#SOMEONE has some deep seated GUILT about their actions

[jj3llyfsh]

Between Duty and Love

pairing: Kate Bishop x fem! reader

warnings: angst, arguing(?) reader gets mad, fluff at the end (I think that’s it? let me know if I missed something! This is my first time posting here</3)

word count: 921

summary: Kate has been spending all her time at work and has been accidentally ignoring y/n.

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Kate Bishop sat at her desk, surrounded by the remnants of her latest mission. Papers scattered, her laptop screen glowed with reports, and her phone buzzed incessantly with notifications. Kate took a moment to rub her tired eyes before diving back into the pile of paper work on her desk. It was another late night of fighting off random criminals, and going back to the compound to finish up stacks of paperwork.

Meanwhile, in the shared apartment that she and her girlfriend shared, the air hung heavy with tension. The clock struck midnight, and the front door slowly creaked open, revealing her girlfriend on the other side of the door, Y/N, with a look of frustration etched on her face.

"Kate," Y/N said, her voice tight with anger.

"You promised you'd be home hours ago. What happened?" Kate looked up, guilt written across her features. "I know, I know. I'm sorry, babe. There was just this last-minute thing I had to take care of but this is important, Y/N.” Kate breathed in. “There's been a surge in criminal activity, and the team needs me—"

Y/N interrupted, her voice rising, frustration boiled over, the pent-up emotions finally bursting forth. "The team always needs you, Kate! But what about us? What about our plans? Every time we try to spend time together, you're off on some mission or buried in work."

Kate's heart sank as she realized the toll her actions were taking on their relationship. "I'm trying to keep the city safe, Y/N. You know that." Her eyebrows furrowed as she huffed out.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you stood still, the anger and hurt swirling inside you like a tempest. "I need someone who's here for me, not somebody who’s constantly gone. I can't keep living like this. I’m going to stay with a friend for awhile."

Kate's heart sank as she watched you turn away, the pain in your voice cutting through her like a knife. "Wait, Y/N, please. Let's talk about this."

But you were already halfway to the door, your footsteps echoing in the empty apartment. With a heavy heart, Kate sank back into her chair, the weight of your words bearing down on her like a crushing weight.

Days turned into weeks, the silence between you and Kate stretching on like an endless abyss. Each passing moment only served to deepen the rift between you, the pain of your separation a constant ache in both your hearts.

Alone in your friends apartment, you couldn't shake the memories of your time together. The laughter, the shared moments of intimacy, the feeling of being truly seen and understood. But alongside those memories lurked the pain of feeling abandoned.

Unable to bear the weight of your emotions any longer, you made a decision.

You made your way to the Avengers headquarters, where Kate had been spending most of her time lately. The familiar sight of the towering building filled you with a sense of apprehension, but you pushed forward anyways. As you approached a familiar office, you could hear the muffled sound of voices from within. With a hesitant knock, you pushed open the door, stepping into the dimly lit room.

Kate's eyes widened in surprise as she caught sight of you, her expression a mix of hope and trepidation as she quickly shot up from her seat and made her way towards you. “Y/N? What are you doing here?”

Taking a deep breath, you squared your shoulders, steeling yourself for the conversation ahead. "I came to talk, Kate. I’m sorry." For a moment, silence hung heavy in the air. You continued speaking. “I know this job means a lot to you, I know what I signed up for when we started dating..”

Then, with a resigned sigh, Kate gestured for you to take a seat next to her.

The words poured from your lips like a rushing river, the pent-up emotions finally finding release. You spoke of your hurt and your anger, of feeling neglected and unimportant in Kate's life. But beneath it all, there was a thread of love and longing, a desperate hope that things could still be salvaged between you.

Kate listened in silence, her expression pained as she took in your words. And when you were finally spent, she reached out, taking your hand in hers.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I never meant to ignore you. I've been so caught up with work that I didn’t realize I was hurting you.” Tears welled up in Kate's eyes as she spoke, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air.

With a shaky breath, you reached out, cupping Kate's face in your hands. "I love you, Kate. But we can't keep living like this. We need to find a balance to make time for each other."

A flicker of hope lit up Kate's eyes as she leaned in, pressing her forehead against yours. "I promise, Y/N. From now on, I'll make sure to balance my job and to spend time with you.”

You smiled softly and pressed your lips against Kate’s, which she happily accepted.

-

As the days passed, Kate kept true to her promise. She made a conscious effort to prioritize your relationship, carving out time in her busy schedule for you. Whether it was a quiet dinner at home, a simple stroll in the park, or simply curling up together on the couch to watch a movie. Kate made sure that you felt loved and cherished.

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AAAA sorry this was short 🙏

#marvel mcu #mcu #marvel #kate bishop x reader #kate bishop x female reader #kate bishop #kate bishop mcu #kate bishop x fem!reader #kate bishop x y/n #Kate bishop angst #Kate bishop fluff #mcu fic #marvel fic

[saintrvckwell]

Till the end (ellie williams x reader)

ellie williams x fem!reader

summary: in the midst of brutal madness, ellie finds a moment to confess what she fears the most.

warnings: fluff, swearing, slight angst, soft moments of ellie and the reader

words count: 3.3k

a/n: oh yeah. i’m still alive. and finally wrote something that does not have ten thousands words wow? owed you something nice, tried my best to achieve that. it's short, but (i hope) comforting, at least. seattle ellie deserves the whole world.

"For all that it's worth, I would have loved you till the end."

‣

Ellie never wanted you to become a part of this. Her complicated, unresolved issues with Joel, her own inner fight with the guilt of not dying for something she considered to be the purpose of her life and repayment for those she had lost along the way. Nor be part of the inevitable outcome that Joel’s actions had caused.

Ellie never wanted to scar the only pure, untouched safety net she had in her life. 

But when she stood upon Nora’s body she had previously beaten to death, sourcing the information she came for to Seattle in the first place, she could no longer escape. To the person she was becoming, to Joel whose eyes were slowly fading away from her memory. From the look, you gave her when she came back to the theatre and Jesse let her in.

With the bloodstains on her clothes, and bruises on her arms, she handed Dina the map and you couldn’t help but notice how fragile her whole body has suddenly become. 

You didn’t say much, knowing there wasn’t anything that could fix the way Ellie felt, that could find the parts of herself she already lost while avenging someone whom she couldn’t even face after the heinous act she just committed.

Joel never wanted her to lose the remaining bits of innocence she had within her. He never wanted her to taste the ugliness of the world the way he did. Yet here she was. Convinced she had to finish this, no matter what was it going to take. How much was it going to cost. 

Jesse and Dina stood aside with a bloodstained map, marking Abby’s supposed location while you carefully grabbed Ellie’s wrist, wishing to take her to the back and clean her wounds. She couldn’t even look into your eyes, avoiding it the whole time you walked through the seats, all the way backstage. 

You sat her down on the couch, letting her take the clothes off while you went to search for some useful supplies. Back there, Dina and Jesse were upstairs, sitting by the radio, contemplating a good way of finding Tommy and the easiest route to hunt down Abby and be done with this whole thing. 

The minute you walked in, Jesse couldn’t help himself. “That was definitely not her blood.” 

Two days in and you already noticed how much this had cost her already. 

You didn’t comment, still searching through the cabinets. 

“Maybe we should just pack it up and leave,” Jesse whispered. “Right in the morning. We were in deep shit yesterday already. After this, they must be patrolling for us. We should just find Tommy and get the fuck out of here.” 

“And go where?” you dared to ask, shifting your attention to him. 

“Back home?” Dina shrugged his shoulders, joining the conversation.

“See,” you closed the cabinets and stood up, finally paying both of them your full attention. “She doesn’t have that anymore.” 

None of them would dare to argue about that. 

Jesse meant well, you were well aware of that. After all, Ellie was the reason he came to Seattle in the first place. But even though he was determined to help his friend, Jesse would never understand the full reason and justification of the way Ellie felt—why she was doing all of that.

You couldn’t help but sigh. “Ellie can’t see the sense of right and wrong right now. And the more you tell her how stupid and dangerous this is, the less she will listen to you..” 

“So you’re supporting this?” he wondered, disgruntled. 

“No,” you replied. “But I know that I can either give her shit and go home or stay and make sure she’s not going to lose the only parts of herself she has left.” 

You found what you were looking for, parts of that. Combined with what you packed before you left Jackson, you had nearly enough to fix all of Ellie’s injuries. Without uttering another word, you left Dina and Jesse to their own thoughts, not feeling the need to add anything else. As much as you understood their need to go back before things get significantly worse, you knew she would not go. 

And you would never forgive yourself if you just left her here, all alone. 

Especially after what happened a few minutes later. 

She was sitting on the old sofa by the time you got back to her, facing you backward. Before you even tried to whisper her name, you were stopped by a sight that immediately caught your attention. Most of her clothes were lying on the floor, soaked in blood and dirt. She sat there, half-naked, with her back displaying endless bruises, cuts and wounds. You couldn’t count all of them even if you tried. 

Ellie knew you were already there, but didn’t dare to look at you—not after you saw that. She was too weak to face you. Not because she was afraid of seeing the sadness and worry in your eyes; she had already gotten used to seeing that in the last two days.

More than that, Ellie would never be able to face a disappointment, not from you. Not from someone who was there for her. Who never asked why she stopped talking to Joel, why she begged you to switch patrols so she could avoid him. 

You were the last person who could see the good parts, despite digging through blood and tears to find them. And after Joel, she couldn’t afford to lose that. 

“Ellie?” you whispered, pulling her out of her thoughts. 

She wiped her tears away and nodded, giving you space to continue. 

“Is it alright if I clean your wounds?” 

You felt the need to get her approval.  

Doing her absolute best to stop those sobs from escaping her trembling lips, she covered her mouth and nodded again, giving you what you had asked for. 

You sat down quietly, right behind her, with your bucket, cloth, and nearly empty first aid kit you brought from Jackson. First, you cleaned the rest of the dry blood on her shoulders and lower back while she sat still. She let you help her, repeatedly wiping away the tears that were now heavily streaming down her bruised cheeks. 

Most of her wounds needed just some cleaning to prevent any further infection. You took your time with each one of them, making sure you were not hurting her anymore. She felt how delicate you were with your touch, how carefully you were trying to help her ease the pain.

The softness and care you had allowed her to forget about what she did out there for a second and enjoy the comfort you provided. 

A long exhale left her rosy lips. She found her mind drifting towards that the day; and the events that inevitably followed. She set her mind on leaving for Seattle the minute she left that place, despite Tommy’s desperate attempts to talk her out of it. Even when he decided to head out there first in order to protect her, she couldn’t appreciate the good thought. The pain clouded her judgment.

That day, when Tommy left, she fought with you for hours. It was the first time you saw Ellie since the horrific incident at the lodge. She was standing by your fireplace, announcing that she was leaving for Seattle and she was hoping (more like counting on the fact) that you were going to cover her ass while she quietly goes on her revenge quest.

And being the person you were and having the amount of love you had for her, of course, you would not let her go alone. 

“I don’t need a babysitter,” she stopped the minute she heard that proposal. “This isn’t your fucking business. And I’m not making you a part of that.” 

“I’m not asking for permission, Ellie,” you whispered, stepping closer to her. “I’m going with you, end of conversation.”

It went on for another twenty minutes when she was trying to talk out of you joining her. She was harsh, calling you a naive idiot more than once. But you knew that all those words, all this pain were coming from the same place of sadness she was trying to suppress. You would never hold any of this against her. 

Eventually, as she understood, it didn’t matter how hard she tried, how harsh she might have been to you. You were determined to go and there was nothing Ellie could change about that. 

Thinking about it now, weeks later, she felt guilty for the way she spoke to you. You were the last person who would deserve such treatment, given how faithfully you stood by her this whole time.

Throughout most of the days on the road, Ellie was withdrawn, immersed in her own thoughts. She wasn’t talkative but if she happened to say a word or two, she was taking out her own frustration on you.

After everything she said over the past couple of weeks, you had a full right to turn away at any point and head back home. But you didn't. 

You always stayed, despite how unbearable it was at times. Ensuring her that you were not going to walk away, in Seattle or anywhere else.

