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yandere-sins · 8 months

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Cupcake

Okay I will admit I've been soft-yandere yearning for a while now, but it's my birthday and I deserved them!! There’s nothing better than some self-indulgent fanfiction (;

Fandom: Call of Duty Characters: Yandere!Ghost x Reader Warnings: Yandere, Mentions of Punishments/Kidnapping, Forced Relationship, Emotional Distress

You didn't react to the sound of boots on concrete floor or the lock of the door clicking, hinges squeaking as someone entered the room.

Giving him attention was pointless.

You knew too little about him to get under his skin with words alone. Every bicker seemed to bounce off his broad chest with so much strength, it hit you right back in your face. You could never keep your arguments from sounding like childish complaints, and he chuckled at anything as direct as "I hate you!"

Instead, this man—"Ghost" you reckoned he called himself—seemed to bask in every minute of your putrid hatred. You could always assume the wisp of a smile beneath his mask, his eyes searching for yours no matter how much you glared at him. He possessed no inhibitions whatsoever, pushing, pulling, throwing you wherever he wanted, when he wanted, and not always gently mind you.

Yet, he pulled off his gloves before touching you, wiping the tears from your eyes and cheeks while he told you to stop crying now. That everything was okay and you shouldn't ruin your pretty face. He squeezed into the bed with you—the mattress too small for him alone, a coffin for both of you—shielding your body with his from the door so neither friend nor foe would see you first if they came inside.

Ghost made sure to top off your food with the ingredients you liked from his own plate when you were visibly upset. And on the nights when you were unconsolable, he pulled you on top of his chest despite the struggles, resting your head above his heart while he played with your hair or held your hand, intertwining your fingers.

It was hard to say what was going on in that man's head. His eyes spoke of wonders you couldn't see, but his punishments were so severe, so unforgiving as if you had personally harmed him in another life. You could be glad that you could still count ten fingers on your hands and ten toes on your feet, seeing how his mood shifted unpredictably at any moment you two were together.

So, it was best not to acknowledge him.

Even when everything inside you screamed profanities at this bastard, you tempered yourself with deep breaths. A deep inhale through the nose, and a long exhale through the mouth. Deep in, long out. Deep in, and a long breath out...

Zing.

The unique sound of a zippo reached your ear despite your meditation having been able to fade out his presence behind you. This sound was unexpected, new. Ghost and new impressions combined as well as fire and gasoline, so this was scary. You didn't know if he picked up a smoking habit or would burn you just from the sound alone.

You couldn't help the rather violent reaction to the fear that snapped your muscles tight. Jumping into action, you threw the blanket you had wrapped around yourself away, sliding into the farthest corner away from him. Your eyes widened as you took in the view in front of you, time coming to a brief halt as you mustered the absolute unit of a man in front of you holding a... cupcake.

Blue wrapping, yellow icing, and a flickering candle on top.

Ghost snapped the zippo shut after he had waited out your reaction, his shoulders relaxing after he concluded you wouldn't do something stupid. You had just been surprised. He let the silver square sink into his right pocket while the small flame illuminated his mask in a warm yet even more spooky way than it always was.

"Happy Birthday," he said, tearing you out of your state of shock. Your gaze jumped from the mismatched-colored cupcake to his eyes that rested on you, full of that disgusting, heart-wrenching adoration he harbored for you. Things were calm, too calm. Ghost was too relaxed, only holding the cupcake and not a weapon or anything remotely dangerous in his other hand. You couldn't trust the peace. Couldn't rely on his words or the actions you were seeing.

"Wait, what?" it suddenly hit you, your eyes widening. "Is it... Is it really my birthday?"

Prying your eyes off your captor, you looked to your right, to the small table across from the bed where Ghost had hung up a calendar for you. He'd been crossing off days diligently for you since you couldn't be bothered to keep up with the task on some days, Ghost knowing that time seemed to pass you by in weird intervals without a window in your room. And he was right. Damn.

Taking another step toward you, you didn't cower away, letting your guard down as you breathed out heavily. That meant you had vanished from the face of the earth for months now. No one would come looking for you anymore; the hope of your survival and return would have been smashed. What a depressing thought on your birthday, your family and friends surely heartbroken about your absence, just like you were.

The bed creaked as Ghost sat down, his weight shifting the mattress in a way that made you aware of his closeness. You collected your legs, keeping them away from him to not give him any chance of quickly grabbing you. But when Ghost held out his hand, it was filled by the cupcake stretched towards you, and he handed it over without another word.

Your eyes flicked back and forth between his and the pastry, but hesitantly, you picked it up, feeling the squishiness of it, a sweet smell drafting into your nose. The warmth of the ficker licked at your skin as you held the cupcake in front of you. So small yet so thoughtful. You thought a whole lot about this psycho, but to think he'd remember your birthday when not even you did? You couldn't even remember when you told him the date, much less expected him to prepare something for you.

Not like there was anyone else who'd care about it now.

Immediately, tears shot into your eyes as you realized you were truly alone. No one would come to save you, and nothing would change unless you could win against your captor. Even when he was with you, you were still alone. And even when you blew out the candle, wishing for these things to change, you knew the wish was wasted.

Sniffling, you bit into the cupcake, frosting getting stuck on your nose and lips, but you didn't care. Sugary sweet and buttery, the taste of homemade cupcakes like your mother would have made them coated your tongue and teeth, remaining there even when you swallowed, bitterness clogging your throat while the delicious treat produced enough serotonin to jump in joy.

You managed to devour half of it before the tears and stuffy nose caught up with you. Even your free hand couldn't wipe away all these emotions overrunning you. Fear, pain, hopelessness. The feeling of being stuck here and so, so alone. It needed two more hands, big, calloused, and warm, to gently hold your face between them, wiping relentlessly while hushing you softly.

"It's alright, darling," Ghost murmured, his voice invading your brain that couldn't detect all these phantom pains you were feeling but soothed them regardless. "I'm here. Everything will be okay, sweetheart."

It certainly wasn't what you wanted to hear, but it did the trick, keeping you from the panic attack that slowly built inside you. Wiping your nose with your sleeve, you took another bite, sniffling and with tears falling relentlessly still. But Ghost's hands never disappeared. Instead, his thumb began to wander, brushing off crumbs as you devoured the rest of your treat, leaving nothing of this kind gesture for him as you were unwilling to share what little happiness you had been given.

Crumpling up the paper around the blown-out candle, you threw the trash away, finally having both hands free to wipe your own face and get a grip on yourself, your vulnerable side having come out shamefully. But even when you pushed away his hands, Ghost's presence right next to you didn't vanish, his body now much closer than before.

"Happy Birthday," he said again, gripping your shoulders. You huffed lightly, feeling exhausted after your cry, but before you could react, the sudden feeling of lips against yours threw you off.

You hadn't even noticed him pulling up his mask to reveal his mouth, lips more greedy and desperate than ever finding yours. Teeth and tongue played and nibbled, not so gently asking for entrance, and you... gave up. You had no strength to resist. Play a game you were bound to lose anyway, Ghost always cheating. And immediately, feeling your surrender, his hands slid back to your face, cupping your cheeks so he could deepen the kiss.

It didn't help. Didn't soothe the aches in your heart and didn't make the tears stop, but the intrusion of his tongue and the sweet taste now coating it distracted your thoughts. Ghost seemed to try to tell you that no, you weren't alone. You'd never be. He'd always be with you like he swore up and down. He'd protect you, take care of you, and love you.

Kidnapping, locking you away, and forcing you to do what he wanted didn't exactly scream protection, care, and love to you. But an annoying, nagging voice started to speak up in the back of your mind. He wasn't wrong. As long as you had to endure this horrific living arrangement, he'd be with you. He didn't leave you alone, didn't forget your birthday. You doubted even that he spent a single moment of downtime without the thought of you on his mind, considering how obsessed he was.

It would never be enough to satisfy you, though.

There was no way he could ever mean enough to you to make you love him. You'd never forgive him, never submit to him fully, body and soul. But at least on that day, the day that grieved you so—a joyous occasion turned bittersweet by your suffering—you weren't alone. He was there with you. He cared. Did he care enough?

