#I'm really just... reflecting on life. Reflecting on the last few months. Reflecting on where I've gone astray and where I haven't. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tayytayy12 · 4 days

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I hate it here (a lot less when I’m with you) | OP81 x Reader

Summary - Reader just got out of a mildly toxic relationship and released a song about what her coping mechanism was during that time, but when her new relationship gets leaked by the paparazzi, she decides to show off her new favourite person.

Warnings | Mentions of a past toxic relationship/ breakup, swearing

FaceClaim | Gracie Abrams

Requested | Yes - No

Type | SMAU

Yourusername

Liked by | AaronDessner, PheobeBridgers and 2,987,425 others

Tagged | @/AaronDessner

Yourusername | Long Pond Studios has always been a place where I’ve let my emotions and feelings guide my songwriting completely, every song that I’ve written and recorded in this place has been a complete raw reflection of my feelings, and I’m forever grateful that I can trust you enough to share them all with you without the slightest moment of hesitation. That’s why, I’m surprise releasing my brand new song, ‘I hate it here’ now. This song is about a method I’ve used to cope for the past few years of my life when I wasn’t in the best situation, and I hope that it will help any of you who are or were in the same situation I was. This song was made with my soulmate of a collaborator, chosen friend, found family of mine, Aaron and were so incredibly proud of it and we can’t wait for you to hear it. Sorry for being away for so long, I love you 🤍

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User1 - OMFG SHES ALIVE !!!

User2 - ONLY TOOK FIVE MONTHS TO CONFIRM YOU’RE ALIVE AND BREATHING

AaronDessner - My favourite one together so far 🤍

Yourusername - Love you forever 🤍

User3 - WTFDYM ‘I HATE IT HERE’ EXPLAIN?

User4 - GO LISTEN TO IT ITS SOOOOOOOOOO GOOD

User5 - A SURPRISE DROP? WE’RE SPOILED

User6 - When Aarons a co-writer AND the producer, you know for a fact the song will change your life (and make the therapy bill triple)

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User7 - Girl don’t apologise

User8 - FR like she gets cheated on, takes a brake and then apologises to us 😭 like girl it’s okay

JackAntanoff - *Alexa play Traitor by Olivia Rodrigo*

Yourusername- Your times coming synth man 🤫 LOVE YOU STILL

User9 - WDYM HIS TIME IS COMING YOU CRYPTIC WOMAN

User10 - “I hate it here so I will go to secret gardens in my mind.” That’s all I have to say.

User11 - Y/n could write Romeo and Juliet but Shakespeare couldn’t write I hate it here

User11 - “I place you need a key to get to, the only one is mine” girly I hope someone makes you want to make a copy one day

Yourusername - God I love you lmao

User11 - OMFG Y/n loves me I can die happy

User12 - “tell me something awful, like you are a poet.” BC HE ALWAYS PAINTED HER BLUE SKYS THE DARKEST GREY, RUINING HER DAY BY TELLING HER AWFUL SHIT LIKE HES A TORTURED POET !!!!!! (I knew Coney Island wasn’t fictional you fucking delusional people, no one in a happy relationship writes that shit 💕💕💕)

User13 - “This man made me feel worthless.” Y/EX/N ISTG WHEN I FIND YOU. COUNT UR MINUTES

User14 - “I'm lonely but I'm good, I'm bitter but I swear I'm fine” bitch where did you find my diary

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Yourusername

Liked by, SabrinaCarpenter, OscarPiastri and 2,191,910 others

Tagged | @/SabrinaCarpenter

Yourusername - I’m sorry who’s this woman debuting at no.1 on the billboard hot one hundred? My god it is me, I can’t believe this, I love you I love you I love you thank you so so much from the bottom of my heart, I mean it, I really do. MY GOD I LOVE EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU. (And my baby with her first top ten entry, I love you Sabby, Go stream espresso, it is that sweet 🤍💕) OKAY ONE LAST THANK YOU. 💕🤍💕🤍💕

Okay I lied but being among names like Beyoncé, Ariana Grande, SZA and Kendrick Lamar is one of the biggest honours ever, I’m huge fans of them all and to be in the same space as them is an honour no words can express, I love you all, the most caring sweet fans on the whole planet 💕💕💕💕

(And yes, it was a reference to a physical key, this is it)

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User14 - We made the right one famous guys

User15 - I’m actually crying, when did she stop being our little secret

SabrinaCarpenter - My biggest fan 🩷

Yourusername - Your biggest fan 🩷

User16 - Oscar in the likes for what?

User17 - Who?

User18 - Oscar Piastri, he’s a 23 yr old f1 driver

User19 - What is vroom vroom boy doing here

AaronDessner - Truly blessed to work with you

Yourusername - I’m the blessed one don’t even

User20 - Only y/n could send a five minute long, slow, alt pop song with a main piano background, basically a depressing lullaby bop, to number one above all these TikTok songs

User21 - She’s actually adorable

OscarPiastri - Been on repeat!

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User22 - UM HELLO WHAT ARE U DOING HERE LITTLE ORANGE MAN?

User23 - This is all bc of me btw

Celebrity.updates

Liked by, user24, and 82,828 others

Tagged | @/Yourusername @/OscarPiastri

Celebrity.updates - NEW COUPLE!!! Fast upcoming pop star, Y/n Y/l/n (21) seen out late at night on the streets of London with Formula one driver, Oscar Piastri (23), according to the source of these pictures the two were laughing and running around the streets together, when Oscar caught up to her and hugged her to him and kissed her. Rumours say that Y/n met Piastri through her ex partner who’s an engineer for f1 team Alpine, the pair seem to be quite smitten and loving with each other. What’s your thoughts on this?

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User25 - WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN

User26 - Posting these photos is bad enough, but tagging them in it is crazy

User28 - Neither of them have even been hinting at a relationship at all, they clearly didn’t want anyone to know yet

User29 - Can’t these sickos just let them live, they’re people too

User30 - Whoever took these is messed up

User31 - They do look rlly happy together though

User32 - The fact that her ex is an alpine engineer makes this situation so much more funny and interesting

SabrinaCarpenter - You’re actually disgusting

User33 - TELL THEM SAB

User34 - The fact that she’s not even wrong

User35 - the fact that she defends Y/n with no hesitation

User36 - The friendship we all need in our lives

Yourusername

Liked by, OscarPiastri, SabrinaCarpenter and 2,928,198 others

Tagged | @/OscarPiastri

Yourusername - I hate it here a lot less when I’m with you 🤍 my favourite polite cat xxxx

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LandoNorris- Finally. The pair of you at the paddock hiding in MY divers room bc you were scared someone would see you in Oscar’s. Sigh.

Yourusername - You love me

User37 - OH MY GOD

User38 - I need to know the bears name

OscarPiastri- She named him Gerald

Yourusername - Don’t sound so disgusted, that’s our son

OscarPiastri - Sorry baby

User39 - Hysterical

OscarPiastri - My favourite smiling dog 🤍

Yourusername- Excuse me did you just call me a bitch

OscarPiastri- NO I DIDNT MEAN IT LIKE THAT

User40 - The dynamic is already everything to me

User41 - Even his GF knows he’s a polite cat

Yourusername - He so is (he’s in denial)

User42 -“ I hate it here a lot less with you” Shut the fuck up

OscarPiastri

Liked by, Yourusername, LoganSargeant and 1,872,001 others

Tagged | @/Yourusername

OscarPiastri - She made me a copy 🗝️🤍

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User43 - Someone sedate me

User44 - SHE. MADE. HIM. A. COPY.

User45 - WTFFFTTFTFTD

User46 - Literally the ultimate Oscar on Alpine revenge

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Yourusername - I don’t need my secret gardens, or my lunar valleys anymore, because I have you 🤍

OscarPiastri- My favourite and only girl 🤍

User47 - I’m taking a nap on the highway

///////

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shalotttower · 4 months

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Fractalize (part 1)

Title: Fractalize

Fandom: Hunter x Hunter

Summary: Lack of hope creates a strange kind of numbness.

Word count: 3700+

Characters: Chrollo x Reader (female)

Notes: yandere Chrollo, kidnapped, depressed and miserable Reader, Reader is dissociating a lot, morbid pondering, suicidal thoughts, explicit/triggering language/words, Reader's thoughts on possible sexual assault in future. Part 2

Fractalize - making things into smaller copies of themselves over and over again.

Sometimes you stand in front of a mirror and try to picture yourself in another timeline. One where your life didn’t take this specific turn. You try to imagine a different setting, a different apartment - perhaps the one you had before Chrollo started moving you around like a luggage bag. Maybe living in a cottage by the sea or an old farmhouse. Someplace rural, peaceful. With a garden and fresh air, far away from the city noises.

It's difficult at first, your reflection keeps slipping through your mental fingers every time you think the image is set in place. But with practice it becomes easier, sort of, so you can now see yourself clearly as you brush your hair - not here.

A blue dress on, made for nights at parties with friends. Laughing until your stomach hurts and eyes become sore. Making silly faces over alcoholic beverages. Or you can wear your favourite jeans with a high waist and head out to the pub, the same one with crooked stools and a broken sign. Drink cheep bear, eat greasy peanuts from a little bowl, listen to some small band play unknown and unheard songs.

Leave intoxicated, and everything is too fast and vibrant and wonderful until you're back home.

It's your favourite pastime now: imagine, remake and slip.

Imagine. Remake. Slip.

You don't quite remember the last time you laughed, a month ago maybe. Maybe more. Lack of hope creates a strange kind of numbness, dull, cold, you would compare it to a winter plastered all over your insides, but it's almost colder than that. It freezes everything and turns it into icicles hanging off the roof.

Remake, slip.

You have new vocabulary now.

"Mm" - is for when he asks you if you like a dress or a top and it doesn't matter how you actually feel about it, because it's going to end up being worn anyway.

"Okay" - is for when Chrollo sets another fancy meal for you on a dinner table and "Eat, don't be shy".

"I'm not hungry" - doesn't work with him, even if it's the truth. You always eat what's put in front of you, that's the rule, because he's not above shoving the spoon into your mouth, so you spare yourself the tears and sobs that will probably come with that. It's so bizarre: how much effort he puts into keeping you alive when you're anything but.

"Whatever you want" - is for when he asks you something that requires a choice, between two or three options usually. He's not one for an extensive list.

"If you say so" - for everything else.

You used to delude yourself with the idea that if you managed to appear pleasant enough, pleasant-talking, pleasant-listening, smiling a bit here and there, it would gain you some privileges and perhaps a bit more freedom. It did. But never where it really mattered. Those little things were absolutely inconsequential in the grand scheme. Yes, you can have that sweater, dear. No, you can't have your own bed. Yes, you can come shopping with me, if you give me a kiss. No, you can't take walks without me holding your hand.

Yes this and no that.

Those moments were fragile and so very takeable that they didn't give you any sense of accomplishment, just a short respite and bitter aftertaste that made you feel pathetic.

Wasn't worth it.

***

"Do you like animals, dear?" Chrollo asks out of the blue one day. He's reading something on his tablet while you're curled up on the couch, watching TV.

It's a new series that's been on the major channels for a few weeks, a mystery drama about a girl who moves into a house she inherited from her grandfather. The picture provides a distraction enough to have you forgetting where you are for a brief period three times a week.

You pull the blanket higher. "I do."

He knows it.

The girl on the screen finds a mysterious box hidden in the attic. Perhaps there's something valuable inside. Or information about her grandpa; your fingers tug on a loose blanket thread without much thought.

"What kind?"

Or maybe it's just a time capsule with photos and postcards and random objects collected over the years.

Or-

You had a cat before he took you. A foster grey ragdoll with blue eyes who liked to rest on your belly and bump her head against your chin. You called her Miss Whiskerton and kissed her little nose, because she did act like a proper lady - poised, dignified and entirely too proud to eat food mixed with medicine. The worst enemy Miss Whiskerton has ever had in her cat life was the corner of your couch. When you weren't paying attention, she would dig her claws into the fabric and leave thin lines. You hope that someone took her in.

She probably thought you abandoned her.

"Cats."

Chrollo hums in acknowledgment and continues scrolling through whatever he's looking at - maybe news or auction listings, you don't know nor do you really care. You shift under the blanket, pulling your legs closer to your body.

"We can get one, if you'd like."

"No."

Your answer is immediate and short, without thinking. You know it, you know him by now - there's nothing Chrollo does out of spontaneous generosity, it always benefits him in some way. And you've studied him enough to figure that any pet would only be a tool to keep you tamed and compliant. Puppies make life better. Happier, lighter, with goofy smiling faces and wiggling tails. Cats make life better with soft purrs and paws stomping on your chest. They're too easy to love.

"Why not?" There's a sound of tablet set on a wooden surface.

The girl on the screen is trying to solve a combination lock on the box when the TV switches off and your little world of carefully shot scenes and scripted lines vanishes. You don't need to turn around to guess where's the remote.

She almost had it, but now you won't know what's inside until Thursday evening.

Your reflection stares back from the dead screen, blank-faced and with a blanket pulled up your nose. It tickles a bit. "Because I don't want one."

A chair creaks. "Why?"

You close your eyes shut for a moment before opening them again. This is tiring. Always probing, digging, pushing. Trying to find chinks in your armor, but all you're wearing is just a flimsy dress with thin straps and a blanket you wish could swallow you whole.

"Don't need it."

"You said you like animals," Chrollo sits next to you and places a hand on top of your covered legs. He squeezes your thigh and you stare ahead, wishing he would just leave you alone tonight.

"I do." Your fingers twitch under the blanket, nails scratching at the fabric.

Strange. Sometimes it feels like he understands perfectly that you want to be alone, have time for yourself and don't want his constant physical presence. At the same time Chrollo brushes this all aside like old tin foil wrappers - insignificant. He pulls the blanket down and you cling on it stubbornly for a few seconds before letting go. His thumb and index finger grasp your chin and turn your face towards him so you have no choice but to meet his eyes.

