptide lip treatment that Hailey Bieber’s team gifted you. They also gave you twenty grand to do so, with a personal “hey girlie, would love to catch up with you one of these days!! life has been so hectic, sorry for not keeping in touch x btw, i just came out with a new shade of my…” text from Hailey herself. (You replied back with a “yessss, we need to meet up soon!! Also, LOVE LOVE LOVE the new shade omg 😍” — neither of you have any intention for planning a meet-up, and you don’t “LOVE LOVE LOVE” the new shade as much as you “LOVE LOVE LOVE” to deposit a fat check.)

You’re sliding into the backseat of the glossy black SUV parked in front of your driveway at 5:14 AM. Your chauffeur, Benji, holds open the door for you.

“Good morning, Ms. [Surname],” Benji never drops the formalities with you, except for when he’s lecturing you. Thank God he doesn’t own a smartphone; if he saw half the things Daily Mail wrote about you, his voice would be gone from scolding you so much. Even if he’s technically on your parents’ payroll and is paid to make sure you get to and from places safely, it still feels nice to have someone who cares about you enough to call you out on your shit.

The first stop is an exclusive, members-only pilates studio. If you’re home, you have to work out in the morning, no matter what. You like your routine. Out of all the things online magazines put out about you, it’s kind of embarrassing how the most accurate one is revealing how you stay “fit ‘n flawless even after going out every night.” Most people didn’t believe it. Rin got it, though. Rin would actually work out with you, when the two of your schedules aligned, and— Time to start your workout early! Nothing takes your mind off of matters more than focusing on the burn of your core and arms.

By the time you finish your private session, you’re walking out the studio with your puffy tote bag slung over your shoulders. Your body is still a bit damp from taking a quick shower but not drying off properly, and Benji drops you off at your first business stop of the day — ELLE Japan.

You smile brightly as the team of makeup artists surrounding you shower you with compliments. One of the girls brushing on your foundation tells you that you have really nice skin. When she goes in for a second layer, you almost consider rescinding the thanks you gave her.

The set is hectic, as expected. No matter how long these people have been in the industry, no matter how big the host is, something always seems to be going wrong. Apparently, there’s been a mishap over in wardrobe, and ELLE’s people are not very happy with how this is going to delay everything. With your hair and makeup done, there’s nothing for you to do besides sit down, be quiet, and look pretty.

Downtime is the last thing you want. You’re used to a busy schedule, but you convinced Fumiko to accept as many projects as possible. If you have to rank at the top of the list for celebrities who emit the most CO2, then so be it. You’ll pollute the whole damn planet if it means you won’t have a single second to be alone with your thoughts.

At 9:00 AM sharp, you go on your phone to inform your manager that the agenda is fucked. ELLE Japan is definitely going to push back this session with you for at least a good hour, which means Fumiko is going to have to explain to Your Style (the YouTube channel name for a famous fashion commentator who’s amassed nearly twenty million subscribers) why you’re going to be late for the Zoom debrief on what you two are going to talk about in an upcoming video. At 9:02 AM, you receive a text.

juli ᡣ𐭩: u know i love u

It’s two in the morning in Paris. When Juliette said she was going to visit her father, she said it was going to be a much-needed vacation — just something chill and lowkey, like going to all the designer stores and eating croissants on a balcony. Those were her exact words.

juli ᡣ𐭩: [photo attachment]

Somehow, from the neon strobe lights, bodies pressed against one another’s, and the way the image is blurry because she couldn’t get her phone to focus, it feels like Juliette’s “something chill and lowkey” morphed into club-hopping all over France. You roll your eyes with affection. You should’ve known her vacation was going to turn into this; as if Juliette would eat bread for pleasure — she’s been quoted for claiming that carbs are a necessary evil. She probably hasn’t even touched a croissant for the past week she’s been there.

juli ᡣ𐭩: showing u before TMZ posts it juli ᡣ𐭩: [video attachment] juli ᡣ𐭩: do not freak out. not worth it. juli ᡣ𐭩: ugh i knew this club sucked ass for a reason

You wait for the video to load. It’s almost as blurry and unfocused as the original image she sent, but you can tell she had to zoom in pretty hard to capture what she wanted. It’s two figures with a minimal amount of space between them. One of them is definitely a girl; she has the build of the usual French models. A thin, leggy brunette who has mastered the intricate art of Just Had Sex hair. Perfectly messy, but could never be considered sloppy. She’s wearing a sparkly, tight minidress. The fabric shimmers when the strobe lights pass by her body. The person she’s practically pressed up against is a man. Tall, lean. He’s leaning down, presumably so he can hear her better. When the video clip ends abruptly (someone bumped into Juliette, and the video ends with shaky footage and a loud “putain!”), you replay it. And replay it. And then you play it again, just for good measure.

Each time you watch the stupid video, you find something new to notice. Her red lips brushing against his ear. The way his hand hovers near her hip. The way you’re certain she’s smiling when she speaks, like the smirk of a victor. The exact same self-satisfied, smug grin you sport whenever you get a guy right where you want him. Upon every rewatch, though, one thing remains the same: you’re constantly fixated on him.

Right now, it’s two in the morning in Paris. You know that when you weren’t in this fucked up headspace you’re in right now, you’d be in bed, snuggled underneath your blankets, by 11:30 PM. You know that when you felt your best, you could be in bed, whispering in the dark to the person you felt safest with, at 10:00 PM (at the latest, because you both would have a busy day ahead and needed the rest). He likes sleeping early because he likes being well-rested.

So why the hell is Rin Itoshi at a club right now?

At 9:39 AM, ELLE Japan gets right back on track. Before your editorial shoot for a special anniversary edition of the magazine, they get you to sit down to do a video interview that they plan on posting all over their social media.

“This is a very special edition that will be coming out, and you are not only having the biggest spread dedicated to you, but you’re also going to be on the cover. Knowing this, how are you feeling right now, [Name]? This might be the most high-profile photoshoot you’ve done so far in your career, and that’s saying something. You have quite the impressive resume.”

The ring lights are shining directly in your eye. The stool they have you sitting on for this interview is uncomfortable, and you have to focus on remaining balanced. Your back is perfectly straight, and your hands are folded in your lap. You blink, and you see the video playing in your mind. You have God knows how much makeup caked on right now, and you still have a long day ahead of you. Rin is at a club right now. Rin is at a club right now, with a girl. Rin is at a club right now, with a girl, and they’re basically grinding against each other, and he might just have forgotten all about you.

You smile brightly. At 9:40 AM in Japan, you let everyone know,

“I honestly think I’m the happiest I’ve ever been before in my life! This is a great way to establish a sort of, I guess, new era of my life and my career.”

You turn to face the camera directly, giving them a dazzling view of your pearly whites. “Not trying to rush the process or anything, but I am definitely looking forward to seeing how this will all play out in the future.”

You’re operating on autopilot for the rest of the day. The ELLE shoot wraps up close to noon. You forgo lunch, but knowing you and your tendency to skip meals, Benji refuses to start the car until you eat the lunch his wife packed for you. It’s light and refreshing — they want you to eat well, but they’re not cruel. Even if they want to bring you a feast of a nice, hot, home cooked meal, you’ll eat it out of obligation and then suffer the consequences on set when everyone asks why you’re so bloated. You don’t even taste what you’re consuming.

At 12:30 PM, you hop on the Zoom call and pretend to care about discussing matters such as the lack of personal style affecting the younger generations. Every topic is a trivial topic to you. The only thing worth dissecting is that damn video. You should’ve asked those twenty million subscribers to help you analyze that, instead of nodding along when the YouTuber starts going on a rant about how Shein and other fast fashion brands are ruining everything.

Late in the afternoon, you get another text.

kenyu: So the team wants to host a belated birthday party for me lmao. Team’s planning on having it at 10 tonight kenyu: Sending you the address right now

A party is exactly what you need right now. Endless drinks, no need for rational thinking, and you’ll be (mostly) surrounded by people who think models are all vain and vapid. No one there is going to expect a decent conversation from you, and with the state you’re in, it’s a wonder how all your sentences are even making sense.

You give Kenyu’s next message a like in response. You were expecting a club, but when you click on the address, Maps reveals that it’s residential. Rin is gallivanting around European nightclubs, and meanwhile, the best you can do are house parties. This is how the future is playing out?

At least even at your worst, people still think you’re on top of the world.

Maybe life without a man dragging you down and invading your space is for the best. After all, once you got done with all your professional obligations, it’s only eight at night. You’re used to going out with whatever makeup they did for you on set at your last shoot of the day, which is a shame. You have shelves full of makeup that’s been sent to you by different brands, and one of these nights, you plan on just messing around at your vanity.

You like living alone, you decide. You can leave all the lights on if you want, and no one complains about it hurting their eyes. You have full control of the thermostat. You don’t have to fight for counter space in the bathroom. Plus, no one can see how you’re living.

At 9:13 PM, you’re sprawled on the cool marble floor of your bathroom (squeaky clean thanks to the housekeeper you have come once a week), and instead of rewatching that dreadful video and subsequently crying, you had a quick retail therapy session. Your new Prada heels should be coming within the next two days.

You don’t get Benji to drive you. Nobody bats an eye at a rich girl having a driver, but it does seem kind of weird to have him drop you off at a party as if you're a tween girl getting taken to the mall. If the house is owned by one of Yukimiya’s teammates, surely it won’t be too awkward if you had to leave it there because you got too drunk to drive yourself back home?

Because — no offense to Yuki, you’re happy he’s getting another birthday celebration — the whole point of even going to this party is to get fucked up. You already know that Juliette had a point — if not TMZ, then at least Daily Mail will be all over Rin and that girl in the club. If that gets leaked, then you might as well have your own headline to combat his. Sure, lately you’ve been out partying, but that was with other models so it doesn’t raise too many eyebrows. Rin being caught at a club is basically him hard launching the breakup. You need to raise some speculation on your side of things, too.

you: can you get someone to pick up my car from this address tomorrow morning? you: please :)

When you see three dots appear, you smile for real. You can practically hear her sigh and see the shake of her head.

Fumiko Gima: Yes. Fumiko Gima: Be safe.

Aw, maybe your manager does have a heart. Right before you can send her a heart, she adds:

Fumiko Gima: Don’t stay out too late. You have your first shoot at 8 AM.

This is the message you give a heart reaction to. Maybe everything really is just business with her.

You suppose you can’t fault Fumiko for always seeming cold. She’s your manager, not your best friend.

In this industry, her honesty is refreshing. You normally find this to be the case, but you really feel it now when you step into the mansion and hear a cacophony of laughter swarming you from all sides. At every turn, there’s a celebrity with a drink in hand. Everyone’s leaning towards each other, as if they’re so captivated with the other’s words.

You see an actor leading a stumbling model up the spiral staircase. To your side, you see a baseball player chatting up the daughter of one of the baseball league’s board members. Upstairs, someone’s probably snorting a line off Yukimiya’s teammate’s bathroom counter. There are only three reasons why people in your social circle attend these parties: to get fucked, to get fucked up, or to make business deals. Considering the fact that you’ve been here for nearly five minutes and have yet to see a birthday cake — or the belated birthday boy himself — you’re pretty sure everyone here has lot the damn plot for the original celebration.

When you venture some more, you end up in the massive backyard. Some people are drunkenly making out in the pool, some people are watching them, and in a table in the corner, you spot a group of girls giggling and cheering as they all do shots. Perfect. This is exactly where you need to be.

One’s a model; you’ve seen her on a couple pages you flipped through in Harper’s Bazaar. You go up to the table and give her a bright smile.

“Hey, girl! Or should I say Miss Bazaar?” You greet her like how you think people would tease a friend. She’s not your friend; you don’t even know her name. You know she knows your name — everyone here does. And it’s because of the fact that everyone knows you that she lights up when she realizes you’re speaking to her.

A photo op with you guarantees that even if the headline coming out tomorrow is centered on you, she’ll still be in the frame. Daily Mail will add a caption naming everybody from left to right, and she’s planning on being the one captured right next to you.

“[Name]!” She squeals, giving you a quick side hug. “How have you been?”

All your friends, the grand total of exactly two people, know how you’ve been. You grin, pointing to the bottle of tequila they have on their table.

“After how this day has been, I honestly just need a shot.” You play it off like a joke, and as someone pours you one, you add, “Or maybe like five.” They all giggle before throwing back the tequila straight. They might think you’re joking, but this table full of strangers are the first people you’ve been honest with all day.

At 12:15 AM, they aren’t strangers anymore. In fact, you think they might be your best friends in the whole world. You don’t know the lyrics to the rap song blaring through the bass boosted speakers, but you’re laughing as you take another shot. The Harper’s Bazaar girl is doing another shot with you, but she has her phone in her other hand. She makes sure that the both of you are in the frame together, and a second later, she’s tagging you in an Instagram story you don’t bother to view. You’re not even following her.

“Okay, so out of all the guys here, who looks the most fuckable?” One of the girls leans on the table for support as she asks this question. You can’t help but notice how glittery her lipgloss is. Wow, even after all the shots she’s taken, there’s no transfer. Impressive. “I say Theo Sachs.”

“Who the fuck is Theo Sachs?” Harper’s Bazaar asks, and the whole entire table giggles. Honestly, at parties like these, laughing comes easy. In fact, you’re giggling right with them, even though you also have no fucking clue who Theo is. There’s just something so freeing in tequila-induced joy.

“Um, the host of this party?” Glittery Lipgloss says. “Oh my God, girl, he’s like, one of the players for Bastard.”

“The fuck is Bastard?” Another girl asks, adjusting her blue minidress.

“The soccer team!” Glittery Lipgloss is too drunk to be fed up, but you’re sure she would be rolling her eyes if she could.

“I didn’t know we had soccer players here. I only saw baseball players.” Blue Minidress frowns, before adding, “I would totally fuck one of the baseball boys, though. No preference whatsoever. Matter of fact, I could take the whole team.”

Harper’s Bazaar laughs. “What about you, [Name]? Who are you taking home tonight?”

Before you can think of something to say, Glittery Lipgloss groans. “Oh my God, she has a boyfriend.” She looks at you for confirmation. You don’t give her any, but thankfully Blue Minidress has her own insight to add to this conversation.