"You're not going to sing for me?" you asked him, half-joking, half-challenging.

Ghost mustered you for a long moment, then you heard him huff, amused. He shook his head before pulling you towards him. You allowed it, no strength left to struggle. "Only because it's your birthday," he reminded you, and you caught the corners of your mouth turning upwards before you reminded yourself not to be amused by his banter.

His heartbeat was calm and gentle, nothing like the things you knew he could do to you. Ghost turned you both over until he could climb into bed with you, laying you down on your side, facing him and not spooning you like usual. It was a tight squeeze, but with his arms around you, face nuzzled into his chest, it was warm and comforting. Safe—for now.

Happy Birthday to you.

You almost didn't want to believe him when he began to sing, keeping his voice low. Ghost never wanted to rourse the suspicion of anyone else that possibly lived next door to you. His gruff voice didn't really fit the upbeat song, even with his accent tingling on every word. This time, you couldn't help but grin at the absurdity of the situation, but you listened, regardless, while being held in his arms as if you were meant to be there.

Happy Birthday dear darling.

Wearily, you closed your eyes, listening to his heartbeat mixing with his voice. The man you hated the most was holding you and singing to you as if it was the most normal thing in the world. As if it was meant to be this way all along, almost making you forget the pain and suffering he had caused you in the past. But when he held you like a rare treasure, fulfilled your wishes, and went out of his way to care for you, you almost believed his version of love to be true. You almost started to believe the many times he said he was doing all of this for one reason only: "I love you."

Maybe he did.

Happy Birthday to you.

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queenie-the-court-jester · 2 months

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OMG!!

how would the yanderes react if their darling pulled a prank for april fools where they pretend to cheat??

(if you don’t feel comfortable with the cheating prompt, maybe one where the darling pretends to break up?)

-🍧

Benny;

"babe I'm cheating on you."

"...I didn't know you wanted to do a double suicide love!"

Mimi:

"Babe I'm cheating on you."

"..."

Unconsolably sobbing

Riley:

"I'm cheating on you"

"with who huh? Want me to bring their severed head so you stop being a little whore?"

Maxine:

"Babe I'm cheating on you"

"Same"

Kameron:

"babe I'm cheating on you"

"So the player finally gets played... I'm breaking your legs by the way"

cotton:

"Babe I'm cheating on you"

"Nuh uh."

Jealousy sex

Sweetheart:

"Babe I'm cheating on you"

"Who is he. I'll fucking rip out his guts for seducing you."

David:

"babe I'm cheating on you"

"Death it is."

[REDACTED]:

"Babe I'm cheating on you"

"How. You are literally locked in here 24/7. Is it the mailman? I swear to god."

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blues824 · 1 year

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Snake and Love hashira and Poly!Bi!reader unrequited love!

The cannon lovers don't take notice of reader's love for both of them! As reader been obliviously showing their love for the two... sooner or later reader stops their efforts unnoticeable and get kind of sad about it...

reader can have a sad ending of dying by (demon, self inflicted, Died of unknown like illness ect..) their crow delivered the message of their death while also giving all the hashira a long letter! Mini reactions of all letters! The letters are their feelings towards all the hashira even if they didn't talk much!

Angst is what I am feeling sorry y'all fluff lovers out there!

Your cause of death is up to your interpretation.

Gyomei Himejima

He had someone read it to him for obvious reasons

Cried more than usual

You didn’t talk much, but it still hurt

From that point on, he made sure your memory was honored

Mitsuri Kanroji

Upon finding out that you loved both her and Obanai, she wept

For days on end, she cried

She was unconsolable

Keeps your haori if it was recoverable

Giyu Tomioka

Even though he tried not to get attached to people

He thought you were an exception

You were his friend, and now you are gone

Learned his lesson the hard way, I guess

Tengen Uzui

Well, this wasn’t a very flamboyant situation

His wives wept at the death of their friend

However, no tears left the Sound Hashira’s eyes

He was simply in shock

Sanemi Shinazugawa

You were the person who got him closer to his younger brother

Now you were gone

He tried his hardest not to cry

But goddamn it was hard

Shinobu Kocho

Once she saw your crow, she knew what happened

She just felt tired

Tired of losing the people that she loves

Tired of mourning those she has lost

Kyojuro Rengoku

Another fallen comrade in arms

It’s not an uncommon thing, but he didn’t expect it to be you

He lets a few tears fall as he reads the letter

You knew you weren’t coming back

Obanai Iguro

When he read your written confession, he went into shock

Kaburamaru started hissing sadly

At night, he weeps because he hadn’t known about your feelings

It’s too late now. You’re gone

Muichiro Tokito

The first time anyone saw him snap back to reality

No, this will not be an Eminem reference

He didn’t know you well, but you have fought many battles together

He places some flowers upon your burial site

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lethalchiralium · 9 months

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showing mellie’s birth gave way to my evil thoughts 😈 what if reader died during birth and simon has no idea.

coming home to a new baby he has no idea exists and a dead wife, winnie crying unconsolably under roach’s sympathetic but helpless eyes, and is now having to take care of a toddler and a newborn. shower us with angst keri!! bwahahahha!! 😈😈😈

you’re evil. i love it. oh i thought about killing missus at all turns. i think about it. just a warning lol

HAPPINESS AU.

There were thousands of missed calls from you when Simon turned on his cell phone.

There were dozens of returned ones by the time he had pulled into the drive, not even caring that he left the car unlocked. The house was lit up, he raced up the steps and slammed his key into the lock before turning it. He threw open his door, not caring that his daughter could be asleep. Something happened and he wasn’t there.

“Y/N!” He called, walking down the hallway into the living room, eyebrows furrowing as he saw his good friend, Roach, leaned against the back of his couch, cradling something in his arm and holding his daughter against his side. Winnie came running from Roach’s side, sobbing. Simon picked up his daughter, her face red, splotchy, and full of tears.

He pushed some hair from her face, cupping her little cheek and speaking calmly, “Winter, what’s wrong?”

Her little body trembled, she shook her head before diving into his neck. He held her to his chest, one hand cradling her head as be looked to Roach, the baby Roach held in his arms had your hair color, your beautiful skin, dressed in an olive green onesie.

She didn’t. She couldn’t have been… Fuck.

“Y/N!” He called, moving towards Roach’s form leaning against the back of the couch. “Y/N!” He called upstairs, looking up it to see no lights on. He almost took a step up but stopped when he heard a cry.

The newborn in Roach’s arms began to fuss, little arms moving as they cried out. Roach could only gaze at Simon’s face, his own eyes full of tears.

“Where is my wife?”

Roach didn’t stop crying.

Fear plumed from his chest, anger fanned the flames as he shouted, “Where is my wife!”

Footsteps came from the front door, Simon’s heart lurched in his throat as he turned around to see his- Captain. Boonie hat rung in his hands, tears in his own eyes.

“Price, what-“

“Set Winnie down.”

John Price spoke with a softness Simon has never heard before in his life. Chills ran up his spine, the daughter loudly crying in his ear was drowned out by his heartbeat. Her little arms wrapped around his neck, tighter than they ever have before.

“John, where is my wife-“

He put up a hand. “Simon.”

The confused husband silenced, just wanting to know where the love of his life was. John met his eyes, and for a wordless moment, Simon felt grief. Sadness.

“The baby Roach is holding is your newborn daughter, Melody.”

His stomach dropped, eyes widened in surprise as he turned around to look at the creature again. She was so little.

With just a blink, he was back in that NICU - tubes and wires coming out of this little pink… thing in an incubator.

Another blink and he was back in his home, gazing at the little baby that looked just like you. His hands held his four year old tightly as he turned back to face Price, who was now a few steps closer. His face full of sorrow, tears running down his face as he stated in the military voice he was used to hearing, “Y/N didn’t make it out of the hospital.”

Simon’s head began to spin, around and around and around as he could barely take in small breaths.

“What are you saying?”

Price’s hand rested on Simon’s shoulder.

“Y/N is dead, Simon.”

The air went frigid. His lungs constricted, his head felt like a pound of bricks smashed against it, and he could hear his heart shatter into a million pieces on the ground. His knees locked, his hands froze, all he could feel was the familiar weight of holding his child.