There's such still intensity within him that made your skin crawl whenever he looked at you with this much focus and attention. You don't know what he saw there most times, it used to be fear or anger or sadness - right now it's none of these things. Everything inside you feels jammed and stiff.

"We should get a fish then," he continues, brushing hair out of your forehead. "You can watch it swim around, wouldn't that be nice?"

Chrollo talks to you like this sometimes, as if you're a child who needs to be convinced to eat veggies or take medicine. Like you're simple-minded and he's reasoning with you out of good will. It's sickening. You hate it.

"I don't want a pet," you repeat the words slowly. "If you're going to give me something only to take it away, then I don't want it."

His finger leisurely stroking your chin pauses at the edge of your bottom lip. Something flickers behind his eyes, it's barely noticeable but you've become good at catching those minuscule shifts. He smiles, yet there's nothing joyful about it. "Take it away? Why would I do that, dear?"

"Because that's what you do. Because that's how you are." You don't try to pull free from his hold, he'll only tighten it; not enough to hurt, no, he is too suave and polished for that - or wants to appear so - but enough for you to feel trapped under his palm.

There's something off about you, you can tell, but are not quite able to discern what or where. It sits in the very structure of your bones and eats away with ravenous appetite. An imbalance in the gut. Fever-warm body, cold fingers. Thoughts like potholes.

"And how am I exactly, according to you?" His voice is light, playful, a stark contrast to his eyes that study you with unnerving precision. Chrollo rarely loses his temper and never gets violent with you (yet, you correct yourself), but he has other ways of expressing displeasure, and they're petty, ugly and cold.

"Cruel," the word rolls off your tongue so effortlessly that almost frightens you; it's easy to tell the truth when you're this numb.

He looks taken aback for a split second, and the smile freezes. His hand stops midway to your hair. Then everything's gone.

Chrollo releases you and leans back into the cushions, almost thoughtful, like your observation is something that requires careful consideration.

"I suppose, it depends," he says finally.

"On what?"

"On how you choose to see things. Your perspective is bound to be biased, dear."

You don't respond.

To continue this conversation would be pointless and circular, like running on a treadmill, like everything else between you and Chrollo, really. He simply has too many answers to any possible argument, and no matter how convincing you manage to make them sound, he'll poke holes into each one. You don't want a fish. Or a cat. Or a dog, a bird, anything that moves and breathes and looks at you with big, trusting eyes.

Chrollo is cruel. Not in a way that's straightforward and brutal. Not in a way of someone who'd tear your limbs apart or rip off a fly's wing to see it wiggle. You have no doubt that he is capable of such a thing, but that would be uncouth. Cruelty in his case is a quieter, more delicate affair - in a way of a sculptor who'd chisel off everything unnecessary and unneeded, no matter the size or significance, to produce something entirely his.

His hands are soft, his voice is always composed, and he wears well tailored clothes. But the rest is sharp, clean and merciless.

"I think I'll go to bed," you say and push away the blanket.

"It's early."

"Mm."

He takes your hand just as you're about to slide off the sofa. Chrollo's always faster than you, always ahead and always observing, and that little realization while bitter is not so shocking anymore, more like another fact that you file away from your interactions.

You watch him. Wait.

"You're distraught," he says. "But you should know by now that there's no need for that."

Your hand remains in his grasp, limp and heavy.

"I don't enjoy seeing you upset, dear. Even more if you make false conclusions."

You turn to see the expression on his face - and there isn't one, at least not the type that most people would make. There are no frowning eyebrows, no clenched jaw that would indicate irritation, nothing like that.

"You're giving me too little credit," his tone is quiet as he runs his fingers up and down your wrist. "My intentions are not to hurt you. They are much, much sweeter than that."

"But you would," you say quietly and lean closer, ignoring the obvious implication behind his words. There is a hollow sensation inside of your head that prompts you to speak, everything is hollow - body and mind, heart, the space in your guts, your throat. "You would hurt me, if that's what you thought was necessary. Rip me apart and leave me deformed beyond repair, to fit into whatever framework you've laid, you would do that."

You're not being deliberately cryptic or fatalistic. These are your observations, based on a period of months spent together. They take root in no one being there for you anymore, in your phone which is long gone, in your closed accounts, your missing laptop and old clothes, the entire previous life in the city that has been discarded for something new. Chrollo was very methodical, you can give him that.

He doesn't listen, he studies your responses. Every single word. He has a talent for that, for absorbing everything about you while hardly ever letting you glimpse his interior - all that you know about him are tiny slivers which you picked up through living together, observation, accidental bits.

You expect him to contradict your statement, to offer a logical explanation why you're wrong, but instead Chrollo brings your hand to his lips and presses a kiss against your knuckles. The touch is light and dry.

"You're not entirely wrong, dear," he says and moves closer until you can smell his aftershave, something fresh.

His proximity is uncomfortable, it always is and probably always will be.

"I'm right then," you say.

"No," he keeps your hand in his grasp. "But you're not entirely wrong either. That's what makes you interesting."

There's a strange kind of fondness in his voice, it's subtle, yet undeniably present. You've never felt less interesting in your life, in a dress with thin straps that's too fancy for a lazy day at home and your bare feet and tangled hair.

"If you say so," you respond and slowly tug your hand free. "I really want to sleep now."

You get up, and he lets you go without another proposition. The blanket falls off onto the sofa, and before you slip into the semi-darkness of the bedroom, he says,

"Not beyond repair. But I like to believe we can both agree it doesn't have to come to that."

***

The drive feels endless. Houses and streets blur in a mix of colors, shapes and people, which soon change to an empty highway with greenery on both sides. Trees and fields, tall grass swaying gently in the wind and rare cars passing you by. Chrollo's hand is resting on your leg; he hasn't moved it since the car started, but you choose to ignore it in favor of your regular pastime, the one that's made of imaginary worlds and places where the timeline stretches differently.

Mostly it's just you and the layout of your fake apartment.

Imagine, remake, slip. Repeat the steps until it becomes muscle memory.

You have this daydream on loop now. Wooden floor and wide windows, lots of sunlight. Books everywhere, comfy clothes and not a single skirt in your closet. A cup of tea with honey in the morning, and Miss Whiskerton curled into a soft grey ball on your lap. You feed her salmon in a shiny bowl, occasionally she catches a lizard outside and drops the tail on your doorstep as an offering, looking immensely proud of herself.

A smile slips on your face without meaning to, a wobbly thing; you promptly wipe it off.

It would be a crime to show such blatant joy. This fantasy has become so sweetly personal that every fiber of your being resists even acknowledging it in front of Chrollo. He can sense a stray happy thought from miles away, like a hound, and will never stop prodding until everything is raw and tender. You've learned to say less in his presence, especially if it's something that has you invested. Chrollo knows how to pick things apart.

You lean your cheek against the glass. This world would never happen, never in a million years, but dreaming doesn't hurt anyone, does it?

Your grandma, wearing an apron, sets a tray filled with fresh pastries on a table, because she's amazing like that. She fusses and worries and pretends to scold you. For not calling enough, for not coming sooner, for not eating well. For leaving.

"Dear."

You almost jump.

Chrollo's voice brings you back where his hand is heavy on your leg, you're wearing a dress above the knee and aren't allowed to use scissors or knives.

"Mm?"

"That frown of yours," he says, turning into a small road. The surroundings change again, it's quiet here, not a soul in sight. "It's been there for fifteen minutes now."

You sit up straight and move your hair out of your eyes. Chrollo's a perceptive one, so this is a reminder not to sink too deep around him, unless you absolutely need it.

"Was just thinking."

"You do it a lot lately," he states and looks at you from the corner of his eye.

True, but you have no intention to confirm it. First, he won't like the reason behind these thoughts. Second, he will dig and try to worm his way in. No. Most of what you've been fixating on, staring out of the window like a mindless drone, or reading and rereading pages that you barely grasped, would fail to create anything more complex in his heart than desire to pull it out.

For whatever twisted reason, Chrollo cares for your well-being, or, more precisely, your acceptance of his advances. Yet his way of caring isn't nurturing in any sense.

Chrollo's interest (you don't dare call it love) is crushing, too heavy to carry - he'll find what troubles you and "fix it" in way that will twist it into something pathetic. Something that shows how you have nothing else to cling on but him. You're not stupid enough to keep falling into this trap. Being a slow learner doesn't mean you don't learn at all.

He's done it before. He'll do it again. So you reply, "I haven't noticed."

His thumb rubs circles on your thigh; you press your shoulder against the car door as if hoping it might open. It doesn't, much to your disappointment.

"What was on your mind then?"

Something you shouldn't tell him, that's for sure. Chrollo's watching you, even if his eyes are trained on the road.

"Random stuff," you say. Half-truths, half-truths are safe. "A weird dream I had this morning."

If you bothered to look, you'd see a raised eyebrow and the faintest hint of amusement at the corners of his mouth. You don't.

"Tell me."

You hate when he does that.

"It was boring."

"I'm interested in anything that made you so pensive."

Chrollo likes conversations with you, even if they're short. You can tell that he does, or he wouldn't be trying to make you talk and getting subtly frustrated when you choose not to. It never shows outright, Chrollo is very gifted at keeping his calm exterior, but there are certain giveaways like the slight tightening of his hand, an emphasized "dear", a pause here, or a quiet exhale through the nose. You could make a list out of these.

If you ignore him, he gets quiet and handsy or petty enough to throw away the only dress you feel comfortable in. Stop bringing you new books. Take you to places you hate.

It's always the small things that kill you, not the big, dramatic ones. The devils in the details.

"There was a lizard," you begin, and he hums in response, prompting you to continue. "It was cute with brown spots and a tiny tail."

Lies weave themselves easily, intertwine with truths and turn it into something that resembles a story.

"It was sitting on my windowsill and I wanted to pet it. A cat came out of nowhere and almost ate it, then I woke up. It's a silly dream."

There. Nothing to dissect here, not that you can see. Just a nonsensical dream, filled with random happenings and strange emotions.

"And that's why you frowned for fifteen minutes?"

"Yes, I got sad."

Yes, you think. Yes, Chrollo. I frowned, because I care for the damn lizard that doesn't exist, an animal from a dream. A stupid musing, nothing special, a very mundane and simple thing, because people do have silly dreams sometimes, and it's not a crime. It's not a crime and has nothing to do with that fact that I have a whole dream world where I'm not with you in my head.

"How peculiar. You never struck me as the type to get upset over something like this."

"You never asked," you respond flatly and Chrollo's hand on your thigh moves an inch.

It brushes up, closer to where you really, really don't want it to be, so you squeeze his fingers hard and redirect them to the curve of your knee.

"True," he says after a pause, not sounding too bothered. A month ago you would've brushed his hand off completely, probably that's why. Chrollo is convinced that with enough patience and effort he'll be able to close that final barrier between you both. Time, coaxing, a dose or two of endearment, some carefully calculated touch - but you'd rather stick a knife through your ribs than have sex with him. Or his patience will simply run out and he'll rape you. You're not delusional. Not a fool. "Well, that can be fixed. I'll make sure to ask about your dreams more often, dear."

You lean back into the seat and stare ahead, this time without anything pleasant on your mind. Of course he will. Of course he'll take this as a sign to dig deeper and invade that small bit of solace, Chrollo can't simply co-exist. He wants it all.

"Mm," you say.

Your new vocabulary is such a handy thing.

#hunter x hunter #chrollo lucilfer #yandere chrollo #yandere chrollo lucilfer #yandere #hunter x hunter fanfic #chrollo lucifer x reader #shalott fanfiction

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ganymede-hh · 3 months

Text

PLUMBER BODY SWAP

Minh was what many woukd refer to as, the perfect guy. He was smart, as shown by his exceptionally high grades. He had the looks of a supermodel, always the subject of awe for every girl and even some of the guys on campus. And, perhaps most important to the unfortunate events that would unfold, He was just a few months into his 18th age. The young man had everything he could ever ask for, and with such great traits, came perhaps the only aspect of Minh most couldn't stand- his disrespectful attitude. Minh really didn't shy away from treating those he seemed as unattractive in comparison to himself with the same resoect he'd show to an insect. But his pretty looks and large circle of acquaintances were enough to keep him surrounded by friends.

Though Minh would have his comeuppance one faithful night at a dorm party. The boys Minh was friends with were doing their usual activities such as drinking, making an overall mess and damaging dorm property. Markably, that night- it was the dormroom toilet which had been broken by the rowdy college boys. One of the pipes had been broken apart by one of the boys hitting it with a golf club in a not-so hilarious prank.

After the boys setttled down a bit, they soon realized they'd be forced to call the college plumber, an older guy called Steve. It was common for students to make fun of Steve for his big gut and in their eyes, "lowly" job of fixing their shitters. Once called over, the boys snickered and pushed one another to talk to the exhausted old guy at which point, Minh heroicly stepped forward and said "Hey... so, our pipes got broken. Guess you didn't do a very good job last time" he smirked, which Steve could only reply with an irritated sigh "You'll have to wait for tomorrow for me to fix it" he made his stance and was about to leave when the irritated younger man scoffed "What? Going home to eat some slob piggy?" He insulted the poor man, which was when he stopped in his tracks. "You know what, show me the way."

Smirking victoriously, Minh lead Steve to the bathroom but the moment he stepped inside- he blacked out and time itself seemed to become hard to decipher from space.

When he came to, Minh saw a familiar sight sitting on the stairway he'd led the fat plumber up to reach the bathroom where he heard his own voice say "Yeah, thanks for the job bro. Now piss off, this party is for young people". He didn't understand what was happening until he was pushed out the door- by himself!

Minh was confused as he fell to the floor outside his door room in the corridor. Taking a moment to recall what had happened- he soon realized everything got weird after he went into the bathroom with the plumber guy... speaking of, where was he?