“So what the fuck does that have to do with her question? [Name], who are you taking home tonight?”

Nobody. Out of every party you’ve gone to this past month, you went back home, completely and utterly alone each and every time. It’s not even because nobody offered — they have — but because no matter how lonely you may get or feel, you don’t like strangers in your space. It took you three months of dating Rin to let him into the penthouse you were originally staying in, and that was with you being in love with him.

Once again, you’re saved from answering when someone behind you goes, “[Name]?”

You turn around, only to come face to face with Yoichi Isagi. On second thought, maybe this isn’t the rescue you thought it was. Drunk You can’t hold back your frown when you see him. He’s wearing a dark blue polo shirt and chinos. He looks perfectly business casual and could pass off as an off-the-clock investment banker instead of the world class athlete you’ve heard he is. Then you let out a little snort of laughter, which only makes him look more confused. You don’t want to tell him that it’s kind of funny how normal he looks.

Not in a bad way. You’re surrounded by models for practically the whole day. Looking unattainably hot or having ethereal beauty is the one non-negotiable job requirement. Even Rin, with his stupidly long lower lashes and impossibly high cheekbones and his pretty boy resting sulking face, is serving standards some male models can’t achieve. Isagi looks like the type of guy you would have a crush on if the two of you were completely normal and attended regular high school together.

But that’s not the reality you’re living in. Right now, you’re getting drunk with girls you don’t know, and every night, you’re making headlines. He’s a professional athlete that everyone at this table would gladly fuck just for a chance to be declared social media’s favorite WAG of the Week. The both of you could have your pick of anyone at this party, but you refuse to let anyone in, and you think Isagi might be one of those intense athletes who only care about their sport.

If that’s the case, he’s doing every girl a favor by not pretending he can commit to anything but soccer. You know someone who could use a few pointers.

“Hi,” you mumble, and then you want to slap yourself because why the fuck are you acting like you’re nervous? But for some reason, you feel like you're a kid caught with their grimy hand in the cookie jar, like you’re doing something wrong.

“I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Well, it’s Kenny’s birthday party. Of course, I’d be here.” You cross your arms against your chest, feeling like you have something to prove. Before Yukimiya became his teammate, Kenyu was your friend first. Like, real friend, not just someone you leave supportive comments on their Instagram post type of friend.

Isagi actually smiles when he hears that. “Funny. I think everyone but Yukimiya actually wants to be here.”

You sober up a bit when you hear that. “Yeah, I couldn’t find him anywhere.” Not that you looked very hard. The minute you found this table of girls, you didn’t bother exploring the rest of the mansion.

“He was upstairs with some of the guys. You know that he, uh, doesn’t really like these types of parties.” He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.

“You don’t seem like the type to like these parties either.” If he was anyone else, you’d be saying this to flirt. You’re honestly not sure what your intention behind this comment was, either. You’re too drunk to decide if you wanted it to be an insult (some way to defend Yukimiya’s behavior?) or just you trying to make conversation for once (you’re not normally one for small talk).

“Caught me.” Isagi smiles easily. From now and thinking back to Yukimiya’s birthday lunch, Isagi is rarely not smiling. You wonder if he means it. Surrounded by people who only let you drink with them because being seen with you elevates their own status, you decide that the answer to that is a probably not. “I was about to head out before I thought I saw you, and I wanted to come by and…” For a second, he pauses to choose the right words to say. “Just wanted to see if it really was you.”

“Well, you saw me. Guess your business is done here.” Then you swiftly turn your back to him, as if to abruptly end the conversation. Instead, you’re drunker than you realize, and your heel ends up being wedged deeper into the grass than you expected, and you lose your balance. You think you might fall, which would be so embarrassing, but maybe not as embarrassing as what actually ends up happening.

What actually ends up happening is that Isagi is quick to wrap his arm around your abdomen, pulling you close to him as he attempts to keep you steady and upright. The girls looked shocked, but then they burst into another round of giggles, and since you’re not joining in the laughter, all you can think about is how annoying they are. You squirm around in his grasp, ignoring the whiff of fresh laundry you get from being all up in his personal space (not by choice!!!; he’s the one that pulled you in, after all!), and he releases you.

“Are you feeling okay?” He asks you. It’s hard to glare at him when he looks so genuinely concerned.

“Never better.”

“Do you have a ride home?”

What does it matter to you? Is what you want to say.

“I’ll call an Uber.” You lie, hoping that this will end the conversation once and for all. Seriously, Isagi just killed the whole vibe of the party for you. You want to go back to drinking.

“But I thought you didn’t do Ubers.” When Isagi calls you out on your bullshit, you soften momentarily. You almost forgot that he heard about your weird thing of having strangers know your home address. Then, you go back to giving him the cold shoulder. Sometimes, it’s a warm and gooey feeling to be known. Right now, you want to drown your sorrows in tequila and be showered with fake affection by girls who probably don’t even like you sober. You didn’t come to this party to be known. You came here for revenge.

(You’re not going to acknowledge how drinking your sadness away isn’t necessarily showing up Rin, but for nearly an hour straight, you hadn’t thought about him, and that’s good enough.)

When you have no response to that (wit doesn’t come easy when you’re in the condition you’re in right now), Isagi looks at you imploringly.

“Let me take you home.”

You shake your head childishly, almost saying nuh-uh. “Just because you don’t like this party doesn’t mean I don’t like it. I’m staying right here.”

He finally frowns. “Fine. I’ll wait for you to finish up here, then I’ll take you home.”

“I’m with my friends right now. Leave me alone.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Really? Which friend is going to make sure you get home safely? Yukimiya already left early.” Despite the two of you not knowing what the other is thinking, you both give wry smiles about that statement for the same reason. The party is still going on strong, despite the guest of honor not wanting to show his face and leaving early.

“These are my best friends.” You gesture to the trio of girls you know nothing about, besides the fact that they can keep up with your drinking habits. They all smile at Isagi, who waves back before turning his attention back to you.

“Really?” He asks. “What’re their names again?”

No one has anything to say to that, especially you. When the silence gets too awkward, Isagi clears his throat and also puts his foot down.

“I’m taking you home, [Name].”

You look at the trio of strangers you just spent hours with. Harper’s Bazaar shrugs, and the other two look away. The sting of not knowing who they are, despite them obviously having enough notoriety to be invited, makes your “best friends” not your friends anymore. Whatever.

“Fine.” You grumble, following Isagi to his car.

“Did you have fun tonight?” Is what he asks you as he signals to make a turn. The clicking of the turn signal is the only thing that fills the silence in the car.

No.

Sometimes, it’s fun in the moment, but that’s only when you’re drunk enough to trick yourself into thinking you’re having a good time. You’re more like Yukimiya (and — gross — Isagi) than they know; the whole “It Girl dominates the party scene” vibe you’ve got going on… It’s just bullshit that your PR team mixes together to get people talking. The high of being adored by everyone in a room vanishes almost immediately the minute you go home and wash off your makeup. In the bright lights of your bathroom, you stare at the sad, lonely girl in the mirror. It’s too dark outside for you to see anything out the window, but you lean your head against the cool glass, and before you know it, you’re waking up…

To Isagi groping you?

You’re groggy and confused and trying to blink the sleepiness out of your eyes, but Yoichi Isagi is definitely all up on you. You’re shocked, honestly. He looks like such a sweet guy! No wonder he was so pushy in getting you home.

He’s holding you in some awkward side hug, and he’s patting down your waist, trying to slip his fingers through the fabric of your dress, and finally, because he must be a novice-level pervert who doesn’t know the first thing about female anatomy, you speak up.

“Gross! You can’t even feel up a girl properly! No wonder you take advantage of drunk, vulnerable girls!”

“Ah!” He jerks back, shocked that you’re awake. Serves the pervert right. He should be backing up. You took a month of kickboxing classes (your modeling agency thought it would be the next big thing, since all the Victoria Secret models kickbox — they were wrong). “I-I wasn’t feeling you up!”

“Then why were your hands all over me?”

“I was looking for your key! You were asleep, and you looked like you needed it, so I just carried you to your door, but it’s locked.”

Oh. Likely story. You’re not letting him off the hook just yet.

“Obviously my front door would be locked, dumbass. Who doesn’t lock their house?” You point to the perfectly trimmed hedges by your door. “Key’s in the bushes.”

Since you’re making no moves to get down on your knees and rifle through the bushes, Isagi sighs and does it himself. When he holds up the key, you nod in thanks, take it, and then proceed to unlock the door using your fingerprint.

He blinks. “What?”

“What?” You repeat back, innocently.

“You didn’t even need the key to unlock the door!”

“Yes, Isagi. Modern technology is something, isn’t it?” And because you feel kind of bad, you offer him the chance to wash up before driving back.

“You’re really something, you know that?” Isagi says from the kitchen sink. You’re sitting on a stool by the counter.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s nothing bad.” He clarifies. “It’s just… Rin’s a pretty private person. We always wondered what his girlfriend must be like. Sorry.” He shuts off the faucet, dries his hands. “Ex-girlfriend, I guess.”

“How do you know that?” You’ve been racking your brain, wondering if Yuki spilled your secret accidentally. Or — even worse — Rin himself confirmed it. Rin never even told anyone explicitly that the two of you were dating, so it’s not plausible that he would go blab about the breakup.

“Well, I didn’t really know for sure until I drove you home that first time.” He admits. “I just thought you made a weird face when I mentioned Rin during lunch, and then you started acting funny afterwards. Just had a hunch, that’s all.”

Great. So, Isagi, who’s basically a stranger to you, could read you to filth. Is there anyone else that you haven’t been fooling? How embarrassing. Being perceived sucks.

You don’t say anything else. You can hear Isagi mumbling about something, and you make a half-hearted noise in reply, but you’re sleepy and drunk and coming to the realization that you can’t keep fooling everyone around for long. There’s no point in dancing around the topic of your breakup. It’s getting tiring, anyway.

It is pretty exhausting to be pining after someone who’s not coming back.

Because that’s why you’re trying so hard to keep the breakup a secret. Partly for pride, but mostly because… You’re hoping that after learning everything there is to know about you, Rin Itoshi wouldn’t go so far to cut you so deeply by leaving you. Right? He understood your level of loneliness like no one else, and he related to it. For the first time in both of your lives, the two of you suddenly found the right person to fill in all the empty spaces.

And then he left, and the emptiness just continues to grow in infinite amounts.

You groan as you move around, only to find that you’re moving on top of your bed. You’re tucked into your sheets, and your hair is splayed across your pillow. You turn your head and see a shadowy figure exiting out your bedroom door.

“You’re leaving, too?”

Your throat is dry, and the words come out small. You hate this feeling of hopelessness and vulnerability, and the figure pauses in his steps.

He hushes you gently. “You should go to sleep. You’ve had a long night.”

“Fine. Don’t stay. I don’t care.” You burrow yourself further into your blankets.

“Do you really want me to stay?”

At one in the morning, covered in the darkness of your bedroom, you turn every shadow into Rin Itoshi. You don’t know what you mumble in response, but you know that whatever you said, it’s directed towards him.

#yoichi isagi x reader #yoichi isagi x you #isagi x reader #one shot #fluff #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #rin itoshi x reader #smau #series: if you feel like falling

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sillysillygoofygoose · 10 months ago

Note

Helloooo can I request single dad Toji living with his son megumi but then neighbor reader moves in and yk HAHHAHAH anyways love ur works

Hi!! Okay, okay, okay SOOOOO cute 🥰 I LOVE this trope sooooo much. Thank you smmm anon 💕💕 I have the smexiest ask in my inbox rn, so I thought I would start with some innocent fluff 🤭

Toji is like... super down bad in this one btw

One and a Half Men □○

Toji swore off of dating the day he became a single father. Never again, he told himself. He was too busy. Too preoccupied. Too grown to be playing a twenty-something year old's game. It was evident by his whisps of gray hair, earned over the three and a half challenging years of fatherhood.

When Megumi was first born, Toji found him and his bundle of joy a nice enough apartment, conveniently next to an uninhabited one so Megumi's cries wouldn't wake up any neighbors. Toji kept his head down and focused on what he needed to do. He worked, he took care of his baby boy, and he just kept moving forward.

And he kept good on his promise... very good. Until you showed up.

"Oh, good morning Megumi! Hi Mr. Toji, how are you guys doing today?"

There you were. A beautiful, shining sweetheart, kind and angelic down to your very core. A college student, roughly twenty years old, full of life and hope and love. And the Fushiguro's neighbor of six months.

"I told ya' a million times doll, don't call me Mr. Anything. Makes me feel older than I already am." Toji can't help the way his heart pulses in his chest everytime you flash that bright smile his way. He wishes he could.

"Okay, Mr. Toji." You giggle him off, shrugging away his gruff tone as Megumi let's go of his dad's finger and starts waddling over to you, the smallest smile parting his chubby cheeks.

"Hi y~y/n. M'mmorning. I have new shirt." Megumi makes his way over to you, grabbing your hand with one of his while the other stretches the fabric of his yellow and blue t-shirt towards you, showing it off.

"Oh wow! I see! You look very dapper this morning, Megumi!" Toji watches as you crouch down in front of Megumi, absent-mindedly patting down the raven strands of hair protruding out of the little boys' scalp

Hm, Toji thinks, watching as you blabber back and forth with the little man, smile widening more and more with every word Megumi stumbles out.

A buzzing notification from his phone distracts him from the heartwarming scene. Fuck, graveyard shift tonight.

"Well, I'm very glad you like it, you look suuuuper handsome, just like your daddy." Toji's ears perk up when he hears that. He let's a smirk slip when he realizes you're already looking at him, holding little Gumi's hand.

Hearing Megumi's quiet giggles reminds him of his current conundrum. He doesn't have anyone to look after Megumi tonight.

"Um hey, y/n, are you busy tonight?" Toji scratches the back of his neck, keeping a cool composure as his heart picks up speed.

"No, I don't think so! Why?" You stand up, caressing Megumi's head when he clings to your legs.

"I don't like asking for favors, but could you watch Megumi tonight? I'll pay ya." Toji ignores Megumi's excited squeal at the mention of spending the night at your place, knowing at this rate, he would probably have the same reaction.