And now, as you were sitting here, cleaning her blood-stained spots and washing away the shame and guilt she had been wearing around, Ellie knew how high the stakes were—how petrifying was the thought of losing you. Despite her numerous attempts to chase you away, despite the fact that you never really established where you stood when it came to the other, you meant a lot to her. More than she was willing to admit. 

“Ellie, this one’s really deep. I’m gonna need to sew it,” you whispered, grabbing the needle and the thread, interrupting her thoughts. 

She didn’t respond, just left you to do your thing and stayed immersed in her head. 

“It’s probably gonna hurt a little,” you warned her before sticking the needle through the skin of her shoulder. 

“It won’t. I don’t feel anything,” she mumbled; for the first time. 

The response forced you to stop for a second and rethink what you have just heard. You didn’t know whether you should ask for more information. Instead, you finished your job and within a few minutes, the open wound was gone.

Ellie suddenly felt the coldness wrapping around her as soon as your hands left her body as you handed her a clean t-shirt from your backpack. 

“You should get some rest,” you whispered, standing up and grabbing the bucket with blood-soaked clothes. “I still have your snacks in my backpack, in case you were hungry.” 

There was no reaction from her. She put on the shit and stayed in the same spot, still not willing to face you. 

Part of you wanted to rush over and comfort her. But knowing how withdrawn she was lately, you didn’t want to drive her away any further. So you stood there for a second, with a bucket in your hands, and watched her, wiping away the tears from her puffy, red cheeks. 

“Please, don’t leave me.” 

It was the moment you reached for the doorknob, halfway out of the room, when she suddenly uttered that pleading statement. The walls she had been so determined to build around her aching existence were slowly falling to the ground, leaving her on her own.

There was a thought in Ellie’s head. Thought that appeared when she was gripping the iron pole, beating the words out of her enemy’s weakened body. Nora was on the verge of her own strength, not having any more power to fight Ellie, so she gave her friend up.

She handed Ellie what she came for in the first place, leaving her space to strike for one last time—finishing what she started, ending Nora’s prolonged suffering. 

And the moment she did that—hitting the one last punch, she saw you. She saw the thought of you in her mind and froze. She glanced down upon the lifeless body—but saw you. Saw you lying in your own blood, dying by her own hand. And for the first time, she feared the person she was becoming. Facing the outcome. 

Making you collateral damage of her revenge quest was a risk of its own. But being capable of hurting you on her own what was she feared the most. 

For a second, you had to process what you just heard. It wasn’t until the sobs that left her trembling mouth you felt the need to turn around and take a look at her. 

She was now standing right in front of you, finally daring to face you. 

Daring to face her what she feared the most. 

“I’m scared.”

For weeks now, she was quietly suffering, mourning in her thoughts. Now the pain crawled on the surface and she could no longer avoid it. For the first time, she let you see all of that—see the desperation in her faded green eyes and realize how long she has been suppressing all of this inside. 

“What are you scared of?” you whispered and took a step closer to her. 

She took a deep breath, trying to get ahold of her sobs before she continued, still looking into your eyes: “Of what I did.” 

You knew Ellie was not always as tough as she tried to portray herself. But seeing that right in front of you, seeing her falling down felt like a shot coming through your chest. 

“What did you do, Ellie?” 

There was a curiosity in your mind, followed by fear of what you might get. 

“I made her talk.” 

It was somehow enough. Enough to understand that the desperate need for a feeling of consolation was growing with each strike Ellie hit and with each toll it took on her.  

“Ellie—“ you took a step closer, reaching for her but she swiftly pulled away, shaking her head. 

“I’m scared,” she repeated, daring to look into your eyes. “What if I might—“

“No,” you stopped her without hesitation, knowing where this was headed. “You won’t.” 

Brushing her tears away, she suddenly looked down. “You don’t know that. You don’t know what I’m capable of. I don’t even know what I’m capable of.” 

There was a genuine worry in her voice, fear of her own self. But after all those years, after everything you’ve encountered together, you trusted her enough to confidently proclaim that she would never hurt you. 

You trusted her. But she didn’t trust herself, that was the core issue.

Which you became aware of the second she bursted into tears. 

Ellie was never quite an emotional person; she mostly tried to deal with everything on her own and as quietly as possible. Until now.

“I can’t lose you.” 

And there it was. 

The revelation between uncontrollable sobs made you come closer. 

“But I’m afraid it’s gonna happen anyway and it terrifies me to death.” 

She came to terms with the fact that you might never become hers, long before this. For all those years, Ellie yearned for you in silence, realizing she will accept any kind of role in your life, as long as she is part of it. Only now she was realising how dangerous this wish had become.

Because suddenly, there was a price. 

She was never more honest in her life than right now, displaying all of her worries in front of you. Displaying how important you were for her. For a moment, you thought, if there, perhaps, was more to her words. 

“You’re not gonna lose me, Ellie,” you whispered, slowly reaching for her hand, again. “That's just not gonna happen,” you intertwined your fingers with hers. 

“You don’t know that,” she mumbled, trying to pull away her hand but you stopped her. 

“I do. As long as I have a say in it,” you objected, stepping even closer. “No matter what you say, what you do. I’m not leaving. You can yell at me, for all I care—just like you did in my living room. But I told you then and I’m telling you now. I’m not leaving you, now or ever.” 

At that moment, Ellie suddenly didn’t know which thing she feared more. Whether it was the idea of losing you by her own force or knowing that despite her capacity to hurt you, you were never going to walk away.

Ellie couldn’t pull you into her darkness—but at the same time, she couldn’t leave you. You were her home, her whole world. Or at least, what was left of it. 

“Can you stay?” she pleaded, reaching for your other hand. 

You nodded, letting a fleeting smile slip onto your lips as you pulled her closer, wrapping both of your hands around her neck. She was hesitant at first but the second her body crashed against yours, she gave in. There was a sigh of relief escaping from her lips as she buried her head into your shoulder; tightly gripping your waist.

Making you realize how starved she must have been for that hug.

You stayed together in that little dressing room, lying together in the dark with Ellie’s hand caressing your cheek. You promised yourself to stay up and alert to watch over her but found yourself falling asleep in her arms. Now she was lying in front of you, studying your appearance, her mind drifting away to different ends. 

She wondered. About her. About you. 

She wondered if things were different, if perhaps, there was any other ending for you—one less threatening. She wondered if she would, under different circumstances, find the courage to finally confess. She wondered if the two of you would have a shot at having a relatively normal life together, despite the world you were living in. 

She wanted the best for you, and nothing less. She wanted to protect you. From the heinous world outside, and sometimes from herself as well. Looking at you, lying so peacefully next to her, she couldn’t help but think of Joel’s words. 

Perhaps now more than ever, Ellie was facing her own moral battle. There was someone in her life, someone for whom she would quite frankly walk to the edge of the universe and back. Someone whose life was carrying more value than her own. Feasibly, now she had a chance to understand the nature of his actions. 

When she had her own something to fight for. 

“Are you okay?” 

It was your voice that pulled Ellie out of her mind. 

She snapped out of her thoughts and saw your eyes.

“Did I wake you?” she whispered, concern in her voice. 

“No but you should’ve,” you chuckled. “I’m supposed to be making sure that you’re still breathing.” 

Ellie couldn’t help but laugh. “You’ve been doing that for the past couple of weeks. Now it’s my turn.” 

You felt her hand, still resting on your cheek. There was a look in her eyes that you could not quite define. In the darkness surrounding you, the two of you were staring into each other’s eyes.

Before she filled the silence with her voice. 

“Hey,” she mumbled, slowly drifting closer to you, her breath dancing on your lips. 

“Hm?” you raised your eyebrows, curious. 

“If things were different,” she whispered, guilt in her voice. “I would’ve given you a lot more than this.” 

Most of the time, Ellie struggled with her words. But now, it was crystal clear. In her own way, she made sure you knew how important you were.

For her.

You leaned closer, grabbing Ellie’s hand and intertwining your fingers. Only then, you looked into her eyes again and smiled, reassuring.

Message received.

“This,” you squeezed her hand, “is enough for me.”

“So, you think you can love even the least I can offer?” she whispered.

There was a smile on your lips. Smile that eased Ellie’s worried mind once you moved closer. “Been doing that for quite some time, already.”

She wanted to give you the world, that and so much more. In Ellie's eyes, that was what you deserved. She wanted to make sure you were going to be happy, despite the circumstances life had both given you.

Both of you were hoping for something else, for so much more.

Yet, you would never walk away. No matter the conditions you were under, you had each other. And that was enough. Enough to stay. Enough to do more than that.

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams fanfic #the last of us #tlou #tlou fanfic #ellie williams tlou #the last of us part ii #tlou2 #ellie seattle day 2 #tlou x you #tlou x reader #the last of us x you #the last of us x reader #tlou oneshot

[decarbry]

Noooooo but what's the UA staff and kids reactions to seeing nomuzawa? Like my heart low-key is breaking for them bc the teacher that just fought for them, with no regard to his own safety, was not only taken from them after stalling long enough for backup, but now he's a nomu and fighting them? And mic? Midnight? Allmight? Ughhhhhhh????!!! (But no o love this au so so much lmao)

I'm saving the actual Nomu reveal and reactions to it for later once I decide on a storytelling format but here are some initial reactions to the abduction

all of the students naturally share some level of guilt, even though they only knew Aizawa for a handful of days. nature of heroes in training and good hearts, plus, yeah, they watched this man sacrifice himself for their safety. this version of the event definitely impacts them harder than it does in canon. Not quite their Oboro moment but boy it's the closest so far any have had

Midoriya is Midoriya and is smart enough to know that in the end his (lack of) ability would never have been able to change the end result but still lets the failure riddle him for the rest of his life. Definitely still in crying mode this early on

Bakugou is left shell-shocked by this, possibly to an overreaction. As a tactician he also knows deep down he did his best (as a kid that has been in hero school for literally just a few days) but isn't willing to accept it. He should have been able to do something more. But we all know Bakugou and this is just fuel on the fire

All Might is understandably guilt-ridden as well, since he's "never failed to save someone after arriving", but the situation isn't as straightforward as one would think. It's one thing if a student is hurt/killed/taken but a pro is another, and Aizawa knew what he was getting into by jumping into a 1 v 40 combat scenario. That's just what pros sign up for. All Might is ready to leap into action the moment those investigating need assistance or have a location and certainly does some of his own investigating on the side as time allows

Thirteen feels frustration in herself initially but is able to take solace in the fact that she and Aizawa did what they were meant to do, and knows that Aizawa would be feeling the exact same way

Nezu makes only a single public statement out of respect for Aizawa's dislike of his name in the press, it's short and sweet and truthfully paints Aizawa as a hero that did his job and saved the lives of 20 students. He does commit the school's resources to assisting authorities in recovering the teacher but unfortunately that's where it ends since he needs to focus on the safety of the students as priority and UA can't just go around playing police (until the government makes them lmao)

Midnight was among the majority of the responding faculty that decided to arrive together in a show of power and so didn't witness Aizawa being taken, but is understandably very upset that one of her remaining high school friends is now gone. She's able to steady herself as a rock for Mic out of necessity (unhealthily suppressing her own more-volatile reaction for his sake) and is really the only reason Mic didn't just up and run out to do something unhelpful and reckless. In the hours after the event she cannot leave his side for fear of him running off

Mic is, naturally, the worst impacted. He refuses to wait for the teachers to gather into a group and ran in after All Might but before the rest, and so was the only pro/faculty to get a front-row seat to the abduction as All Might was distracted by the Nomu. He immediately wants to go guns-blazing but without any hint as to where Aizawa was taken or what they plan to do with him, is forced to sit by and wait. He ends up walking away from the school out of frustration after about a month without answers, but no one blames him and they're honestly just shocked he had the self-control to wait that long

#Yabureme Aizawa AU #nomu aizawa #boku no hero academia #text post #not art #haha if you read this whole thing you get a cookie

[aao1024]

Darlin'

Chapter 9

Series Masterlist

Warning: cursing, smut (finally)

As the day went on, they acted as though this had been their life for the past twenty years. Lee looks at her with admiration for being so loving and attentive to him. He loved the way she cared for him as if she was his wife, Y/n surpassed anything Florence ever did for Lee. He did not know how he could live without her by his side.