It was at that moment Sing caught a reflection of himself in the mirror at the end of the hallway... that was not his body, that was NOT his pretty young face. That was the face of the 87 year old plumber he made fun of on a daily basis!

Having freaked out would be an understatement as the freshman-turned-old man screamed in pure fear and shock at the changes to his body. It was at this moment when he recieved a text... pulling his phone out of his now much tighter jeans' pockets- Minh read the texts in pur horror

"You probably noticed by now that I took your body kid. Well, tough shit. I was tired of being the fat plumber everyone shits on, now its your turn. Enjoy my 87 year old body, cause I'm gonna enjoy yours"

He saw a text being uploaded right after

"Oh and, don't even try to tell anyone what happened. I took some pictures of 'you' doing some pretty messed up shit to my poor college boy body and they could make you lose your job in less than a day, if not go to jail. Heh, good luck dickhead".

It had been around 6 months after the swap, and Minh had to adjust to his new life whether he liked it or not. The new Minh had already blocked his number and would give him the most humiliating smirk whenever the two saw eachother.

What took the most to get used to however was the disadvantages of obesity and old age. The old man suffered a great deal trying to get from anywhere to anywhere else. Even the most mundane tasks had him gasping for air due to years of smoking.

Showering was still so humiliating, seeing the fat rolls, his fatpad, the hairy body and ridiculously large moobs and belly. His balding head and old man beard- they all felt so wrong. Minh cried for quite a long time until his shower sessions turned into silent moments of pure shame

Another aspect of his body Minh could never come to terms with was his ridiculously small, constantly soft penis. With the horniness of an 18 year old freshman snuffed out, replaced by the body of a 87 year old man- Minh longed for his old vitality.... something he would never have again.

It was about 5 years into the swap when Minh's suffering came to an end due to a sudden heart attack due to his morbid obesity. The news spread around campus, and Steve- now fully in Minh's shoes, seemed quite unsympathetic, his statement about the old guy being "The fat fuck deserved it."

#bad ending #identity theft #male body swap #male weight gain #young to old #bodyswap

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simplydnp · 21 days

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idk why this matters to me but in the last few months they've been acknowledging so many things I never ever thought they would. pinof and the touching. the phude multiple times. dapc slime (ok they had merch to sell for that one but still)

no but actually. phil literally said 'i thought we weren't acknowledging it' about the phude and now they just bring it up all the time.

pinof reacts... i still can't believe we're in a post pinof-reacts universe. how did that happen. i was changed permanently--like something shuffled in my dna when i got the notif for pinof reacts 1. this is not a physical reaction but a chemical one that cannot be undone. for something that was so... sacred. and integral. to their existence and history. pinof wasn't generally talked about unless it was pinof time. and even then it was 'it'll be up soon' or 'we just posted it' and then Never talked about outside of that. especially not the first one! we freak out about the We Know You Know in the newsletter but it's Always been like that with pinof 1. so to see them--new (& natural 🥺) hair for them both, in a house they bought and built together, in the first few months of giving the gaming channel a second chance--reflect on how it all began? absolutely devastating. and to lean into moments and discuss them in new ways. in territory previously not breached! the 'they're toUching'?!?!? the '11 hour fuck session'!?!? the '£9000 champagne'?!?!? like hey we're not supposed to talk about that, dan and phil might see!! shhh!! but they're the ones saying it!! absolutely wild.

in a way, it had to happen. especially with where we're at now (them literally selling merch of them holding hands). in order for them to move beyond that... mindset? i guess? that a lot of fans had, they had to defang it. i really see it as one of the biggest walls they've broken down in the way they communicate with us. the 'hey. it's okay. we've seen it. it's not a big deal. we will absolutely make fun of you for it though. but we're good.'

i'm just really curious whose idea it was. (lbr it was probably phil given dans not a react kinda guy. but i'd be lying if i said i didn't want to be in the room where it happened when they talked about actually doing it or not, and what it would mean) (big ad revenue thats for sure 🤣 get it kings)

i will never be able to get phil's 'they touched' out of my head and at this point i wouldn't want to. it's absolutely earned. and i guess it makes me a masochist to enjoy the psychic damage it inflicts on me, but such is life i suppose.

the crafts mention really surprised me! i had contemplated a few different scenarios in how they'd go about it, and i'll be honest i feel like they could've committed to the bit a little more but they're forgiven. like what about glitchy interstitials! cuts to the merch website. found footage inserted between sections! i recognize they don't want to 'scare' their usual audience wirh sudden cuts to intense/graphic content but my immersionnn. absolutely shattered by 'oh we have new merch now btw'. cmon boys you love to lie to us. say theres merch up but you dont know where it came from. just that we should buy it 👀 or idk, something clever. and i recognize i may sound like a spoilt brat bc i just got a 14 minute long masterpiece of an unexpected dapc revival, but my immersion. i mean i already bought the merch before they shilled it anyways so it didn't influence me regardless 🤣

ultimately we really are in a new era. even beyond just the revival. i think they're really finding their stride--not only in their content (evidenced by a semi-regular schedule) but also creatively, in doing what they want to do, how they want to do it, and truly not giving that much of a fuck anymore. and i'm really happy for them. phil talked a bit about this in his 'rating my icons' video, where he's kind of decided he doesn't care what people on twitter think, and how it's been good for him, and i think we're seeing that reflected in not only his content, but also the gaming channel. they play what they want. they say what they want. and it's just fun. dan going on the record to say he's really enjoying it makes me so happy to hear, because literally december 2022 he believed he'd disappear after WAD. and now, instead, he gets to play games and make stupid jokes and smile and laugh multiple times a week, and he's really happy about it. he gets to be silly and goofy and crude without having to Stress about it. i keep saying it but they're so settled now. and as someone who's followed them through big changes and turbulent times, getting to see them happy after everything... it brings a lot of hope. and i know theyre millionaires. but there's something to looking at someone you fell in love with 15 years ago the same then as you do now. but instead of it being something scary, something you have to hide, something that feels like it can consume you and everything you have--it gets to be something beautiful. and regular. and embraced. you've read this far you get to listen to me wax poetic about them.

we've been thoroughly boiled and maybe, just maybe, it's warming our hearts too.

#thank u for sending this. ive been writing non-stop since it arrived in my inbox #there is nothing i love more than someone pointing me in a direction and saying alright go for it!#i am always only a few moments away from a dnp breakdown and im glad to share this journey with you all #dnp #dan and phil #c.text #answered #phan #<- for the fandometrics #edited tags: holyshit this is a 1k words w/ my tags. jfc. what is Wrong with me. it took less than an hour but idk when u sent it exactly

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ameenvie · 4 months

Text

Last Christmas - Jamie Tartt x fem!reader

masterlist | ao3 | ko-fi | fic recs

"Now I know what a fool I've been, but if you kissed me now, I know you'd fool me again"

@emeraldsandelderberries asked: jaime x reader christmas request :) maybe a second chance romance a la “last christmas” by wham! ? Word count: 4.3k Warnings: none really! I guess anxiety and panic attacks if you squint, but not really Tags: fluff, second chance, christmas, drama, hurt/comfort A/N: This request was soooooooo sweet!!! AH I LOVED IT, I'm so sorry it's this late! 😭 IT might be a bit more dramatic/moody than you've wanted but I really hope you like it! ❤❤

Christmastime in London was always special to you. You loved how the storefronts all dressed up into colourful decorations and cheerful lights, how the smell of warm cookies filled the air as you passed your favourite bakery on your way to work. Excitement and restlessness filled people’s hearts as they were waiting for a little break at the end of the year, a time of reflection and hope. And honestly you could’ve used a fresh start.

Work was hectic in the office before at the end of the year, but you always pushed through by thinking of the holidays approaching faster day by day. The last weeks before Christmas were all about secret Santas and Christmas gatherings at the office as well.

You were having lunch in the small kitchen at work when your phone lit up with your best friend’s name. She usually doesn’t call, so you answered suspiciously.

“I have a huge favour to ask” she said quickly without even saying hello. You put your face into your palm as you braced yourself for what was about to come and even like that you were shocked at her next words. “I need you to come to the company Christmas Party with me.”

“You what?” you asked, trying to conceal the sudden anger in your voice that was bubbling up inside you. It wasn’t like you to get angry easily, especially not on her, but this time it came so out of the blue. Why would she ask that?

“I know babes, I’m so sorry I wouldn’t ask you this if it wasn’t life or death!”

“How can a Christmas party be life or death?” you asked cynically, drumming your fingers on the table next to your lunch. You’ve lost all your appetite.

“I will die if you won’t come with me, that’s how” she joked, trying to lighten your mood.

“You’re so dramatic” you chuckled, but you pinched the bridge of your nose. “Go on.”

“Look, I don’t want to spend all my evening alone with my coworkers and their families and my rich boss, and insufferable football players!” she started. “You know this is not like a few-drinks-in-the-office kind of party, it’s full bling in a fancy hotel and shitton of food and booze!” you could basically see her waving her hand around while talking. “I thought just the two of us could hang out, get hammered and judge others. What do you say?” You rolled your eyes. She knew this was a compelling offer, but not compelling enough. Not when you could risk running into him.

“Okay, but!” You started and held up a finger like she could see it through the phone. “I have the right to leave at any time I want. Deal?” You heard her let out an annoyed groan at the other end of the line.

“Fine, whatever. I know you’ll love it.”

“I sure will. What do I wear?”

“Go all out babe. I’ll meet you tomorrow at 6. Love yous!” She hung up the call and you placed your phone on the table and just stared at it for a moment.

Your best friend was working at Richmond FC. The football club whose every match you’ve seen since you remember, up until last year. It was your family’s team. Now thanks to Jamie Tartt, you couldn’t even think of the name Richmond. And now your friend wants you to go back there, all dressed up, to an event where you could possibly – or even most likely – meet him and have to talk to him. Have to smile at him like he didn’t break your heart. Like you didn’t cry about him for months after he left.

But you weren’t that girl anymore, were you? Time has passed, you moved on, right? You didn’t cry about him anymore. But the twisting feeling in your gut when you thought about him, when someone mentioned him or even the team, when you saw ads with him told you otherwise. Told you that you in fact, have not moved on. But he doesn’t have to know that.

The walk on the way home was chilly and this time you couldn’t admire the flickering Christmas lights around you on the street, nor the sweet smell of cookies coming from the bakery. Your mind was filled with the thought of him, and the possibility of seeing him again. The thought of your friend being an asshole also crossed your mind a few times, but you knew she didn’t mean any harm. For all she knew you were over Jamie. And you were convinced of that too, but the squeezing feeling in your chest told you otherwise. You didn’t listen though. You didn’t care about him. You didn’t.

You told that to yourself the next day as you looked for that beautiful dress in your wardrobe that you might or might not wanted to wear to impress him. To make him feel like an idiot for throwing you away. You didn’t care about him. As you did your makeup a little more elegant than usual. You didn’t care about him. As you did the finishing touches on your hair. You didn’t care about him.

You picked up your purse and locked the door when you saw your friend calling, meaning she was there to pick you up with a cab. The cold air made you shiver a little and you were thankful for the ride. Wintertime was really not made for having these parties. A thin layer of snow covered the streets and the rooftops, the streetlights painting it a warm hue of gold. You let out a relieved sigh, suddenly you felt calm from the peaceful sight. You hopped in the cab and closed the door. Your friend let out an audible gasp as she looked at you.

“You look fucking fit, girl!” she squealed before she hugged you. You scoffed and chuckled before pulling away.

“Thanks, I guess” you smiled, heat crawling to your ears. Your friend gave the address of the venue to the cab driver, and you were off into the night.

“You really did go all the way, huh?”

“Your wish is my command!” you smiled at her, your heart hammering against your ribcage.

“I got you something” she said and started to rummage through her small purse before she pulled out a small bottle of liquor. You laughed.

“Aren’t we going to a party with unlimited free booze?”

“Wanted to have a moment for just the two of us. No offense” she chuckled and looked at the cab driver who smiled back at her. “Thanks for being here.”

“My pleasure” you replied and took a sip out of the bottle. You felt the liquid burn your throat before you handed it to her. Truth be told, you felt alright. Together with your best friend, dressed to the nines, having a fun night out. Who cares about Jamie Tartt?

When you stepped inside the giant ballroom, your breath got caught in your throat. You’ve been to fancy places before – mostly with Jamie -, but nothing of such magnitude. The room was framed by insanely tall walls with red velvet covering, and shiny accents. Christmas ornaments and decorations hung from the ceiling next to the chandeliers, and there was a beautiful Christmas tree in the corner, next to the stage where the band played soft jazz music. Round tables occupied half of the room in a neatly organised pattern, the other half was the dancefloor.

Kind men took your coat, and you clutched your purse to try to calm your nerves. You felt like you didn’t belong, you stuck out like a sore thumb among these gorgeous and rich people. You felt your friend’s hand squeeze your own as she led you further into the room.

“It’s gonna be fine. We’re eating, getting wasted, dancing then going home, ‘kay?”

“Okay” you breathed. You didn’t dare to look around the room in case you recognised someone. Him.

The two of you made a beeline towards the bar and ordered your favourite shot that you drank immediately. You hoped it would calm your nerves a little.

“Easy girl, the night is still young!”

“That’s especially why I’m drinking” you chuckled. You felt a tap on your shoulder and your heart dropped to your stomach, blood freezing in your veins. That was until you’ve turned and saw Sam’s face and his thousand-watt smile.

“I knew it was you! It’s so good to see you!” he cheered, his accented voice ringing in your ear as he hugged you.

“Sam, oh my God! Look at you, you look amazing!” you answered and rested your hand on his arms. “How you’ve been?”

“Good, good! We have a lot to catch up on, you should write sometimes y’know!” Fuck.

“I know, I’m sorry.” A frown settled on your face, and he immediately tried to lighten the mood.

“Just messing with you. But hey, make sure to come say hi to the others later, okay?” he said, and he gestured to the other side of the room, and your gaze instinctively followed. Mistake.