"Oh my god, I'd love to! You really don't have to pay me, it would be my pleasure. He's such a little gentleman." Almost as excited as Megumi, you agree, softly squeezing the toddler's tiny shoulders.

You say your goodbyes, explaining how you need to run to the store and that Toji can drop Megumi off whenever.

As you wave goodbye, Megumi turns back to his daddy, huge smile overtaking his dumpling face.

"Yay, tank you dada! I wuv y/n, so nice and pretty." Toji has never seen his little boy so excited.

"Yeah, me too, little guy." Toji mused, walking down the apartment building's hallway, distracted by confirming his shift with his boss.

"Dada wove y/n too?" Megumi mumbles to himself, looking up at his dad with bright, hopeful eyes.

"Uhm, huh? Uh she's a very nice young lady, Megs." Realizing what he said, he backtracks, distracting Megumi with under chin tickles.

"Okay Dada." Megumi giggles, scrunching his chin to his chest, trying to stop the tingles infecting his little body.

...

Megumi was quick to warm up to you when you first moved in. It was just something about you. Maybe it was the same thing that had Toji head over heels the moment he first talked to you.

You were so refreshing to be around. Both Toji and Megumi were so used to only having each other. A young, smiling, motherly woman was such a fulfilling person to have around. Like a missing piece. Your presence was magnetic to the small family, both of them adoring you, only in different ways.

Everything about you was so beautiful. It almost made Toji nervous...

"Dada... knock knock." Megumi pulls Toji's hand towards your door, reminding him of the task at hand.

"You got it bud." Toji picks Megumi up under his armpits, letting him do the knocking.

Immediately, the door swings open, revealing a smiling you, clad in a flimsy tank top and baggy sweatpants.

"Megumi!!" You exclaim, laughing as the little boy grabs your neck and transfers himself into your arms.

"Yayyayayay, y/n!" Megumi squeezes you before turning to his dad.

"Bye bye, dada. Night night." Megumi immediately waves to his dad, almost kicking him out.

"Hold on, little man. Let me talk to y/n for a minute." Toji huffed a laugh as you smiled, moving to the side to let him in.

Toji declined coming in, explaining that he didn't want to intrude. He began explaining that Megumi was due for sleep, saying how it's already way past his bedtime. You point to your room, assuring him that Megumi would be sleeping like a king and that you were drowning in school work, too much to worry about sleeping on the couch.

Toji nodded along, beginning to tune your melodic voice out as he observed the way a sleepy Megumi snuggled into your neck, and the way your hand cradled his head, carding through his messy hair.

"Okay, well, I don't want to keep you too long, Toji! Megumi is safe and sound, and will be asleep verrryyy soon." You tease the little boy, knowing that he's already fighting sleep, dozing off on your shoulder.

Toji smiled when he didn't hear an honorific before his name. Your body froze up as he moved unbelievably close to you, face rubbing against yours as he cups the back of Megumi's head, kissing him goodnight.

"Thanks again, text me if you need anything. Be a good boy Gumi, love ya." Toji waves goodbye as you close the door, turning in your place to take a deep breath, feeling your heated cheeks with the back of your hand, pulling yourself together. What a man.

Your fan-girling subsides when you feel a yawn against your neck, reminding you of the exhausted little boy in your arms.

"Let's get you to bed, buddy. We can have fun in the morning, okay?" You feel a mumble on your skin as you walk to your room, taking in the little boys matching pajamas, little toes covered with fluffy socks. Your heart melts in your chest. How cute.

"Alright, there we go. All set, bud?" You smile down at Megumi tucked in your pink bedding, little head resting on your memory foam pillow.

"Back rub, please?" Megumi pleads, instinctively rubbing his scalp with flat hands. That's where the messy hair comes from.

"Okay, bud." You soften your voice as the boy rolls around in your bed, laying on his chubby little tummy.

He hums happily when he feels the weight of your hand on his back, making grabby hands at your unoccupied one, asking to hold it.

"Dada woves you. He said so to me." Megumi smiles softly, squeezing you hand.

"Oh! Um... oh! He said that?" A wave of shock and flush runs through your body, chest and face heating up.

"Mhm. He thinks you're pretty. I think he wants- marry you." Gumi goes rouge as sleep clouds his little mind, cutting into his own sentences.

"Allrrighhtt Megs... let's focus on bedtime, okay?" You giggle out, feeling like a schoolgirl after hearing the unreliable narrator's thoughts.

"Mmh, okay. Night night, Mama."

...

You didn't get a lick of sleep. How could you? Piles of work was banging at your brain, but the only thing you could think of was Toji and Megumi. Mama.

Pulling at your face, you snap out of your panicked thoughts when you hear a door open and the weight of a tiny body running to your couch. Looking up, your heart breaks in half.

"Y/nnn, bad dreammm. I had bad dream." Megumi sobs out, hands seeking comfort in his hair rubbing his head in agony. His face is puffy and red as tears run down his chubby cheeks, sniffing and crying.

"Oh Gumi, I'm sorry baby... here, come here honey." Climbing onto the couch, Megumi rushes into your arms, holding onto you like you would disappear. Sighing, you stand up with the little boy koala bear-ing you, pacing back and forth as you hush him.

Gazing at the time displayed on the oven, you see that it's already four in the morning. Megumi burrows himself into your body, getting as close as possible to you, seeking the maternal comfort your provide.

"M so sleepy. Don't wanna be by myself." Megumi eventually sighs after tiring himself out, fidgeting with the strap of your tank top.

"Let's sit down, okay bubs? Let's just take some deep breaths." You feel like a nervous wreck, hoping you're comforting Megumi well enough, not fully knowing what to do.

Sitting back down, you pat his back, resting your head on the back of the couch. The weight of Megumi's tired head on your chest grounds you. As you begin dozing off, you feel Megumi's grip on you relax, signaling his sleep.

Exhaling, you rest your arms around the resting lump, finally letting sleep overtake you.

...

Bright and early, you're awoken by the sounds of cabinets opening and closing. You freak out, thinking someone was ransacking your apartment before you open your eyes to see a little body wandering around your kitchen.

"Thirsty." Was the only explanation you get from the messy haired boy as he continued look for a glass.

Pouring him a glass of water, you place him on a chair in your small kitchen, starting his breakfast.

Megumi mumbles to himself as you prepare his scrambled eggs, keeping himself entertained. As you sit across from him, placing his plate in front of him, he smiles and thanks you quietly before digging in.

You drink your coffee, enjoying the peace and quiet provided by Megumi's preoccupied mind...

"Y/n?"

"Yes, Gumi?"

"Do you love dada?"

Megumi brings it up again. Great. Nosey little boy.

"Because I want a mommy. And you're good at it. I think you should be my mama."

"Hey, Gumi, what's your favorite dinosaur?" You blurt out, stopping the conversation as soon as possible.

The little boy glares at you, too smart to be tricked, but giving in anyway.

"T-rex."

...

"Dada! Y/n took good care of me!" Megumi sung the highest of praises when you opened the door to an exhausted Toji.

"I'm sure she did! I hope he didn't give you too much trouble." Toji teased, seeing the dark bags manifesting under your eyes.

"No, not at all, he's a very good boy." You smiled giving Megumi one last hug before he grabbed onto his dad's thumb.

"Thank you so much again, really it means the world to us." Toji reminded you, pulling a fifty out of his pocket, almost begging you to take it. You insisted on him keeping it, joking that the economy is too tough to be stealing his money. Saying their final goodbyes, Toji and Megumi left you alone with your thoughts.

Oh my god. Toji looked so good. His sweatshirt made his already huge frame look unbelievably broader, looking so protective as he held onto his little boy at your door.

You needed him. Bad. And it freaked the shit out of you.

Hope you enjoyed! Xoxo

*PART TWO IS NOW UP!!!!!* https://www.tumblr.com/sillysillygoofygoose/740703539826917377/one-and-a-half-men-one?source=share

#fem reader #jjk x reader #size difference #age difference #jjk #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji smut #toji zenin #toji headcanons #toji x you #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #💗asks💗

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hunterwritings · 10 months ago

Text

𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐃 | 𝐁𝐈-𝐇𝐀𝐍

summary: bi-han comes home wounded, trying his best to keep it from you warnings: mention of blood/laceration, stitching notes: i can only think of writing for bi-han rn 😭

You knew that Bi-han was hot-headed, ironically. You knew that he liked to fight and even though he would most likely win, he would still have battle scars.

It was something you expected, but never looked forward to. Bi-han has a problem being vulnerable and asking for help, so whenever he would get injured in battle he would do his best to hide it from you. Sometimes he'd get away with it and you'd eventually find out after the fact, but sometimes he's a bad liar.

It was the middle of the night when Bi-han stumbled into the temple, his brothers at his side. "Please brother, let us-" Tomas began before Bi-han shut him down. "I can deal with my own wounds." He beckons as he pushes them off and begins walking to your bedroom, holding a hand at his side. "He will be fine Tomas, the pain of us helping him would cause more damage than the wound itself." Kuai Liang reassures his younger brother as they turn and return to their own rooms to rest.

A small groan falls from Bi-han's lips as he rips the mask off his face, his teeth grinding together. He swiftly opened the door of your shared bedroom, trying his best to not wake you. As he quietly shuts the door, he turns back to see you sleeping peacefully on your side of the bed. A sigh of relief fell from his mouth at the sight of you, just knowing you were safe was enough to put him at ease.

His eyes darted to the bathroom, thinking that he could make his way there and clean up, while being quiet enough to not wake you. Bi-han would be lying if he said it wasn't difficult with the large wound at his side, but he would rather die than admit that. He took a breath before slowly beginning to walk towards the bathroom, a small wince caught in his teeth as his hand shot to his side.

As if you had super sonic hearing, you tossed in bed and turned your body to face him as your eyes slowly begin to open. Once you saw the shadowy figure in the dark, you quickly sat up. As you realized it was Bi-han, your heart began to relax for a moment. "I didn't think you were going to be so late." You whisper, still half asleep. "We ran into some trouble, it was a quick fight." He bluntly tells you, relieved you weren't able to see his wounded body in the dark. His relief is quickly gone when you reach over and turn on the soft light next to your bed. Your eyes instinctively shut as you held a hand over your eyes and try your best to focus on Bi-han. When your eyes adjust as best they could, you finally noticed the dark red on his blue uniform.

"What happened!?" You ask, now awake and pushing the covers off of your body.

Bi-han just groans before quickly walking into the bathroom. He tries to shut the door on you, but you quickly make your way into the bathroom.

"Are you okay?" You ask with your eyes glued on his wound. "I am fine." He hissed, keeping his gaze away from you. "Clearly not." You said, a bit of anger setting in.

You pushed him back and made him sit down on the edge of the tub. You turned to grab a small bit of bandages and stitching kits from under your counter. You crouched down next to him as he exhaled deeply. His hands reached down and tried to take the needles from you but you pulled your hands away from him.

"Stop." You began to open up the sewing kit. "I can dress my own wounds, go back to sleep." He tries to demand. You look up and give him a sour look before gripping his shirt. "Take it off." You demanded as you pulled up on the upper part of his uniform.

He reluctantly abides, knowing that you are too stubborn to let him do this on his own. Now with his skin exposed, you could see the wound in full. It was a large cut from his upper ribcage down to the side of his lower abdomen. "Bi-han." You breathe out as you touch the skin around the wound, feeling dried blood around it.

"You act as if I am fragile." He snarls, still looking away from you. "I know you are not fragile which is why this is a bit much, but I knw you will be fine." You nod before pouring a bit of alcohol on a rag before dressing his wound. The alcohol on the wound causes Bi-han to wince loudly as he tightly grabs hold of your leg as you stood next to him.

"Do not treat me like a child." He shakes his head, his eyes tightly pressed together. "I am not treating you like a child, I'm treating you like my husband. It is my job to worry about you, to want to help you." You explain, feeling his grip on your leg soften as he finally turns to look at you. "I know you do not want my help even when you need it, but I am always here to provide it. Because I wish for you to be safe and not in pain, just as I hope you'd like that for me." You hold his face in your hands as he looks up at you, his cold demeanor completely faded as soft eyes stare at yours.

"I would freeze the world over to keep you safe."

A soft smile goes across your lips before pressing a sweet kiss to his lips, pulling away and pressing your forehead to his.

Although you interpreted his saying as a metaphor, he meant every single word.

#— hunterwritings #hunterwritings #mk1 #mk1 x reader #mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #bi han #bi han x reader #bihan x reader #bi han x you #sub zero #sub zero x reader #sub zero x you

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love-belle · 1 year ago

Text

king of my heart !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which they finally share their little life with the world.

for when it's just peaceful and happy. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

social media au // lewis hamilton x fem!reader

warnings - language

author's note - loved writing this so much!! im trying to post all of social media requests first before moving onto one shots so if u requested a one shot, im so sorry for the delay, i've been busy with tests all day long. hopefully i can post them over the next couple days!! i love you, thank you for reading this. this was requested by @tbb01 hope you like it love!!

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by lewishamilton, carmenmmundt, danielricciardo and 964,826 others

yourusername king of my heart, body and soul 🤍

tagged lewishamilton

username HELLO WHAT THE FUCK

username OH NY GOF WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK OMG

username THE TAYLOR SWIFT LYRIC IM DECEASED.

carlossainz55 please tell me you told lewis that you were going to post this

-> yourusername he's gonna be surprised when he wakes up x

username THEY'RE SO AHAHSJEKKSJSKJSJS

username PARENTS

danielricciardo i see we chose violence today

*liked by yourusername*

lewishamilton a warning would've been nice baby x

-> yourusername sorry i couldn't resist x

lewishamilton i love you, thank you for being my personal paparazzi

-> yourusername anytime ❤️‍🩹

username IM SOVBINF I LOVE RHEM

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, maxverstappen1 and 986,627 others

lewishamilton years of being together and i manage to fall in love with you even more as time goes on. forever seemed like a long time back then but now i feel like it'll never be enough. i would walk through hell with you, for you, as long as it's you holding my hand. i love you, my love, in all my past lives, in this one and all those to come. happy 5th anniversary ❤️

tagged yourusername

username THEY'RE MARRIED?????????

username WHAT THE FUCK WHATCTHEBFUCK WHAT THE FHCK

username 5 YEARS OH MY GOD

username "forever seemed like a long time back then but now i feel like it'll never be enough" CAN YOU HEAR ME CRYING.

danielricciardo fyi y/n is crying x

-> yourusername this is exactly why ur no. saved as ABSOLUTELY NOT

username shakespeare's been real quiet since lewis wrote that caption

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landonorris mom and dad ⁉️

-> yourusername son?