“I learned right after you left the base half an hour ago. I called you, you didn’t answer.”

He felt nauseous. Dizzy. Like blood was oozing from an open wound in his chest, he felt exhaustion like he has never felt before. His bones were dipped in acid, his muscles constricting painfully - he felt like he was decomposing in that spot.

“Simon?”

Would flowers grow if I died right here?

If I died right now, would you lay beside me for the rest of time?

“Simon.”

If I live, how could I ever look at this place the same? How could I gaze at my daughters and act like I don’t see you in them?

If I live, how do I pretend that you’re still here? How can I remember the way you hold me if I haven’t seen you in months? How can I ignore the way your laugh haunts me, even when you were still here?

Winnie’s cries were loud, his entire body felt only pain, yet no crying wounds opened his skin. The only thing he couldn’t feel was his heartbeat.

If I live, how could I ever thank you for what you have done for me? What could I do to make you be proud of me?

There was ringing in his ears, he pressed his daughter to his chest and cheek. The Lieutenant has been beaten, stabbed, burned, suffocated, waterboarded - any torture method under the Sun, all without a single cry of pain because he forced them down. Now, as he stands in his living room, he willed for his throat to drag out a pain-relieving scream.

He made no noise as he fell to his knees.

How do I raise our daughters with the same grace and resilience you have? How do I tell them about you, their beautiful mother? How can I explain to them that I wasn’t here? How do I explain to my children that I broke a million promises to you?

How do I stop these tears?

PLEASE GIVE ME MORE HAPPINESS ASKS IM THRIVING

#happiness series #lethalchiralium #lethal chiralium #simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x wife!reader #simon riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x wife!reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader

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atarathegreat · 2 months

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Timeskip Accident 3 Nahoya Kawata

When did everything change? When did your loyal, caring boyfriend become so distant? So angry? So aggressive? As teens, Nahoya had been nothing less than doting and protective.

So why was he now hurling insults at you along with dishes and fists?

You dodged this way and that, trying to avoid whatever punishment was being handed to you for the unknown thing that had angered him. The house you shared with him was a mess now. Dishes broken and the drywall cracked in various places. Souya had told you to run years ago. Your brother-in-law only wanted what was best for you.

"Nahoya, please..." How tragic to be backed into a corner with your only hope being that maybe he would finally see you again, "Hoya..."

He slapped you as hard as he could, his jewelry covered fingers hurting more than a bare backhand, leaving you stunned in every sense. For a second you thought you were back in the old arcade. The smell of expired candy and screaming teenagers, every machine whirring as loud as it could, and the awful EDM music that tried to cover the sounds.

"Hey, you zoned out again?" Nahoya's old curly hair appeared in your vision. No thoughts seemed to be running through your mind as you reached out and laced your fingers in his kinky hair. "Earth to Noodle Brain!" Nahoya waved his hand in your face and asked if you were okay when you flinched away from him. All you could do was nod, because if you responded then he would lash out. "Aw, don't tell me that my pretty girl won't speak?" Nahoya's laugh brought all types of emotions back. Above all of them was the love that you once had for him.

Love for the way he grabbed your hand in moments like these, where you cried unconsolably and he had no clue why. Moments where he threatened to kill anyone who looked at you while you had tears in your eyes. Moments when he wasn't Smiley, but Nahoya. Your Hoya.

Souya was never far behind him, hitting anyone who came too close to his new sis. Neither of them were okay with you crying.

"What happened?" The cracks in your voice made Nahoya's little heart clench. "Please, Hoya...please don't change..." You begged him and he couldn't do anything but hug you close. Seeing you cry, hearing you spout nonsense as the twins led you from the arcade, it broke something in the hotheaded teen. Made him see how truly fragile you were compared to him.

You weren't some hardened gang member. You were a girl, and you needed for him to keep you out of that target. Nahoya wanted you by his side, of course, but what was the point if you had a snotty nose and bloodshot eyes?

He cherished your smile and the way you did a little happy dance when he cooked for you. Not this-this mess of a girl begging for him to not change. Whatever that means.

"I'm not changing on ya', gorgeous. Just get on the bike, yeah?" Nahoya helped you onto his motorcycle, taking a quick moment to snap his helmet over your head. "Wanna come home with me for a bit? We can sit and Souya can cook something."

"Hey!" Souya protested from his bike.

But you were reveling in your dream. It had to be a dream, right? Nahoya and you from middle school, that dingy arcade with his brother and friends? That wasn't actually happening? Neither was you walking in their parent's home, or Souya cooking your favorite soba or the way Nahoya bundled you in his biggest blanket so he could start a movie he knew you'd love.

None of this was happening...right?

Maybe you had died. Maybe Nahoya had finally hit you hard enough that you fell into the afterlife. Hell, if sitting in Nahoya's squat room curled up in a blanket was your death, so be it. It was better than being hit. And Nahoya was more than happy to listen to you fall asleep next to him. It was much better than hearing you sniffle the last of whatever mood had clutched you.

The light was dim when you finally opened your eyes, a faint scraping sound of someone pulling curtains together sounding like nails on a chalkboard. What time was it? Where were you?

"Sleep some more, gorgeous. I already called in for you." A deep, raspy and sleepy rumble sounded off next to you, Nahoya's arm tugged at the blanket to get warm with you.

"Called in?"

"Yep. Me and you all day." There it was. That same old laughter you'd fallen in love with years ago. It was ringing in your ears again.

But it was impossible. You didn't even have a job to call in to, Nahoya had made sure of that. Hadn't he? The muscles in your body moved on their own to touch his hair. It would be straightened and and he'd be pissed that you paid attention to his curls again-

Except his hair wasn't straight. It was kinky and peachy and tangling you're fingers as if to trap you to him. And he was laughing. Laughing! As if you hadn't just done something to upset him.

"Sleep some more, gorgeous. I'll wake you up for breakfast."

#anime #manga #x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo rev #tokyo rev x reader #nahoya kawata x reader #nahoya x reader #nahoya kawata

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maaneskin · 10 months

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GOODBYE, MY PEACE. inarizaki vb team x f!reader, 1.1k

note, this is not serious in the slightest — it’s also old

“no,”

“please!” the boy with the newly dyed blonde hair, smiled brightly, nodding his head up and down. right behind him was an identical face but with newly dyed gray hair instead of the blonde atsumu had chosen. he – atsumu – was most definitely not using the purple shampoo you got for him after the dye job; his hair was more yellow than blonde.

despite popular belief, osamu was not less annoying than atsumu. sure, osamu was quieter, more laid back, and usually let atsumu take the lead in whatever stupid activity they had come up with, but he was not any less annoying, “(name), please,” his voice was also deeper and had a more nassaly tone to it.

watching the two do their best puppy dog eyes to you in an attempt to get their way, was somewhat amusing but also somewhat annoying, “i don’t want to be your manager… again,” your time in middle school was spent watching the two idiots you called your best friends play volleyball and somewhere during your second year they convinced you to become manager for the boys volleyball club. you did have fun, though you would rather be set on fire than admit that. watching them play, watching them score and win brought you deep satisfaction.

atsumu tried again, pleading with you to, once again, become manager for the boys volleyball club, “aran wants you to join too. you love aran,”

you paused, “i do love aran,” ojiro aran had more than once been your savior for when the twins got out of hand and you didn’t feel like dealing with them. he was all around a nice guy with a kind heart. one of your most trusted companions.