There he was, in all his glory, as tall and handsome as ever. His hair was different, a bit longer and had highlights in it. It really suited him. He wore a slightly unbuttoned shirt and had its sleeves rolled up, his jacket discarded on a nearby chair.

You’ve felt like throwing up, the content of your stomach making somersaults nonstop. Yet you smiled like nothing happened and nodded at Sam. Your friend who you haven’t spoken to in months because he reminded you of Jamie. What an asshole move. And he was so kind he just forgave you.

“We sure will” you answered and squeezed his arm before you let go. And as he turned you sneaked another peek in Jamie’s direction. You felt lightheaded as his gaze caught yours and you looked away in a blink of an eye, turning your back at him.

“Are you alright? I’m so sorry, look, we can just leave” your friend whispered as she looked at you concerned, but you just shook your head.

“I’m fine, really. When is dinner again?”

“In like half an hour” she replied.

“Mint, I’ll catch my breath outside and I’ll be right back, okay?”

“I’ll come with you.”

“No, it’s fine, really” you protested. “It’ll be just a minute, promise.”

“Fine” she sighed as she rubbed your arms. “But just a word and we’ll be out of here!” You nodded and headed towards the door that led to the back garden. Your steps were quick, and you had your head low to avoid anyone stopping you in your track. But you felt like your heels were too loud, that everyone was looking at you, that he was looking at you. In reality, only one of those was true.

As you opened the door, the cold air bit into your skin as you stepped outside. The garden was gigantic, and the grass was covered in a thin layer of snow. There were gravel paths going around in twisty patterns curving around shrubbery and statues.

To your surprise there were standing tables outside accompanied by tall heaters. You weren’t cold but you knew it was just temporary, so you took a beeline towards one of the heaters and stood next to the table under it. It was kind of magical, hearing only the distant music from the ballroom and nothing else, watching the snow-covered garden. You felt your heartbeat slow down and anxious thoughts leaving your head.

You heard footsteps approaching and you turned towards them with a smile, thinking it was Sam or your best friend. Of course, that was not the case. He took his jacket back on, but the top buttons on his shirt were still undone. He looked at you with a shy smile.

“I knew I saw you” he said, his hands in his pockets. You knew he was fiddling with them like he always did. You didn’t reply and you weren’t sure if it was the nerves or the anger. You stood in silence for a moment before he spoke again. “It’s good to see you again. I didn’t think you’d come.”

“Me neither” you replied, and your voice was colder than you thought it would be. It was perfect. He just couldn't see how he ruined you. He just couldn't.

“I can leave if you want?” he said, but it was almost like a question. A question you didn’t really know the answer for. Did you want him to leave? Or were you just over the moon that he was there, standing in front of you, with a heavy heart and a shy smile? You kind of never wanted that moment to end. You felt pathetic and you looked away from him, which he took as a cue to leave. “It’s alright. It was nice seeing you. You look beautiful.” What an asshole. What right does he have to call you that?

He turned his back on you, and you swallowed the lump in your throat as you looked at your shoes. The fancy shoes that you might or might not picked out to impress him. You did get what you wanted didn’t you? He did call you beautiful. So why was it making you so angry?

“I just” he hesitated before continuing. “Wanted to say I’m sorry. Truly.” You looked up at him. His body was halfway turned from you, and he looked back, head hung low and a few strands of his hair fell into his eyes. Your ears were ringing as your heart was pounding in your chest.

“I was a royal prick. And you-“ he scratched his throat. “You deserved better. And you deserve better than me ruining your night, so I’ll leave you be. Sorry. Truly, it was nice seeing you.” he said and turned away. You felt like your mouth acted on its own as you called out after him. His gaze snapped back and met yours.

“Would you-“ you paused. “Like to stay a bit?” You could see his shoulders relax as he let out a breath he was holding. A smile found its way past his lips as he stepped closer to you under the heater.

“I’m glad you asked because I started to freeze my arse off” he chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. But he was still very aware of his situation.

“Yeah, why can’t these company parties be held in the summer? You get all dressed up only to freeze your tits off” you smiled back at him. He was leaning against the table as he looked at you. It somehow felt right, being there with him.

“Well, some of us are more dressed up than others” he grinned as his eyes wandered up and down on your body. You pretended you didn’t see it, but the rising heat in your body said otherwise.

“I know, Rebecca looks insanely good tonight” you said to deflect the compliment.

“Yeah, she’s really good at this glam thing. Kinda jealous of her.” You cocked your eyebrow at him, but you didn’t say a word. Signalling him to go on. “Most of the times I just can’t wait to bolt at these events.”

“Why don’t you? Are you on the clock or something?” you asked, clutching your purse for dear life. The more reasonable part of your brain said you should just tell him to piss off. But you didn’t.

“Nah” he shrugged. “I just like the company a bit more than usual.”

You felt your heart flutter at the compliment. Then you immediately felt sadness. Then anger.

“Jamie, why on earth are you here?”

“Umm, it’s a company Christmas party?” he answered with a question, feigning ignorance.

“I meant here. And you know that. If you really would've liked my company, you probably wouldn't have dumped me to fuck around” you snapped at him and straightened your back, preparing to leave him. “Merry Christmas, Jamie.”

You turned on your heels and headed towards the main building. Now that you’ve stepped away from the heater the cold winter air crawled against your skin once more, tears prickling your eyes. You were stupid for coming here.

You picked up your pace before you felt a warm hand grip your wrist. You felt tired. You felt like you had no energy to do this right now.

“Please, love. Just give me a chance.”

“A chance for what, Jamie? To break my heart again?” you asked in a choked voice from holding the tears at bay. He let go of you and ran his hands through his hair. You hated how you knew he always did that when he was nervous. All this knowledge of him, all that love for him. What were you supposed to do with them now?

“What can I do to make it right? I’ll do anything.”

“Stop making a fool out of me. What do you want? A good nostalgia lay? A charity one, because it’s Christmas?” You were so angry at him. If all these were true, why did he just dump you? Say all those things he said. But at the same time, you wanted this to be true. But you weren’t ready for another heartbreak.

“Piss off, I’ve cried enough because of you already.” You turned your back on him again and stormed off. You saw your friend's silhouette at the door, and you felt relieved.

“I’m so sorry babes, I’ll call a cab, okay? I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“It’s fine. I won’t give him the satisfaction of leaving” you let out a shaky breath and hugged your friend.

“What did he want anyway?”

“He said” you started but your voice choked up. “He said he was sorry. That he wanted to make it right.”

“You’re kidding. What did you say?”

“I told him to piss off, as you can see” you answered and let out a dry laugh.

“I can see that, but why?” she asked, and you snapped your gaze at her.

“What do you mean why? Don’t you remember he broke up with me to chase models instead?”

“But maybe he does want to make it right… and you love-“ she said but you broke her off.

“I don’t. Please can we just drop this? Let’s have dinner, what do you think?”

“Sounds perfect.”

Dinner was served by elegant waiters, all different kinds of soups, meats, salads, whatever you could’ve wished for. And fortunately, they didn’t hesitate to bring you drinks as well.

“No way!” you laughed at another guy who was sitting at your table. He was your friend’s coworker, or something like that. You actually had a really great time since the dinner started. These people were nice and funny, and took your mind off of Jamie for a bit. That was all you could’ve asked for.

“It’s nice to meet finally meet you guys in person, I’ve heard so much about you I feel like I’ve known you for ages!”

“Only good I hope!” another girl, Jenna chimed in and chuckled while your friend just rolled her eyes to hide her awkwardness. Mixing friend groups was always a stressful experience for her. Suddenly Jenna whispered something to the person who was sitting next to her – you remembered her name being Ellie.

“Yeah, for sure” Ellie said, covering her mouth while laughing.

“C’mon girls, didn’t they tell you it’s rude to whisper when you have company? Spill it!” your friend whined as she took another sip from her drink. Jenna rolled her eyes playfully before she leaned closer to the two of you.

“We were just talking about how shaggable some of our footballers are” she giggled, and you choked on your drink, what earned you a few weird looks.

“I’m sorry, I just tried to laugh and swallow at the same time” you replied quickly. During your exchange the wait staff started to clear your tables as the dinner was about to end, leaving place for the music, dancing, and drinking.

“Or maybe you fancy the gaffer? No shame in that he’s pretty fit himself” Ellie continued before Jenna cut her off.

“You bet he is. And he’s such a gentleman, I’ve ran into him at the cafeteria once. Maybe even too much of a gentleman.” She gave a knowing look before she chuckled. You knew this was going to be bad.

“C’mon girls, stop it! Anybody can hear you!” your friend tried to stop the situation from getting worse, but it was of no use.

“So, new girl, what do you say? Do you have a favourite guy on the team?” Jenna rested her head in her hands as she was looking at you, batting her eyelashes. She didn’t mean no harm; she had no way of knowing that you were in fact an ex-girlfriend of one of them.

“You know what, I’m kind of a Roy Kent girl myself” you said, and your friend snorted next to you, almost spitting her drink. You flashed a huge smile at her before clinking your glass against hers. The rest of the girls made approving noises before they got interrupted.

“That kinda hurts” his voice pierced your ears, and your heart went into overdrive. Of course. You turned towards him, and you swore your eyes shot daggers at him. He had one of his hands held out towards you, inviting you to take it. “Spare me a dance?”

You already drank enough to consider his offer. You felt everyone’s eyes on you and for a second you didn’t care.

“Sure” you replied in a low voice as you stood up. You heard a gasp from behind you, but you weren’t sure who it came from. You took Jamie’s hand as he led you towards the dancefloor. You heard your friend say “I told you anyone could hear it!” in the background and you smiled.

After you reached the centre of the dancefloor, he spun you around and put one of his hands on your waist, pulling you closer. You didn’t look him in the eye, but scanned the room for anything else to focus on. The band was playing a slow song and couples started to flock to the floor next to you. You saw Ted asking Rebecca for a dance and even your friend stood up and made her way to the floor with someone. You felt Jamie trying to be sneaky and pulling you closer into him with every sway, but you didn’t say anything.

“Do you remember when you taught me how to dance?” he asked, and you heard the smile in his voice. You did remember.

“Of course” you said, barely audible.

“We moved the couch to make space. And even then, I hit my foot into it.” He spun you around to the rhythm of the music, then pulled you closer than before. And you let him, as you rested your head next to his collarbone. He smelled so good, and you allowed yourself to get lost in the moment as you closed your eyes. Like you were in your living room again, like he didn’t break your heart.

“Do you think you can forgive me?” he asked abruptly.

“It’s not-“ you hesitated. “It’s not that I can’t forgive you.” You knew you could forgive him in a second, because you loved him. You loved him so much, not a day went by without you missing him.

“What is it then?”

“I just don’t want to be hurt again. I know you just take whatever you want and when you’re bored you just toss it aside.” You fought your tears as you buried your face into his chest.

“I’m not that person anymore, love” he said and stopped the two of you, lifting your chin up so your gaze met his. “I promise.”

“Why should I believe you? You promised before you’d never leave me and then you tossed me aside. Made me feel worthless.”

“Fuck” he exhaled, pressing his palms against his eyes. “Can we talk somewhere else? Can’t hear my own thoughts.” You didn’t reply just nodded before he took your hands and led you outside to the same spot you’ve talked earlier. Tears were prickling the corner of your eyes as you followed him, looking down at your joint hands. He stood under the heater before he turned to you and placed both his hands on the side of your face.

“Look. I was a major prick, I know that.” He searched your face as he spoke. “But I promise, I’ve changed. I shouldn’t have treated you like that, I was an asshole. I know that now” he paused.

“But I-“ he started then he stopped, his eyes frantically scanning your face.

Don’t say it.

“I just-“

Don’t say it.

“Fuck, I-“

Just say it!

“I love you.” You let out a relieved sigh as you closed your eyes. He pulled you closer as he planted a kiss on your lips, shy and chaste. Your heart was stammering against your ribcage, and you felt like it was your first kiss ever.

“I love you too” you whispered as warm tears rolled down your cheeks, contrasting the cold air. He kissed you again, this time braver, and he poured his heart and soul into it as he pulled you in with his hand on the nape of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair. You wrapped your arms around his neck and your heart felt like a thousand suns exploded inside it.

“Please let me make it right.”

“Just make sure you won’t make a fool out of me again for saying yes to this, okay?”

“I promise” he said before he kissed you again. “But I have another question.”

“Yes?” you asked and raised your eyebrow.

“Are you really a Roy Kent girl?” You laughed at how real the concern was on his face as he looked at you with his puppy eyes.

“No, actually I’m a huge Jamie Tartt girl, have you heard of him?” you grinned as you caressed his face.

“Huh, sounds like he’s a lucky fella” he smiled before he leaned in for another kiss. Maybe it wasn’t so bad your friend invited you after all.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt fluff #jamie tartt h/c #jamie tartt romance #ted lasso x reader #ted lasso cast x reader #fluff

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ddejavvu · 1 year

Note

u and James r dating (the dream) but haven’t said the L word yet. ur in bed completely conked out just absolute deep sleep in the middle of the night and say it, james OBVIOUSLY says it back even tho he knows ur literally fuckin unconscious rn but in the morning is like :)) hi bug :)) u um :)) u got anything you wanna tell me :)))) or tries to do lil things/actions for you where you’d end up telling him or smthn

James isn't sure if it's the best thing that's ever happened to him, or the worst. Well, it definitely can't be the worst. There's nothing terrible about the three sweet words that tumble from your sleepy lips, face mashed into his chest as his thumb bends over the screen of his phone. What's terrible about it is the timing, that you say it while you're sleeping.

The grin that grows over his face is so bright that he's surprised it doesn't light up the room. Now, saying it for the first time (to your face, not in the mirror pretending his reflection is yours), his heart soars, he's over the moon, and.. and you're asleep.