Y/n put herself in a routine while staying with Lee. Every morning is spent preparing breakfast and making a list of tasks that need done for the day. Y/n had been keeping up with the house chores as if that was her home.   

Her vacation days were coming to an end and she dreaded going back to her quaint apartment in the city. She loathed the idea of sleeping only with no one to hold her and bring her as much peace as Lee had over the past few weeks. Where she would make meals for herself and eat alone in unbearable silence. 

She stared at Lee with guilt, she hated the thought of packing her belongings and leaving him here to fend for himself like the lonesome bachelor he once was. She didn't want to have the conversation but she couldn’t just pack up and leave. The puppy love that they shared made any separation much more difficult than it needed to be. 

“Lee, I have to start packing tonight.” Y/n said with a saddened tone. 

“What are you talking ‘bout Darlin’, did I do something to upset you?” 

“Don’t be silly Lee, I’m not upset with you. I have to go back to work in a few days if I want to keep my job. So, I need to pack my things and go back to my place tomorrow.”

“Oh, okay Darlin’.” Lee said quietly. He looked like a child that had just broken their favorite toy. “I guess it has been a couple weeks now hasn’t it.”

Y/n heart broke at the sadness in his eyes and in his voice. She knew he would be okay without her but Lee is a sensitive man at heart and deep down dreaded being alone. Since he was not ready to go back to work he didn’t have anything to do except sit in his chair and wallow. 

“If it wasn’t for my job I would stay with you Lee, but I can’t lose my job. I can give you my phone number and you can call whenever you’d like.” She said in an effort to reassure him. 

She makes her way over to Lee in his chair. He looks up at her with sorrow and gestures for her to have a seat in his lap. She sat on his good leg and cuddled into his chest. He brought her into an embrace, holding her, afraid of losing her. Lee had never had someone care so much about him the way Y/n does. She made him feel like the only man in the world and he tried his best to make her feel the same. They sat quietly as Y/n rested her head on his chest and listened to the pounding of his heart and his steady breathing. They both stayed still in effort to make this moment last forever. Lee looked down and smiled at the sight in front of him, her breathing was heavy as she was resting in his embrace. Lee took his hand and brushed away the escaping locks of hair and tucked them behind her ear. He knew that no matter what would happen, he could never let her go. She was his breath of fresh air. He rubbed the outside of her thigh and made repetitive motions of drawing shapes and figures on her. 

Lee let her rest for a while before he woke her with a gentle brush of her cheek as he called her name. She slowly opened her eyes and was met with Lee’s smile. He had never smiled a lot in life but it was contagious when he did. As she attempted to sit up Lee pulled her back into his arms. She giggled at his actions and continued her attempts. 

“Lee you have to let me up, I need to get some cleaning done” she exclaimed as he tightened his grip and lightly tickled her sides. 

“I’m not letting you go Darlin’, you belong right here with me” he chuckled

Their laughter died down as they locked eyes. They looked at one another for a few moments before they both began to lean in. They were interrupted by the doorbell. Y/n quickly hopped off of him and Lee slowly rose up from his chair. He hobbled to the door and was met by a familiar face on the other side. His deputy chief, Wilson, had dropped by to check on Lee. 

“Wilson, good to see you. Is everything alright?” Lee questioned. Y/n curiously stood by his chair and made her way to the kitchen.

“Of course everything is alright, just wanted to check in on ya and see if you needed anything.”

“Well thank you, come on in and have a seat.” Lee opened the door and gestured for his guest to have a seat on the couch. The men seated themselves and began discussing Lee’s future return to work, Y/n made quick work in the kitchen and brought both men a glass of water. As she walked into the living room Wilson looked at her shocked to see that she was here. He continued their conversation waiting for her to leave the room before interrogating Lee.

“Lee, is that the lady who took care of you in the hospital?” He questioned

“Yes, but she is not just some lady. Her name is Y/n, she’s been helping me ‘round the house and taking good care of me.”

“So let me get this straight, you have a random woman you met at the hospital, living in your house and caring for you. And you have only known her for a couple weeks?”

“Well when you put it like that it sounds crazy.” Lee chuckled. “Look, she is a really great gal. We both have feelings that we are figuring out and she has been keeping me in check. It happened quite fast but we are both comfortable with this arrangement. However, she is leaving in a day or two to go back to work.” Wilson sat there and shook his head in disbelief. He was ultimately confused with how they had been casually living together for the last few weeks like it was no big deal.

“That is quite the arrangement, just be careful Lee.”

“You have nothing to worry about Wilson, she’s a good one.” Wilson shook his head in utter disbelief. “Well I should get down the road before the misses sends out a search party, I’ll see you later Lee.” Lee bids him farewell as he lets himself out.

Lee gets up from his chair in order to find Y/n. He finds he in the kitchen was dishes wearing an apron to prevent her dress from getting wet. Lee walks up to her and wraps his arms around her waist pressing himself against her, burying his head in her neck. He peppers her skin in small pecks.

“Lee, I have to get this done, so I can start packing.”

“C’mon Darlin’ I want you to pay attention to me.” He pouts

She dries her hands and turns around to become face to face with Lee. he smiles as he grabs her thighs and lifts her onto the counter, she squeals in fear that he will drop her.

“Lee, don’t pick me up like that, you are gonna hurt yourself.”

“Darlin’, you can tell me what to do all you want, but I will never stop picking you up. And I must say you look mighty fine sitting all pretty up here for me. Just as gorgeous as the day I met ya.” He then presses his lips into her jaw and litters her with his kisses. Making his way up to her lips as he grabs at her thighs and hips. She drapes her arms over his shoulders as she snakes her hand into his hair holding him close. As they break away for air Lee looks her up and down taking in the sight in front of him. Her swollen lips turn into a smile as she catches his stares.

“A picture would last longer Lee” she remarks. “Now I really need to start packing.” His smile quickly becomes a frown. He huffs and helps her down from the counter. He follows as she walks to the living room and watches as she packs her things. She sets out her nightwear and tomorrow’s outfit. Lee waits patiently for her to finish. She spins around and makes her way towards Lee. 

“Darlin’ let's go out for dinner tonight. I know a good place a couple towns over that would be nice.”

“That would be really nice Lee, let me get ready and we can head out.” She grabs her toiletries and heads to the guest bathroom. She always kept a nice dress in her bags, and it would be the perfect fit for tonight. It was a black A-line dress that hugged her figure just right. This gave him the time to make their reservation and head upstairs to get ready himself. He stood in front of his closet attempting to pick a nice outfit for tonight. He settled for his black slacks, a white button down and his black blazer.

He made his way downstairs to find Y/n gazing out the living room window at the neighborhood children playing together. He wishes he could read her mind at times like these. Did she want children? She was much younger than him and still had plenty of time to have children. 

“Darlin’, you ready to go?” She turned towards Lee and was taken back by his appearance. He looked so sophisticated and handsome, more than he already did. He took his time capturing her gorgeous curves in that dress, and knew that it would not stay on her long when they got back. Lee extended his hand out to her and she reached out to him. He led her to the garage and opened the door for her and gently closed it behind her. Lee hopped in the driver’s seat and made their way down the road. Y/n silently gazed out the window and took in her surroundings. She did not want this night to end. She knew she was falling for him even more than she thought she would. He rested his hand on the bottom of her thigh as he drove. 

They finally made it to a small town with many shops and restaurants that littered the town square. Lee led the way as they walked down the sidewalk towards the restaurant. He was concerned with how quiet Y/n was but did not want to impose. They entered the building, and were seated at a table by the front window. 

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

“Oh nothing Lee, just thinking about tomorrow and going back to work. I don’t want to leave.” She states as she grabs his hand that’s laying on the table.”

“Darlin’, it will be alright, I don’t want you to go either but it’s what you have to do. But for tonight let’s enjoy the night and forget tomorrow.” She nodded as they moved on to their usual topics, sharing stories of one anothers childhoods and lives before they met. The food was delicious but Lee thought Y/n’s food was better. She shook her head at his brown nosing. They took their time finishing their meals, Lee eventually paid the bill and they made their way back to his car. In the car they sat close together and just enjoyed each other’s company. They reached Lee’s house 30 minutes later. He parked the car in the garage. He turned the car off and sat quietly and shared glances. Lee’s eyes switched his gaze from her eyes to her lips repeatedly before he pulled her in swiftly and connected their lips. 

Lee moved down the seat and pulled her into his lap. 

“Lee let me get off, I’m going to hurt you.” she said in between kisses.

Lee stopped in his tracks, “Darlin’, what did I tell you about saying that. You are so god damn beautiful and I want you in my lap. You are not going to hurt me.”

“Lee I’m too-”

“Too what? And you better not say big because you're perfect, absolutely perfect and you’re all mine. Do you hear me? I don’t want you saying that again.” 

“Okay, Lee I won’t say it again.” he quickly resumed his action and let his hands wander her figure.

“Let’s go inside Lee.”

“Are you sure Darlin’, we can stop-”

“I’m sure” She climbed down from his lap and they made their way into the house 

Y/n grabbed Lee’s hand and led him up the stairs to the bedroom. She closed the door and turned to find Lee sitting on the end of the bed looking her up and down like a hungry animal. She tossed her heels to the side and made her way towards him. He grabbed her hips and pulled her down onto the bed with him. They had resumed the position they took in the car. Lee pulled down the zipper that began at the back of her dress as he toed off his shoes and took off his jacket without separating his lips from hers. Lee made his way off the bed and stripped down to his underwear. Y/n laid there breathless and took in the sight before her as he moved towards her, placing himself between her legs. He pushed the bottom of her dress up to put her beauty on display. She pulls the dress over her head as Lee leans down to kiss her thighs. He slowly works his way up, spending extra time at her breasts. As he reached her neck she wrapped herself around him. He tried to withhold the urge but he couldn’t help but buck his hips into her. Y/n moaned at this foreign feeling. 

“Lee please, I need you” he swiftly reached around to unhook her bra. He tossed it to the side and took her breast into his mouth. Swirling his tongue and watching her squirm underneath him. He works his way down her body and stops his kisses at her panty line.

“Darlin’, are you sure.” he asks, “Yes Lee, I’m sure”

He removes her underwear, tossing them to the floor to add to the scattered mess of clothing. He positions himself between her thighs and kisses her everywhere but where she wants him. Moments later he devours her as if she is his last meal. She snaps her legs closed in reflex, but quickly let’s go in order to not suffocate Lee.  He grabs both legs and pulls her back in and tossing her legs over his shoulders, she arches her back as he dives deeper. She moans as Lee continues, gasps for air as he inserts a finger with little resistance. Adding another to stretch her out. Lee can tell by her noises and movements, that no man has ever made her feel this way, making him even harder knowing she’ll be begging for more. He continues his actions bringing her closer to her climax. Her moans became louder as she laced her fingers in his hair, unknowingly pulling it too hard. 

“Lee please don’t stop, please Lee.” Lee grins as he hears her begging him to continue. He continues his actions as she moans his name reaching her climax. Lee stops once she releases his hair from her grip. As she lies breathing heavily, Lee removes his underwear and lays next to her. Caressing her face and bringing her gaze to him.

“You okay, Darlin’?”

“I’m more than okay Lee”

He smiled and got on top of her, littering her face and neck with his lips. Y/n captured Lee’s lips with her own and they became in sync. 

“Darlin’ are you sure, you are okay to keep going?” Y/n nodded her head “Darlin’, I need to hear you say it, that you are okay.”

“I’m okay”

Lee pumps himself a few times before he enters her. He groans as he seats himself in her fully. Her face contorted in pain, legs wrapped around him, nails digging into the skin of his arms. Lee hated seeing her in pain, he halted all movements and waited for her to relax underneath him before moving slowly. As he sped up she held onto him more and moaned in his ear. Send chile down Lee’s spine he continued his movements until he reached his climax with Y/n reaching her’s as well. 

“Fuck Darlin’, you fell so fucking good, gonna fill you up nice and full.” he said as came into her, and as she reached her own high. Lee laid his head in the crook of her neck as they both breathed heavily. 