“please,”

“i don’t know,” you sighed, tilting your head.

atsumu clapped his hands together, “please. we won’t fight for the rest of the week!”

you raised an eyebrow as osamu stuffed his hand in his pocket to pull out his phone, “what day is it today? thursday, we can do that,” the brothers made eye contact, having a mental agreement. they both nodded, “yeah, we can do that,”

“no fights until next thursday! and i’ll think about it,”

they both grimaced but nodded, shoulders hanging low. you rolled your eyes, “you’re so annoying,”

“she’s talking about you,” osamu taunted his twin. atsumu, as predicted, began throwing a tantrum, “she was talking about us both!” osamu put his hands behind his head and began walking away, knowing the blonde would follow, “you’re the annoying one, so it was about you,”

you sighed deeply, watching them leave the vicinity with loud voices. one thing about them was they never failed to entertain you. you muttered that it was about both of them, but they were too far away to hear you. atsumu turned back around and yelled for you to meet them at the gym after school, to which you gave a lazy wave and walked in the other direction.

the miya twins weren’t all that bad. despite how you act most of the time, you treasured them both deeply and were happy to have them in your life. you didn’t regret talking to the teary-eyed boy who had been looking down at his fallen onigiri for ten minutes straight. he had been somewhat unconsolable, having removed his tears but still in a sad mood. at least until you offered him some of the stirfry you had in your lunchbox. apparently he had never tasted anything better, for the next day he was by your side when the second lunch was called and didn’t leave you alone until lunch was over. with starry eyes, he asked if he could have some of your food and in return you could have some of his. (“my name is miya osamu!” he introduced himself with his mouth full of food, you could barely understand what he was saying). he later introduced you to atsumu and they never left you alone since then.

that did not mean you wanted to be manager again. it was a lot of work all the time and being around sweaty high school boys seemed more and more like a nightmare the more you thought about it.

you had half the mind to ditch them and just go home instead of going to the gym, but when thinking about the consequences of doing that, you decided against it. with a filled out club application in hand you headed for the gym. maybe you could convince the coach to reject your application. you gasped, stopping in the middle of the hallway, “i’m a genius,”

—

“please let me be manager, i’m a huge fan of the miya twins!”

kurosu norimune, head coach of the inarizaki’s boys volleyball team, looked taken aback for a moment and then sighed heavily as if this wasn’t the first time he had heard those words today. it probably wasn’t, given how, even as first years just out of middle school, the miya brothers’ were already popular.

“(surname) was it? we really can’t–”

“ah, (name), you’re here?!”

most times you consider ojiro aran to be a blessing. he and you formed a special bond from having to deal with the miya’s. but right now, he was more a curse than a blessing. what if he fouled your super genius plan of not becoming the manager for the boy’s volleyball team.

“coach, sorry for interrupting you!” he bowed in an apology, “i just hadn’t seen her in so long,” he explained, scratching the back of his neck.

“you know her?” kurosu asked, taking a second look at your filled out application.

with a horrified expression, you, subtly but rapidly, shook your head, mouthing the words ‘no, you don’t’. he was going to expose you.

“yeah! she’s close friends with atsumu and osamu, so we’ve met many times before!” he smiled.

you closed your eyes, accepting your fate.

kurosu looked back at your defeated face. the situation turned over in his head and he barked out a laugh, “i take it you’re not actually a fan?” he asked you, finding amusement in your inevitable doom.

having already accepted that you’re not getting out of the situation, answered him honestly, “i’m more of a hater if anything,”

he laughed again, “i’ll consider you for the manager position then, (surname),”

“please don’t,” you muttered under your breath. he left after asking a few more questions and you directed your attention towards the guy who was apparently praying for your downfall.

aran smiled sheepishly to you, “sorry?” he wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for, but it felt like doing so would be the best course of action.

“you should be,” you snapped, “now i have to deal with dummy one and dummy two again,”

the male had half the mind to say you were dummy three. while you knew how to restrain yourself most of the time, you had your moments when your intelligence dropped to the lowest and you joined the twins in whatever bullshit they had going on.

“i’m going to die, aran,”

he chuckled, patting your shoulder, “it won’t be that bad,”

#more half finished stuff #writing #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #miya atsumu x reader #miya osamu x reader #ojiro aran x reader #inarizaki x reader #haikyuu imagines #hq imagines

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angstymdzsthoughts · 5 months

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Angsty Post Canon MDZS fic idea

What if after a night hunt, something happens and goes horribly wrong. Sizhui gets cursed somehow and it's pretty bad, in a way the he has to kill one of the people he loves most in the world, or he dies an agonizing death. Both LWJ and WWX are people he loves and cherish, outside his friends (the other juniors) but WWX has a special place in his heart and he doesn't want to but the curse is trying to force him or kill him and he tries to fight it but in the end it's futile. All he can do is stare is horror, shock, and grief when he realizes he stabs WWX, his Xian-gege right through the heart. And all the other does is smile sadly, whispering it's okay, as he falls forward, caught in crying unconsolable Sizhui arms, his eyes closing again forever.

When LWJ comes across the scene after searching and failing for yet finding a way to break his son's curse but it was already too late once again, his whole world shatters and everything becomes blank. All he can do is stand, shaking and staring in despair at his husband, blood still leaking from his body, as he lay dead in their wailing son's arms.

#mdzs #lan sizhui #wei wuxian #lan wangji #character death

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makeitmingi · 7 months

Text

Cause Baby You're My Muse [Chapter 54]

Genre: Romance, Idol!AU, Music, Slight angst

Pairing: Mingi x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Producer!Reader, IdolLyricist!Mingi, IdolProducer!Hongjoong, Idol!Seonghwa, Idol!Yunho, Idol!Wooyoung, Idol!San, Idol!Yeosang, Idol!Jongho, cameo(s) by other celebrities

Summary: You always preferred producing underground, having an unknown face and governed by your own rules. But when you start freelancing for idol groups, you say goodbye to your lone wolf lifestyle as you learn to work with idol producers and lyricists.

Word count: 3.3K

The fans noticed. Of course they noticed, they were so observant and focused on their 8 idols that they would know when something was wrong in a heartbeat. The way their smiles didn't reach their eyes, the way they kept their playfulness to a minimum when on stage and the way they would go quiet for a few seconds.

The way Mingi would space out and need Yunho to bring him back down to earth. The managers tried to motivate them but it was useless. Even Hongjoong was different.

They hardly saw him around the dorm, except for when they had schedules together. He was cooped up in his studio outside of KQ.

He didn't even want to use the open room that used to be your studio. He'd much rather use the external one.

Sure, they weren't actually in a relationship with you like Mingi was. But they all felt the stab to their chest, the betrayal and hurt when Mingi told them what happened.

They had never seen Yunho that upset. But it was hard to watch when your best friend comes in, absolutely broken and unconsolable.

'What happened to Ateez? The recent change in demeanour has caused fans to worry and speculate!'

'Is KQ overworking their idols?'

'ATINYs are calling for change, give the idols a break!'

'Is this how your idols change after a few first place trophies? Some ATINYs are disappointed at the change in attitude from the boys. Some citing that they feel the boys are different after they had a very successful comeback season.'

Of course news outlets were having the time of their lives, jumping at every opportunity that they could. But Ateez didn't care, they've been mistreated before, this isn't new to them.

"Alright, everyone. We will be meeting CEO Kim today. So please, try to look alive." The managers begged.

"Yes, hyung." The boys said, breaking up to go get ready. Instead of going to get ready, Yunho entered his best friend's room.

"Mingi ah. We need to get ready. CEO Kim will be meeting us." Yunho shook his best friend.

Mingi... was broken. He tried to act tough, he tried to act like he didn't care, that he was better off without you. But that only last for a few days. Now, he's cooped up in his room, wallowing.

What makes thing worse is that his anxiety was back and the attacks manifested as nightmares now.

"Come on." Yunho was patient, helping Mingi out as much as he could. Mingi sat up, his eyes void of any emotions. Now, it was like he was a ghost, just moving through the motion. But in all honesty, he was just exhausted. Crying his heart out was one thing but every time he closed his eyes, he would see you.

It hurt.

"Yeah." Mingi waved his best friend off, standing up and shuffling out to the bathroom to get ready. He didn't bother looking at his reflection, knowing it would be horrendous.

"Mingi hyung." Jongho stopped the older when he emerged from the bathroom. Mingi lifted his head to look at the youngest.

"I... Nevermind... Here." Jongho handed the taller a mug of iced americano that he brewed.

"Thanks." Mingi didn't press Jongho to spit out whatever he had to say, which would be what he usually did. He took the mug of coffee and brought it to his room.

"Oh, hyung..." Jongho sighed, thinking back to what happened last night.

"So how has your new school been, little bear?" Jongho asked, looking at her through the screen. Wooyoung was at the dance studio having late practice while Yeosang was with San at the gym. That left Jongho to have his usual call with Haneul alone.