-> lewishamilton we already have one but thanks

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≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by lilymhe, charles_leclerc, yourbestfriend and 995,427 others

yourusername dakotah antonio y/l/n-hamilton ❤️ (lewis is on the couch folding laundry and will be doing that for an entire month, thank you)

tagged lewishamilton

8,927 comments

username THEY HAVE A BABY

username WHATCTHEBFUCJ

username the way today's full of surprises like they really exposed their relationship, marriage and the fact that they're parents in a SINGLE day

username just saying but i would die for this baby

charles_leclerc missing my little man ❤️‍🩹 tell him his godfather says hi

-> danielricciardo excuse me?

-> carlossainz55 it's me obviously

-> landonorris no it's me

-> pierregasly im y/n's best friend, it's ME

-> yourusername ...

username HE'S GONNA BE SO LOVED I CAN JUST TELL

username LMFAOOO NOT LEWIS ON LAUNDRY DUTY

username im in shock rn like woah.

lewishamilton i love you ❤️‍🩹

-> yourusername love u too ig 🫤

-> lewishamilton oh

-> yourusername IM SORRY I LOVE YOU ❤️

username *sighs* ME WHEN??????!!!!!!!!!

username this is HUGE like oh my god.

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, georgerussell63 and 998,617 others

lewishamilton my everything summed up in two pictures 🤍

tagged yourusername

8,927 comments

username in love with this family omg

username u don't get it im SCREAMING

username baby y/l/n-hamilton is so adorable i could cry

danielricciardo so much love for you guys ❤️

*liked by lewishamilton*

username he's gonna be the most fashionable baby on the paddock i can feel it

username the day my life changed: today

username LEWIS AS A DAD I CANNOT

username y/n come home, im sure the kids won't mind a half sibling 🫤🫤🫤 u can bring your hus- 🤮 h-husba- 🤮 h-husband 🤮🤮 too ig

landonorris favs ‼️

*liked by lewishamilton*

username im so normal about this hahahahAhahahAHaha

username no bc im literally SO happy for them like they deserve each other fr

username cannot wait for dakotah's first time seeing his dad race omg

yourusername i love you both so much, my entire world is you

-> lewishamilton all i can say is thank you, our baby boy is so lucky to have you as his mother

username they're so in love im.

#lewis hamilton x female reader #lewis hamilton x fem!reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton imagines #lewis hamilton social media au #lewis hamilton blurb #f1 x female reader #f1 x reader #fake instagram imagines #social media au #f1 imagines

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basketonthedoorstepofthefbi · 5 months ago

Text

"tea" - emily prentiss x fem!liasion!reader

summary: you make a cup of tea to help you sleep

wc: 1.2k

cw: none, really? mostly fluff, & just emily being the best girlfriend ever

a/n: i'm in an emily phase rn and i'm not responsible for the fics i write ok ly all bad

A teal, ceramic mug with I <3 MYRTLE BEACH carved into it is cradled between both your hands as you lean against the kitchen counter. Your sleepovers at Emily’s apartment have become more and more frequent these days, which is lucky for you, really, because now you have a drawer where you can keep your comfortable, printed pajama sets. The set you have on tonight is blue, decorated with cartoon puppies. The shorts ride up your ass a little as you lean against the counter, but it’s no matter to you. Not right now, not when you’re the only one awake.

Or so you thought.

Emily’s steps are akin to that of a kitten as she pads into the kitchen. Her ivory skin is the first thing you see, standing out in contrast of her dimly lit apartment. Then her dark hair, pulled up in a chaotic bun on the top of her head, leaning a little to the left because she always sleeps on her side.

“Shit, Em, did the kettle wake you?” You grimace as she treads softly towards you. Her eyes squint to adjust to the light you have on over the range, and she reaches a closed fist out to chuck your chin playfully on her way to the refrigerator.

“It’s alright,” she says, her voice like sandpaper compared to the usual velveteen you hear all day long. She must have been deep asleep, then. You feel a pang of guilt tug at your heart as you take a long sip of your tea. Emily grabs a handful of green grapes from the bowl in the fridge, popping one into her mouth. She glides to stand against the kitchen island, opposite a small stretch of linoleum from you. “You’re having trouble falling asleep again?”

You shrug a little, trying to be nonchalant about it, but the truth is, you’ve been unable to fall asleep for a few weeks now. You chalk it up to a bad case about a month ago - unfortunately, both the unsub and their latest victim didn’t make it. You’ve had cases that didn’t end well before, but this victim was a young girl and you can’t help the way this one lingers in the back of your mind, like a bad aftertaste.

“I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me, baby,” Emily says before crunching down on a grape, the last one in her hand. You set your tea down on the counter beside you and cross the linoleum street that separates you and your girlfriend, wrapping your arms around her neck. Her satin pajamas tickle your cheek as you press your forehead into the crook of her shoulder.

You cling to her like a koala and Emily just keeps her hands on your waist, holding you closely as you embrace her. She smells like jasmine and vanilla, and you almost want to chastise her because you know that means she stole your perfume.

“My head just feels very full these days,” you sigh after a few moments, pulling away. Emily uses her hold on your hips to guide your back against the kitchen island. You hoist yourself up onto it and Emily moves to stand between your legs.

“It’s that Oregon case, isn’t it?” she asks, tucking your hair behind your ear with one hand, the other palm resting flat on your thigh.

“How’d you know?” you ask, an eyebrow quirking upward.

“You asked Reid to help you finish your report on it,” Emily begins. “Two out of three cases since then have revolved around young girls, like you’re overcompensating, and Derek told me he saw you zoning out by the coffee machine while Anderson and JJ were discussing the case.”

You feel pink rush to your cheeks. All of Emily’s evidence is factual, much as it pains you to admit. “Is that all?” you deadpan, feeling a little sheepish. You also want to lay into your coworkers for being such tattletales. As the Communications Liaison, you generally maintain a well-rounded, professional disposition, but you suppose even your attitude at work has been lacking recently.

“And, y’know, the gut feeling,” Emily adds. “You’ve been a little slower getting ready for work, almost like you’re dreading it.”

“We agreed, no more profiling at home,” you remind her. She runs her thumb over the dimple in your chin.

“It’s not profiling, it’s knowing my girlfriend,” Emily bites back with a compassionate sincerity that makes you want to eat her alive. How did you get so lucky? “You’re usually dragging me out of bed in the mornings, not the other way around.”

You rake your fingers through her hair, meeting her dark eyes in the soft, dim light of the kitchen. This is as romantic a backdrop as any, in your opinion - lovelier than Paris, Rome, and London combined. You’ve always heard that to be loved is to be known, and boy, does Emily know you.

“Well, I’m sorry for waking you up,” you concede in a slight change of subject, tracing your thumb across her hairline. “D’you want some tea? It’s that herbal stuff for sleep that Penelope recommended.”

Emily shakes her head, kissing your jaw gently, then your cheek, finally your lips. It’s brief but it carries so many words. “No, thank you,” she says in a whisper, then steps back, grabs your cup from the other counter, and hands it to you.

You take a drink, the warmth seeping in through your nostrils. “Do you love Myrtle Beach, Em?” you ask with a small laugh as you examine the mug in your hands. It’s obviously handmade, with the splotches of teal paint and weird lumps - and the lack of a handle.

Emily just laughs, turning around and hoisting herself up onto the countertop beside you. You eye her smooth legs sticking out of those black, satin pajama shorts, and, uncontrollably, you set your mug down and place a hand over her thigh. “I’ve actually never been to Myrtle Beach,” she says. “I bought that at a thrift store.”

“So, you buy designer pajama sets off the rack, but you shop for your mugs secondhand?” you chortle a little, drawing circles into the sliver of pearly white thigh peeking out from her shorts.

“Yep,” Emily confirms, popping the ‘p’ at the end of the word and shooting you a sideways smirk. “I like some things luxurious, but other things with lots of personality.”

“And which one am I?” you ask all-knowingly, leaning a little closer so your mouth was mere centimeters for hers.

“Oh, c’mon, now, you know you’re both.” Emily teases, then kisses you softly.

You smile into the kiss, one hand curving against the smooth angle of her jaw to keep her face by yours for just a moment longer. “I really am sorry I woke you up,” you whisper as you pull away.

“Don’t be,” Emily insists, resting her forehead against yours. “If it comes down to staring at the ceiling all night or waking me up by making tea, just wake me up. Okay?”

You start to pull back, but Emily’s hand cups your cheek to keep your eyes on hers. “Okay?” she repeats.

You nod. “Mhm. Okay, Em.”

“Good, sweet, lovely girl,” Emily murmurs, pecking your lips once more before hopping off the counter. She offers you a hand to help you down. “Let’s try again, shall we?”

#criminal minds #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x fem!reader #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss fluff #emily prentiss imagine #criminal minds fic #basketonthedoorstepofthefbi

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linoveins · 6 months ago

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hi sweetie, how are u? i luv ur writings ^^

could you write a fic about lino's tummy scar? i'm so soft about it, wanna worship him 🥺

a/n: hi!! i'm really stressed with uni rn :( i finally found time to write this though! it's just simple and short i hope u like it!! i felt all warm and fuzzy writing this. i adore minho sm i wanna worship him toooo (also have you seen the latest pics of him he looks so buff like DAMN)

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idol!minho is really busy and tired from work lately. reader misses him and takes matters into their own hands.

genre: smut, fluff, some angst

warnings: MDNI! oral m!receiving, body worship, mentions of dom minho, dirty talk.

w.c.: 1.6k

minho had been busy lately from all the comeback preparations. you knew how hectic his schedule was so you don't blame him for the lack of quality time between you two.

you know how physically and mentally exhausting it is for him, waking up at 6 in the morning and often coming home past midnight.

you have been together for multiple comebacks now. you knew the drill. both of you did. and still you can't get used to it. but you didn't wanna add onto the things he was thinking, and all of this was really out of both your control, so you just made the most of what you had. but you still miss him.

sure, whenever he comes home, he lays on his side of the bed and pulls you closer to him from behind. sometimes he leaves a trail of soft kisses on your shoulder before passing out.

but you miss more of him. so when he came home a little bit earlier tonight, just an hour before midnight, you can't help but tackle the man in bed and hug him tight. you were practically squeezing and grabbing his skin while you buried your face on the crook of his neck.

you inhale him in.

you latch onto his figure, your body on top of him hugging impossibly tighter, and you all but melt.

he smells so good. so familiar and warm and just... good. you nuzzle your head deeper into his neck as you hear him chuckle and wrap his arms around you.

"you missed me, jagi?" minho says softly while running his hand down your back with the other, petting your hair.

you hum in agreement while licking his neck, just smelling him not enough anymore.

"smell so good, min." you mumble against his skin in between soft kisses.

minho coos at your actions. you're too adorable right now.

soon enough you started biting and sucking on his neck. you wanted to swallow him. you haven't felt him for so long you thought you were gonna lose your mind.

"mmh.. you want something, baby?" minho says, his breathing a bit labored. he missed you so fucking much too.

you remove yourself from the comfort of his neck to really look at him.

his eyes were gazing up at you tiredly, but still full of love and longing. you can see him trying to fight his eyes from closing.

"i just want you. but you're tired-"

"it's okay, i want you too. just give me a moment-"

"shh." you kiss his lips softly. and then his nose, and then leaving a bunch of kisses on his temple. "can i take over for now? wanna make you feel good. wanna take care of you this time."

you say it so sweetly with pleading eyes. how can he deny you, really?

"okay, baby."

you smile brightly at that, and minho feels like his heart is about to burst.

his sweet angel. the sweetest. what did he ever do to deserve you?

noticing the furrow on his brow, you planted a kiss to it.

"don't worry. just relax. it's okay if you fall asleep. my baby has been working so hard..."

your hands start to run over his chest, and you notice how big he's gotten. you gave one of his pecs a squeeze and he laughs.

"yah, stop playing."

"okay, okay. help me take this off." you tug on his shirt. "wanna kiss all of you."

"yeah?" minho says with a teasing smile before helping you get his shirt off.

and holy fuck.

his PT sessions really did one on him. his chest had gotten bigger and firmer. not just that. you can tell he's getting more buff all over.

"jagi." minho says, pulling you out of your trance.

"min, holy shit! so beautiful.." your soft hands run all over his exposed body and he can't help but shiver at the contrast of your warmth from the chill of the room.

"you like it?" he teases, obviously already knowing the answer.

you answer with a lick on his pecs and you can feel him stiffen beneath you. you're groping and squeezing all over and minho can't help the huffs slipping past his pretty lips.

"jagiya, don't tease." he warns.

"but you're so pretty." you whine while kissing his skin. "your arms have gotten bigger..."

you gave them a firm squeeze.

"so strong." you feel minho's cock twitch at the praise. "you could easily take me. any way you want."

your voice is dizzying. your words are sending him to heaven. you're regularly not this vocal. well, not with coherent words coming out of your mouth. but usually, it's him doing the talking. so this is new. he feels like he's floating.

"and these." you squeezed his pecs again. "you always complain about working out. but you did it. im so proud of you."

you leave a bunch of wet kisses down his torso until you reach his scar. you know minho wasn't the type to show off his body. he thought his scar isn't exactly something people would like to see.

when you both first had sex, the lights were all off as per your wishes. what you didn't know was that minho wanted that too for his own concerns since he didn't want to let you see him that time.

once you two got more comfortable with each other, you assured him the scar looked "sexy as fuck", which made him laugh.

and it really was. minho thought you just said that cause you loved him, and since the scar was on him, your love would naturally extend to that. but no, even just the scar on him is really hot. he still didn't believe you so you told him "it's like toji fushiguro with his scar". he kinda got it after that.

you kissed the permanent mark on his body, whispering out a little "pretty".

minho was incredibly horny at this point but his heart also felt heavy from the overwhelming emotions you're pulling out of him.

you lick the length of the scar, and his cock pokes at you from within his sleep shorts.