Lee lifted his head and smiled at Y/n, “This means you're my girl now.”

“I’ve been yours since day one Lee.”

He kissed her and removed himself from her. Lee went to the bathroom and came back with a warm rag to clean her up. He handed it to her not wanting to be too overbearing. He then crawled into bed beside her, and she laid on his chest as their hearts began to slow down from the previous excitement. They quickly fell asleep in one another’s embrace with no regard for the loneliness to come.

Taglist: @eclecticpatrolroadlawyer @charmed-asylum @mrsyixingunicorn10

#lee bodecker x plus size reader #lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker x mid-size reader

[lickmeleclerc]

23+Pierre for the 150 words thingy prompts! Please and Thank you!

Omg good pairing! Thank you!!

“It’s hard to get used to…” “what is?” “Being someone that someone cares for…”

Pierre felt dazed, his head fuzzy with small giggles escaping his mouth as you both made your way through the long hotel hallway. His shoes catching on the carpet under him almost pulling both of you down. His body weight being mostly supported by you, his girlfriend. Unfortunately for you no giggles escaped your mouth and you felt more than sober not only responsible for yourself but your partner. Your eyebrows tightly knit as you continued on, the only thought in your mind besides getting Pierre to his room safely being why weren’t you invited to celebrate with him?

“You’re so beautiful mon amour” Pierre mumbled as he cupped your cheeks in his large hands after he fumbled to pass his keycard from his pocket moments before. A sigh and quick eye roll was as much of a response you could muster after sitting on your internal questions for too long. He didn’t seem to notice in this state as he licked his lips slowly letting his hands travel down your sides and stop at the waistband of your leggings you quickly threw on after answering his call for a ride.

“You’re drunk Pierre.” You stated maybe more bluntly than originally intended and stepped away to pull down the white bed sheets. Pierre hadn’t moved still standing and ever so slightly swaying from the alcohol coursing through him, clad in his white button up and black slacks. The only light in the room coming from the open curtains. Before leading him to the bed you click on the bedside lap and have him sit down.

“I’ll get you water.” You explain your actions before grabbing a complementary glass and filling it up in the bathroom sink. “I brought this from home too just in case.” You continue pulling out some extra strength Advil from your purse and place it beside the water on the nightstand. He watches every move closely with his bloodshot eyes. You take a seat on bed beside him and his gaze falls to your hands. Pierre quickly slides his fingers in between yours and squeezes slightly but doesn’t speak. Drunk Pierre was never this quite usually this boy would be boisterous and filled with laughter, he’s known as the life of the party or even known as THE party. Tonight is different and this silence spirals your thoughts even more, was just silence a reflection of guilt?

“L-let’s get your changed and in bed. I gotta get home.” You speak quickly and try to stand as your heart grows heavier because of your thoughts. His hand stays put keeping you seated. Pierre swallows hard and sucks in a deep breath getting ready to speak. You can’t bring yourself to meet his green eyes. You nibble on your bottom lip waiting for him to speak.

“Y/n it’s hard to get use to this.” He finally admits. You finally look at him but his gaze still rests on your intertwined hands. Your heart aches, is he about to admit he did something at the bar? Was this the admittance of guilt?

“To what?” You question softly dropping your gaze to your hands trying to soak up the feeling of his touch because this may be the last time.

“Être quelqu'un à qui quelqu'un tient” He mumbles quickly and in his native tongue. This wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. Pierre frequently spoke to himself in French when he was nervous or not confident enough to say something. After races he’d speak angrily in French when something didn’t go right before the press interviews and debrief with the team. You knew it was him building up his confidence to express himself so you waited knowing he’d repeat himself.

“Being someone that someone cares for…” He spoke again finally, again slower this time as if each word was too painful to admit. It was too vulnerable for him to admit if liquid courage wasn’t coursing through him. To see you set up his hotel room and get up in the middle of the night to help him home, no girlfriend let alone friend has ever done that for him. Not only tonight but all the little things you put so much effort into for him. You felt your heart burst as his words set in, your head turned to face him this time his gaze met yours, an unsure look was plastered on his as he awaited a response.

“I love you.” Was all that came to mind as you leaned in and kissed him, he kissed back fervently again cupping your cheeks and internally sighed in relief. “I’ll always care for you Pierre. Always.” You reassured as you ran your fingers through his hair.

“I know, you show that to me everyday. I always will care for you too Y/n.” He reasponded his accent thicker and eyes droopy giving away his tiredness.

“Can I stay?” You ask a small smile playing on your lips already knowing the answer.

“Of course la mignonne” He responded quickly as he discarded his shirt and scooted over in the bed.

A/N: thank you for sending in! I know it wasn’t the best but I hope I did it justice. And I do not know French I used google translate so apologies if it’s messed up.

#pierre gasly x y/n #Pierre gasly #pierre gasly imagine #Pierre gasly x reader #Pierre gasly imagines #pg #darlinlandowrites #formula one x reader

[flowingaura]

May 27, 2023

“You saw value in him that he didn’t see for himself. He had to settle in what he saw in himself.”

Hearing this statement stood out the most. Suddenly I had a memory I thought I’d never had to think about after watching a Tik-Tok video that stumbled onto my For You page.. The title of the video was “If you’re wondering why men ruin relationships for someone who is not at your level, this is why.”

My very first relationship with Matthew. It was a beautiful relationship that grew to Dangerously in Love. We were very passionate with one another that we grew together during High School which turned into a fucking nightmare. 

It was so toxic to the point we wanted to leave each other but we were in love with each other. In hopes we can go back to what we started together. Toxic lovers that needed each other. 

I was trying to find love in someone to build my own version representation of love pouring out of me. My home life turned toxic, built up anger, heartbreaks, sacrifices etc when a household gets tough for my parents starting a new life in a new country finally together. At this very moment I admit I never thought of it in this perspective when it comes to my parents POV. It makes me feel guilty for being a spoiled brat this whole time due to the fact my trauma runs so deep within me that it’s just my walking actions repeating the parasitic behavior. 

Going back to my first relationship.. we both were jealous when other’s had our attention and protective of keeping potential threats from someone who may had interests in us. For a period we were a power couple to others until things slowly turned to the opposite. I was running away from my home because I hated being strapped down at home and do nothing. I was so adventurous and young... like every young teen goes through when they’re in love with someone giving and wanting from each other. My Air sign with his Fire sign, we endlessly fed each other in order for our elements to fuse into each other and burn. 

So young to the point we suffocated each other, close in contact but distant internally. At times it felt like a saw going back and forth unknowingly cutting through chains weighing us down. 

“I’d rather have you hurt me than see you go”

When he brought up about needing space I just knew it was his way of slowing breaking up. To me it’s either be with me or not at all, there was no pause in between. He stopped showing interest and I found out he was talking to other girls just to get over me. I battled with trusting others and I trusted him and all I did was give and I only asked just to be loved properly. I was addicted to the love he gave and I wanted more each time. I cried so much feeling like I didn’t matter or was respected enough for him to do that when I focused on myself, be around my friends more and didn’t have interest with other guys. It took some time accepting to move forward to be happy if he needed space for himself. 

I picked myself up realizing those around me stayed but respected my time with him. I felt like shit, realizing I was that shitty friend that left them because I was engulfed in my relationship. My grades slowly started to get better, I was enjoying my Junior year in High School and I started to meet new people such as my classmate who happened to be my middle school crush. HA, it was a nerve wrecking moment. Still heartbroken at the fact Matthew left me to talk to other girls which made me jealous but accepted he didn’t need me anymore. So i moved forward with my life. Peter and I started to talk, Matthew didn’t like that one bit.. 

The only reason we started to get close was because our Marine Biology teacher, Mr. Rueda, seated us together, next to each other. My heart was racing so fast and I’ve never felt this way before. Matt was popping in my head at times out of guilt thinking if I did anything with Peter or even had feelings, I’m just cheating.. but then got reminded he’s doing everything else with other girls and Peter was the only guy that shared he cared for me as a classmate, a friend and someone who has interest in me this whole time. He respected me enough to have boundaries, hugged me when I needed comfort, instead of crying outloud into my pillow, he would just hug me and let me cry into his chest and yelled. 

He embraced me because he was the only one to hear me cry for help inside. My grades started to get better because we studied together. I learned how to drive manually, tried things I’ve never experienced like learning a new culture, his love for animals, put others before him, family oriented, and in his words “I put my heart on both sleeves” “I know you’re running away from the hurt but let me be the reason your heart heals and everything else.” 

biiiitch my heart exploded, I slowly felt love healing me, my mind, body and soul. When I thought things were getting better for me, Matthew decides to catch up with me and he saw how happy I’ve become and looked healthier (lost weight). He started to cry because he said he messed up and he thought he was better off without me. In my point of view, the girls he was trying to talk to probably didn’t have interest in him or got tired of using him etc he was trying to get me back and I was so dumb to let him back in. Matthew hated himself but hated Peter more. He turned crazy stalking me, asking others to keep an eye on me at my high school, coming to Peter’s home with a bat ready to hurt both of us. I felt disturbed by this and he fucked with my mental stability. I thought I was the problem but he was too. 

There was so much lying, trust issues and instability. 

Did I lose someone who could have made my life better? Yes, but this was my journey and my lesson to go through on my own. I own up to my actions knowing we both were toxically in love with one another. I forgive you Matthew for hurting me and I hope you forgive me for hurting you too. We didn’t robbed each other of our youth, we were just teens falling in love for the first time and we just gave to each other the way we knew how to love. 

It was just hard for us to let go because of the “what ifs” “I could change” and the two words that we needed to hear. “I’m sorry.”

It was a beautiful relationship that led to a dangerous level.

#forgiveness #spilled ink

[skellebonez]

From the prompt list, how about General #50 with whoever you want from Monkie Kid?

I’m adding an extra note here that THIS is the fill my cats wouldn’t let me finish. I ended up scrapping the original fill and rewriting it completely because I lost my train of thought after the 3rd instance of one of them climbing onto my keyboard for cuddles. (On the bright side, the cats are happy and sleeping soundly now.)

“I didn’t know where else to go.”

Pigsy stared in disbelief at the absolutely drenched person in front of him. It was one of the odd days the weather station had planned rain for and almost everyone chose to remain inside or take proper precautions when going outside.

Everyone... except the Monkey King it seemed.

He was absolutely drenched, clothes hanging off his form in a sad mimicry of his regalia, armor completely missing. His hair was flattened against his scalp, phoenix feather cap that normally adorned it held loosely in his hand. His tail hung limp behind him, tip barely thumping against the back of his leg, and his ears drooped just enough to make Pigsy realize something was really bothering the other ancient.

“I... I didn’t want to be alone...” He offered as explanation, voice flat and dull and nothing like the boastful and loud person Pigsy remembered. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

His first reaction to seeing Sun Wukong for the first time, storm drenched and at his doorstep, in 500 years was anger. But at those words... he just couldn’t hold onto it. Not entirely anyway. The fact he could have gone to anyone else, Sandy or MK especially, but chose to come to him? The one person who would probably tell him to kick rocks and get lost? He supposed that meant something.

“I didn’t wanna be alone either,” He finally said, moving out of his doorway to let the ancient monkey step inside. He had a good idea about why he was here. He stopped on the welcome mat, just far enough that Pigsy could shut the door behind him, and didn’t take another step. “You just gonna stand there?”

Wukong lifted up a dripping wet arm, looking at it forlornly. Oh, he was... really down... he hadn’t seen him like this since he was burnt up, back when Red Son still went by Red Boy. “Your floor...” he finally offered vaguely, earning an annoyed groan in return.

Pigsy grabbed his sleeve and dragged him farther inside, guiding him to the bathroom and shoving him into it. “Dry off. There’s a guest robe in the cabinet. Join me in the kitchen when you’re done.” was all he left him with before grabbing a towel slamming the door (gently) behind him and drying up the hallway before heading to the kitchen himself.

It took longer than expected for Wukong to come out, especially since he heard Tang’s hair dryer being used (when he came back from late volunteer work at the library he would NOT be telling him about that), but when he came out looking like he had gained twice as much fur as he normally had and looking less like a sad limp noodle and more like a disgruntled cat Pigsy understood why. And poorly held back a few snickers at his expense. But he didn’t say anything, gesturing to the two bowls of simple noodles he had made in the meantime.