"It's okay! I'm having fun but I am still trying to make friends. Everyone else already has a best friend." She pouted. That made Jongho coo at her.

"Well, I am sure when the other kids know how amazing you are, they'll ALL want to be your best friend." He chuckled.

"Really?! You think so?!" She brightened up.

"I know so." He replied. He didn't know what about Haneul just made him melt into a puddle.

"I miss you, bear oppa. I miss the other oppas too..." She said sadly. Jongho didn't say anything, he wasn't really sure what to say. But he felt like there was something else she wanted to add.

"Go on, little bear. You can tell me." He encouraged.

"I can't say I miss you. When I talk about you or the other oppas, unnie gets... very sad. So I can't tell her I miss you. Because I think she misses the oppas too. Some times, I see unnie crying or looking at pictures." Haneul said sadly. Jongho sighed softly, Haneul was just that observant and smart for that age.

"That's nice of you, little bear. You know, thinking about how your unnie feels. But you can tell her you miss us. It's okay to share how you feel with her." Jongho told her.

"I don't want unnie to be sad. I don't want her to cry. When she sleeps next to me, she's always saying she's sorry." Haneul said.

"Oh, little bear, I'm sorry. It must hurt you."

"No... I just want to make unnie happy. I don't want her to be sad anymore." She said sadly.

Jongho was conflicted. He knew the only way to make you happy was to bring you back here, to be with Ateez and specifically Mingi. That was the only way for everyone to be happy again.

"I'll speak to you soon, little bear. Cheer up. Everything will be alright." Jongho assured with a small smile.

"Really?" She asked.

"I'm sure it will be." Jongho melted. With a small wave, Haneul hung up. Jongho sighed and removed the Airpods from his ears. He jumped when he saw someone standing at his doorway. He was so engrossed in his conversation that he didn't hear anyone come in.

"H-Hyung." Jongho stuttered.

"Was that Indigo?" Seonghwa asked softly, closing the door behind him. Saying your name was like the new taboo of the dorm.

"No. Haneul..." Jongho replied. He began to tell the oldest how you requested for him to maintain some sort of relationship with Haneul, which he was more than happy to oblige with.

"Did you have a chance to speak to her?" Seonghwa sat on the edge of the bed, not wanting others to overhear.

"No. She only says hi then passes the phone to Haneul." The youngest shook his head.

"Hyung, I think we should tell them. Make the CEO launch that investigation. Even if it doesn't bring Indigo back... I just hate that we're acting like it's her fault." Jongho said sadly.

"I understand. Indigo is the victim in all this, she's not at fault at all. It's because of us that she's being targeted in the first place, receiving all those death threats. And she didn't have to but she left and would rather take all the hate and blame from the others instead." Seonghwa sighed.

"But we told Indigo that we wouldn't tell them. At least, not yet. I'm worried Mingi might lose it and I don't know how much more he can take." He added.

"But this isn't right, hyung. I don't like that Indigo is being seen as the bad guy." Jongho frowned.

"It's really taking a toll on her as well. Haneul tells me she's not doing well over there and the little girl is worried." He shook his head.

Now Seonghwa knew why Jongho wanted to tell the others to truth. It wasn't a secret that Jongho cared for Haneul dearly, their relationship was like what you and Hongjoong had.

"Knowing the truth... might help Hongjoong hyung too..." Jongho spoke. Seonghwa nodded in agreement.

"No, no. We need to wait for a bit. Let's wait until we can contact Indigo. If we tell everyone, they may all just rush to contact her and that may overwhelm her. Or I'm worried Mingi or Wooyoung fly to where she is." Seonghwa reasoned.

"Oh, hyung. You're here." A tired Wooyoung trudged in, surprised to see the oldest there with the maknae. Seonghwa nodded and got up with a tight smile on his face.

"Good work, Wooyoungie." Seonghwa patted the male on the shoulder. Wooyoung gave a small smile.

'We'll talk about this again. - Seonghwa hyung'

Jongho looked at the text that came in from Seonghwa after he had left the room. He let out a huff of frustration, making Wooyoung give him an odd look.

"Yah, you're bending the spoon." San said, making Jongho snap out of his thoughts. He looked down to see the bent spoon in his hands.

"Oh, sorry." Jongho tried to bend the spoon back to straighten the handle. In the end, he tossed the spoon in the sink and went to the room to change into presentable clothes. This sudden meeting with the CEO was an unexpected spanner thrown in. As the boys gathered, Seonghwa cast Jongho a look.

"Hongjoong's already at the studio so he'll meet us there." The manager said as he ushered everyone downstairs and into their two respective vans.

The van ride was mostly silent, well, Seonghwa's van was. Mingi had his headphones on, looking out the window. Jongho was stewing and Yunho just kept giving Mingi worried glances.

"Let's go." The managers led all of them upstairs. They bumped into Hongjoong.

"I brought you fresh clothes to change." Yeosang handed Hongjoong the paper bag with clothes.

"Thanks." Hongjoong smiled tiredly and went to the bathroom to change. Hongjoong was... taking it a lot harder than Seonghwa expected. Maybe because Hongjoong found himself genuinely caring for you and he felt abandoned.

Only Hongjoong, himself, would know how he feels. But the way he was living now was definitely not healthy. Seonghwa needed to help him keep everyone together.

"Ah, boys. Come in." CEO Kim said, waving for everyone to come into the meeting room.

"Good afternoon, CEO." The 8 boys bowed.

"Sit, sit." The CEO let out a long exhale as he gestured for the 8 to take their seats. They moved to the opposite side of the table so they could sit across him.

"Now, I'm not sure if you have an idea as to why I called you all in. But it is regarding how Ateez has been since Producer Indigo's departure." The CEO leaned forward on his hands.

"We're very sorry, sir. I promise we are more professional than this. We should know better than to let our emotions affect our performance like this. We'll be better and I'll make sure that the boys are better, I promise you." Hongjoong stood up, bowing deeply to the CEO as he apologised.

"I've been talking to the teams. And with comeback season more or less over, we'll be putting you guys on vacation." The CEO said.

"What?" The boys were puzzled.

"You're bound to have a vacation anyway. We're just pushing it forward now. Fans are worried that we're overworking you and that's not a good look for the company." He frowned.

"We understand, sir. We apologise for that, it wasn't out intention to give off that sort of impression." Seonghwa said.

"Whether it was intentional or not, it's what the fans speculate. The fans are disappointed by your lack of commitment to this comeback, I am too." He sighed.

"Use the vacation to pick yourselves up. You're idols. Whatever is going on off stage, you do not let that affect your performance on stage. Especially in front of the fans. Everything you do is under public scrutiny. You should know that." CEO Kim chided.

"Yes, we know." The boys said.

"This was also the best decision because we cannot afford to put just Mingi on another break. It is not a good look for you as a group and for Mingi as an idol." CEO Kim turned to the rapper.

"I'm very sorry for causing all this trouble, CEO. I'll be better for the group and the fans." Mingi bowed.

"You better." CEO Kim said seriously and Mingi nodded his head.

"Look, boys. I know you were all very close and Indigo leaving was rather abrupt. Mingi, I know break ups are hard. But all this, they're part and parcel of life." He sighed.

"Sir, I-" Not only Mingi but the others were stunned by what their CEO just said.

"You didn't think I would know about your relationship? Indigo came to tell me herself. She offered to take all the blame and scolding for it if anything bad were to happen." He revealed.

"What do you mean, if anything bad were to happen?" Mingi frowned in confusion.

"That's all I have to say. You're welcomed to go home during your vacation or travel overseas, same protocol applies in terms of declaring your travels for safety reasons. I hope to see you all back to normal after the vacation." CEO Kim stood up from the table. The 8 followed suit and stood up to bow to him.

"Thank you, sir. We're sorry." They bowed.

"If only things were different, Indigo wouldn't have had to leave." Mingi's eyes widened at the last comment made by his CEO before he walked out of the room.

Yunho looked at his best friend that was frozen in his spot, knowing that his head was racing with thoughts at the CEO's words.

"Alright, let's all head back to the dorm. I think we need to talk." Hongjoong said.