"baby-"

"i got you." you whisper softly while trailing more wet kisses down his belly until you reach the hem of his shorts.

minho hisses as you pull the material down, his heavy dick springing up.

your soft hand grips the shaft and he clenches his jaw hard.

"always so hard and pretty for me." you say with gentle strokes. "so big..."

minho can't help the little whimper escaping his throat.

you're driving him insane.

"love hearing you, min." you swipe your thumb on the tip and give it a gentle squeeze. "i always cum so hard when you're panting in my ear."

minho moans loudly at your words. his sweet baby is talking so dirty. all his.

his cock looks fucking good in your hand right now, all red, and hard, and fucking leaking. you lick the head for a taste and it takes everything out of minho not to cum fast.

it's been so long. but you're here again, all pretty and enchanting with his cock in your mouth.

soon enough, you started sucking him off, trying to take as much as you can in your mouth and gripping the rest of what you can't fit with your hand. you're minding your teeth, swirling your tongue just how he likes it, and drooling on it.

the squelches are driving both of you crazy. he tried his best to open his eyes and he starts gripping the sheets hard so he wouldn't use them to hold your head and just fuck up into it.

minho wasn't really a man of spirituality and religion but this? you deserved all of his devotion. your eyebrows are scrunched in focus, eyes a bit teary and hazed from taking his cock just how he likes it– just how he taught you, and your fucking mouth. your pretty fucking lips wrapped around him, your hot, and wet tongue- it's too fucking much.

and you're moaning. you're moaning on his cock as if you're the one getting the most pleasure out of it. his sweet messy fucking angel.

after a couple of squeezes from your hand and swirls from your tongue, you could feel him tightening, and you look up right into his eyes.

he cums hard, moaning your name coupled with strings of praises. you keep licking and swallowing all he could offer. your personal fucking God.

minho is breathing heavily, still trying to calm down from the intense orgasm. he's long gone but it's okay. you clean up the other mess and take care of him like you said you would and like he always does.

"thank you, jagi." minho smiles as he kisses you on the lips. he tries to escalate it further, pushing his tongue past your mouth, but you break the kiss.

"mmh- you should sleep. you have an early day tomorrow." you say while minho groans.

"but you-"

"some other time. you're barely awake!" you giggle while minho tries to grab you. you can't believe you're getting away with interrupting him multiple times tonight. you bet his half-asleep brain can't even register that right now. you laugh softly at his cuteness.

he eventually just cuddles you, his breathing now even and his eyes closed.

"i love you, y/n. m'sorry for not being here a lot." he says sleepily, whispering into your ear.

"i love you too. and don't worry. i'll keep being here when u get home."

"miss you... a lot. wanna make it up to you" minho mumbles while pulling you closer.

"you will." you melt into his embrace. "but sleep for now, hm?. i miss you too. so much..."

#�� mail #🍮 requests #lee know x reader #lee know smut #lee minho x reader #lee minho smut #minho smut #skz smut #skz imagines

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lemonsprite · 1 year ago

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𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 || 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐢𝐧 𝐱 𝐆𝐍! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐓𝐚𝐯)

Summary: Tav finally gets to pet the gods most loveable creatures

Word count: 598

Warnings: none^^

A/N: gn! Tav/reader, sorry to all my above average height baddies reader is smaller than Halsin :(, so much fluff it’s gonna make you vomit I love him!!!!!! Ambiguous relationship? Kinda? If you like squint it can be interpreted as platonic

I LOVE HALSIN IM CRAWLING ON HANDS AND KNEES THROUGH THE DESERT IN SEARCH OF MY BEAR MAN

It was cold.

Very cold.

Night had fallen, shrouding the camp in darkness and you shivered in your bedroll, pulling your one thin blanket closer to your chest in a desperate attempt to garner warmth.

The small campfire next to your bedroll barely emitted any light, the small embers casting a faint orange glow on the nearby damp grass.

You had half a sleep deprived mind to just stick your hands into the dying flame and cuddle up to the warmth.

“Can’t sleep?” Came a low grumble from the cot next to yours.

Halsin turned on his side to face you, his gaze searching your eyes almost concernedly. Part of you wanted to ask him how he was able to sleep in this cold practically shirtless but you bit your tongue, hiding your words.

“…yes.” You said almost sheepishly, embarrassed to be caught despite doing no wrong. “Sorry to wake you Halsin.”

“You did not wake me.” He smiled gently, his grin so soft it melted your heart like butter.

“I was already awake and noticed your plight… is there anything I can do to help?” He offered and you felt yourself involuntarily smiling back, his kind demeanour infectious.

Your face turned pink at his offer, shaking your head softly in reply.

“No, it’s quite alright Halsin you do not need to do anything…”

“Nonsense, yes I don’t need to… but I want to.”

He sat up from his bedroll, even sitting he still towered over you, his head blocking out the soft glow of the moon in the sky as the embers of the fire turned the hues of his hazel eyes brown. Halsin stopped where he sat, looking at you in a silent ask of permission.

He patted the empty space next to him in his bedroll, a clear invitation for you to join him yet something made you hesitate. You’d done very little for Halsin as long as you’ve known him yet here he was giving everything for you and asking for nothing in return. He was kind, too kind, and a nagging voice in the back of your mind told you that you’d never done anything worth while enough to deserve the love and attention of the Archdruid.

Before you could spiral any further, Halsin’s sweet as honey gaze returned you to normality. His smile was gentle, his eyes crinkling, forming wrinkles and it soothed your worries, washing them away like an ocean, Halsin’s soft breathing the ebbing tides and the quiet crackle and pops from the dying fire the lapping waves.

as you scrambled to pull yourself together and climb into bed next to him, Halsin moved his arm to accommodate you before wrapping it around your waist, pulling you closer to his torso.

His chest was like a furnace and if you laid still enough you could feel his heart beating slowly almost in perfect synch with a crickets chirping in the woods surrounding camp.

Your face couldn’t help but heat up once fulling realizing the situation you were in, the tips of your ears turning pink.

A low rumble came from behind you, Halsin’s laugh soothing in your ear.

“You Look Like a radish.” He teased, pulling you impossibly closer till you were flush with his chest.

No words would come out from your open mouth when trying to respond, so instead you elected to look around the sound asleep camp, your eyelids finally starting to droop from fatigue.

“Never hesitate to ask me for anything.” He hummed quietly, his body spooning yours.

“I’d hang the moon for you if asked…”

Sorry it was so rushed at the end TT I just got done with a six hour musical pit practice and I wanted to post this so I rushed it </3

You n’ Halsin rn ^_^

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z3nitsusgf · 2 months ago

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I, The Sun

Ch. 1 - In My Mind

ford pines/reader: NSFW, murder, violence against women, possession, manipulation, occult themes, dark fic.

first chapter of something I’ve been working on, it’s more of a introduction/exposition rn but I promise it gets better.

1976 - Gravity Falls, Oregon

Ford has been having these dreams lately. Unpleasant ones. Ones that leave him feeling sick, where he wakes up with his tongue stuck to his gums, and his body is in a cold sweat.

Where they feel so real that when he wakes he checks himself for injuries to see if it was a memory or not. He can't grasp the material reality with full intensity, a part of him seems to reside far away and beyond what's tangible.

His mind playing tricks on him, a cruel joke. Because the next flash of dreams is him on top of a woman, his hands strangling her until she gives way to the darkness and he’s plunging a knife into her abdomen over and over until she’s nothing more than minced meat. He realizes too late it’s you.

“Doesn’t this feel good?” A voice purrs in his ear, Ford is feral and bloodthirsty, ripping apart human flesh as if it were animal. A laughing soprano rings through his head and it hurts.

Ford wakes with a gasp, clutching his chest. He’s in his room, in his home, safe and sound. He attempts to slow his breathing, the dreams reeling through his head like a spool of film. The moonlight shines through his stained glass window, filtering in through shades of light pink and blue.

He sighs in relief, “just another nightmare.”

Something wet drips on his forehead and he wipes it away, when he looks at his fingertips it’s not water. Something thick and dark is smeared across the pads of his fingers. And Ford looks up slowly, he almost screams. Almost, another splat of blood falls into his parted mouth and Ford scrambles.

There, mounted on the ceiling of his bedroom, a doe head has been nailed to the wood. Mutilated and dripping its fresh wounds onto the scientist, its heart stabbed with a dagger and left to rot.

A painted message of red is smeared next to the head, it reads; ‘can’t run’.

Ford’s vision goes black.

You chewed on your pen cap, the smooth plastic sliding against your molars.

You sit at your cubicle, which was for a lack of a better word - missable; covered in pages from your previous articles and various bands. Rings of coffe stains and energy drinks line your desk, pens and notebooks scattered like autumn leaves. You stared at your computer screen, your new story a sort of meloncholic evil.

A man in your city had gone mad with schizophrenia and slaughtered his entire family. When the police entered the scene, there were decorations of blood and entrails around the apartment, the suspect rocking himself in a corner and wailing. You can imagine him, 45 year old Richard James. Skin and bones, reeking of innards and cigarettes.

Wondering how he got to this point of his life. When just a couple years earlier he was a school teacher and going to dinners with his wife and kids.

It’s a half-written entry, a simple narrative of the events. There was nothing special about it. You look up only when your editor called you into her office.

Miranda Perkins, a fat older woman who wore Hawaiian shirts and smelled of cat litter. Her office is straight out of a 60s JC Penny catalogue. Her window overviewed the parking lot, a shitty sight. But for the daily post in Sacramento, it was as good as it was going to get.

You sit in her uncomfortable chair, moving side to side until you feel any semblance of relief.

“How’s your story coming along, hun?”

She tapped her French tip nails along her desk, looking at your through big rounded coke-bottle glasses. A string of pastel crystal beads hanging from the sides.

“I’m almost done.” You were nowhere near that.

“Good, good. Abandon it.”

“Excuse me?”

“Abandon it!” She singsongs, waving a gaudy looking pen in her hand, “leave it for someone else.”

She was soft with you, probably because you reminded her of a daughter, or because you were soft. You sat in an uncomfortable silence, listening to the ticking of her wall clock and the hum of the FCU.

“How do you feel about Gravity Falls?” She asks suddenly, holding her pen to her temple. A small dot of ink left behind.

“It’s a small town, smack dab in the center of Oregon,” Miranda loved the facts, she got her socks off when writers knew the basic demographics of small unnoticeable towns. You preferred not to discuss your hometown however.

“It was founded by Nathaniel Northwest in the 1800s, it’s got a big touristy lake and the biggest business is logging. It’s full of old money, trash, and tourist traps.”

She hums, “So what’s going on down there?”

You sat in silence, thinking of anything important that you might of missed. Gravity Falls was a town that was not noticed, tucked away beneath Evergreens and trailer parks. The most that befell it was the occasional flood or simple robbery. You had hoped that when Miranda called you in, it would be to compliment your work, or even give you a raise.

“Your family still there?”

“Mom. Estranged dad.” And your half siblings that were born after you had left. You always forget their names though.

“You ever talk to them?” Not since Christmas when your mother sent a gimicky card of St. Nick that read, ‘Have a Joyous Holiday!’ It was polite, you figured after downing four whiskey sours that you could give her a call.

“Not recently.”

“Jesus, read the news once in a while. There’s been a murder. A woman slaughtered in the woods.”

You nodded like you knew, your mother was the only one you had little conversation with and she had said nothing. Curious.

“There’s been three in the past four months, police are saying it’s a cult. Sounds like a serial to me.”

You fiddle with your sweater, a gnawing feeling in your stomach.

“Go drive up there, get the full story.”

No fucking way.

“We’ve got freaky stories here, Miranda.”

“Yeah. And we have half the staff as we used to and half the cash.” She adjusted her glasses, the beads making a small clinking sound.

“This is our chance at a big story.”

You still didn’t want to go, hands gripping the arms of the chair as if she’d force you out. Miranda sighed, “Look hun, if you can’t do it… you can’t do it. But think about it, it’d be good for you.”

Miranda was a surrogate mother in a way you never expected. She always backed you, even when you fell short of expectations. You had the strange feeling of not wanting to disappoint her. You gnawed on your lip.

“I’ll go pack my stuff.”

You packed enough for seven days, confident that you’ll be back by next week. Also taking with you the notes and articles about the case and your notebook. You threw in a pack of Marlboro green and some shooters. As you glance around your apartment you realize how messy it is. Scattered articles, news clippings, take out containers, dead plants.

As you take a final look at your place, you look at a framed picture by the door. A young twenty-something year old you in 1972, hand in hand with your best friend and first ever boyfriend from college - Stanford Pines. You’re in front of BU Univeristy, freshly graduated with your degree in journalism and Ford in his anomalies.

You’re laughing, about what you can’t recall, but you haven’t ever had a smile that big in years. You hold his palm, lovingly. You wonder what he’s up to now, it’s become a mystery. You knew he had grant money for his research, you never followed up to where he went. You fell apart after college, the tether straining when Ford started to dive head first into his career, he became distant.

You like not knowing. In reality, you don’t know why you still have it. Especially displayed in your home as if you were still together. Perhaps that romantic side of you enjoys the nostalgia of it all.

You’d rather not divulge that can of worms.

The drive to Gravity Falls would take eight hours, by the time you make it to the shoddy motel on the outskirts you’re no more than ten miles outside of your hometown. It makes a thick seedy feeling creep up your spine. To be so close had vomit pooling in your stomach.

You down a couple shooters in your motel room, the sheets are dusty and leave you itching. You should probably think of questions to ask the detectives, you decide to down more shots of fireball and vodka. You pass out dreaming strange things; you dream of your childhood, the occult nature of the case, the eerie events that happened so long ago you weren’t sure they were real - you dream of Ford.

When you wake, you snatch a stale bagel from the open kitchen downstairs, heading to your beat down Buick and driving into town.

Gravity Falls couldn’t be spotted from a distance, the tallest building was the water tower near the center of town. The drive is nostalgic in a sickening way, the scenery is visceral. The majestic trees are broken up by the strip of road in the center. You pass the welcome sign, big wooden letters before you’re driving by the gas station.