They sat at the table together, eating together and slowly but surely Wukong looked more calm and relaxed. Still sad, but relaxed.

This wasn’t how he expected to spend their old Master’s birthday, but it was better than what he planned. He just hoped Tripitaka was alright alone.

#SOMEONE has some deep seated GUILT about their actions #macaque couldn't be the only person I picked on with guilt related angst this week #pigsy: when will you learn? WHen WIll yOu LEARN? THAT YOUR ACTIONS HAVE CONSEQUENCES!?? #this is the second time I have used this tag #will not be the last i guarantee it #pigsy #monkey king #sun wukong #monkie kid #lego monkie kid #theoretically wukong could fly up to heaven and see him #BUT #then he would have to face the consequences of his life choices #and he ain't ready to unpack all that #prompt fill

[imagineimpact]

Could i request Diluc angst oneshot where reader and him get into a big disagreement or argument where Diluc makes them cry and feel really bad about themself so they go and end up hanging out with Kaeya a bit much cause he offered to cheer reader up and Diluc won't apologize. until he see's his s/o hanging out with Kaeya

I actually wrote 2 different versions of the ending for this, but this is the one I decided to go with! If you want the more angsty version do let me know.

Anyway,

Harsh Words

Diluc x Reader

Screaming. Yelling that could be heard throughout the Dawn Winery residence late into the night, heard only by the maids, the night security, and perhaps a late worker or two.

And of course, by the two individuals who held the voices.

It was rather unusual for the two of you to be at odds; and, on the occasion in which you were, it wasn’t nearly to this degree.

But the two of you were outright screaming at each other. It wasn’t even about one thing anymore - it was everything. Whatever you had been arguing about had reached the point of irrelevance; It never should have reached this point and you knew that, but you were under fire and you couldn’t stop.

All you knew was that this was Diluc’s fault, and that you couldn’t take this kind of argument.

“If you just thought about your actions for once-”

You cut him off, “Oh don’t try me with that, you’re the one treating me like I’m an idiot and trying to control my-”

“If you had just listened for once and been less of a selfish bitch then I wouldn’t have to!”

His words had cut far deeper than either of you had expected, and you physically recoiled at the words, a sudden wave washing over you which forced tears from your eyes. The truth in his words was irrelevant - It felt true, even if it wasn’t.

You turn away from him. In spite of your state, he makes no move toward you. None, not even to give you the slightest feel of any comfort. You knew - he wanted the words to cut through you.

You go to the door and slip on your shoes, leaving the room as fast as you humanly could.

You can’t take this anymore.

But you don’t make it past the front door. As if by telepathy, Diluc has two of his night security waiting by the door in a stance showing you that they’re ready to make sure you don’t leave. They block your path, silent in their menace. When you turn around, only then do you notice Adelinde and Hille quietly staring at you. Diluc’s footsteps down the stairs are a slow horror, an even pace which served to only emphasize that feeling of dread; Very easily, this felt like the perfect time to be murdered.

The drawl of footsteps approach, yet cease a few meters away - he’s far too distant to do anything himself. His eyes lock on yours, quietly assessing you.

“Diluc, let me leave.” You hiss through streaming tears. You nearly choke on the tension in the air.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. His eyes don’t show any expression, show any remorse or guilt, or even happiness. Truly, there is nothing in his eyes.

“Let me make myself clear: You are not leaving this premises in the middle of the night. Do you understand me?”

“Not even slightly.”

Silence. His eyes flicker, the way they do when he sees an abyss mage, or when Kaeya makes a comment that goes a little too far - pure anger.

“Adelinde, fix up the guest room.”

“No need. I’ll be leaving now.” You scoff.

Diluc tilts his head, peering over you and towards his security as if to say ‘don’t you fucking dare let them through’.

Then another look, and you feel yourself being pushed into the house again, the slam of the doors behind you.

A wave of anger washes over you, and you can’t help the excess of tears that fall, harder now than they had been before.

Diluc holds his ground, staring at you silently. You shake your head and look away, not sure what to do with yourself. Their staring puts you in pure disarray.

“Adelinde.”

“Yes, sorry.” She mutters, bowing and taking her leave in the direction of the guest bedroom in order to prepare it for you.

When she’s gone, you shake your head. “I’m not going to be sleeping.”

“Then stay in your room. I don’t care.” He huffs, turning away and wandering back up the stairs, his footsteps seeming less menacing now.

The argument was done.

Your eyes catch a light outside the window, seeming to exist a far distance away. Maybe it was the fire of a hilichurl camp.

What time was it? Surely the sun would be up soon anyway.

Fine. You would leave then, no matter what.

When you got to your room, you actually did manage to sleep. Not nearly enough; An hour was nothing in the long run, but it was still just slightly enough to not feel entirely exhausted.

Still, the sun was up when you arose, and you lay in the bed, uncertain as to what would happen when you left the room.

If Diluc wasn’t going to apologise, you wanted nothing to do with him.

So, after a little while of resting, it was a surprise to hear a knock at the door. You were summoned to breakfast. Nearly the entire time, you and Diluc sat across from each other - an oddity indeed considering he would always insist that he wanted you seated beside him - this time, however, you were as far from his as possible within the confines of the seated table. The usually empty seat felt hard beneath you, not softened by an everyday presence. Your usual seat to his right - where your plate had been placed before you had taken it to where you were now - was empty.

Neither of you could look into each other’s eyes. The silence, broken only by the light clinks of cutlery, felt burdenous.

You expected him to say something, anything really. You could barely eat the food on your breakfast plate, and without any words, you didn’t feel all too comfortable anyway. You let out a quiet sigh and stood up, tucking in your chair and lifting your plate to take it back to the kitchen.

“Where are you going?” Diluc’s voice was quiet but the harshness in it was unmistakable.

“I’m not hungry.” You looked down at the plate in your hands. “I’m going to Mondstadt.”

Diluc stood up suddenly, pushing back his chair and stepping close to you. The sudden movement caused you to shutter slightly, and he pulled back a bit. Still, he tore the plate from your hands and placed it on the table. “When you return, be ready to have a serious conversation.”

Oh.

You opened your mouth to speak, but then huffed and turned away. “Right. I’ll look forward to getting yelled at again.”

Diluc scoffed, “Stop acting like a petulant child.”

“I’m not doing this right now, Diluc.” Your feet are moving before you can even think about it. This time, as you approached the door, no one was there to stop you. You left with no present company to watch over you, and you knew that today was going to be a long, long day.

——

Mondstadt thrives with life, as per usual. Because of how bright and pleasant the place is, any spec of gloom is extremely obvious on a day like this.

You took to the adventurers guild to take some commissions. Maybe killing some hilichurls or slimes would take your mind off of it all, or maybe just delivering some needed materials to someone.

The entire time you had been speaking to Katheryn, you felt eyes watching you, but you didn’t want to make it obvious you knew. Alas, it was only moments later that you startled at the feeling of a hand on your shoulder.

“No need to be so surprised.” The familiar voice chuckles beside you.

“Good morning, Kaeya.” You let out a soft sigh, the exhaustion of the day before wearing into you. You thanked Katheryn and turned your attention to Kaeya. His eyebrows twitched and his expression shifted as he studied you.

“What happened?” He asks rather blatantly, eyes clouding over. “Was it Diluc?”

You took a deep breath. “Wanna join me for commissions?”

Kaeya scans your eyes. “As long as you tell me what’s wrong.”

“Come on.” You nod, wandering out of Mondstadt with him.

The slowly falling night brought you back to Mondstadt. You agreed to go to the tavern with Kaeya, a subtle kind of thank you for spending time with you today. It wasn’t like you were doing anything else anyway.

The tavern was already busy before you got there, people crowding around for a nights drink. You subconsciously step towards Kaeya as if shading yourself away from the crowded atmosphere and he is wary of your proximity. He draws you to his side, a friendly notion, and steps inside before you.

Charles waves at you both from behind the counter. Kaeya quickly orders a round of drinks and takes you to a table away from the bar.

“Hey, look who’s been dragged in.” Rosaria wanders over, quietly making soft chatter with you. It wasn’t unusual for the two of you to spend some time together.

Kaeya eventually wanders away, grabbing your drinks and bringing them back over.

Time seemed to dwindle away, the mindless chatter with your friends giving you more than ample distraction from anything else that might have been happening.

“Master Diluc! Didn’t expect to see you here today.” Charles’ voice rings out.

Of course, that wasn’t going to last long.

You lift your head slightly, tensing up. Diluc is scanning the room, twisting his wrist lightly as he speaks quietly to Charles; The words miss you. You freeze as your eyes lock. For just a moment you’re caught in that discerning gaze before he nods at you and turns back to talk to Charles. Kaeya draws your attention back away, and you slip back into your conversation, not wanting to deal with anything else.

“I’ll get another round.” Rosaria gets up and makes her way through the tavern, leaning over the bar and making another order for the table.

“How many are we on?” You ask, already flushed from the… how many glasses had you even had?

“Five.” Kaeya laughs, leaning on your shoulder. “But now that the killjoy’s here, he’ll stop us from having our well-earned fun.”

“I heard that.” Diluc scoffed, passing by you.

“Good.” Kaeya wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer to him, more out of a delicate affection than anything else. Diluc’s eyes narrow at his brother, who just laughs in response.

“Get your hands off of-“

“Oh don’t worry, brother. I would never keep them somewhere they don’t want to be.” Kaeya mocks. “You, on the other hand, can’t say the same.” Even with his words, he loosens his hold on you and leans back a bit.

Rosaria returns with your round, greeting Diluc casually as she slips back into her seat. Your pissed off boyfriend wanders away back to his work.

It clicks in your hazy mind that the only reason he’s here is likely because you are. You laugh at the thought, then clink your tankard to the group and drink.

—

As the evening wears down, many people in the bar until it’s pretty much only your group and a few others left there. Diluc lets out a soft sigh as he watches you, trying to soften that jealous pounding of his heart. He takes a sip of his own drink - apple cider, of course. He could never slam back drinks the way that your group currently were. Where had the hours gone?

Oh, no. How many drinks had you had? Whatever was next, he swore to himself that he would make sure that it was watered down. At this rate, you were pretty much welcoming alcohol poisoning with open arms.

Kaeya, wobbly as ever, decides to be the one to approach the bar this time (mostly because Rosaria was leaning against the table, head folded into her arms as she groaned). Diluc shook his head. “No, no. The three of you will drink this whole tavern dry if I don’t stop you.”

“Oh, I’m not here to get any more.” He leans on the countertop. “I just want to know what the hell you did.” Kaeya motions over to you. You’re just giggling at Rosaria’s complaining, leaning over and patting her on the head.

“I’m not talking to you about this.” Diluc leans back, crossing his arms stubbornly.

“Suit yourself.” He straights up. “I should probably get her out of here before you say something stupid.”

“I’m not going to be saying anything stupid.” Diluc shakes his head, looking over the list of all the drinks you’ve had this evening. “You’re all wasted.”

“And yet, you haven’t said last call.”

Seemingly to spite him, DIluc immediately does. He signals over to Charles to round up the remaining people. He knew to leave you last.

Kaeya’s laugh is enough to haunt him. “You make this right, Diluc.” He runs his finger over the counter. “Otherwise I will.”

“Get out of my sight.”

The cavalry captain laughs again, then wanders over to your table. He practically drags Rosaria back up, but she pushes away from him and made her own way to the counter - always a good spirit, she paid for her own portion of drinks and left. Being a nun, she probably didn’t need to use the money elsewhere.

Kaeya was two steps away from just carrying you out the door, but through his drunk mind he finds the clarity to understand just how absolutely inappropriate that would be to do, especially in front of Diluc. Alas, you lean on his shoulder as he assists your steps.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Diluc’s voice calls out, as if to stop you both.

“Usual billing.” Kaeya calls back.

“No, no.” You both look back at him. He shifts on his feet, eyes locking with yours. “I’ll be damned if you go home with him.”

“Then damned you are.” You roll your eyes, turning away.

He calls your name softly. “Step away from him. Come here.”