"Yes, captain." All of them filed out of the meeting room. It seemed like the managers already knew what happened as they quietly ushered the boys back to the vans and drove them home.

"What do you think he meant, Yunho?" Mingi croaked out.

"I'm... not sure. But don't think too much about it, Mingi ah." Yunho squeezed his best friend on the shoulder. Mingi nodded glumly and climbed into the van with Yunho behind him. Jongho was chewing on his lip, casting Seonghwa an uneasy look.

'No'. Seonghwa mouthed and shook his head. Luckily Yunho and Mingi were having their own hushed conversation in the back to notice the oldest and youngest up front.

The guilt was settling in Mingi even more. He has let the group down once again, as well as ATINY and CEO Kim.

But he was still holding onto a thread of hope. That this was all a nightmare, that he didn't have to force himself to hate you for what you did.

"Ateez, sit down in the living room." Hongjoong said the moment all 8 of them were back in the dorm.

"Thanks hyungs, I'll take over from here." He turned to the managers, who nodded and patted the captain on the shoulder before leaving. Hongjoong let out a long sigh and went to the living room.

"I'm sorry I have been letting my emotions get the best of me. I didn't really expect her departure to make me shut myself down... to the point whereby I've been neglecting my duties as the captain to all of you and to the fans." Hongjoong started and bowed his head in apology to the 7.

"Hyung... There's nothing for you to apologise for." Wooyoung whispered softly, tears welling up in his eyes.

"Mr CEO was right. Let's use this vacation to rest and get back to where we were. We have to do it for ATINY." Yunho said. The others nodded in agreement.

"Indigo was someone we all treated as family, some more than others. But if she can move on, so can we." San said, looking at Mingi.

"Whatever happened between me and her, I shouldn't have let it affect the rest of you. You've all already dealt with a lot on my behalf." Mingi shook his head. Yunho rubbed his back as a form of comfort.

"People will come and go. But we'll be okay." Yeosang smiled softly and Hongjoong covered his eyes to weep.

"It's okay." Seonghwa comforted him as he cried.

"Even if we knew that there was no certainty that Indigo was going to stay, she shouldn't have done that to Mingi. It wasn't right, it was unfair and selfish. We were not there to know what really happened but look how torn up Mingi is." Wooyoung frowned.

"I agree. There was no need to be harsh about it." Yunho added, obviously siding with his best friend.

"I think that's what's hurting us the most. That we expected more or put more faith in our relationship with her. And that led us to the disappointment we felt." Hongjoong concluded.

There was a heaviness in Mingi's chest. He was grateful for his members being protective of him and siding with him. But hearing them speak negatively of you still made him uncomfortable and hurt.

"Damn it." Jongho cursed under his breath, looking away with a bitter look on his face.

"Jongho?" The 7 turned to the youngest of the group.

Even if Jongho wasn't the closest to you, you still supported him and he knew what you went through. You didn't deserve to be thought of as such.

"Sorry." He mumbled and stood up, walking to the bedroom and shutting the door. Seonghwa stood up and went after Jongho, entering the room and closing the door. The others just left them alone, let the oldest one speak to the youngest to offer him comfort. The other 6 just sat there.

"W-What do you think the CEO meant in his last statement?" Mingi suddenly brought up.

"What do you mean?" San asked.

"He said 'If only things were different, Indigo wouldn't have had to leave'. What did he mean by 'if only things were different'?" Mingi asked. The others looked at each other, shrugging.

"D-Do you think something happened?" This was Mingi leaning on his last thread of hope.

"I don't know what he meant by that. But don't harp on it too much, Mingi ah. It's easier to let go than to hold on to silver linings."

"Hongjoong hyung is right." Yunho said. Mingi nodded glumly, his head hanging low.

Unbeknownst to Seonghwa and Jongho, Wooyoung had been listening in to their conversation. He wondered why Jongho suddenly had that little outburst earlier, considering the youngest hasn't been showing much of a reaction to you leaving.

"We have to tell them the truth, hyung. This is wrong. Like Hongjoong hyung, you were her older brother. Would you not want to defend her?" Jongho asked in frustration.

"Of course I would. You think I want to sit there and listen to that? But we promised Indigo." Seonghwa replied.

"Sometimes, you need to break promises, hyung." Jongho said.

"We've already failed to protect her before, Jongho. The least we can do is to keep this promise. We tell them the truth then what? Can you stop Mingi from going after her?" Seonghwa asked.

"Will you be able to stop Mingi from blaming himself? Or the others like Hongjoong, Wooyoung?" He continued.

"Indigo isn't going to come back. Why do you think she made such as effort to make Mingi hate her?"

"But this is wrong, hyung. If the other hyungs know the truth, they wouldn't speak so ill of her, like she's the one that did all the wrong. When she's the victim in all this. If they knew, maybe they'll push the CEO to launch the internal investigation then Indigo can come back." Jongho reasoned.

"Whoever this person is, we can't let them get away with it. Indigo is gone but does that mean the investigation isn't to happen? We act like it didn't happen and carry on?"

"I... I don't know. But what I'm saying is, we think it over and don't act rashly." Seonghwa sighed.

"Tell us the truth about what?" Wooyoung opened the door, getting the attention of the 2 in the bedroom and the 5 in the living room.

Series Masterlist

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pinkcherryblossom18 · 8 months

Text

By The Stream

Finan/Reader

Summary: Battles leave scars on the brain as much as the flesh but those who hold all you see dear make the battles within worth every second that you spend with him.

TW: Descriptions of battle and sex, allusion to rape, PTSD, paranoia, angst and fluff

Word Count: 1.5k

The sound of the nearby river is one that is familiar. It’s one that you welcome openly and with eyes closed to capture all that it is. Silence. Fresh air. Peace. It’s all something that you have been away from so long that it no longer feels right but the need to embrace it is strong and relentless.

Here you are no longer subjected to the sounds of metal against metal. The squelch of blood under your feet and the memory of watching as your sword cut through flesh and chain, blood coating you in thick layers bound by sweat, mud and, sometimes, tears. The feeling of bruises against your skin, the ugly purples and blacks that fade into grotesque yellows that make you wince as you look at them. Scratches and cuts that bleed in streams of crimson and sting as water from a tattered and rough cloth touch them with the utmost care by the loving and rough hands of Finan. Not that it matters, it still hurts.

Then there are the gashes, the pools of blood that make you think that it was time. Phantom hands of the gods would wrap around you and drag you to Valhalla. It hasn’t happened yet, soon but not yet. It’s coming, for you and Finan. For Sihtric and Uthred and Osferth. It hovers all five of you with black hands holding a scythe and praying for the day that a sword or seax gets too close or too much blood is drawn and it can sweep down and take what it believes is due.

It doesn’t help when everyone looks like an enemy. With ones hands sometimes gripping too tight on knives during dinner and the sound of metal being sharpened is enough for your hand to go to your side, searching for your blade.

It’s not there, why should it be? You’re home, with your lover and friends. In a place that feels more like home than what your last one did. No longer was fighting an everyday routine, no longer was it a necessity to get by with a singular piece of bread for the entire day. You didn’t even have to fight anymore and it was a mystery to all of those around you of why you did.

The rush? The way that it calmed something down in your blood? That small feeling of control? How the adrenaline kept you moving hours afterward and the sex that came after battles when you or Finan weren’t entirely hurt?

You knew it wasn’t the pain. Not the screaming nightmares that had you drawing blood from yourself and fighting Finan as he tried to wake you up. It wasn’t the sobbing and choking crying that took you after and leaving your throat raw and hoarse, not being able to use it after hours of waking up and calming down. The nightmares leaving you unconsolable and still hitting the thick arms of a man that holds all that you know is truly dear, trying to get away from someone who you loved with all your heart because of the pure perceivance of him as a threat made you dangerous toward him.

There’s a rock near the edge of the river. It’s big and flat under the half shade of a tree and the burning force of the sun being on it throughout the day. It makes for a good napping spot while the sun goes down and it’s almost time to eat. You have slept here more than once, only to wake up in your bed with Finan curled around you. His arms wrapped around your waist, beard tucked into your neck and moving with every breath that tickles to the point of you giggling and trying to move away from him.