You know this place like the back of your hand. On the Main Street, you find remnants of the charming town. A beauty parlor, a clothing store that sold exclusively knitted sweaters and skirts, the up-in-coming VHS store that sold second hand movies. There’s only one real place to eat here, and it’s a greasy spoon called ‘The Greasy Spoon’.

The people in this town were what you called - complacent. They grew up here, lived till they got old, and died here. People out here, it’s like they don’t even know the outside world exists.

You see familiar faces as you drive. Susan Wentworth, the diner woman who always called you honey and wore too much blue eyeshadow. Dan Corduroy, the large ginger lumberjack who inherited his family’s pass-me-down flannel and could eat 20 hot cakes without puking. The Valentino’s, who were funeral directors and were some of the nicest people you’ve ever met, fucking strange though.

You decided to drive to the police station first. When you approached the receptionist desk, she regarded you with chilled contempt. Filling at her red acrylic nails and motioning you to sit and wait.

“Deputy Blubs with be with you shortly.” She smacked her gum at you. You sat like a patient dog, the shitty AC churning in the afternoon heat. You read the outdated magazines splayed on the small table, the scent of old paper and dust filling your nose. The magazines were from the 60s, full of outdated trends and styles.

When Blubs walked in he was already sweating through his uniform. Blubs was the upcoming deputy of the town who had a handlebar mustache and never took off his aviators. The receptionist motioned to you with her pen, mouthing the word “journalist” with disgust.

“Deputy Blubs, I’m with the Daily post in Sacramento.” You shake his hand, giving him your name as you follow him to his office.

He raises a brow, “Why are you all the way up here?”

He plops in his chair, “I want to talk about the recent events happening here, the women in the woods.”

“Good lord, how the hell did you hear about that all the way in Sacramento? Jesus.”

You shrug, “it’s a big deal, women going missing and showing up dead.”

“Listen,” he sighs, heavy and tired, “I don’t want this to get out.”

You gesture with your hands, “not really up to you Deptuty, the public deserves to know the danger going on.”

Blubs scoffs, looking out his window, “why’da you care now? You people never cared before about Gravity Falls.”

“You’re right. But this isn’t gonna be some exposé. This is important. And besides, I’m from Gravity Falls.” You let your voice die off at the end, like admitting it was some awful curse. He stares hard.

“What’s your name again?” You tell him, he rubs his stubble.

“My mother married out of her maiden name. It’s Evans now.”

“Ah, I know ‘em.” Everyone knew everyone here.

“Listen I can’t tell you much,”

“I don’t need much.”

Blubs sighed, contemplating.

You left the police station with a location of where the most recent woman was found. The old church back up in the woods.

Mallory Windsor, 22, found in the ruins of the old church. Couple of raw-boned, edgy teens found her when they were vandalizing the decrepit building. She’d been strangled, bound, stabbed 25 times, and her teeth were missing. Safe to say her funeral was a closed casket.

You trek through the woods to the taped off crime scene. The cawing of ravens bounced off the trees and your boots crunched the pine needles on the ground. You notice traces of dried blood on the cracked floorboards, claw marks from where she was dragged, and a tuft of blonde hair that’s stuck in between a broken branch.

You noticed in the plank on the wall, carved into the wood, was a triangle with an eye in the center a circular ring around it with markings unknown to you. You drew it in your notebook, you’d have to look that up later. As you walked around, you collected as much as you could with what Blubs told you.

Mallory worked at the boutique in the town square, she was considered playful and gentle by her family. They said she recently started going to church, that she had found God. Others say she was a no-good sneaky whore, running off in the night to hang with married men. Her mother was devastated to learn of her daughters death, saying her sweet little girl was taken too soon. The people of Gravity Falls were gossipy, they loved having “friends” over to discuss their neighbors or coworkers or what have you.

You, despite being a journalist, hated picking apart peoples lives like they were nothing more than a dead frog on a table. Perhaps that’s why you’re not a top story writer.

Your mind wandered, thinking about pre-teen you, running through these woods and scraping your knees and getting bug bites the size of pennies. Those strange little creatures that would run past you, growling when you got too close. You stopped and touched the crumbly dirt, picking at stones and watching little ants march their way through the muck.

You shivered at the feeling and felt as through you were being watched. But when you whipped around to stare, all the stared back was the towering evergreens and the sunlight filtering through.

This place always did leave a bad taste in your mouth.

You decide to end your night at the Greasy Spoon.

Walking in the log shaped diner, the scent of butter and too much maple wafted through the air. The tables were 50’s linoleum, the booths sticky with syrup. When you entered you noticed Susan still serving, some things never change.

“Just take a seat hun, I’ll be with you in a moment.” She swivels on her kitten heel, her big up-do bobbing. You always wondered how she could handle the weight of that on her head.

You pick a booth close to the back, the only other patron a man with his head glued to the local newspaper. You didn’t need a menu, and you’re sure as shit it hasn’t changed. Simple as a rock and cheap as dirt.

When Susan approaches, she holds her notepad and pen. She looks up with a smile that turns into a gasp.

“Oh! Oh my goodness gracious, why sweetheart I haven’t seen you in ages!” She leans over the table to give you a side hug. It’s awkward and leaves you drifting on one side as you pat her back. Cheeks hot with the attention.

“Hello Susan, nice to see you again.” You give her a half smile, nails digging into your jean-clad thigh.

“My, you’ve grown! Gosh you look like your mother. Anyways, same as before right? Steak and eggs?” You nod, a little awed she still remembers, and you don’t have the heart to tell her you’re not in the mood for meat right now.

“I’ll whip that up in a jiffy.” She singsongs, happily trotting back to the kitchen, shooing at a raccoon that had crawled into the window sill. You glance around the diner, looking over the jukebox and the stool-top. It’s all the same picture perfect small town diner like when you left.

You glance up, happening to look at the booth across from you. In it, you see a ghost. Or at least, that’s what you tell yourself. Your breath hitches, you’re starting to pick at the skin at your fingertips, feeling the raw bite of plucked flesh.

Stanford fucking Pines. In the flesh.

He’s staring, looking at you with wide owlish eyes, the brown gleaming under his lenses. He’s grown older, the lines of his face getting deeper, more textured. The crows feet between his brows is more prominent now.

“Ford-“ Susan plops your plate down in front of you, a heaping steak with eggs over-medium and potatoes. She puts a bottle of hot sauce on the table and winks,

“What brings you back here, hun? Seen your momma yet?”

You nod, a lie. “Just up here for work, Susan. Writing about the Windsor girl.”

Her smile drops, a flush of red creeping up her puffy cheeks. “Oh, that was a horrible thing. Poor girl, I can’t believe it.”

You nod, poking your egg yolk till it pops and spills golden liquid all over your potatoes. There’s a beat of intense silence, it’s uncomfortable.

“Well, I best let you enjoy your dinner, hun.” She waves her red acrylics and smiles, turning around to busy herself with the register.

When you look back at Ford he’s still star-struck, almost as if he’s looking at someone’s faded memory of you. He stands quickly from his booth, collecting his newspaper and book. He dresses almost the exact same as he did in college; dawning a soft red turtleneck, slate colored khaki’s, and a beige trenchcoat. His hair is still long, the ends fluffed up and starting to grey. Streaks of white striping like paint. His eyes were tired, heavy bags that were almost purple. He looked exhausted.

For a moment, you think he’ll walk past you without saying anything. Thinking that after all this time, he’d not want to speak to you. You’d rather that than make painful small talk about your life.

But he stays, sliding into your booth with nothing more than a shy, “Hello, it’s been a while.”

You nod, sipping your tap water. The tension is unbearable, you have no idea where to start or end or if you should even be talking to him in the first place. Things didn’t end so sweetly.

“Listen-“

“I-��

You both speak at the same time, blinking hard and looking down. You breath in, almost choking on the smell of a burning skillet and the insufferable feelings molded on your stomach.

“How have you been, Stanford?”

You offer this, a small olive branch.

He gives this grin that’s more of a grimace. Smoothing his hands over his journal, he can’t see the way you grip the booth cushion. He nods, “I’ve uh, I’m good. Research is going good.”

Always awkward, even in college. He was a nerdy little thing, more boy than man. So wrapped up in his books and notes and anomalies. You liked it, you were obsessed with the way he was so passionate. No one back home did anything with their lives except smoke, drink, and gossip.

At first, you hated him. Hated his ego and how he thought everyone around him was a sorry excuse and a waste of space. Something changed, things happened, you hate-fucked and bit one another, then you thought about how secretly sweet he was. You remember your first kiss with him, how he held your face and you panted into each others mouths.

“How did you end up here?” You ask, stabbing a potato with your fork. How long has he been here? Becoming infected with your town; grocery shopping where you first worked, strolling through the park you beat up a bully on, passing by your elementary school. How long has he lived in the place you wanted to forget existed?

“I, um, I moved here right after we graduated. Built a cabin, started my research, even had Fiddleford come help me a bit.”

Fiddleford, your cookie-cutter southern country boy. He was interesting, thick accent and smarter than most. You hung around him when you were seeing Stanford. They were buddies, college roommates, and now you learned - research partners.

Your food was growing cold, you could not stomach any of it. A rotting feeling of apathy was gnawing at your stomach. Ford waved his hands in the air, “Enough about me, how are you? Why are you here?”

It makes a fish-hook bite of anger pierce through you.

“I’m from here.” You mumble, shoving a forkful of runny eggs and potato in your mouth. Ford’s eyes widen, like a slap of realization.

“Right. Right you are, I had-“ forgotten. He had forgotten almost everything about you. You expected as much.

“You haven’t been up here in a long time.” It wasn’t a question, he was stating the obvious. You knew that if he was here since college and you weren’t such a coward, you’d have seen him sooner. Perhaps, you would have come up to reconcile had you known. A falseness you tell yourself.

“You mentioned you’re writing about the Windsor girl, how’s that going?”

You flick your eyes to his neck, trying to look anywhere but his eyes, it’s mostly shielded by his red turtleneck. But you see the creeping of an ugly hickey, dark maroon splotches sucked like leeches onto his skin. You clench your jaw.

“Fine, all’s fine. Gotta interview a couple people. Why? You knew her?”

Ford sips at some coffee leftover, eyeing you over the rim. You’re different now. So… sullen. He still remembers the softness of your voice, even now with the rasp of time and cigarettes. You’ve still got that snappy little bite, the one that had him wrapped around your finger.

“No. Never met her.”

There’s a trickle of something faintly sulphuric in the air, you think you’re hallucinating or Susan has burnt yet another hot cake. Probably just tired from today. Ford gives you a small smile the lifts the corner of his lips.

You and Ford make more pitiful conversation on the way to your car. It slowly dissolves into something that could be considered good-natured. A distant association, something platonic.

“Where you staying?”

Where indeed. You could go back to the motel but you haven’t got much money. Or you could stay with your mother. You grimaced at the thought and Ford notices your contemplation. You might just sleep in your car.

“Could stay the night with me.” He shrugs, hands deep in his pockets as the nighttime breeze drifts through the air. You look at him out of the corner of your eye.

“Not like that!-“ he holds his hands up, “I have a spare bedroom.”

You nod, toeing the dirt path with the toe of your boot. It’s like being in college all over again.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

He smiles, gesturing to your car.

“I’ll give you directions.”

You take your keys out and unlock your driver door, “You didn’t drive here?”

He shakes his head, “No, I was out collecting specimens for my research.”

His research, he never did tell you what exactly he was studying. You shrug, “Okay then, hop in.”

Stanford’s cabin is out of the way of town. Far out into the woods, surrounded in towering trees and foliage, you pull of the main road and onto a dirt one. A clearing in view, there sits his home.

It’s nothing special, simple construction with a lopsided roof and creaky splintering wood. It looks haunted, you don’t say that out loud though. That would be rude and you don’t want to be rude to the man about to share his home with you, no matter how dark and creepy it looks from the outside.

Inside isn’t much better, it’s hardly decorated. You almost chuckle in a way, it’s so similar to your own apartment. Papers and notes are tacked into the walls, jars and bottles of strange things are lining tables and shelves. He has warm citrus colored lightbulbs, it illuminates around the cabin and makes it glow with an orangey hue.

“I apologize for the mess, I don’t have many visitors.”

He scrambles to collect notes and papers strewn like confetti, huffing at the state of his home. You wave him off, “Nah, don’t worry about it.”

You’re getting eye level with his shelf; there’s jars of eyeballs, mysterious goo that shimmers iridescent, and other weird stuff.

“What is all this?” Ford straightens his back, adjusting his glasses.

“My research. I’m here investigating the anomalies of Gravity Falls.”

You purse your lips, a strange feeling creeps into your body.

“What do you mean?”

Ford gives you a stifled look that screams ‘really? Gonna play that game?’ And you shrink away.

“Are you saying you never experienced weirdness here? Strange things in the woods?”

The woods. Blonde hair, hanging entrails, missing teeth. Your breath quickens, you feel yourself sinking. Everything is fuzzy and you can’t breathe, he shouldn’t be poking around a place like this. He touches your shoulder and you flinch harder than you should.

“No! No, the only thing weird around here is how the people are so fucking happy to die in this shithole.” You swipe his hand away from you, flashes of childhood summers spent exploring those woods.

When you would wade in the creek with your head poking out to watch the gargantuan wooden monsters slowly drag themselves through the forest. Creatures that would follow just two steps behind you, cracking joints each time they moved. Monsters that would take shape of familiar animas, then skitter away when you got close. Screams would echo throughout the evergreens, things unseen. How can anyone witness a tree falling if they didn’t hear it?

Ford retracts his hand, looking at you with worry. Eyes softened, lips slightly parted, brows furrowed. You hate it. You hate when people look at you with pity and anguish, like you’re a soft underbelly of a doe waiting to be sliced open.

You shudder, “I’m sorry, sorry. I just, I’m tired. This case got me all worked up.”

You rub your own arms in comfort, avoiding to look at Ford in his big watery browns. He nods, “of course, I’ll show you to the room.”

He leads you gently to the spare, bag in hand and other on the small of your back. The room is clean, neat, and painfully sterile. Devoid of any personality or substance. It’ll do just fine.

“Not many people use this, sheets are clean and there’s a bathroom down the hall to the left. I’m only the next door down.”