You take a deep breath. “I am so glad I don’t have to remember any of this.”

Diluc places a glass of water in front of you. “Drink this. You wreak of alcohol.”

“And you wreak of your hatred.” You sit down in front of him, knowing that it wasn’t about to get better.

Diluc’s eyes flicker up to Kaeya. “Get out.”

“Not happening.”

“Kaeya, this doesn’t concern you.”

“Their safety is more than enough concern.”

“It’s alright, Kaeya, just wait outside.” You pipe in, not wanting even more stress.

Kaeya agrees, quietly slipping out the door. Charles is told to escort him away, an act which may have varying success.

Either way, you sat in front of Diluc, not sure what exactly to say to him.

“I’m tired, Diluc. I’m tired of this. I can’t put up with-“

“I’m sorry.” He blurts out, interrupting you. “Please, hear me out.”

“I’m not going to remember-“

“Then I’ll tell you again when you will.” He leans over the counter, not wanting to be apart from you. He calls your name again, as if to hold your attention, “Can we talk about this?”

“I think we talked about this already.” You groan. “Yesterday, plenty of yelling. The Maids and guards can confirm.”

Diluc takes a long breath out. You lift the glass of water and take an even longer sip.

Maybe the barrier of the counter between you made you feel better. But, as tears sprung to your eyes, you felt so, so much worse.

“Do you hate me?” You ask, your voice squeaking. “Do you want to break up with me.”

“No, Y/N.” He reaches for your hands, but you had pushed your stool too far away from him beforehand that he couldn’t. He circles around the bar and gently grabs both of your hands, soft enough in his hold for you to be able to pull away. “Don’t ever say that. I love you.”

“Then, why?” You sob, turning your face away from him, hands still in his. “Why did you yell at me? Why wouldn’t you talk to me this morning?”

“I…“ Diluc stops himself, taking a deep breath. “I was angry. We were both angry.” He shifts, pulling out a stool and sitting in front of you. “I wasn’t acting rationally.”

“When you said you wanted to talk this morning, what were you going to say?”

Diluc hesitates, gripping your hands just a little bit harder. “I was going to ask… I was going to ask if you were happy.” He admitted, quietly. “But I can’t do that. I can’t put you through that.”

You tug him toward you, pulling his hands close to your face. “Why would you say that? I love you.” You sob into his soft skin.

He takes his hands away from your gently, slipping them around your waist and pulling you close to him, into his lap. He tightens his grip. “I’m sorry.” He repeats. “I’m so sorry. I never want you to cry.” He feels his heartbeat heavily in his chest, a distraught washing over him. “Don’t ever destroy yourself like this again.” He runs a hand over your back.

You don’t say anything. You’re way too drunk for many more coherent thoughts to pass your lips. You lift your head and plant a soft kiss on his cheek, and he softly kisses your forehead, pulling you back to his chest so that you don’t try to kiss him anymore - He wasn’t about to let that happen, you were far too drunk.

Diluc was ashamed of his thoughts. His guilt, rising only when he saw you in the present company of his brother, showing affection and finding comfort anywhere except for him. He didn’t want to admit it to himself, nor to you, but as you cried into his shoulder, he couldn’t help the wave of disappointment in himself that washed over. Why could he never be there for the people who needed him most?

“Come on, finish your water, let’s get you home.” He insists, though he holds you tightly still until you stir.

You take the water, sipping it with a slight indignance. He would have to apologize to you again in the morning, but he would do anything to get you to trust him again.

(Part 2 here)

#genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin impact scenarios #genshin x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin diluc #diluc ragnvindr #diluc #diluc ragnivindr x reader #diluc x reader #diluc x gender neutral reader #diluc imagines #diluc x you #diluc x y/n #diluc angst #diluc hurt/comfort #genshin fic #diluc fic #imagineimpact

[pennylaneforthoughts]

After some thinking, a conversation with my sister-in-law with a psych degree, and a couple of sessions with my godsend of a therapist, I think I've finally put my finger on the thing about Mobius that Loki (and a lot of the fandom tbh) so quickly latched onto like a man dying of thirst at the first sign of water:

Unconditional positive regard.

This concept is at the core of client-centered psychology and basically is a stance that a therapist will take in relation to their client, where they simply accept and support their client as a person, regardless of what they do or say.

My therapist uses this framework with me, and when the Loki series came out, I immediately saw Mobius and was like "holy crap, this man has the exact same energy as Sami what???" And I couldn't for the life of me figure out why until I was talking about it with my sister-in-law and she mentioned unconditional positive regard. And then it clicked.

Mobius radiates unconditional positive regard from the minute he meets Loki in episode 1, and arguably even from the first time we even see him onscreen. He approaches everyone he interacts with using a basic framework of "I see you and care about you as a person, and nothing you do or say can change that," so we immediately get the impression that this man is soft, kind, and shaped like a friend. However, it's most obvious and pointed in his interactions with Loki.

While yes, Mobius' primary objective in episode 1 is to interrogate Loki, it's important to note that it's not an interrogation where Mobius is trying to find proof of guilt for a crime like we'd see in a typical detective procedural. Rather, Mobius is trying to see if this variant of Loki is self aware enough to be able to help him in his hunt for Sylvie. It's fundamentally a test to find out Loki's current place in his emotional and psychological development. It is not maliciously intended, and it is not designed to harm Loki. On the contrary, the intent is clearly to help Loki begin to come to terms with the reality of who he is and the choices he has made.

In fact, the whole time this is happening, Mobius very purposefully strives to foster an environment where Loki knows that A.) Mobius sees him. Truly sees and knows him. B.) Despite knowing what Loki is and what he's done, Mobius loves him and regards him positively, and C.) nothing Loki can do or say will change that positive regard.

Loki, however, is super not used to receiving unconditional positive regard. He has no idea how to respond to it. He feels like it's a trick, like there's another shoe just waiting to drop. I related to him hardcore in this scene because that's exactly how I felt when my therapist presented me with unconditional positive regard for the first time. It's confusing and strange and difficult to believe at first. Especially because it sets the stage for honest self reflection and personal growth that can be incredibly painful.

Loki is not a perfectly innocent person. He has done a lot of really bad things and hurt a lot of people in his life. He has a lot of very deep seated trauma that has informed these actions, but he still made those choices and he needs to take responsibility for them. This is not a fun process. Mobius knows this is actually a really awful, sucky process. But he also knows that change and growth requires two things: acknowledgement that a change needs to be made and the expectation that change can and will occur when properly cultivated. Mobius clearly laying out the reality of Loki's actions and who he is in the Sacred Timeline is the first part of that equation, and his unflappable, unconditional positive regard towards Loki as a person despite knowing that reality cultivates an environment for the second part to flourish.

"By definition, it is essential in any helping relationship to have an anticipation for change. In the counseling relationship, that anticipation presents as Hope—an optimism that something good and positive will develop to bring about constructive change in the client's personality. Thus, unconditional positive regard means that the therapist has and shows overall acceptance of the client by setting aside their own personal opinions and biases. The main factor in unconditional positive regard is the ability to isolate behaviors from the person who displays them." (source)

Mobius is not Loki's therapist, but he does take on a therapeutic role in Loki's life. He shows Loki that he is fully aware of all of Loki's faults and mistakes. He's seen them over and over again and knows them by heart because it's his job. And in the face of all of that he looks at Loki and says that he doesn't see him as a villain. That he likes him anyway and believes that Loki has the potential to help him and what he believes is the cause of good. (Yes the TVA is corrupt, but neither of them know that at this point, and the fact that both Mobius and Loki believe this to be the side of good to varying degrees is important here)

Mobius maintains this regard throughout the series and his subsequent interactions with Loki and when talking about Loki to Ravonna and others, and it's a big part of why Loki so quickly trusts and feels comfortable around Mobius. I know some people say it's unrealistic how fast it was, but it made a lot of sense just based on my experience. I mean, after one (1) session with my therapist, I was 100% ride or die for him, and it was kind of absurd. But the feeling of being seen like that is so potent when you're starved for it, that extreme reactions to it make a lot of sense. And if anyone's starved for unconditional positive regard, it's Loki.

Mobius is only human though, and he's not perfect at this. Over the course of the series, it's clear that Mobius has emotionally invested a lot in his Loki, and he struggles to maintain a professional distance, though he usually is able to keep his head enough to give Loki that positive regard he needs. The only time we see this regard slip is in episode 4 when Mobius is feeling betrayed and jealous. In these moments, Mobius is unable to step back from his feelings enough to get into a headspace where he can separate Loki's actions from who he is. He calls Loki an asshole and a bad friend, and it comes from a place of hurt and jealousy. It's also what drives Loki into a defensive mode we haven't seen since episode 1. He's no longer receiving that unconditional positive regard from Mobius and he feels betrayed. He worries that maybe it was all an act in the first place and Mobius never really cared for him at all. For the first time, Loki feels like Mobius doesn't see the best in him anymore and it hurts.

Mobius' unconditional positive regard was genuine, though, and this is reinforced in the subsequent scenes where we see him act on his instinctual desire to assume the best of Loki and investigate his claims. We see it again when he returns to Loki and he reaffirms both his desire to trust Loki and his belief that Loki can be "whoever, whatever he wants to be, even someone good." At this point, Loki is able to accept it and no longer pushes back against Mobius' belief in Loki's goodness and that he "has within himself vast resources for self-understanding, for altering his self-concept, attitudes, and self-directed behavior." He's grown and begun to see himself in a more realistic and positive light and it's a direct result of the time Mobius has spent cultivating that relationship based on unconditional positive regard.

That's why their relationship feels so comfortable and satisfying. Unconditional positive regard isn't only a therapy principle. It's something everyone craves in a relationship. To be seen as you are, flaws and mistakes and quirks and all is terrifying and mortifying, but when that person then just smiles and says I love you anyway because you are not your mistakes and you are not your flaws and nothing you can ever do or say can change how I feel about you, the relief and joy and comfort is more than worth the discomfort. So I think the idea that Mobius can look at someone as deeply flawed, broken, and jaded as Loki and love him exactly as he is right there and then, eyes wide open and smiling, believing that beneath it all Loki has the potential to be good, gives us hope that someone could do the same for us. I know that's what Lokius does for me, at least. Mobius represents to me the ideal of unconditional positive regard, and having an image of what that looks like in the character of Mobius gives us the opportunity to apply it to ourselves when we may not get it elsewhere in our lives. And I, for one, think that's very sexy of him.

#lokius #wowki #loki #mobius #loki x mobius #mobius my beloved #He is my comfort character and this is why #Also this is low key homework from my therapist bc my attachment to this man has become a literal tool in my therapist's belt #And it's both excellent and embarrassing lmaoooooo

[plush-rabbit]

The Perverse Angel and His Wicked Thoughts

Direct Continuation to Divinity in Impurity

Word Count: 2.8K

A/N: Please forgive me for the awful title. I just had no idea how/what else to title it

-

Simeon never knew what true anxiety felt like until he’s back standing in front of your door. His knees feel weak, his heart beating against his chest, echoing and shattering his ribs into sharp pieces that cut into his skin and make him choke on his own blood. His breath is shallow and when he knocks against the wood, you’re quirk to open the door with a smile on your face. You let him enter your room with a wave and a smile, quickly going in for a hug when he’s inside, letting the door click close behind the both of you.

Stepping inside of your room, he’s acutely aware of everything that goes on inside, the way that your scent is heavy in the air, consuming every object, how you walk so freely without a care, trusting him with your safety, knowing that he would never do anything so harmful and perverted to you. Blood is bitter on his tongue, his teeth piercing against the insides of his cheeks when he accidently bites a bit too hard. He hisses, a hand wavering to cup his cheek but he falters, repulsed by his bare hand. And yet, you’re quick to come to his aid, worry in your eyes and your lips parted asking if he’s okay. Your touch is warm, different from his own and he jumps at your contact, stepping around you to walk and sit on your bed. He can’t bear to feel your touch, not when he just did something so awful- so grotesque and perverted.