You nestle further into his pec, completely unaware of how you'd just singlehandedly created the best moment in James Potter's life. Your breath fans out over his neck as if you hadn't just made his day- no, year. No, century. You've got him set for another hundred years.

He thinks that if he dies here and now, he'll be a happy man. But he chooses sleep instead, sure that his dreams will be filled to the brim with sugary sweetness.

He wakes up with a grin on his face. You're not sure how he does it, but when his eyes flutter open they're dancing with joy. They land on you immediately, and you try to pretend you weren't staring.

"Morning, love," He rambles, raspy in the haze of waking up, "How are you?"

"Good," You hum, curling tighter against his chest, "How'd you sleep?"

"Good," He mimics you, then, "I loved it."

"Fantastic," You let out a slight giggle into his chest, befuddled by his drowsy word choice, "I love that you loved it."

"Oh, really?" He drags his arm up your back, hoisting you out of his chest and maneuvering you so that you're nose-to-nose with him, "You love that I loved it? Do you happen to love anything else?"

"James," Your brow furrows, "Did you take expired allergy medicine last night?"

"Not by more than a year," He shakes his head, grin infectious even though yours is plagued with confusion, "I just think that we should love more. Like, we should talk about what we love."

"Right," You laugh cautiously, "I love when you make sense?"

"Of course. I happen to love when my girlfriend talks in her sleep."

Your expression darkens, "What did I tell you?"

"Not where you've hid the body," He assures you, a light eye-roll accompanying his teasing, "But you happened to reveal how much you love a certain man..."

"Oh no."

"Who has curly dark hair," James presses on despite your growing horror.

"James-!"

"And wears glasses," He continues.

"Don't!"

"And is in this bed with you right now!" You're certain if you hadn't been weighing him down on the mattress, he'd have leapt to his feet to point accusatorily at you. Instead, he leers over you, face entirely too bright for the humiliation you feel.

"I'm sorry," You whimper pitifully, face flying like a magnet into his chest to hide your grimace, "I didn't mean to say it this early."

"This early," James marvels, "Darling, early?"

"It's only been a few months!"

"I told you I loved you on our first date, Y/N."

"Yes, James," You huff, pulling back to look him in the eyes, "After I told you I liked Queen. That wasn't real."

"Wha- That was real to me!" James's eyes blow up to the size of saucers, "You mean you didn't know I loved you?"

"I knew," You conclude cheerfully, tracing the line of his jaw, "My good old-fashioned lover boy."

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter imagine #james potter scenario #james potter oneshot #james potter one-shot #james potter one shot #james potter headcanon #james potter headcanons #james potter hc #james potter hcs #james potter fanfiction #james potter fanfic #james potter fic #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter dialogue #james potter fluff #james potter x reader fanfiction

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manyaccidents · 5 months

Text

Emily stared longingly outside. She was no longer allowed to go out alone anymore; that was for big girls. The last few months had seen Emily begin bedwetting out of nowhere. It began slow, a night here and there, but she thought they were just one-off accidents. She had no idea just how wrong she was.

Soon her nighttime control was very inconsistent. Her mother had insisted she wear goodnites (glorified diapers for bedwetters) to bed. Emily protested but her mother put her foot down. Emily refused but her small stature didn't exactly lend itself to resistance. Her mother picked her up easily, and though she struggled Emily could not escape. She was laid down on the bed and held down by one of her mothers arms while the other arm pulled down Emily's Pj shorts and panties.

Emily was so tired from struggling at this point that try though she might, she couldn't stop her mother from pulling the goodnite up between her legs. Tears streamed down Emily's face as she felt the foreign garment between her legs. It was soft and crinkled softly when she moved. Her mother pulled Emily's pj shorts back up and said "if I catch you with these off, you will get a spanking so hard you'd wish you'd never taken them off."

Emily sulked, knowing that her mother wasn't kidding. After a few minutes of silent crying, Emily, who was exhausted from struggling fell asleep. That day was the beginning of the end for Emily's adulthood. Fast forward to the present. Emily had not woken up dry since she was put in goodnights 6 months ago, and she'd even started to have daytime accidents with increasing frequency about a month prior to today. Her mother insisted that she wear her goodnites in the day too now, and Emily was embarrassed to say it was hard to argue.

Her goodnites weren't really cutting it these days, and it seemed like the daytime accidents were scattered at first like the bedwetting, but also like the bedwetting it quickly worsened and Emily was soon wetting her goodnites every day, sometimes multiple times. As she reflected at the window she felt her goodnite growing warm and heavy, a tear rolling down her cheek in silent frustration. She never knew when she had lost the ability to even feel when she needed to pee, but it was depressing..

As she continued to pee, it began to leak out of the goodnite and onto the couch. As if she could sense it, Emily's mother entered the room and locked eyes on the couch where the wet spot was clearly visible. A patient anger came over her expression and she wordlessly took Emily's hand. Emily wondered fearfully if she was going to be spanked, but instead she was sat down on a plastic mat on the bed. "A.. changing mat?" she thought. That's when she saw what was beside it and put 2 and 2 together.

A thick white diaper decorated with pink and lavender hearts was beside the changing table, and before she knew it she was being laid down and cleaned up just like a baby. She was so shocked at how far she's fallen that she couldn't even struggle. "You'll be wearing these for the foreseeable future little girl. Since you can't seem to act your age, you will be kept in diapers 24/7; no more goodnites." Emily was mortified "in the day too?? bu-"

"no buts young lady" she finished taping the diaper and made sure it was snug and fit well. Emily felt the thick padding press against her skin as her mother felt the diaper. Each movement she made was accompanied by an audible crinkle. "Everyone is going to find out..." Emily said, dejected. "I'm sorry Emily" her mother said gently "but you clearly need diapers now, and if people find out that's just something we'll have to deal with"

And so began her new life. The only girl at university who still needed diapers.

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theycallmemisterbutterfingers · 4 months

Text

Somebody To Luuuvvvvvv

so, i wrote this fic a WHILE ago, and promptly forgot abt it lmao. it was something i worked at on and off for a month, so it may be a little disjointed. also, I very much recommend listening to Somebody To Love (Queen) while reading, although depending on how speedy you are with reading, the fic will extend past the song's length. ALSO, I started writing it to mirror the lyrics of Somebody To Love, but I lost track of it a little in the last stretch, since there's a lotta instrumental and I just kinda went off HAH

anyhow

oh also i drew this little animation in like October and i'm sorry and you're welcome? sorry because ACK i swear to god i can draw better but you're welcome in case you like it ,,,,, yeah ,,,,,,, much love!!

Can

Anybody?

Find me

Somebody to…

Love.

…

Crowley launched himself up from his desk, sending a few pieces of glass clattering to the floor, shattered remains of his heart. He wobbled for a moment, the alcohol settling in weird places. Reality spun. He thought he saw stars. And then worse.

He thought he saw his angel.

His knees buckled, and his hand shot out to brace himself on his desk. His other hand reached up to shakily run a hand down his face. Take a look at this poor sod, he thought bitterly, about to berate himself. Then he caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection of his window, and he traced the scars down her cheeks that the tears had left in their wake. Crowley sighed, then chuckled—a small, self-deprecating one. Oh, what he’s doing to me.

He’d spent all his years believing in the bastard, chasing him, wanting him, hoping that they were the same. Thinking that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t fully alone.

And then the angel took his heart and blasted it away with his halo. With his Heaven-besotted ideals that Crowley thought he had left behind. No such relief.

And all Crowley wanted was to love and be loved by him. Too much to ask, turns out.

…

He was behind the wheel. Again. He didn’t quite know how he got there, really, and he didn’t know where he was going, either. All he knew was that he was driving—driving away. Driving far away from…what? The work he had put in for himself—for his angel—to live a life safely in the corner? Maybe. Driving away from being alone? Hm. As if he could be driving away from the ache in his bones and towards Az—well. He wasn’t, at any rate. Crowley cursed himself under his breath and pulled over.

The sun was setting, colors bleeding out into the sky. Bleeding out. Now that was something that Crowley was familiar with. He looked up at it all, trying in vain to see anything—any sign from the Universe, from God, anything at all—but no. His knees hit the dirt. “God…what’re you doing to me? You listening? This part of your Great Plan, too?”

Nothing. Crowley dug his nails into his palms until he drew blood.

They do say that snakes can’t cry.

Well.

They also say snakes don’t fall in love. That they can’t feel it.

But just look at Crowley.

🌟

Aziraphale hurried through the empty space of Heaven, a harried look on his face. He had been working nonstop ever since he returned, trying to prove his worth, trying to do good, trying to be good. But there were stares pricking the back of his neck. Veiled criticism, judgement. They thought him odd, strange, impure. Tainted from Earth. They don’t want me here, he thought, then quickly shook it away. He had to keep faith. Believe in good in others, and the good of God.

But there’s nobody left to believe in me.

…

Aziraphale blinked. He had been heading towards the higher floors, but his feet had betrayed him. They had led him to the globe. His chest warmed seeing Earth, but there was this terrible, sudden ache in his gut. Aziraphale put a hand to his stomach, breathless for a moment.

Guilt.

Horrible, horrible guilt.

His hands shook. His stomach roiled like there was a nest of snakes, snakes, Crowley, his Crowley, his Crowley that he left behind, the desperation etched into his face as he—

Stop, he told himself. Stop. You can’t. Push it down, push it down, remember? You need to focus on your tasks. You need to forget.

Do you? Part of him whispered.

Quiet, he thought. No thoughts. You must be good.

It would be good, this traitorous part of him whispered. You would be doing a good thing. Checking up on that nice angel, Muriel.

Oh, yes, Muriel. Of course. It would only take a moment to pop in, after all. He wrung his hands, thinking hard and thinking fast. His tasks weren’t too urgent—just some paperwork, a few visits to the superiors; yes, it would be fine. Tickety-boo. Besides, he really needed to make sure the bookshop and Muriel were fine. Nothing else. What else would there be, really? For such a quick visit, especially? Aziraphale was still for a moment—save for his hands, which shook like leaves—and then with one decisive motion he tapped the globe, and felt himself dissolve into light.

🥀

Crowley slumped in his Bentley, cheeks stinging, throat hurting. Queen played over the speakers, but he kept losing track of the song, sliding in and out of white noise. After a few moments, he inhaled sharply and clenched his jaw. He was alright. He was fine. He was a demon. Of course he was alright. In fact, he was so alright, he would go and make sure Muriel hadn’t sold anything. At the bookshop. Because he was alright he was alright he was FINE. He stomped on the gas pedal with a bit more vigor than usual and began to whip through the streets, disregarding anything his mind might mutter to him. Perhaps that—Crowley ignoring himself as much as he possibly could—perhaps that was why he didn’t notice the feeling of his angel returning to Earth.

…

Crowley slammed the Bentley’s door shut and sauntered across the street to the bookshop, confident as a lioness. The confidence was a sham. He was a right wreck internally. He unlocked the door and swung inside with carefully practiced nonchalance, carefully hidden nerves, everything under the surface, as it should be. But the memories still hit him like a Bentley going 90. Frozen, he could do nothing but boggle at the bookshelves with their alphabetized books all in the right places and the angel wing mug with hot chocolate still steaming, until he heard a cheerful voice from up the stairs, “Be with you in a minute!!”

This managed to jolt Crowley out of his reverie, and he managed to shout back, “It’s me!”

“Oh!! Ah,” and there was quite a bit of shuffling around. Crowley shoved his hands in his pockets and tried to take measured breaths. Being back in the same place, the same spot where he—

“Hello, Mr. Crowley!!” Muriel beamed over the banister upstairs before hurrying down the stairs. “Haven’t seen you in a bit!”

Crowley hummed noncommittally. Muriel fidgeted.

“Did you need anything, Mr. Crowley?” They asked, looking at him a little too expectantly. Crowley had a sudden memory of that kid he had encountered as Bilidad, the little one who wanted to be a lizard.

“Erm…”

It wasn’t to check on the books, really. What did Crowley need?

Well.

Wasn’t it obvious?

He needed him.

His angel. His Az—hm.

His A—guh.

His A…He needed Aziraphale.

There, he said it. Wasn’t so hard.

He needed his somebody to love.

But his somebody was gone.

He didn’t say any of this to Muriel, though. Instead, he just shrugged. “Thought I’d stop by, make sure you hadn’t sold anything.”

Muriel shook their head vehemently. “Oh, no, certainly not!! I remember what you were like when I first took over the shop,,” they took on a grumpy, spiky air then, ignoring the dinging of the shop bell, “Now listen here, Muriel, if you sell any one of these books, I will march right up to heaven and tell those higher-ups that you are doing Very, Very Bad Things. So do not, under any circumstances, sell these books!!” Muriel finished their impression attempting a scowl matching Crowley’s, cementing their inability to make any sort of coarse expression.

Crowley scoffed and was about to complain that he did NOT sound like that, not in the slightest, when—

“Oh, Crowley, did you really?”

Fireworks rocketed up Crowley’s spine and exploded in his chest, and he whipped around to see—

To see—

His angel.

Aziraphale standing in the doorway of the shop, looking like he was already regretting even stepping through the door, but still with that nervous, gentle smile Crowley loved so, and he could do nothing but gape at Aziraphale, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Aziraphale didn’t fare much better, only just managing to stand there, wobbly and woeful. Muriel, slowly becoming more adept at social situations, sidled into the back room, and the sound of the door shutting snapped Crowley out of his stupor—and his wounded heart throbbed.

“Back to forgive me again, then?” Spat Crowley bitterly.

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale breathed, teary-eyed, and before Crowley could say anything else, Aziraphale rushed into him, grabbing his lapels and burying his face in Crowley’s chest.

“I mi-i-issed-d you,” He sobbed, and Crowley wanted to shove him away, wanted to snarl barbed words and sharp jabs, wanted try and make him feel some semblance of the pain he felt—

But he couldn’t bring himself to do so. He couldn’t bring himself to hurt his angel, when he was already so awfully distraught. So he put a tentative, shaky hand on Aziraphale’s back, and said, quietly, “Hi, Angel.”