You nod slowly, the wearing exhaustion is making your head throb and your bones ache from sitting for so long. Ford pats your shoulder, “don’t be afraid to knock on my door if things go bump in the night.”

You want to hit him. He chuckles at your sour frown, turning to leave you when you call out to him.

“Thank you, Stanford. I really do appreciate it.”

He gives a half-pained, half-sincere smile and walks into his room. You hear the clicking of his lock, you do the same.

There is an ominous silence that makes the cabin, so deathly quiet that you can hear your own heartbeat in your ears. You scramble to turn on the lamp, exhaling in relief at the warm glow on your face.

Ford is next door, you are not with your mother, things are fine. You are fine. You will not acknowledge the scratching at the walls, nor the tapping at the window. You will pretend everything is normal, that this town is normal, that you are normal.

You fall into a restless sleep, tossing and turning until you succumb. Ford is prowling, just beyond your bedroom, he has slipped outside into the cool night and has disappeared into the woods.

You won’t even know he’s gone by the time you wake up in the morning.

#val.writes ❦#ford pines x reader #stanford pines x reader #ford pines #gravity falls stanford

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lovlive · 7 months ago

Text

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ‘concert going’ - l.hc

SYNOPSIS - you and your boyfriend haechan finally get tickets to a concert and see the artist you love

PAIRING - lee haechan x reader

GENRE - fluff, established relationship

WARNINGS - i guess you could say that the reader is short (😭), reader is called ‘baby’, lmk if i missed something.

notes: i am so down bad for hyuck rn. like why is he so fine?! anyways, i used a random prompt generator to write this since my brain is dead from school and i got “get on my shoulders, you’ll see better.” hope you guys like it :3

both you and haechan have been obsessed with a new musical artist you’ve recently discovered. you’d both often find yourselves sharing headphones on the bus like in those romance anime movies listening to that one artist, or having their songs quietly play in the background while you complete your homework or some type of work you have due. so when haechan surprised you with tickets to one of their concerts, you nearly jumped out of your shoes with excitement (like literally, you were jumping up and down for the following 5 minutes and hugging (squeezing) the hell out of your poor boyfriend)

the day of the concert eventually comes and you wake up with a huge dumb smile on your face. you stayed up quite late last night trying to clear out as much unwanted things on your phone to make storage for the new photos and videos yoy were going to take, but nonetheless you felt as if you had slept atleast 12 hours with how energised you felt. you jumped up out of bed, giggling to yourself as you reached for your pre-planned concert outfit. you manage to change into it as you hear your boyfriend groan groggily, complaining that its too early for you to be getting up yet. you ignore his mumbling and drag him out of bed as you both head to the kitchen and have a breakfast. you let haechan get ready, and before you know it both of you are out of the house and driving to your destination.

you get to the venue, the smile from the morning still plastered on your face. it feels as if its stuck on your face, like you’d have to physically wipe it off with a tissue for it to be gone. you stand in line together, hands intertwined as you babble on about how excited you are to haechan. he teases you about your enthusiasm and how cute you are, squeezing your hand every now and again. eventually you get past all the security and other obstacles, reaching the hall. you get lost a couple of times trying to reach your seats because you cant read signs to save your life, leading to haechan snatching the phone out of your hand and leading you to your correct assigned area. the venue becomes more full by the second and your heart begins to thump in your chest as you wait for the artist to appear.

eventually the artist appears and you start screaming like a feral dog, haechan laughing at you hard. as the booming bass and electrifying guitar riffs filled the air, you found yourselves caught in the midst of the pulsating crowd at the concert. standing far from the stage, you struggled to catch a glimpse of the stage over the sea of heads. "man, I can barely see anything," you exclaimed, craning your neck to catch a glimpse of the performers.

haechan grinned mischievously. "i’ve got an idea. get on my shoulders, you'll see better!" you hesitated for a moment, unsure about the idea. but the infectious energy of the crowd and the excitement of the music convinced you to give it a try. with a laugh, you climbed onto haechan’s broad shoulders, feeling a rush of adrenaline as you rose above the crowd.

suddenly, everything changed. from your new vantage point, you could see the stage perfectly. the vibrant lights danced across the performers' faces, and you could feel the music reverberating through your bones.

as you swayed to the rhythm of the music, you both became lost in the moment. for a brief, exhilarating moment, it was just the two of you and the music. as the concert reached its climax, you couldn't wipe the smile from your face. you felt alive, invigorated by the experience of being lifted above the crowd and immersed in the magic of the music. when the final notes faded away and the crowd began to disperse, you climbed down from haechan’s shoulders, feeling a sense of gratitude for your boyfriend's spontaneous idea. "thanks for the lift," you said, grinning at haechan. "anytime, baby, your as light as a feather to me." he replied, his own smile matching yours as you giggled at his response.

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

you finally get home, both of you still giggling and yapping to eachother about your favourite moments of the concert. haechan decides to go take a shower as you decide to get in your pajamas and get cozy. you hold a bag of concert merch, excited to display it in your room and start wearing it on a daily basis. but before you do any of that, you want to express your gratitude to your boyfriend, of course. without him you wouldnt of even went to the concert since he was the one who bought the tickets for you both. you notice haechan walking out of the bathroom, hair dripping onto the fresh t-shirt that he’s wearing. you cant help to think about how handsome he is. he stands over the kitchen counter, supposedly turning the kettle on to make a tea as you creep up behind him. you stand on your tippy toes as you wrap your arms around his shoulders from the back, head turning to the side kiss his cheek. you take notice the immediate smile that appears on his face as he notices your actions. “whats up with you?” he teases as he spins around, now facing you and wrapping his arms back around your waist. “just wanted to say thank you for today.” you say, noticing his face leaning utterly close to yours. he chuckles at your response, feeling his hand tighten around you. “of course. you know id do anything to make you happy.” he smiled, closing the gap between you both and pressing a soft kiss onto your lips. you gently run one of your hands through his damp hair, enjoying the feeling of his warm lips against yours. the kiss breaks eventually, and you hear him mumble something out. “i love you.” the smile that has been on your face since this morning somehow grows even bigger as you respond. “i love you too.”

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sur-i-ki · 2 months ago

Text

My love, mine all mine

(Angst-tober, multi-fandom, un-edited)

Author's note: This is pure angst. There is no bright side. This is it (life sucks rn so everyone gotta suffer)

Ever since you were kids, he's known that your loyalty ends up being a convoluted way for you to hold grudges. The lady at the supermarket who side-eyed your mom? She's never understood why a child stares at her with such loathing every time she goes by. Or the girl who stole your friend's toys, she's never getting in a partner or group project with you or your friend. Or even the time that one boy stole your candy. Your fierce love for yourself and others always led to something.

He knows this. He's seen it. Hell, he's even been at the receiving end of it sometimes, He is also aware of the fact that you can never seem to hold a grudge for long if it involves him. Can't not share your lunches with him after a few days, even though he lost your favorite pencil. Can't not be mad at him for forgetting your birthday present when you were teenagers.

In a sense, he should be grateful for that, because when he finally asks you out after so many years of endless pining, you don't greet him with suspicion or hesitation.

He gets a blinding smile and a hug, along with a yes.

And, he is grateful, truly, but sometimes he wants to see how much he can get away with. But all you do is chastise him and then leave him be.

You can't hold a grudge against him.

He got too comfortable with that fact.

Your nose was running. Bringing a tissue to your nostrils, you blow your nose, then rub your hands together. Standing in the snow with heels and a dress, in a trench coat built more for fashion than insulation, was not how you planned to be spending your Saturday evening. Checking your phone once more, you look at the unopened messages you sent an hour ago. Rage rises in your chest, but you tamp it down, knowing that he's been busy, he's been late so many times now.

Sniffling again, you turn carefully and make a trek back into your apartment. Scanning the entry card, you nod and smile at the old ladies lounging on the chairs.

"Back from your date, sweetheart? Already?" one asks, looking up with a confused smile as you press the elevator button.

Looking off to the side to not start crying, you give the best impression of a goofy smile as you scratch the back of your head, replying,

"He got sick, so we had a raincheck,".

You can see the pitying looks, goddammit, and can't this stupid elevator come any faster. The tiny, stupid morsel of hope in your heart makes you check the messages again, and then promptly ceases to exist as you see the "Read 7:45 pm" on there.

There is a tightness in your chest as you wave goodbye to the sweet ladies while entering the elevator, and think that this is what it means to have your heart broken. Locking the door, you kick off the pretty heels, leaving them at the door. Next are the glittering earrings, left behind at the door-side table. You flick the lights on as you hang the trench coat on the coat hooks, and make your way to your bedroom.

The reflection in the full-length mirror catches your eye, and even though you are stunning, you can't help but feel as though you're wearing the best clown costume on this planet. You reach for the zipper of your navy blue dress and let it slide to the ground. Then you hook your hands into the tights; left in a pile beside the dress as you wear your pajamas.

There are tears blurring your vision.

Off comes the eyeliner that you spent countless minutes and YouTube tutorials on. The black-stained makeup wipe is left on the counter; next to it is the pretty pink lipstick that is left uncapped because you were in a hurry.

You grab a blanket and your laptop, then watch a movie before falling asleep, your stomach growling, never have gotten the food that it was promised.

There is a hand on your shoulder. You wake up, startled, all but to come face to face with the one man you don't want to see right now. His face is a little blurry, so you reach for your lamp as he settles beside you on the edge of the bed. The light all but caresses his face, and his eyes glitter with unshed tears.

Gods above, he was so pretty.

You stare him down, unflinchingly, and he cringes away, coming to rest his hand on your leg.

"I'm so sorry-"

You cut him off with words of your own, the acid tearing at your throat as you say them.

"What are we doing?"

The confused look you get is as good of a mask as it gets. But you've known him for so long, and you can read the undercurrent of hurt in there. But you you know him so well, that you can see the understanding in there as well.

"What?"

Heaving out a frustrated sigh, you wave your hand between the two of you, "This. What are we doing here?"

His brows furrow as his eyes chase your hand before flicking back up to your eyes.

"W-what? Babe, I'm sorry, you know-"

The words explode before you can say anything.

"Yes! I always have to know. This is the fourth date, now." The tears build up in your eyes, and his face contorts in concern, "I-I wore the dress you gifted me for tonight. The one you gave a month ago."

He blinks and opens his mouth, but you sit there as nothing but silence rings out around you. It's more deafening than any words he can say.

You feel immensely small as you say your final piece, sliding your leg away from his touch, "I stood for an hour wearing the heels you like. In the snow. And those earrings you like? Because they always make you stare at me? Those almost froze to my skin."

His hands spasm as he reaches for you before pulling them back and settling them in his lap. His head hangs as you finally catch a glimpse of the flowers he brought. "

Your heart all but shatters as you inch forward, and finally does break as you kiss him. There are years of neglect, not listening, and no understanding behind the kiss. It's all you're hurt.

"One last time." his eyes are red. "Kiss me once more."

And you do, because you've always been weak for him. He tastes of the food you would've eaten, the win you could've drunk, and you reel back.

His eyes are full of guilt.

"I forgot because we had a team meeting..."

"So, you had a night out with your co-workers, at the place we were supposed to go?"

"..."

He nods.

You lower your head in a nod.

"What are we doing?"

The tears are coming full-on now. It's been building for a while now, but you thought you had more time. You understand now that you thought wrong. The missing dates, the conversations that die out five times faster, the ignoring.

You've been dating a ghost. With dreams of-

Well, those don't matter now.

"I never thought I'd be the one to hurt you."

You tilt your head back, looking up to hold the tears off, and reply in a thick, choked voice,

"You never think when it comes to me. Always leaving me."

His eyes flit with confusion before they widen in dawning horror and understanding because your shoulders have a slant in them he's never seen against him.

"I deserve more than this,"

His hands come flying to your face, tilting it down as he swallows,

"Babe? I-I, come on. Let's do, do something-"

You gently hold his hands, cupping them, but slowly moving them away by shaking your head

"Every time I see you, I feel more alone." You stand up, pulling him out, out and away and he follows, as he always does, except you're both crying this time. Because you won't let go this time. This was a hurt too deep, too raw, and you know he understands it.

Another flowery perfume envelopes you and you shut your eyes as you push him towards your door.

"I, I still need you."

Your voice is entirely sad, and whimsical as you speak. You've shattered into a million pieces and the remnants of your anger ring out.

"Every time I wake up reaching for you, you aren't there. You changed me, but the thing is; You gave up. Such a long time ago. And even though you were never there, I-" the tears glitter like the earrings beside you on the table, "The worst part is that even though you were never with me, I still love you."

"I can't anymore. I break myself apart so I can pick you from the pieces and live with that."

He reaches and twirls a finger in the curls from your ruined hairstyle, kissing a piece before kissing your cheek.

"I'm sorry. But, but we can work this out. I'll do better!"

He stands outside the door.

"But that's the problem, isn't it. You won't ever be better. Not for me."

And he knows that this is the last he'll see of you. The earrings, the dress, the trench, he knows these memories will haunt him.

"I can't."

And the door slowly shuts, just like your relationship, because its ending was never a door shutting. It was slow, suffocating.

At least, he knows what would make you treat him like the others.

He just didn't realize how big of a price that was.

"But nothing can capture the sting of the venom she's gonna spit out, right now. Won't you kiss me on the mouth and love me like a sailor?"

Satoru, Suguru, Izuku, Shoto, Itadori, Megumi, Tobio, Tetsuro, Toru, Atsumu, Naruto, Shikamaru, Sasuke

+plus more

⇝ 𝘓𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘴, 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥! 𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘣𝘶𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯

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haveateadude · 6 months ago

Text

bleak horizons iii.

summary *. ⋆ ⋆·˚ opening up it's not easy, isn't it?

warnings *. ⋆ ⋆·˚ depression, self-harm mention, and disordered eating (not explicitly mentioned but you can clearly see it's there)

author notes *. ⋆ ⋆·˚ helloooo welcome to part 3!!!!!! i think this might be the last part (if u have an idea on how this can continue feel free to tell me. u can send a request or just leave the idea in the comments). also just saying, this stuff is based on MY issues and experiences with mental health, so this might not be truthful to everyone. my insta is @/starsfinder_ if anyone wants to vent or just talk :))

remember you're not alone if you're going through a shitty moment, trust me!! ik everyone says to ask for help, and even if that's soo fucking true i know some people are not listened (even if that's literally a fucking RIGHT). so, as i said, you can dm me <33 take care of yourselves pleaseee. can't stress enough how much i want y'all to know you're not alone. hi. hello. i care!!!!!!!! and i'm here!!!!!! so please listen to me when i say everything's going to be alright :)) i love youuuuuu

also, sorry for any mistakes. i'm sooo tired rn lmao

pt1 — pt2 — pt3

I told you a lie, désolé, mon amour

I'm trying my best, don't know what's in store

The next week, I stepped out of therapy crying. I got into the car, slamming the door.