The bed dips under his weight, his teeth worrying at his bottom lip and his eyes are glued on your figure, sweat beading at his forehead as you walk towards. He sits on your bed, his hands shaky and when you question his nervousness, he waves it off. It’s nothing- really, don’t pressure him. Guilt has started to eat him, sinking its teeth into his skin and while he can’t look at you, you make no comment about it, sitting beside him, your legs seated under you.

You hand cups over his and he lets his head fall, his muscles tense as you call his name. His hand goes rigid, and while you hold the top of his hand, your fingers slip between the spaces of his and you hold tightly to his hand while he just sits there.

“Simeon,” you whisper, giving his hand a squeeze, “can you look at me?”

Something catches in his throat, his lungs devoid of air, deflating into nothing as he shakes his head. His lips are pulled thin, any breath that he tries to take is through his nose, a deep inhale that is shakily released through his parted lips. How could he ever look at you when he did what he did? How could he even allow you to hold his hand? It’s his own deviance that clutches around his chest and drags him further into the dark pool that is his sin.

“Is this about what you saw?” Your voice is gentle, concern and puzzlement laced into your words as your knee bumps against his. “Sim, I told you that it was okay.” He can hear the smile, reassuring that what he saw wasn’t anything bad but you don’t know what he did. His legs begin to bounce, shaking the bed and his lips grow dry. “You don’t have to feel guilty over it. I should have told you that I was changing or even locked the door.” A playful chuckle fills the room and when he remains unresponsive, your hand slowly uncurls and slips away.

His hand is left cold and empty, a foreign feeling that he does not welcome. Quickly, his other hand clasps over yours, trapping it against his wrist. He takes shaky breaths, his chest wavering with every inhale and exhale. With your hand under his, he shakes, and releases his hand from you, apologizing under his breath. Immediately, he misses the feel of your hand.

You take in a sharp inhale, your shoulders slumping and his heart drops. You’ve allowed him to enter your room, you held his hand and yet, he’s here, with his innocence tainted and forever blemished by his actions. “Simeon-”

“I- I’m so sorry.” He covers his face with his hands, and he recoils away from his touch. His teeth are gritted and he turns to you, his brows wrinkling his face and he wonders how pathetic he looks to you. “I- I’m so sorry,” he repeats, his voice breaking and his stomach twists into tight knots.

Instead of disgust, you smile sadly at him, your hands coming out to hold the hand that he had used to masturbate to you. He wonders if you’d turn away from him, if you’d wipe your hand from his touch, if you knew what he had done.

The look that you give him is enough to make a storm of butterflies form in his stomach. “I already told you-”

Acid bubbles in his throat, burning and making it harder to breathe with every passing second. He doesn’t want to lose the friendship that he has with you, but he can’t live with himself if he doesn’t tell you. A prayer starts to form, a simple thought that is burst with judgement on him. Your words are distant and he isn’t sure what you’re saying, he can’t hear you but he can see and feel you. He can see your smile, how your eyes dart to the door and the soft feel of your hand. He feels as if he’s being choked, a tight grip around throat has tears brimming in his eyes. He wonders how much of himself is clouded from the eyes of God. He feels too much, his worry and guilt bubbling over that leaves him feeling exposed. “I masturbated to you.” There’s a pause in the room, your eyes blinking owlishly as you try to comprehend the words. “I- I’m sorry,” he mutters, looking at the floor, leaning away from you but he still lets his hand be held in yours. Shock settles as the words have filled the room, slowly filling your mind. “I-” He deflates and stops talking.

Neither of you speak for some time, words clutched at your heart and his stuck on his throat. He wishes he could take back the words, but he can’t deny the sweet relief that he felt when he confessed. Your hand slowly pulls away and he wants to cry and collapse onto his knees, begging for forgiveness.

“You-” you start, pursing your lips together- “You masturbated to me?” He nods, believing that he is unworthy to even speak to you after what he did. “Before you came- Er, When you arrived the first time to my room?”

He supposes he deserves the questioning and the sick feeling that settles in his stomach. “When- When I saw you I had fled and when I arrived at my room, I- I had-” He fits back a sob. He’s never felt so dirty.

“Simmy,” your voice is calm, and your hands return to him. Hsi eyes are wide and without knowing what’s going on, you pull him close to your chest, letting his forehead rest on your shoulder. Your hands curl over the back of his head, cradling him gently. “It’s okay, sweetheart; don’t cry.” Your kindness only makes him sob, his body shaking and his hands, as dirty as they are, clutch to the back of your shirt. “You- It’s fine. You don’t have to feel bad or anything. I mean-” you shift under him and he fears that it’s discomfort and rejection, so he clutches tighter at you and pushes himself further into you. “Sh,” you whisper, threading your fingers through his hair, “I’m not going anywhere. Just relax, okay?”

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, turning his head, his breath hot against your neck. “I- I was weak. Please forgive me.” You smell sweet, the overlapping of your cream invades his senses but underneath, he can smell you, your scent that calls out to him and it only makes him want to cling tighter to you. He doesn’t want to separate himself from your embrace even if it's something out of pity. “Please, don’t leave me.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Simmy,” you say softly, rocking him gently in your arms. “You’re okay. I’m not mad or anything, I’m-” you let out a laugh, it’s short and humorless- “I’m actually a bit er- honoured? No, flattered.” His eyes widen and he pulls away from you, tears streak against his cheeks and he looks at you with wide eyes. Your body shifts under his gaze and you force yourself to look at him. “I think it’s kind of sweet actually. Well, not sweet, but hot?” You give him a smile, and while it doesn’t reach your eyes, he knows that it isn’t something bitter. “I kind of assumed you hadn’t felt anything to me and well, while masturbating isn’t a confirmation of feelings, I’m flattered that you find me attractive enough to jerk off at the thought of me.” You swallow nervously and you look away from him. “I’m talking too much, aren’t I?”

“No!” He says, holding your hands in his. “I- How could I not find you attractive? I- You’re the only human- the only being who ever made me feel so- so-” his hand clutches over where his heart would rest, twisting the fabric in his hands- “so alive,” he breathes out. “When I’m with you, I feel as if I never want to be apart from you. I would be a fool to not find you attractive, to not see your beauty and want you as you are. Here I am, the angel that is meant to remain pure and yet I was tempted by someone-” his knuckles brush against your cheek, curving at your bone and gliding down until they reach the corners of your lips- “and I’d do it all over again if it meant that you would even have an ounce of happiness.” He lets his hand fall, smiling at you, with fondness. “I am nothing more than your angel.” He bows his head slightly, bringing your hand to his lips, letting your knuckles grace him with your touch.

“A knight in shining armor,” you muse, your hand falling under his chin and pushing gently to have him look at you. He meets your eyes with readiness to accept whatever it is you want, ready to follow your commands. While he has no contract that binds him to you, he’d do whatever you would want of him. You accepted him and his secret, the least he could do is bow before you.

Your smile twitches for a moment, faltering for a second and he frowns. His eyes never leave your face, watching your expression change, slowly morphing into a curious look that has him leaning his body close to yours. He watches as your tongue peeks to wet your lips, the soft, pink muscle teasing him and with his thoughts safe in your room and with you, he wonders how your tongue would feel in his mouth, how it would feel if it were against his body and curled around his burning skin.

“Simeon?” He gives a curt nod in your direction, listening and clinging to your every word. “Can you show me?” His blood runs cold at the immediate understandment of your words. His heart races, pumping his angelic blood through his body and with a heavy heart, he can feel the familiar and yet alien feeling of his member throb under the confines of his pants. “I wanna see how you touched yourself.”

Limbs bump into each other, your hands leaving a trail of goosebumps as you move against him. He isn’t sure how he's gotten to lay against your pillows with his pants past his thighs and his cock already half erect. His breath hangs heavy in the room, his chest taking deep slow breaths as he watches his own hand circle around his cock. He can feel your eyes on him, how you watch his every move with an unblinking gaze, entranced by the angel who remains partially dressed. His mouth is dry and he lets his hand take a shaky stroke against himself, letting out a whine at the feeling. It isn’t pleasurable but it isn’t horrible either. It’s just a touch. He wants to make it a show, but he’s so new to this, so inexperienced and while your human curiosity is taking over, leaning onto him, he can’t do much more than stare at his cock that beads with pearls.

“I- I need help,” he mutters. “It feels so new, so alien to touch myself. I’m-”

You cut his words off with a kiss, your body moving to rest above his, your weight pressing down on him. His cock hardens, pulsing in his hand and with a jerky motion, he proceeds to touch himself. Your tongue enters his mouth and he greedily sucks on it, pushing himself upwards to deepen the kiss, working his hand in a similar motion. The tight feeling in his stomach returns, quicker and tighter than before. Your hand glides to his chest, slipping under his shirt and thumbing around his nipple, humming into his mouth when he hardens under your touch. You pull away with spit covered lips, your eyes glazed over with honeyed lust, smiling down at him and kissing at neck, suckling softly, letting your teeth pinch at his skin.

The feels are all so new to him, and he’s moaning under you, whining and jerking his hips upwards. “Come on Simeon,” you whisper against his skin, “go a little bit faster, Let me see how you treated yourself when you jerked off to me.” You sit above him, cupping his face in your hands, your thumbs under his bottom lip. “Am I the first person you’ve ever jerked off to?” he lets out a pained whimper, nodding his head to the best of his ability without shaking you off. “Use your words,” you advise, leaning forward and pressing your lips against his temple. “I want to hear all the perverted details.”

“Yes,” he croaks out, his leg bumping upwards as his high slowly approaches. “I-” his lips press into a thin line as he tries to muffle his moans- “I hadn’t touched myself before. I thought of you and your body, I thought about how you’d feel- how different your hands would feel compared to mine.”

“If you’re a good boy and finish, I’ll be sure to pleasure you.” Your smile is coquettish, your tone sultry as you grab his arm, and let the hand that had been clutching the covers curve over your chest. “When I called you, were you busy touching yourself?”

“Yes,” he breathes out, “I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. I wanted to hear your voice. I wanted to hear you call my name. Even now, I’m surprised that you’re doing so much for me, touching me and not- and not-” his voice tightens, tears brimming against his eyes- “not finding me repulsive. I- I- You were my first, The first that I had ever felt such feeling for. Please, I beg of you, kiss me again. I want to kiss you and make sure that this is all real and not some sick, perverse dream that I had come up with. That if I fall, if I lose my wings, at least I’ll have kissed you before that.” Tears fall, and he can feel the pressure building, so close to spilling over and the tight rope in his stomach threatening to snap.

“Oh Simeon,” you coo, your smile bittersweet. Your head shakes softly, your hands smoothing back his hair and cupping his face. “I’ll stand beside you no matter what, sweetheart. I could never turn away from you.” Your lips press against his and with your confession, he releases, moaning and moving his free hand to hold your back as he shakes under you.

His seed paints his hand and thighs in white ropes. Tears stain the kiss,and when you pull away, he whines, missing the contact. You move off of him and he wants to cry, moving to nuzzle into your chest. His hand sticks to the back of your shirt, sullying you in his seed as he cock lays between him and you, nestled against your sex. He shakes, the afterglow making him so sensitive to touch that even your hand playing with the ends of his hair has him and letting out shaky breaths. His chest feels light, full of air and your scent, his ears hearing your heart beat erratically- whatever facade you had about staying calm and playful as he pleasured himself was only that, a facade. You kiss the top of his head and promise that when he’s calmed down, you’ll fulfill your promise of touching him. He nods his head, trying to steady himself, desperate to feel your hands against his virgin cock.

#obey me #obey shall we date #om swd #obey me simeon smut #obey me simeon #obey me simeon x reader #obey me simeon imagines #obey me simeon headcanons #obey me simeon x mc #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me scenarios #its almost been a month #oh my god #why am i like this #someone bully me into writing more #or like idk guiltrip me #fuck #i have ideas but fuck

[lameghost]

Scream blue murder.

Bonten! x yakuza! leader [part 3]

word count - 2,538

💿 - deathwish by poutyface, to the bone by j.t machinima

Warnings❕- angst + fluff+ suggestive. Mentions of death, sewer slide, drugs, physical and mental abuse.(slight hints of ptsd) Mentions of Izana x reader and others. Spoilers! Bonten arc. Blood and gore. (pinky cutting and mentions of gas poisoning, mass murder.) reader goes berserk! putting a knife in each other's throat? reader is freaky fugg. and also apparently, an expert at chemistry.