Aziraphale sniffed loudly at that and looked up at him. Then he stepped back, only slightly, and they simply looked at each other for a moment. Then—

“Why did you leave—?!” They started, simultaneously, then stopped.

“Well, you were the one leaving, Angel,” Crowley snapped, brows knitted together.

Aziraphale looked at him quizzically and sniffed again. “B-But I asked you to come with me, dear. I wanted you to come with me. I wanted you to come so terribly,” his lip wobbled, “And-and then you got mad, and ki-kissed me, and then—hic—and then you left!”

Crowley scowled, confused. He was quite certain that Aziraphale had been the one to do the leaving.

“But you abandoned me,” he said, voice rough, “After all we’ve gone through! I thought we were a team, Aziraphale. I thought you liked me how I was—not an angel, not a demon, as me.”

Aziraphale whimpered, wringing his hands. “But I do like you, Crowley! I’m so, so s-sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you, I promise, I just—I want to be with you, oh so much! And we could be together, in Heaven, as angels, without messiness, and—and, oh, I thought you’d be happier as an angel. I mean, you used to be, when you were…”

Crowley sighed, his anger beginning to cool. Oh, Angel. “I don’t want Heaven. I don’t want to be who I was. I just want to be me, now, here, with you,” He said, as gently as he could muster, taking his sunglasses off. Aziraphale blinked, another sparkling tear trailing down his cheek. Crowley had to curb the urge to wipe it away by shoving his hands in his pockets.

“B-But…but an angel? A-a demon?? That—”

“Would be alright.” Crowley finished, trying to smile, trying not to hope. “We could do it.” Aziraphale wavered, unsure, worried. He cast a look around him, and then, resolutely,

“I need to go back.” Crowley’s heart plummeted to the floor and shattered like an empty bottle. Again.

He made to leave, eyes already stinging, but Aziraphale grabbed at him. “Wait, Crowley!!” But no. Not again. Never again. Crowley wrenched away, looking at the ground, trying to stride past him, a painful crescendo rising in his head, already berating himself for trusting so quickly, hoping so easily, and then, and then he felt a soft hand tilt his face up and take off his glasses and, and, and—and Aziraphale was kissing him. Kissing him. Crowley’s thoughts blinked out of existence completely. All he could focus on was Aziraphale, him against Crowley’s lips, again, finally. Aziraphale’s tears wet Crowley’s cheeks and burned there and Crowley didn’t mind in the slightest. And he kissed back, fiercely, not caring if the rest of him burned up as a result.

Aziraphale gasped at the kiss deepening, and something roared deep inside of Crowley, and then, suddenly—Aziraphale pulled away.

It was as if Crowley had been lit on fire and then doused with cold water, and all he could do was stand there, shivering and overheating at the same time. Aziraphale, though shaking as well, took a deep breath.

“Crowley. I am going, but I’m not leaving,” and he took Crowley’s face in both hands, “I’m not leaving you. I never meant to in the first place. I’m sorry. Please…forgive me.”

Crowley didn’t know how to respond. What could he possibly say? What could he—

A tear slid down his face, and Aziraphale brushed it away with his thumb, tenderly, lovingly.

And Crowley broke.

“Oh, dear,” Aziraphale murmured, and cradled Crowley close as he crumpled into his arms. He trembled like a leaf, loud sobs wracking his body.

They sank to the ground together, and stayed that way for a long time.

Eventually, Crowley could breathe without feeling like he was suffocating. Cheeks burning, he slowly sat up, looking anywhere but at Aziraphale, embarrassed. “Ngk—sorry, Angel.”

“My dear boy,” Aziraphale turned his face back to him with a feather-light touch, “You have nothing to be sorry for.” Crowley damn near started crying again. He nodded and sniffed, rubbing his face. “You’re too nice to me.”

Aziraphale smiled at him, eyes twinkling. “Nice is a four-letter word.”

They gazed at each other adoringly, neither quite believing that they could hope again, hope for a future together, as hope was a four-letter word, too. Then Crowley looked down at the ground. “So…you have to go.”

“I will be back, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, and stood up, “I just need to do a few things first.”

“I need you,” Crowley pleaded, on his knees, all defenses forgotten, all barriers down. “Stay. Please.”

“I need you too,” Aziraphale said softly, doe-eyed, and kissed him on the forehead. “I want to stay with you. But I have to keep Earth safe. I can change things, in Heaven. I can stop the Second Coming.”

His face hardened and, for a moment, looked every bit the Archangel he was supposed to be. “Even if it means making a few…executive decisions. In the name of good, of course.”

“Of course,” Crowley echoed, feeling a bit dazed.

Aziraphale smiled at him and then looked up, wings materializing behind him. “I’ll see you soon, dear.”

Crowley, as if struck by a pin, sprung up towards Aziraphale and kissed him once more. Aziraphale, who had already begun to glow with departure, kissed back just as hard, if not harder. Crowley held onto the quickly dissipating angel tightly, as long as he could, until Aziraphale fully disappeared…and then Crowley fell flat on his face.

Oh, would you look at that, Crowley mused to himself, ass up, face down. I’ve fallen. “Erm,” said a timid voice behind him, “Would you like some hot chocolate, Mr. Crowley?”

thank you for reading!!!!!!!

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oneshotnewbie · 6 months

Note

Hi, i was wondering if you would write one about Amelia Shepherd as your foster mom or motherly sister - you have anorexia and she is admitting you to the psych ward against your will. meredith is there to support her and you.

Authors note: I'm sorry there wasn't a new story yesterday, but I had another recurring episode of a migraine and it really weighed me down.

ᕚ---ᕘ

In the dark corridor of the psychiatric hospital, the footsteps of the neurosurgeon and the general surgeon echoed as the two hesitantly walked towards the closed door of your temporary stay, Meredith's arm reassuringly placed on the brunette's shoulder. The dim beam of light from the bulb above the door was the only glow at the end of the dark hallway, reflected off the peeling walls. Amelia's heart was pounding in her chest as she gripped the cold metal handle of the door that separated you from her.

She slowly opened the door and entered the room, which was filled with a diffuse light from the bedside lamp. "Hey, sweetheart. I have brought you a visitor," she spoke to you calmly, scrunching her nose as the smell of disinfectant and suppressed suffering crawled into her sinuses. In the corner of the room you sat, curled up on your bed with your legs pulled up to your chest. "Go away, I do not want to see you," you spoke, your gaze was empty, your eyes seemed tired and expressionless as a faint shadow of past joy of life crossed your face.

Amelia hesitated for a moment before approaching the bed. Her hand shook as she gently took your hand. She felt the cold of your skin and the pressure of your fingers weakly recoil and move away from her, sliding further into the corner. Tears welled up in her eyes as she carefully backed away even though she just wanted to hold on to your hand and cling to it so as not to fall into the abyss herself. "Please, y/n.. I love you and missed you," she began to speak quietly, Amelia's words full of pain and desperation. "and you know that bringing you here was the only right decision,"

You were trapped in your world, your sister´s words seeming opaque and incomprehensible as she spoke of the constant fear that tormented her when you stopped eating in your dark hours and were no longer the person she once knew. "You dragged me here and left me with strangers who were supposed to help me. When all I really needed was MY SISTER!" Another grab for your knee vanished into thin air as you evaded away from her touch and her hand instead reached back towards Meredith, who had not said a word yet but was holding a bag that the brunette had brought for you.

With tears in her eyes and shaking hands, she pulled out some personal items and began decorating your new room for the next few months to calm herself down. Amelia had no idea what to say, she felt incredibly guilty. She carefully placed these items on the nightstand next to the bed, as if she wanted to leave a piece of her lost sister behind. Photos of happy times, some books you recently bought and a diary where you once wrote down your dreams and hopes. "Amelia, is it okay if you leave us alone for a moment?" Meredith's bright voice broke through the cramped silence that was almost unbearable and the brunette nodded groggily but thankfully before slowly turning away, her eyes full of pain and helplessness.

With one last, loving look at you, she left the room and closed the door behind her. The click of the door lock echoed through the empty hallway, and behind it she burst into tears as she leaned against the cold wall and slid painfully down. In that moment she knew she had made the right decision, even though it broke her heart that you turned her away. Amelia had placed you in the care of professionals in the hope that you would find help there, but the pain and sadness of seeing you in this fragile and self-destructive state would stay with her forever.

But she also knew that you would both get through this and that you would eventually thank her for saving your life. And as she pulled herself together and walked down the hallway of the hospital into the parking lot, she could not stop wondering what was currently going on in that room with Meredith and you. Meanwhile, Meredith retreated to your room with you, the atmosphere charged and tense as you nervously folded your hands over your thighs. She sat down next to you and gently placed a hand on your shoulder. "I know this is all very new and very difficult for you. You are probably feeling very hurt, angry and alone, but I want you to understand that your sister never intended to harm you," she began to speak slowly, her hand moving to your face to brush a stray strand of hair from your pale face and tuck it behind your ear. "She loves you more than words can express and she did everything she could to help you."

You hesitantly let her touch you, hurt that she also agreed to your Amelia´s decision and helped her register and accommodate you here. "But then why did she put me in this psychiatric hospital? Why she did not try to help me if she loves me so much?"

"Sometimes, my love, life is not as easy as we wish it to be. Amelia was desperate. She saw how much you suffered, how much you had changed and how you were destroying yourself in front of her eyes. She just knew no more how she could help you. Your sister tried everything, but it felt like nothing was helping and she did not want you to continue to be trapped in this darkness. That seemed to her the only way out to make sure that you Get the support and care you need."

After her speech, you burst into utter tears. Meredith took off her shoes and crawled on all fours to you. She quickly pulled you closer to her, pushing your head into her lap where you clung to her thighs. "But I feel so alone here. I am scared and I miss Amelia and you so much." She stroked your hair comfortingly, gently wiping your cheeks with her thumb every now and then to catch your tears. Her other hand searched for yours, fingers intertwining with yours. "Remember that you are not alone here. The people here will help you and I will always be there for you. I am just a call or a text away and if you want, I can come here with your sister every day after work and spend time with you so that you do not feel alone for at least a few hours.“

"I do not want to blame her but it hurts so much to be here," you admitted quietly, turning your head so that you could look into her eyes from below. A small smile crept onto her lips and she nudged your nose before starting to speak again. "It is okay to have these feelings, to be angry and sad. But please also understand that she acted out of love, even if it does not feel like it in that moment. She did not want you to suffer.“

You lowered your head back to her thighs as you thought about Meredith's words. A spark of understanding glowed in your eyes, and despite the pain, you felt a tiny bit of relief. It was a first step on the road to healing that gave the blonde hope.

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papillon-stories · 7 months

Text

Go Eunhyuk x reader ꕥ Argument headcanons ꕥ

OMG, I'm so sorry... ! 🫣 I was so caught up with classes and work!

I’m not blind to the requests you sent me, I just paused everything because these last few months were so intense. But I feel like writing about Eunhyuk is my only pleasure of the day (in my era delulu)

But I didn't give up, ehehe. In the meantime, here's a little headcanon, hoping you'll like it. I love you all! Please have an Eunhyuk in your life, it's important for your well-being.

Happy reading !

Warning : None, I'm kidding. No worries. Just my English.

He hates arguing with his s/o.

Most of the time, he is the mature one in the relationship. Most of the time.

Eunhyuk is generally very calm and not the type to start a fight, but he also has a bit of a temper.

In truth, arguments with Eunhyuk are very rare because he keeps a lot to himself, but like in any couple, arguments happen.

If something is bothering you, he will give you time to confide in him.

He wants to resolve the problem, but he tries to think about it on his own before discussing it with you.

It's important for him to understand the problem on his own (poor guy, he's going to get gray hairs from it).

If he can't find the solution himself and he sees that you're taking time to confide in him despite clearly showing your annoyance about something he might have done or said, he will eventually ask you directly what bothered you (at the right moment).

Generally, during a big argument, he prefers to leave if he feels his temper rising.

He doesn't avoid conflict, but he doesn't want to regret saying something mean out of anger.

Eunhyuk knows where it hurts, and when he's annoyed, he has a hard time holding back his words.

He can be very direct and straightforward.

He will take the time to calm down and come back to you when he's no longer heated.

You communicate a lot, and he doesn't want to be someone who leaves his significant other sad or angry at him... he doesn't want to be like his father.

Eunhyuk always takes your feelings into consideration and respects you a lot.

Because communication is good, but without understanding, it's useless.

If something annoys or saddens you, he won't dismiss your feelings and will simply try to fix it.

For him, there's always a solution.

Like you pointed out that this girl was crazy about him? She's already non-existent in his eyes.

But sometimes he finds your random outbursts of anger toward him amusing.

He finds it cute and doesn't take them too seriously.

"Why are you laughing? I'm serious."

There are no real reasons to be angry with each other.

Maybe out of jealousy?

YES ! In a relationship, he has no reason not to be honest with his feelings.

If something annoys him, he will probably take his time to talk to you about it.

He has enough trust in you to know that you won't hurt his feelings.

Despite his attitude, Eunhyuk is someone who thinks a lot.

He constantly questions himself.

The truth is, he will distance himself from you to sort out his thoughts because he knows that talking about it in the heat of the moment can escalate things.

You will notice his change and decide to talk to him about it.

Again, the last thing he wants is to hurt you.

But he knows that sometimes his silence can hurt more than harsh words, so he will come back quickly.

The best thing about your arguments is your reconciliations!

You cherish your relationship.

If he acted poorly, he will be the first to come to you and timidly apologize.

Conversely, if you are at fault, he will wait for you to take the first step.

He doesn't really expect apologies; he just wants you to understand his point of view.

Depending on the severity of the argument, he might ignore you at first.