“Hey,” Ellie says softly, looking at me with her hands resting on the wheel, her gaze full of worry. “You okay?”

“Drive.”

“But—”

“Just drive.”

“Okay.”

Ellie starts driving. I wipe my tears, feeling overwhelmed. My mother had called yesterday and made me feel like shit. I wasn't doing my best at school. Ellie and I hadn't gone out since Christmas. So basically, everything was shit. I've also had urges to relapse, and they're just not going away.

I cry. Ellie drives. This is okay. It's okay. Except that it's not, and I haven't told my therapist anything about myself yet. My mother hasn't spoken to me in weeks, and my father sent a cat video on WhatsApp this morning. And Ellie’s knuckles are turning white from how hard she’s gripping the wheel, which makes my heart ache because I know she cares. It makes me want to tell her everything, but the words are stuck in my throat, and I can't seem to get them out.

We arrive at the apartment a couple of minutes later. Ellie doesn’t immediately open the doors, and I've calmed down enough to answer when she asks, “Baby? Are you feeling okay?”

I nod, looking away. The people that I see walking around look sad.

“I’m fine.”

“It’s okay if you’re not, though,” she says. I stay quiet, doubting it. Ellie nudges me with her elbow, looking for an answer. “Hey.”

“Yeah,” I say. “I know.”

Ellie pats me on the thigh before getting out of the car. I get out, too. I don't bother eating dinner that night; I just go straight to bed and fall asleep.

The next few days felt monotonous. I've fallen back into my sadness, the type that isn't bitter but sweet. It doesn't make me want to relapse. It makes me want to stay in bed more hours than I'd like, takes my appetite away, and leaves me feeling nothing but numbness.

I wake up, go to work, study, attend uni, come home, and sleep. The cycle repeats and repeats, and I'm so, so very tired.

Today, I took the day off. I knew I was too tired to do anything, so I planned to rot in bed. Ellie knocks on the door, but I don't answer. I hear the door creak open and the light from the living room creeping in.

"Hey," Ellie says, her voice coming from behind me. "Mind if I lay next to you?"

"It's fine," I say with a hoarse voice. I feel the bed sink at my side, and then Ellie is behind me, wrapping her arm around my torso and nuzzling her face into my neck, leaving a kiss right there. I feel cozy and comfortable. I don't know if this will last. I hope it does because it's a feeling I've never experienced before—someone comforting me? That has never happened.

"Do you want to talk about what's going on?" she asks. I stay quiet. "I care about you. I'm worried."

I do want to talk about it, but at the same time, I don't.

"I'm fine."

"You always say that… You haven't gotten out of bed since you came from work, and the frozen lasagna you were going to make for yourself last weekend has been in the fridge since then." She stays quiet for a second, her fingertips caressing my arm. "You're not doing fine, baby."

Millions of thoughts go through my head. Thoughts I don't say. I don't want her to leave; I don't want her to see how I feel.

"I'm trying, though." It's easy to say since Ellie isn't looking at my face directly. Tears threaten to spill from my eyes. I blink them away; I blink, blink, and blink again. Fast.

Ellie stays quiet, her breath tickling my neck. She kisses the back of my head again, her hand holding mine. I hold it to my chest. "I know. But you don't have to be alone in this."

That hits me like a truck. I wasn't expecting to be held by her, let alone her saying I don't have to be alone. A tear falls from my eye, landing on the pillow. I sniff, and Ellie holds me tighter, not saying anything. She tucks a strand of hair behind my ear with her free hand and kisses my temple.

"I'm sorry," I say, in a moment of pathetic weakness. She hugs me even closer.

"Hey, no. Don't apologize. C'mon, turn around."

I let go of her hand, turning around. Her left hand cups my face and she kisses my cheek, then my forehead, and then she kisses the tears that fall on my cheeks. When she pulls away, she gives me a small smile, "You're going to be okay."

She doesn't want you. She's your friend; she doesn't want you. She will fall in love with you, not your brain nor your scars, and when she finds out about the way you think, she'll leave.

I wake up on Ellie's chest, it feels good to be comforted, I've found. Her phone is on the nightstand, so I just reach it and look at the time. It's eight o'clock. I've fallen asleep for two hours. I try to make myself more comfortable on her chest, attempting not to wake her, but my movements fail and she stirs.

"Hey," she says, her voice still laced with sleep. "What time is it?"

"It's still night," I say, closing my eyes. "We slept for two hours.'

"Feeling better?" I feel comfortable enough to shake my head. "Do you want to talk about it? I told you, I'm worried. And don't bullshit me with the whole 'I'm fine' shit, yeah?"

I stay quiet as her thumb caresses my back, "Did I tell you why I'm going to therapy?" Ellie shakes her head. "Well—back home I had some… issues. Mental health stuff related. I kept going back to depressive episodes. And one day I just asked for help from my mom, because I—I just couldn't stop self harming."

"Baby," Ellie says, hugging me tighter and kissing the top of my head. "What happened? Did your mother react well?"

"Yeah. Surprisingly. I got help. Got better. Sometimes it comes back, and I still get urges sometimes, but I can control it. It isn't as bad as it was before. But lately, it's just—yeah."

"You don't do that anymore, do you?" She asks, worried.

"No," I shake my head. "Not anymore."

"And what about the urges, do you still get them?" I nod, slowly. Ellie plays with my hair. "And therapy? Is it helping?"

"I haven't told her anything, yet. I—I don't know, I can't talk about it."

"What if I go to the next session? If you're okay with that, of course. If you still don't feel comfortable we can look for another therapist or another way to get you help."

I hide my face in her chest when she says the last word. I don't know why I've been refusing to get help. I don't know why I don't like that word. I sigh as Ellie stops playing with my hair and begins rubbing my back.

"I think—I think I would like it if you go with me."

"Okay. Okay, then. I'll go." The room falls to silence again for a few seconds. I feel ashamed for telling her. "I'm sorry you have to go through this… I wish I could do more."

"You're doing more than enough," I assure her. It's my time to hug her tighter. "You’re the first person I’ve talked to about this."

"Yeah?" She seems surprised. "I'm glad you talked to me. I'm here for you if you need anything—I mean it. You just have to tell me, I will listen… You could've told me sooner."

"I'm sorry."

"Hey, don't apologize. I’m just saying, I'm here for you. I've been there for you, always. And… is there something I can do to help?"

"Just be there," I say. "That's enough."

"Mhm, I'll stay."

I think she wants you, a little voice in my head says. I think she loves you, and I don't think she'll ever leave.

Maybe I'll be okay, after all.

#ellie williams #ellie williams x y/n #ellie x reader #fic #lesbian #the last of us 2 #tlou #fluff #x reader #ellie williams fan fiction #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams fic #idk what is this #mental health awareness #depression awarness #sh awareness #comfort #emwrites ; ⋆

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kayharrisons · 1 month ago

Text

Really fucked it up this time, didn't I my dear? [Bjorn x Fem!Reader] [18+ ONLY] [1 of ?]

You stare helplessly at the two lines on the pregnancy test, praying it's faulty. But all the symptoms are adding up, the test itself has told you. Your best friend got you pregnant. Bjorn got you pregnant.

A/N: I am Sick rn as I write this so if it's incoherent then my bad 😭 but yes!!! In response to my post talking ab fic ideas, welcome to this one, a combo of 3 and 4; Bjorn gets you pregnant, but also keeps stealing you away from your boyfriends ehehehehe no smut in chapter one!!! Rest of the fic however 👀👀

Series warnings: unplanned pregnancy, discussions of abortion, eventual childbirth, commitmentphobe Bjorn, possessive Bjorn, talks of morning sickness and other pregnancy symptoms, friends to fwb to something Worse, cheating mentions, nsfw content such as sex and eventual Alien type scenarios

Part 2

The smell of cigarette smoke lingers in the air, heavy and thick.

You're trying your best to take slow, even breaths, trying not to upset the nausea that's been plaguing you more often than not these days. It comes and goes at odd hours of the day, along with a boatload of exhaustion and aches in your bones.

You take a sip from your Aspen Energy, hoping that will at least either wake you up or soothe your rolling stomach.

"You alright, [Y/N]?" Tyler asks, frowning at you as you take in steady, measured breaths, your face a couple of shades lighter than your usual.

You grunt, nodding at him. Tyler does not look appeased, the mother hen that he is. "Want some water?" he asks, gesturing to the bar.

There's a bitter snort from your right, and you feel your eye twitch.

"Who goes to a fuckin' bar and gets water?" Bjorn sneers, taking a drag from his cigarette.

"God, shut the fuck up, man," Tyler snaps, sick of the ongoing spat that's been between you and Bjorn for the last few weeks.

They all are, you know it. You and Bjorn used to be best friends, the closest in your little ragtag group of misfits. You were always touching, alwayd laughing at each others jokes, always searching for the other first out of everyone else in the room.

Used to.

It had all changed around 8 weeks ago, when Bjorn had stuffed you so full of his cock you'd forgotten your damn name for a few hours. When he'd pumped you full of load after load, leaving you full of him.

Your friends didn't know how close you two really were. Didn't know why your supposed best friend seethed so whenever another man touched you. Didn't know that he'd fuck you in the nearest bathroom, or closet, anywhere private with a surface really, just to send you back to your boyfriend at the time with his cum leaking between your legs.

You loved him. Plain as day. Bjorn made your heart beat and beat so fast it's a wonder it didn't jump out of your chest and right into his waiting hands, it belonged to him after all. He made your stomach swirl with giddiness, your skin burn with his proximity.

He hadn't felt the same.

And now things were different.

Bjorn goaded you, most days, seeming to find pleasure in picking and picking at you like the asshole he was.

You? You ignore him, too tired to fight back lately, and you know it infuriates him. Bjorn hates nothing more than you ignoring him.

"What? It's a bar." Comes his sulky retort, as he blows out the smoke of his cigarette.

Your stomach lurches.

And so do you, out of your seat and into the grimy bathroom. You collapse into one of the stalls, heaving what little rations you'd eaten today into the bowl.

The door creaks open, and you groan.

"Go away, Bjorn."

"Sorry to disappoint," Kay says sweetly, crouching by you and rubbing her hand up and down your back. "You okay?"

"No," you groan, taking a breath, then another, before the smell of your own vomit is making you gag into the bowl again.

"Something you ate...?" Kay queries, frowning with concern.

"No, it's just- I think I'm getting sick from the mines," you confess, waiting a moment for the nausea to pass before flushing. You shift and lean against the wall, meeting Kay's concerned eyes.

"You sure?" she prompts, arching a brow.

"Can't be anything else. Thought it was a bug at first but... been going on for a few weeks."

There's silence between you two. You, trying to calm your rolling stomach, and Kay, contemplative.

"You sure you're not... y'know..." she gestures to her midsection, vaguely.

"What?" you squint, too tired for this game of charades.

"Y'know... pregnant?"

You can't help it, you bark out a laugh.

"I've got one of those implants," you giggle, shaking your head at the absurdity of the idea. "So, no."

"...you sure?" Kay asks, frowning. "It's all up to date and all?"

Your smile fades a little at that.

When was the last time you'd had your implant checked? Last time the doctors had made sure it was working?

Fuck. Fuck. It had to have been last cycle.

"...I can't be." You breathe, wide eyed.

You'd never let any of your boyfriends finish inside of you without a condom, not since you were 19 anyway. No, that right belonged to only one person, only one man was able to stake his claim on you in such a way.

Fuck.

You couldn't be. If only because the idea of telling Bjorn such a thing makes you want to puke all over again.

"It might be worth getting a test," Kay says, slowly, resting a hand on your knee. "Y'know, just to rule it out?"

You shake your head, staggering to your feet. "I'm... I gotta go."

"[Y/N], honey-"

You march out of the bathroom as best as you can in your fragile state, almost running smack dab into Bjorn, who's been leaning against the wall across from the bathroom with crossed arms.

You freeze, staring at him. He straightens up a little at the sight of you, stormy blue eyes dancing up and down your hunched over form. His expression tightens with concern, and he huffs out a sigh through his nose.

"Y'look like shit," he informs you, blandly, explosive emotions hidden behind that goddamn wall of his.

You hate it, hate this blank slate that's replaced your best friend.

You hate him.

"Fuck you," you whisper, storming past him and out of the bar.

He doesn't follow.

That hurts more than anything else.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Thankfully, pregnancy tests were simple to come by and simple to use. Only thing that had changed about them in the last century or so is that they were more accurate.

Yippee for you.

You sit on the closed lid of your toilet seat, staring at the white stick sitting innocently on your sink.

Another minute.

You can't be. You can't be.

You don't know what you'll do if you are.

The idea of you and Bjorn raising a baby is laughable in your current relationship status. You want to throttle each other most days, now. You can't picture bringing a kid into that dynamic. Can't picture raising a kid on Jackson's Star, too.

But... on the other hand...

Your fingers ghost over your flat stomach, your thoughts wandering. Will this baby have his eyes? Those stormy blue eyes that you drowned and drowned in willingly. Will it have his cheeky grin? The slope of his nose?

You can't help but want to find out.

You loved him completely, and even if you had to do it as a single mom...

Your minute is up.

Hesitantly, you reach out and pick up the little plastic stick.

You stare helplessly at the two lines on the pregnancy test, a part of you still praying it's faulty. But all the symptoms are adding up now, the nausea, the exhaustion, the aching.

The test itself has told you, confirmed it completely.

Your best friend got you pregnant.

Bjorn got you pregnant.

#alien romulus #alien #bjorn alien romulus #bjorn alien romulus x reader #spike fearn #bjorn x reader

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