That’s when he pulls you back to him and then you end up in a different position. With nightmares of old behind you with every moan that comes out of your mouth and every thrust that leaves you wanting more. With your hands buried in his hair and Finan's rough voice whispering sweet nothings and praises in your ear that drive you closer to a precipice that only feels like the feasts that you hoped to welcome in Valhalla or the Heaven the Finan and Osferth believe in. It all led you into the wanting of more. More pleasure. More of the numbness that distraction provides you. More of the rough and teasing Irishman that makes you sure that everything is worth it.

The pain. The rawness of your throat after nightmares. The scars that are both physical and mental. The stares of both pity and disgust from those that look upon you.

It’s all worth it. Every bit as he holds you close and consoles you and touches you in ways that you didn’t know you could be touched. Softly, intimately with no expectations and no wantings of desire that would push him to do unspeakable things if you declined. Touch isn’t the pain that you knew once before him, the way that you still know it to be from those across the battlefield that clash swords with you and spit words that build ire and insecurity in your very being.

Your back hits the hot and simultaneously cool rock and you sigh out in relief as the pain from your shoulders start to dissipate slowly. It’s a perfection that is rarely graspable, the warmth of the sun on your face and the way that your shoulders finally relax from months of tension. Finan had offered you a massage but once his hands made you let out the briefest of moans, the massage was over and a different kind of pleasure took place.

You breathe out and close your eyes, basking everything in. Letting the sun melt your brain and thoughts. A small smile graces your face, peace. That is what you feel and it is as glorious as it is unsettling.

The sound of a twig snapping makes you jump and your hand goes down to your waist, finding nothing but the fabric of your dress and a void that your scabbard makes when you don’t wear it. Then, your shoulders square, getting ready to attack but the sight of familiar boots and that damn smile of Finan’s makes you sigh. Then you chuckle at the fright he gave you, matching the grin on his own face before turning around and laying back down, trying to find the same spot as before.

You hear him walk closer but don’t pay attention to him. Closing your eyes at the moment he stands right next to the rock. “Having fun?” He asks. You can picture how he looks and the feel of his rough calloused hand that takes a likeness to your own makes you look at him.

A sigh comes from you, a pout replacing your grin but it still threatens to come through with twitches to the sides of your mouth that make you want to laugh. “I was but a certain Irishman ruined it,” you grumbled out.

Finan fakes offense and puts a hand to his heart that makes your grin pop out, bigger than before. “I didn’t ruin it.” He moves so that he is now hovering over you, face close to yours and noses being so close that you can almost feel it. “If anything you did by not inviting me.”

You shrug and move your head but he only follows, staying close. The way it should always be, you think. “You didn’t get the invitation?” You huff in mock disappointment, ignoring the fingers that find your side, resisting to laugh at the feeling. “Oh well, it seems you can’t join this celebration.” You pat his cheek and he grabs it to keep it there. “Next time then, love,” you say but you move anyway, letting him join you.

He lays down beside you and wraps around an arm around your shoulders, tugging you against his body. Finan had done this before you two admitted anything, not that you truly needed to. You didn’t think that this was something that needed to be admitted as it was so clear from the moment you two had met on that beach. “What are you thinking about,” he whispers and you look up at him, finding his eyes closed and relaxed.

“The noises of the forest are too much for me to think,” you tease and he smiles. The action comes easy to him and you when before it seemed almost impossible to do such an easy task.

He nods and his hand starts to run up and down your back, rubbing soothing circles into your skin. “That’s good.” His eyes open and look down at you with that glint in his eyes that show nothing more than adoration to the greatest extent. It’s almost pure as it is dirty. A sin, this is what those of his kind would say, those Christans that look down at you as nothing less than scum. Those who hate your blood but wish more than anything to watch you bleed. “Can I crash this celebration?” He asks.

You pretend to think. “It’s going to cost you,” you tell him as you move up, placing your lips only inches from his jaw.

He raises an eyebrow, amused and willing to play into this game that has two winners than the ones that you both are used to playing. “Yeah?” He leans down as well, ghosting over your lips with a smirk that shows just exactly what he wants. “How much?” You purse your lips, already knowing what payment can suffice his welcome interruption. He chuckles. “Well that, I can pay generously,” he says, capturing your lips searingly.

If this was a sin, then you never wanted to know the light again if the darkness felt like this.

#finan x reader #finan smut #the last kingdom #finan

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sallysavestheday · 7 months

Text

On Fingolfin...

This double drabble's for @ir20232023, who asked for some heroic Fingolfin for @nolofinweanweek. Enjoy!

Fingolfin has always prided himself on contrast with his elder brother. Where Fëanor flares and sparks and gathers all eyes, Fingolfin rests, his silver-edged presence no display of power but its opposite – all concentrated stillness and calm. Fëanor whirls. Fingolfin cultivates a ponderous certitude, a confidence in his own worth that speaks volumes without saying a word. Even at Alqualondë he holds back, watching in grief as Fingon plunges in while Fingolfin’s cooler eye watches for signs of the straight way, the responsible path. He has never believed himself to be one of the unconsoled. But after the Ice, when the dark bursts open into blood and fury and the roaring of unfamiliar voices at the edge of understanding, he finds the pommel of his sword settles into his hand with an intimately tender grip. Everything in him hones into a blade. He governs with wisdom, cautious in his alliances and gentle with those who fall into his circle of care. But he cannot stifle the deep rage, the call to arms that sends him battering through the Enemy’s lines at Lammoth, the Aglareb, the Bragollach. The light-starved Noldor will follow him anywhere, such a brilliant torch has he become.

#fingolfin #nolofinwean week 2023

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fleckficgirl · 1 year

Text

Arthur Under the Mistletoe 🎄

Summary: You throw a party on Christmas Eve that doesn’t go as planned...but in the very best of ways. Extremely fluffy oneshot and the title speaks for itself :)

Warnings: mental illness

Word Count: 2087

Notes: I was inspired by @jokerownsmysoul‘s recent post about who she’d kiss under the mistletoe. Obviously, I’m choosing Arthur Fleck as well! Be sure to listen along to the Christmas album hyperlinked in the story, too. Hope you enjoy ❤️❤️

“This is a disaster!” you wailed. “Why did I think anyone would ever come to my party?”

Your tear-filled eyes finally overflowed and you buried your face in your hands.

You realized what a sight you must be: young woman in a sparkly pink party dress and white heels, sitting in her own empty apartment, crying unconsolably...and on Christmas Eve, no less.

Throwing this party was an idea you’d discussed with your therapist a couple weeks prior. You hadn’t thrown a party since childhood, but the idea had sparked your imagination. Deciding you were going to be more outgoing and invite people over for the first time since you moved to Gotham six months ago had gotten your creative juices flowing.

You'd invited everyone on the eighth floor, including some of the neighbors downstairs you'd chatted with a couple of times. Now you laughed ruefully at yourself for having gotten so excited about decorating the apartment, planning a menu, music and games....only to be stood up by everyone at your own party.

This gathering was supposed to make you feel less alone. But now you felt more lonely than ever.

You glanced around your festive living room and kitchen. You’d decorated the walls with Christmas garland. A Jolly Christmas from Frank Sinatra was playing on the record player. A full bowl of punch sat in a large, untouched crystal bowl on the coffee table, along with cookies, cake, chips and finger sandwiches.

And mistletoe. You’d bought mistletoe and placed it over the front door. You’d also gotten dressed up and put makeup on (which wasn’t the easiest thing to do when dealing with depression). But the party had been set to start at seven and it was now a quarter past eight. The writing was on the wall: no one was coming.

You stood up from the sofa, figuring it was time to start cleaning up. Dejectedly, you made your way over to the record player and turned it off, knowing the joyful, nostalgic tunes would only depress you further.

A small knock at the door made you jump out of your skin. You froze. Had you actually heard that, or was it your imagination? Afraid of what might be on the other side, you tiptoed to the door and peered through the peephole.

Was that....Arthur Fleck? From 8J down the hall?

You'd run into him a couple of times in the elevator, but only spoken once, during the garbage strike earlier that year. He was shy and sweet. And beautiful. So beautiful, in fact, that you’d gotten completely tongue tied around him...had found yourself blathering some incoherent nonsense about how pretending that the streets smelled like pine needles - your favorite scent - was the only thing keeping you sane through the strike.