Again, he needs time; he is constantly reflecting when it comes to you.

But he will never push you away if you come to make peace.

In essence, arguments are rare, but when they happen, you know how to handle them.

Thank you for reading ! Do you have any suggestions ? :)

#operation true love #operation true love x reader #go eunhyuk x reader #operation name pure love #operation pure love #pure love operation #go eunhyeok #eunhyuk x reader #go eunhyuk #eunhyeok #eunhyuk #go eunhyeok x reader #headcanon

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vitaminseetarot · 8 months

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Last Quarter Moon PAC: What Are You Harvesting? 🌗🍓🍹

Welcome, one and all, to my last chapter of the four-part moon series! In the beginning, all we had was the seed of potential. We then added some tender love and compost, tending to its stretching stems and budding leaves. We then sat back and witnessed the colorful flower blooming forth, reflecting our work well done.

Now it's finally time to take a look at what will be harvested from this growth. How will it sweeten your life? How will it ensure that more growth can continue to the next month? What blessings will at last be bestowed that will, with careful preservation, last through the winter and beyond?

Take a peek at the three packages of fruit you see down below. These are of the frozen kind so they will last for many smoothies and muffins to come. (Brand names are blotted out for your convenience.)

Pile 1 - Chilly Blueberries Pile 2 - Snowy Strawberries Pile 3 - Frosty Plums

Pile 1

Cards: Four of Swords, Three of Cups, Nine of Cups; Dandelion Wish, Avocado - Prosperity, Scorpio Moon - Camouflage, 6 - Freedom

I guess it works that I called this the Chilly Blueberry pile cause it seems like you're just looking to chill. You've been through the long haul this last month, and for you the growth hasn't come easily. Now you're being greatly encouraged to kick back and relax for the last few days of the season remaining.

You've been spending a great amount of time working on your internal issues. This pile has done some immense shadow work, and perhaps you sense that you're still in the thick of it, laying low and addressing some old fears. These fears may have to do with something you've been wishing and longing for. There's almost a feeling of treating shadow work as a full time job, wanting to purge and clear as much as possible to make room for desires. Which isn't a bad thing! It can be the recommended thing for many people (like one of the other piles, per example wink), but there's also such a thing as overdoing it. Sometimes you get to a place where you've squeezed out every tear cried out and felt the rock bottom of rock bottom, where you're hitting impenetrable bedrock. Pile 1, this is your reminder that you've been doing GREAT work improving yourself, but now it's time to breathe.

You're going to be harvesting peace, relaxation, a chance to decompress and distract yourself with good times. Your friends could be trying to pull you out of the house or into a discord chat -- join them! Don't let yourself get distracted by the heavy emotions at this time. Not all shadow work is productive, like with anything it can be habitual and keep you ruminating in a little loop. You are protected as far as social relations are concerned. You're being given the space to relate your deep inner work with the work others have been doing. I can't tell you how refreshing it is to be in the thick of some deep karmic issues, only to find out a close friend or even acquaintance has been going through a similar ordeal.

Right now, even with all the freaky planet shit happening out there, don't think that the next few months will be like your last few. You're gonna undergo a subtle transformation on your own naturally after this harvest. You'll be moving into a place of wish making and abundance. This may even boost your sense of financial freedom. It could be that some of your shadow work involved money, but I'm really getting abundance in general with this pile. You don't have to overwork yourself to get to that place, pile 1, you're already approaching it. There's no need to get a 100% completion rating on your spiritual practice. You're not being rewarded for hard work, you're being rewarded because you're in the right place and time to be receiving the abundance coming for you. The shadow work is to help you get in a better mindset and receive without letting old baggage get in the way. It's not a forever thing.

Pile 2

Cards: Five of Pentacles, King of Pentacles, Page of Cups; Turtle Creek, Strawberry - Affection, Leo Rising - Shine, 5 - Heart Healing

How awesome is it that you got the strawberry card for your strawberry reading?! Maybe you just really like eating them; the card does talk about affection after all! With Leo Rising, I'm feeling that this pile has been really affected by the Leo Venus retrograde. Lucky for you, the planet will station direct in a few days, gradually bringing back in a feeling of overall sweetness to your life like a tide coming in.

It could have been that your self-worth took a small hit in some way. Some things may have happened that tested you just a little too much. You wanted more out of your circumstances, but when you ask and ask your spirit guides and higher self and nothing seems to happen on the surface at the end of the day, that can really wreck confidence over time. You'd hear things like "maybe it's just not meant for you," to which you'd respond, "then what is?" You're about to gain a lot more clarity as to what is for you, and that no matter what your doubts say, pile 2, you deserve this!

That belief is very important--it keeps you from creating blind spots where opportunities lie. I felt relief pulling the King of Pentacles in the middle. The King does not think at all about what he deserves, he simply has it. He listened to that one random shampoo commercial's message "because you're worth it, baby" and stuck to that philosophy for the rest of his life. He needed this confidence because with Pentacles (and as hinted by your Turtle Creek card), success doesn't happen overnight. Sometimes it can be hard to tell if something is going to work out in the long run. We often have to wave our hair around like supermodels and strut our stuff as though we know it will anyway. (I just got "Good As Hell" by Lizzo in my head. You might benefit from pampering yourself a little to remind yourself of your worthiness.)

There's going to be a moment of inspiration that comes to you this harvest, like an artistic idea or emotional epiphany that will flood through your slow moving creek. Page of Cups doesn't see you as really stuck, but will help push you along either way. Your lack mentality is being restored to a fullness mentality, and with this comes a strong wave of emotional resolution. Letting yourself feel the hurt of lack for just a moment in time can help you clear it out of your system to make room for healthier and better feelings that actually stick. You're allowed to set down your doubts for now and be more vulnerable and open to giving and receiving. It may not seem so, but vulnerability is important to creating flow, and flow is when we sense that we are moving with life and not against it, so that naturally things will work out for us. When you're ready to open your doors to life with softness and tender affection, so will the doors to what you've been dreaming of.

Pile 3

Cards: VII Chariot, Queen of Swords, Ten of Cups; Cottage Hill, Watermelon - Fun, Sagittarius Rising - Adventure, 9 - Self Acceptance

Before I flipped over your cards, I looked at the Cottage Hill card and imagined how cozy you've been for the last while, maybe a season or two where you stayed home and felt comfortable. I even channeled a feeling of enjoying old familiar songs and games. Then I turned the cards around and got the exact opposite message!

Your cards are nudging towards pushing yourself out there and taking in the goodness of life without getting muddled in the details. You've been in a state of analysis (paralysis?) for some time, and the only thing you're harvesting, whether you like it or not, is the chance to go out and enjoy yourself. It doesn't have to involve others, it can be just you looking to try something new (maybe rock climbing isn't in your taste, but there are many other things to explore). Forgive me for saying this, but we all know what dried plums are: prunes. And what do prunes help with? Of course, getting things going! The Chariot isn't always a card of traveling, but you are specifically having your travel experiences sweetened this time around. A dash of spontaneity and whimsy has been added to your harvest. There is stuff out there waiting for you to see it and experience it for yourself.

Please don't think that this time to run around and enjoy yourself is a waste of time, pile 3. Do you know how hard it is to want to move ahead when you have 6-8 planets in retrograde? Cut yourself a bit of slack. Being a successful human being doesn't mean never allowing yourself to feel content with the present, especially since for many people being successful means exactly that. You also never know what these greater experiences could bring you in the long run. A good time spent away can be like a shower that prepares you for the next big thing to tackle. It could be hiding blessings in between, waiting for you to seize them.

The Queen is Swords approaches everything with discernment, so you can work with her energy by finding out what sort of thing you would like to do or see next. It doesn't mean planning every single thing out. The best itineraries keep you from getting lost from point A to point B, while also leaving room for exploration. Maybe you'd be interested in joining a computer programming class, for example. It doesn't mean you have to sign up for the full major. Taking things a step at a time can really help you determine what's better for you further down the road. Self-Acceptance card talks about how to deal with our tendency to self-contradict. There's a part of you what wants to move ahead, and part of you that wants to stay put in the comfort zone. Plan out your "itinerary" so you're not caught in black-and-white thinking. If you're feeling the resistance to move, just try it a little at a time. You'll have a lot more fun this way.

This reading has not been evaluated by the FDA to diagnose, prevent, treat, or cure any disease or infection. Please ask your physician before going online.

2023, @VitaminseeTarot ™

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kitashousewife · 6 months

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we're in trouble now

an: Halloween vibes? but not really? idk sort of kind of based on bad, bad, bad by LANY

pairings: geto x fem!reader

warnings: MANGA SPOILERS (vol 0, geto's past/high school years) mentions of: killing, curses, death, blood, police, crime, throwing up/gagging. sorcerer au, reader is not a sorcerer. established relationship, pet names, angst to comfort kinda? geto is just a little troubled, lowercase intentional

geto has been...off lately. and you're not sure why. he's been coming home later and later each night, causing you to lie awake in your shared bed, staring up at the ceiling, worried out of your mind.

it must be his job.

you've been dating for three years now. you knew before you started to date that he was a jujutsu sorcerer. he told you one night at the fanciest restaurant in tokyo, flushed cheeks and stuttering over his words. you couldn't care less, though. if anything, it was fucking hot to have a sorcerer as a boyfriend.

his job never got in the way of anything, though. he had amazing friends, who you've spent lots of time with. he was always home before dinner, never leaving on missions any longer than two days, even offering to take you along.

the last time that happened was about five months ago.

now it's 3:30 am, and you've found yourself in bed by yourself. again. calling him again, the line goes to voicemail almost instantly. you huff and throw your phone on the bed, watching it bounce before it lands face up. to your surprise, he's calling you back. rushing over, you leap onto the mattress, answering as quickly as possible.

"s-sugu? baby, are you alright?" your voice shakes. you're not sure why your chest feels so tight, why your breaths seem harder and harder to take.

geto feels the same way. he always does after he finishes off another one.

phone between his ear and shoulder, geto stands in front of a public restroom sink, scrubbing his hands for the third time in a row. the cheap soap does nothing to get rid of the blood that stains his fingers, deep in every crevice of his skin. looking at himself in the mirror, he feels an incredible sense of guilt.

"yeah, i'm fine baby. hey can you do me a favor, sweetheart?"

you can hear his voice echoing, almost as if he's in a pool.

"s-sure, where are you?"

geto feels guilty. he doesn't mean for you to be this upset. he also doesn't want to lie to you.

the four bodies behind him in the open stall are making it a little tough.

"oh i've just been finishing up work," one of the bodies, eyes still open, stare right at geto through the reflection of the mirror as he speaks. "i'll be home soon though, darling. i promise."

he hits mute as a shaky sigh leaves his lips. he peeks at his reflection once more, watching as the shirt worn by one of the dead bodies soaks up more blood. one of the bodies lets out a liquidy gurgle that echos off the tile walls. geto can almost see the last bit of life escape them, floating up into the air to join the rest of those that died the same way these ones did.

"what was the favor you needed?"

geto feels sick now. your voice so sweet, so innocent and airy. he can't you're with someone like him.

a killer.

sneaking out of the bathroom and to his car, he unmutes himself.

"could you grab a couple suitcases from the closet? pack up enough for a few days, and could you pack a little for me as well?" he buckles himself in and just as he starts his car, the sound of sirens appear in the distance.

"yeah, i can do that," you stand up, heart still racing. did you have a trip planned?

turning down different back alleys, stalling for a second as the sirens get closer, geto takes a deep breath.

"you're an angel. i'll be there soon. i love you, my perfect girl."

you end the call and begin to do as you were asked. filling the suitcases as quick as you can, you don't pay much attention to the outfits you've created. you don't even know where you're going, anyway. you smile, picturing in your mind a quick little getaway for the two of you. sightseeing, sleeping in, and spending time away from work.

you still feel a little off.

where was he?

the door bursts open, presenting a very flustered geto. his bun is almost out, dark tresses barely hanging at the nape of his neck. the pieces that fell out stick to his face from what looks like sweat. his pupils are blown wide, mouth slightly agape as he breathes heavily. you drop the t-shirt of his out of your hands and scramble to your feet.

"s-sugu? oh my god, what happened to you? did you get mugged? d-did someone try to kill you? oh my god," you gasp, hands reaching for every part of his body to make sure he was in one piece.

geto swallows back the guilt induced vomit that sits at the back of his throat. "no, baby, not at all," he coos down at you, but his eyes look anywhere but your face. they check each window and door, before eyeing the suitcases. "thank you so much for doing this. we're going away for a few days, is that alright?" he says with a smile. cupping your face ever so lightly with his slightly stained fingers. he's thankful you forgot to turn on the lights.

"of course, suguru. are we going far? let me make something to eat," you pull him towards the kitchen, but he tugs you back.

"we can eat when we get there, i promise. let's just get going," he speaks quickly, eyes still checking the windows.

"is everything okay?" you say, copying his stares out the window. he notices and grabs his suitcase and yours, before heading towards the door. he almost throws up again, torn between telling you everything and keeping you in the dark. he swallows hard.

"the car is on, i can explain everything later. we'll be just fine, i promise." you smile, feeling a little more at ease. with a nod, you grab a jacket and head out the door.

as soon as you get to the car, geto opens the passenger door for you and puts the suitcases in the back with speed. you haven't even buckled your seatbelt by the time he starts to drive away.

"it's 4:30 am baby, we don't need to race! it's not like anyone is on the road," you laugh and reach your hand to hold his. he jumps when you touch him. "i'm sorry! i didn't mean to scare you," you mumble, and he gives you a small smile, which fades as soon as the faint sounds of sirens fill the air. his stare jumps up to the rearview mirror, and he takes a sudden sharp turn that has you jumping in your seat.

"suguru! what is going on?"

he turns down another street and speeds up a little bit.

"angel, i've gotten myself into a bit of trouble, okay? everything is gonna be just fi-"

"what did you do?" your voice is stern, but geto gives you a smile, eyes softening as he drives down a back road.