Deep in the back of your mind you'd hoped he would show up tonight. You wiped the tears from your eyes - not wanting him to see you see you upset - and opened the door.

The sight of him now almost made your heart leap into your throat, and you had to remind yourself to breathe. Arthur was wearing a crisp blue cardigan, and his beautiful brown hair was combed back in loose curls. He’d dressed up for the party and looked even more handsome than you’d remembered.

“Hi, Arthur,” you squeaked.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.” Arthur held up a small wrapped gift with a bow on it. “Sorry I’m late. I had a gig that ended at seven and raced back over here to change first.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you replied, letting him inside. “You’re...actually the only one who showed up.”

Arthur stepped into your living room and spun around, surprised. “I’m the only one here?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, trying not to break into tears again. “So if you don’t wanna stick around, I understand.”

“But everything looks so beautiful.” Arthur pointed at the garland on the walls. “And you look...especially nice tonight.” He stepped over to the record player. “I love this album. Do you mind if I put it on?”

You sniffed. “Wait...you mean...you wanna stay?”

“Only if you don’t mind having me.”

You shook your head. You were still reeling with disappointment - this wasn’t at all the party you’d imagined - but you were grateful that at least one person had showed up. Even more grateful that that person was Arthur.

“Please stay,” you responded, a small smile spreading over your face. “I’d love it if you stayed.”

Arthur beamed and turned the record player back on.

“Can I get you some punch?” you offered, moving towards the coffee table.

“Sure!” His eyes lit up, almost glittering. “Except, if it has alcohol in it I really shouldn't mix that with my medications...”

“Nope, alcohol-free,” you smiled as you poured him a glass. “And feel free to help yourself to any of the snacks.”

Arthur took the glass from you and sat next to you on the sofa. “What made you want to throw a Christmas party?”

“Well,” you mulled the question over. “I've been feeling kinda down...kinda lonely. I have some...problems with depression.”

“I know what that feels like,” Arthur said. “To feel lonely, I mean. And sad.”

“I can get extra sad around the holidays,” you continued. “And I couldn’t fly home to see my family this year. So I thought...maybe I could invite people over. Maybe I’m not the only one who has a hard time at Christmas.”

"Well I’m glad you threw the party. And I'm really glad you invited me,” Arthur smiled, shyly placing his hand over yours. "When I got your invitation, I knew there was no way I'd miss it.”

“Well, I’m sorry it’s not much of a party,” you lamented. “I guess it's official: all my neighbors hate me. Except you.”

“They don't hate you,” Arthur countered. “They probably just had other plans.”

You paused, taking a thoughtful sip of punch. “You're right,” you nodded. “That's black and white thinking. My therapist tells me I tend to do that. Just because they didn't show up tonight doesn't mean they hate me.”

“You see a therapist?” Arthur cocked his head to one side. “So do I. But all she ever asks me is if I’ve been having any negative thoughts.”

“All I have are negative thoughts!” you joked. Arthur laughed.

“Do you want to open your gift?” he asked. “You don’t have to,” he added quickly. “I read in an etiquette book I got from the library that you're not supposed to open gifts in front of other guests at a party.”

“Well, seeing as how there are no other guests!” you quipped before pausing to raise a sly eyebrow at him. “You checked an etiquette book out from the library?”

“Yeah,” Arthur smoothed back his hair self-consciously. “Well...a party etiquette book. The truth is, I've never been invited to a Christmas party before. Or any parties, really. I wanted to make sure I didn't mess anything up.”

Giddy at the thought of him sweetly taking the time to research how to behave at your party, you pulled his small gift off the coffee table and held it in both hands. The wrapping was a candy cane pattern and the bow was a simple green shiny ribbon. In that moment you felt that you'd never seen anything so beautiful in your life.

“You wrapped this yourself?”

“Yeah,” he replied sheepishly. “I’m not that good at wrapping, but...I hope you like it.”

“I love it!” you blurted.

“You don’t even know what it is yet!” Arthur laughed.

Carefully, you peeled away the scotch tape on the side and tore back the wrapping to reveal a small, green candle. Snow-Covered Pines, the label read.

“I remembered that one time you and I talked in the elevator. You said you liked the scent. Anyway, I saw it at the drugstore and...I thought of you.”

“You remembered that?” Your heart fluttered, feeling embarrassed by the memory all over again, but also touched. “Thank you, Arthur. I love it so much.”

Arthur was an extremely easy person to talk to. Conversation with others wasn’t something that always came naturally to you, but with him it felt effortless. The next time you glanced back up at the clock, you were shocked to see it was almost ten.

“Should I put on another record?” Arthur offered as the last song on the Frank Sinatra album spun to an end.

“Sure!”

Arthur stood up. “You have all the greats here,” he hummed as he mused over your record collection. He selected Nat King Cole’s Christmas album, carefully placing the record onto the turntable before sliding Frank's back into its sleeve.

“This is my favorite Christmas song!” you clasped your hand to your chest as the familiar notes of the first song poured over your ears.

Chestnuts roasting on an open fire...

“Mine too,” Arthur paused, looking shy.

“We have a lot in common, Arthur,” you beamed.

“Did you...did you want to dance?” he asked in a soft voice. “With me?”

You felt your heart start to pound again. “Yes...” you answered. “Except I’m really bad at it. I might step on your feet.”

“Well,” Arthur said. “There’s no one here to see you be bad at it. Except me.”

He extended his hand and helped you up off the sofa, pulling you in close as you moved around your living room together.

“Wow, Arthur,” you murmured after a moment, surprised at the grace in his movements. “You’re a really good dancer.”

“I know,” he said with mock overconfidence. You laughed and swatted his shoulder. He dipped you. The song ended, but he didn’t let you go. You never wanted him to, wishing this night - the same evening you’d been so eager to forget just a couple hours earlier - would never come to an end.

“Hey,” Arthur hummed softly after you’d danced a few more songs. “I'm having a great time...but I should really get back to my mother. I’ve gotta help her get ready for bed.”

You paused, disappointed to see him go, but more than happy that things had turned out exactly as they had tonight.

“I had a really wonderful evening, Y/N. I'm glad I got the chance to talk to you.”

“Me too,” you replied. “If everyone else had shown up, I don't know if you and I would have gotten to talk as much as we did.”

You walked Arthur to the front door. He stopped and turned to face you once more. You paused before moving to open the door for him.

“Hey, Arthur,” you said in a small voice. “It looks like we're standing under the mistletoe.”

Arthur blinked and looked up. "Oh," he swallowed, a blush spreading across his face.

“Did your book say what people are supposed to do when they’re under the mistletoe together?”

Arthur nodded, throwing his eyes to the floor. “Yeah," he said, “they’re supposed to kiss each other.”

“Are you gonna kiss me, Arthur?”

“I'd like to...” he hummed. “But only...only if you want me to.”

“I want you to."

He was shy at first, trembling slightly as he brought his lips to yours. But once you were united in the embrace, the both of you seemed to relax. His arms wrapped around you, his hand moving to delicately cup the side of your face. Arthur’s lips were even softer than you had fantasized. His skin was warm, his cologne flooded your senses.

“Merry Christmas, Arthur,” you blushed as the two of you came apart. Your mind was spinning and you felt weak in the knees.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.” His eyes were closed, slowly fluttering open as he took your hands into his.

"Maybe....maybe after your mom goes to bed, you could come back and...we could watch The Murray Franklin Show on TV together."

Arthur stared back at you. “You watch the Murray Franklin show?” he asked, eyes wide and incredulous. “I’ve been watching him for years.”

“So have I. It's his Christmas special tonight, you know.”

“I’d love to watch the holiday special with you.” Arthur’s eyes sparkled. "I'll come back after I finish up at home and we can watch it together.”

You opened the door for him, lingering in the doorway as he stepped into the hall.

"Oh, and...Arthur?"

"Yes?" he paused, turning to face you.

“Thank you.”

Arthur smiled. "What for?"

"For making my Christmas so special."

Notes: Wishing you a safe & happy holiday season. Thanks so much for reading ❤️❤️

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