"i'll explain everything later, just like i promised. for now, i need you to trust me, okay?"

your mind and stomach scream no no no at you, but your heart takes over.

"okay, i trust you."

you must have fallen asleep at some point on the drive, because when you open your eyes you're met with sunshine and costal views.

"there she is, good morning darling. we're almost there."

blinking a few times and rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you realize that you have pulled into a small town next to the ocean. geto appears to be more relaxed. you reach around for your phone, but you can't seem to find it.

"are you looking for your phone?" you nod. "i put it in my bag for you. i thought it would be good for us to stay off of our phones for the next couple of days. just time with each other, how does that sound?" his face beams at you from the driver's seat. you can't say no, especially not when he's being so kind and sweet.

"i think that sounds lovely."

you pull up to a motel, which looks as if it doesn't get a lot of business. you start to feel a little uneasy, and geto can sense that.

"wait right here, i'll get us checked in," he kisses your cheek and walks towards the motel office. now that you're a little more awake, you start to become hyper-aware of your surroundings. based off of the looks, you're at least four hours from home. you start to think a little more. was he running from the cops? what type of trouble is he in?

he returns quickly, room key in hand. he grabs the suitcases out of the car and you follow close behind him all the way to your room. as soon as you enter, he quickly shuts the door and locks it behind him. you have a seat on the old motel bed without a word.

feeling a little more relieved, he sighs and looks at you. worry all over your face, wringing your hands that are placed in your lap.

"isn't this nice? our own little place, right on the ocean. i know how much you love the ocean, we could even go check out the shops later!"

you don't say anything. geto begins to panic.

"are you hungry? would you like me to get some food for us? if you want, we could go-"

"why did you take me here?" your voice is nothing more than a whisper. you feel sick, you know something is terribly wrong. he kneels in front of you on the floor and grabs your hand.

"sweetheart, do you think humans are good people?"

you give him a confused look. "maybe not everyone, but most people i know are good people," you think out loud. geto's stomach feels a little uneasy.

"your asshole manager? you think that guy is a good person?"

"no, not him. but my other coworkers are great people, remember? you've met them!"

of course he has. he's been to many work dinners and events.

he also killed one of them last night, but he won't tell you that.

"darling, why do you think there is so much crime in the world? so many good people like you say, having their lives ruined by these terrible humans. wouldn't the world be a better place if they just...went away?"

your mouth opens slightly and you blink at him a few times. you start to sweat a little bit, and the room feels like it's caving in on the two of you.

"what are you suggesting?"

he comes to sit next to you on the bed and holds you in his arms.

"do you know what i do for work?"

he feels you nod into his chest. "you fight curses, right?"

"that's right. do you know why curses exist?"

you shake your head.

"because of humans. regular humans, like you, who can't fight or see curses. curses only exist because of them. they are able to flow through people and hurt them, which makes my friends and i come in to save them. that doesn't seem very fair, does it?"

you disagree. you know deep down that this isn't right, what he's implying is evil.

"w-well no, but-"

"do you know hard it is to fight curses? to even be around curses?" he stands up, voice raising. hot, angry tears fill his lash line. "do you know how disgusting my cursed technique is?"

your mouth opens and shuts, unable to form any words at all. you want to speak, but you simply cannot find the words to say. you know there is nothing. you can say to help him feel any better.

"i don't know but i want to, i want to understand you better," you mumble, lip quivering and voice cracking slightly. you feel terrible, you had no idea how much pain geto has been in. he paces back and forth in front of you, wiping his tears with his hands. suddenly he stops.

"you'll think that i'm gross, that i'm a monster," he rambles. you stand up, grabbing his hand and holding him close.

"i promise i won't. i love you,"

he takes a deep breath and backs away, leading you back to the bed to sit down. you continue to hold his hands in your own, attempting to provide any sense of comfort.

"i can summon curses. i can call them to help me fight, whenever i need them," he starts, glancing at you to see your reaction. to his surprise, you're completely neutral.

"that sounds really cool, sugu. what do they look like?" you ask, eyes wide and full of curiosity. geto can't help the smile that grows on his face at how innocent you are.

you are exactly why he wants this perfect world.

he raises his hand and a small curse appears. something kind of silly looking, much like a kids drawing with wings. you look at it for a second, before he interupts.

"can you see it?"

you nod. "that's good. some humans can see them, and some can't. this little guy is harmless," he waves his hand and the curse flies away, out the door and into the world.

"can you make bigger ones?"

he chuckles. "yes, some ten times his size, maybe even bigger. they all have different abilities, some are stronger than others," he looks at you once more, relieved to see that you're smiling.

"how do you get them, do you make them?"

geto doesn't say anything, but continues to stare at the carpet at his feet.

"i swallow them," noticing your confused face, he elaborates. "it turns into a ball, fits right in the palm of my hand, almost looks like a crystal ball," he swallows hard. "then i just...swallow it."

you nod and stroke his back. he shivers a little at the thought.

"it tastes so vile, so disgusting. i can't even describe the taste," he shakes his head, tears brimming his eyes once more. "tastes like death. which make sense," he sniffles.

"why, sugu?"

he looks at you, tears streaming down his face at this point. you brush them away with your thumb, but they keep falling.

"i'm a killer. you don't deserve me. i try to make this world a better place, one where i don't have to watch my friends die. one where i don't even have to worry about curses, one where i don't have to think about ever losing you," he raises his voice, each word coming out through choked sobs.

"i want to keep you safe. i want to be away from this, from everything. i want to protect you," he cries, and you pull him close. "god, everyone probably thinks i'm so fucked up. they probably thing im ruining your life,"

you shake your head. "people can think whatever they want." with a nod, he lays back down on the bed. you push the fallen strands out of his face, playing with them a bit to help him calm down.

"how long do you want to stay here?"

he wipes his face and props himself up on his elbows. "i dunno, couple of days at least,"

you nod. the two of you sit in silence. geto has run out of things to say, as have you.

it’s light outside, sunny and bright. the exact opposite of the mood inside of the dingy motel room. seagulls sing outside as they perch, happy tunes that almost make you laugh. you’re not sure what to think, what to feel.

“are we gonna be alright, sugu?”

he sighs. “i think so.”

#this has been sitting in my drafts for an entire year #geto x reader #geto suguru #geto suguru x reader #geto angst #jjk geto #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen

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the-badger-mole · 6 months

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AU Bot Plots: All the Single Parents

It was a terrible idea. Zuko asked himself for the thousandth time that evening how he had allowed Haru to talk him into it, but still, he checked to make sure his blazer was on straight and his hair (shoulder length now that he didn't have Mai pushing him to keep it cut) was pulled back neatly into a low ponytail. He'd just spritzed on his cologne when there was a timid knock at his door. He saw it crack open, and Izumi, his precocious seven year old, poke her head through the door.

"You look nice, Daddy!" she said. "But why are you so dressed up to go fishing?" Zuko turned to face his daughter, his brows drawn down in confusion.

"Fishing?" he repeated. "Who told you I was going fishing?"

"Uncle," Izumi said. She clambered onto Zuko's bed and sat crosslegged on the foot. She had a serious look on her face that was much too old for her chubby-cheeked face. "He said that he has been telling you to get back out there for years and that there are lots of fish in the sea."

"Is that so?" Zuko asked, scooping his daughter up into his arms and kissing her cheek. "Well, I'm not going fishing. Uncle was just being silly. And he shouldn't discuss things like that with you."

"He didn't say it to me," Izumi said. "I heard him talking on the phone with Uncle Haru."

"Izzie," Zuko chided gently. "What have I told you about listening on other people's conversations?"

"Not to," Izumi replied, sullenly. "But Uncle talks so loud!" That got a chuckle from Zuko.

"Be nice," he told her. "Uncle's hearing isn't what it used to be. He doesn't always realize when he's being loud."

"My hearing is just fine, Nephew." Iroh rounded the corner from the living room and stared sternly up the stairs at Zuko and Izumi. Zuko and Izumi grinned at each other, then Zuko turned back to Iroh with an apologetic smile.

"Sorry, Uncle," he said. He set Izumi down and let her run down the stairs into Iroh's waiting arms.

"You're forgiven." Iroh cast a magnanimous gaze up at his nephew. "You should get going. You wouldn't want to be late."

"Wouldn't I?" Zuko groaned. He vowed never to speak with Haru alone ever again. His friend was deceptively convincing.

After saying goodbye to Izumi and Iroh, Zuko made the drive to the cafe bar in midtown where the city's most desperate divorcees were gathering to find their next failed relationship. It was just for practice, Zuko told his reflection in the rearview. It had been three years since his acrimonious divorce, and now that his daughter was in elementary school, Iroh and Haru had convinced him that it was time to get back on the dating scene. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Zuko wasn't exactly dying of loneliness, but he felt the absence of someone to hold and kiss acutely sometimes. And he saw how Izumi looked longingly at mothers with their children occasionally. Mai was a rare presence in Izumi's life. Even rarer since she started dating and eventually gotten engaged to Kei Lo, the man she'd insisted she wasn't having an affair with during the last days of their brief, tumultuous marriage.

Zuko had tried dating over the years, but he'd never met anyone who lasted more than a few months at most. And it had been over a year since his last attempt. This time would be different. He was 34, in therapy, and doing pretty well for himself. Despite the large scar covering a fourth of his face, he knew he was generally considered pretty handsome. He was ready for this. He was open to it. He was...regretting his decision to leave his house.

The crowd in the cafe bar was...grim. First of all, it was mostly men, and even if Zuko had been interested in men, they all looked tired and miserable. He seemed to be among the few who'd made any sort of effort with his appearance. The few women present were a good ten years older than he was, at least. The best looking among them was around 50, if Zuko had to guess. She spotted him and eyed him with interest. She really was very attractive, with a challenging smirk and a dangerous gleam in her eyes. She showed off her voluptuous figure in a curve hugging red cashmere sweater and pencil skirt. Her name tag introduced her as Jun. He wasn't sure if he was ready to take a chance on such a large age gap, but he figured a flirty conversation over couple of glasses of wine would make this evening not a total waste of time, anyway.

He was still contemplating going over to start a conversation, when the door to the bar opened again, and caused the bell drilled into the back to ring. All thoughts of wine with the woman in the red sweater left Zuko's mind, when he saw the newcomer. She was around his age- maybe slightly younger- in a blue dress with grey sneakers. She stopped at the welcome table and filled out a name tag, like the other attendees of the single parents' meet up, and stuck it onto the outside of her white cardigan. Zuko was close enough to read her name. Katara.

Katara seemed to be as reluctant as he was to be there, but she took a breath put on a smile, and stepped into the crowd of suddenly eager looking men. Then Zuko hung back for the next ten minutes, watching as she fended off advances from the men brave enough to approach her. Zuko couldn't blame her, even though this was the point of the evening. The men who approached her were the pushiest, leeriest and in many cases, oldest of the group.

Someone came up beside Zuko and cleared their throat. He found Jun at his side, smirking at him over a glass of whiskey on the rocks. Zuko thought she'd decided to approach him after all, but instead she nodded in Katara's direction.

"You'd have a good shot," she told Zuko. "Why don't you go introduce yourself?"

"Oh...I...I...um," he stammered. That was humiliating. When was the last time he'd gotten tongue tied?

"Articulate," Jun purred, her smirk widening. "Listen, this is a pick up scene for people not looking for someone to introduce to their kids. You and she are clearly still unjaded enough to be looking for romance, so why don't you save you both the time, and rescue her from that guy who's old enough to be her father?" Zuko looked over to where Katara was being chatted up by a wiry man who was still clinging to his receding hairline for his life. She had a wry smirk on her face and seemed to be handling herself just fine. She caught Zuko's eye over the man's shoulder and raised her eyebrow ironically, as if sharing a joke with Zuko. His mouth went dry, and he felt the back of his neck heat up. He turned back to Jun.

"And what if I told you I was hoping to get to talk with you tonight?" he asked. Jun's dark eyes sparkled with mirth and her mouth slid into a slow, sultry smile.

"Oh, honey," she chuckled, brushing his cheek with her knuckles. "You couldn't handle me. And you've been staring at her since she came in. Man up, and go say hi." She passed Zuko the rest of her drink, which he drained in one gulp before he squared his shoulders and made his way across the room to Katara and her suitor.

"Excuse me," Zuko interrupted. "I just wanted to...to come introduce myself." The man who'd been talking to Katara turned to Zuko with a scowl.

"We're in the middle of a conversation," the man snarled. Katara rolled her eyes at him.

"Actually," she said. "I think we're good. Thanks so much for the information, but I'm not that interested in stocks. It was nice meeting you, though, Niko." Katara pushed off of the wall she'd been leaning against and walked off, with Zuko not far behind.

"Are these things always this boring?" Katara asked.

"I wouldn't know," Zuko told her. "My friend talked me into this."

"My sister-in-law threatened to stop fixing my car if I didn't come," Katara sighed. She looked around at the crowd appraisingly. "Maybe I should have just taken my chances. The bus isn't so bad."

"I don't know," Zuko said with a shrug. "I think the night just got interesting." Katara smirked up at Zuko, and his breath caught in his throat at the way her bright blue eyes caught the light.

"I saw that cougar you were chatting up," she said. "I'll bet tonight has been very interesting for you." Zuko's face went beet red, he could tell without a mirror.

"That wasn't...what that was," he tried to explain.

"Really?" Katara shrugged. "Gee, that's too bad. She's pretty hot. But... maybe her loss, my gain?" Katara smiled coyly at Zuko. Agni, was she flirting with him? Zuko cleared his throat.

"We could grab a couple of drinks and see how it goes," Zuko suggested. Katara's smile widened.

"Sounds good to me."

#atla #zutara #au bot plots #single parents mixer #met after messy divorces au #THE YEAR OF CONTENT!!!!

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