[part 1] [part 2]

“So, 12 years… You were gone, just like that and you aren’t gonna say anything, huh? Saying ‘I love you’ like that, ain’t fucking fair, y/n. I missed you for all those years. I searched for you like a madman. Fuck, you didn’t even come by to look for me or shit. You know how fucking miserable I was, after Izana was gone and you too!” Everyone flinched at the sight of the usually calm Kakucho raising his voice. You were surprised too, but you kept on an indifferent facade as you looked down, guilt overwhelmed you.

Kakucho takes a few steps towards you, “I wanna hate you for it but I can’t. You’re too fucking precious to me. The last one I have here, and I thought you were fucking dead.” You did no such attempt to avoid the slap which landed on your face as tears flowed down Kakucho’s face. You heard the faint gasp from all the executives of Bonten. You just kept quiet.

“Hug me, god fucking damn it. I missed you.” With no hesitation, you engulfed him in a hug, basking in his warmth which came into contact with your bare skin. You smiled, relishing the memories of your childhood.

“Fucking hell that was touching as shit.” Sanzu fake cries, deep down he still felt bad since he knew that you were as important to Kakucho as Mikey was to him. Losing you would have meant losing his entire world. In reply, you lifted your middle finger, sticking out your pierced tongue at the pink-haired male. He chuckles slowly.

“Holy shit, yer got piercings, that’s hot, dude.” You nodded at Rindou’s question .

“Show us, I mean your tattoos and piercings.”

“That’s a pretty specific kink you have, Sir Mikey. I mean, I know I look hot as shit but.” He snickered, signalling that he only wants your full identification.

“If you insist, your honour.” You fake sighed as you turned around and began explaining your tattoos.

“29 piercings and last I checked, around 18 or 19 tattoos. Got my first tattoo at 13, illegally. Thank god I didn’t die of infection or some shit. Dude was a nice guy, he even taught me how to take care of a  new tat.” They all gasped, ‘doesn’t that shit hurt you?’. Ran and Rindou who were basically half covered in tattoos were also surprised by your ability to withstand the pain.

“Which one hurt the most though? Your tits or sumn?” Sanzu bluntly asks as he touches the tattoo on your left arm.

“Oh well, yer wanna see? Better pay money though.” You smirked and sent him a wink as you gave him a slight teaser of your tattoo, he blushed. Welp, you broke the dope peddler.

“You’re quite a mystery, aren’t you?” Mikey says, his voice dark and screechy, almost like he has been straining it.

“Your back. That ain’t a tattoo. Someone carved those characters into you.” He traces the Chinese characters on your back. You slightly flinched at the sudden cold touch of his finger. “Only the top brass of Yakuza has this, yeah? Which means, you’re the current hidden leader of the Yakuza. Working for them quietly backstage, is that fun? Don’t you wanna take the credit?” He was inches away from your face, you tilted your head slightly at his demise.

“Take credit? Pftt. Observant but dumb aren’t yer, pretty boy?” You cupped his jaw between your gloved fingers. “I fucking love it when people worship me, bow to me and praise me for all my work but I wouldn’t want my pets to go unrecognised do I? Plus, isn’t it harder to keep myself lowkey from the police that way? I have my plans, baby and I don’t like it when people question me.” You smiled and let go of his jaw, never in his life has he been this stunned by someone’s actions and indifference. This was a first.

“This carving was done by my dad. I was the only child who was able to take over the family business so, here I am. Healthier than ever!” You smiled, highlighting the dimples which brightened your eyes even more under the light which shone above you.

“So, you’ve taken a blood oath?” Kokonoi asks, curious.

“Oh that’s fucken bullshit. We don’t do those. We’re just old delinquents who don’t wanna follow laws, we don’t sacrifice ourselves. I mean that does sound cool though. The most we do is cut our pinky. I’ve cut 12 as of this week,” You sat back down, nonchalantly telling them. You put your suit back on, adjusting the tie.

Bang! A loud gunshot was heard from behind you, in one swift movement, you swooped Ran and Sanzu who were directly in front of you. ‘Top criminal organisers but can’t see a bullet coming their way? Great, fucking idiots.’ You looked down, the bullet grazed by your shoulder slightly. Thank god for that. You picked up the shell and the bullet which landed not far from it. You analysed the bullet, standing up immediately after recognising it. ‘Mauser C96. 0.45 ACP. Made in Germany. Oh fuck, why are they here?’

“Oi, you twinks. Came here to save me or something?” One by one, your members peeked their heads out from behind the oil tanks. Number 2, Tanaka Ryu. This kid has been behind you since juvie days. Once he got out, he looked for you and followed you till the very end even if it meant jumping into hellfire for you.

“If I couldn’t fight, I would have died to these hot dudes, you know? Do we need to practice again? Should I drill it into your brains?” All the members, a good 25 of them, stood at attention, weapons dropped to the floor with their hands behind their back.

“No, your honour!” In unison, their voices echoed one another. Bonten was too stunned to say a thing. Their mouths merely shut tight as your dominant aura overflowed through the entire warehouse.

“Good, and Tanaka, don’t mind, okay? Small mistake. I’m fine, n’ways.”

“Apologies, your honour. Take my pin-” You shushed him as you signalled everyone to get down and ready their weapons. Bonten, who was behind you, followed your command. You gestured for Mikey to come to your side, he slowly strides towards you.

“Mikey, listen. Now, your turf is being infiltrated. You heard that gunshot? Nagant M1895. That strong shit is only used by the Yakuza traitors. Those fuckers have been on my back for the last few months and I need a few extra hands so that I can alert my turf. After that, I’ll help yer. There should be at least 230 of them. 2 top heads and the other 8 executives. The rest are all their lackeys, bad fighting skills but good spirits. Now, we separate, I’ll alert your members too.”

You and Mikey, the leaders, moved into positions immediately. Working together for the first time but it almost seemed as if you’ve worked together for the past 10 years. You stationed Sanzu and your number 3, Haruto, right in front of you. These two are wild and have a few screws loose in their brains, so they make a good pair. They can slaughter some while you make a few alerts to your guards in your territories. You wanted to get it over and done with fast even if it meant, murder. So, you analysed whatever you had in your reach.

“Y/n-chan. What are you doing? I wanna smoke.” Sanzu said, questioning what you were looking at.

“Shush, let me think of a way to get rid of evidence fast and simple.” Haruto drags Sanzu back to their station as they both chat away, swinging the bloodied weapons in their hands. Psychos, I swear.

‘Benzoyl peroxide, TNT, fire extinguisher, bleach, ammonia and diesel.’ Fucking hell, they were making this a bit too easy isn’t it? You called Sanzu and Haruto over to help you. You took the empty tank, putting on your mask before starting and gesturing the two males to do the same. You poured the bleach into the empty tank followed by ammonia.

‘Do you think what you’re doing is right?’ The tiny voice in your head asks. ‘Well these people mass murdered 226 of the Yakuza members, isn’t it only fair?, ‘Of course, but can’t the police punish them?’. ‘What. They hurt me, not the police, I’ll make them save me a seat in hell. Especially that blabbermouth oldie.’, ‘I guess there’s no stopping you, y/n l/n. You’re a murderer after all.’ Wait, what the fuck? I’m not! They did it first, why is it me? Why am I to blame? Fuck, fuck you. ‘You’re a murderer by nature, y/n. That’s why your Mom and Dad passed this onto you.’ Shut up. They’re dead, they are just ashes, seeping into earth or maybe being swallowed by maggots. Those 2 are dead to me. ‘Your mom isn’t dead. Not yet.’ Well, I want her dead. ‘You gonna kill her, too? Like what you did to your old man? You’re naive, a pretty soul, one that I would kill to dirty but you already did it yourself.’

You halted your movements, Sanzu and Haruto stared wide-eyed at your face. Your face contorted with rage, aura screaming murder at them. This brings Sanzu back to 12 years ago when- nevermind. “Earth to y/n, we gonna continue?”

“Haruchiyo. Katana. Haruto, pass him your pistol, I’ll be right back.” ‘You’re gonna regret it, y/n.’

“SHUT UP! HOLY FUCK SHUT THE FUCK UP! UGH!” You let out an indignant roar, making Kakucho and Mikey halt their movements as they continued throwing punches to the opposing team. Kakucho ran towards you, covered in blood which did not belong to him.

“Hey, y/n. Hey, look at me.” You looked at him, tears of anger welling up in your eyes. (You can only cry when you’re angry but not when you’re sad.) He pats your back, telling you to kick some ass to relieve your anger. Well, that was your green light.

You swung the Katana out from your back which had a strap, tailor made for you to store katanas. As always, pecking the handle beforehand, showing respect. ‘About 104 left, gonna be easy.’ The rest of your members and Bonten members along with the executives gathered, wanting to watch you fight. It was almost like a playback of 12 years ago.

You dropped the katana to the floor, jumping onto the first person you see, hanging from the shoulder. You swung around, possibly breaking his spine and picked up two other men by their collars. Swinging them towards the tower of diesel tanks, you made your way to your next victims.

“So, pick yer death.” You smirked, but your eyes were empty and lifeless. Your bloodthirsty aura engulfed the entire warehouse, stripping the audience off any form of excitement. The male approached you, in a split second, he was inches from your face.

“HAHAHAAHA, you’re fast but you lack experience, sweetheart.” You caressed his face, voice coated full of sinister but in his ears, it was like honey. It gave his brain whiplash how contrasting your voice was to your actions. Without batting an eye or even giving him room to recover from your touch, your left leg flew forward. Landing directly onto the wound of his temple, plunging onto the floor. You took the chance to take a seat on his back.

You rummaged through his pockets, stopping when you found his phone. You dialed a number, the others stared at you curious. “I need about, uhh, 7, no, 8 ambulances, for the Shibuya area. The warehouse down the second turn. Thank yer!” You smiled and threw the phone across the room.

“Now, there’s only… let me see… 3 of you left. Rock, paper, scissors. Winner gets to pick the lucky one.” You signaled them to start playing, with trembling figures, the 3 males began playing. You placed the lit cigarette in between your lip, enjoying others misery.

“She’s kinda hot, though.” You heard Sanzu whistling and howling from behind you as you exhaled the smoke and took off your blazer, rolling up your sleeves. You sent a kiss his way as you made your way to the poor male - a prisoner of his own bad luck.

“Hey, mister. Long time no see. I’m bigger now, if you can’t clearly see.” You subtly flaunt, towering over the male before you. You bent lower so you could make direct eye contact with him. The eye contact sent cold shivers down his spine which made him froze, his lips quivered as you moved your gloved finger, gliding down his tattooed back.

“Oi, mister. I’m talking to you, it’s rude to not reply to your master, y’know? It kinda hurts my feelings,” You faked your sadness, pretending to sob into his shoulders. If he wasn’t already stiff, he is now officially the statue of liberty.

“Y-yes, your honour!”

“Good pet. Now, let me get my work done. You know what happens to traitors, don’t you? Perverted old man.” You removed the kunai which was secured tightly in the pocketed garter which hung from your thigh. You simpered, looking pleased at the amount of fear you could elicit from the pathetic man.

“AHHHHHHHH!” He writhed in pain, screaming blue murder.

“Okay, that was the last one! 12 plus 10 equals 22! 22 pinkies!” You giggled, cracking a smile from your scarred mouth. A horrifying sight, it was.

“Fuck, didn’t know you were capable of such cruel shit.” Ran sends a surprised look, scanning you up and down as you wiped the blood off your gloves and chuckled.

“Born and bred to do this shit.”

You knew you were done but there was some unsettling feeling that irked your senses, but what was it? Could it be you forgot something-

“We’ll take over from here, as an apology and a thank you for not murdering us.” Mikey said, a small smile on his face.

“Oh no, it was great working with you, Sir Mikey.”

“Don’t call me that, on god, I’ll put a knife in your throat.”

“Do it then, it’s not a threat Mikey. ” Your little bicker was put to a stop when Kokonoi seemingly  ‘cleared his throat’ loudly.

“So, you’re a professional torturer, a sugar mommy, free show stripper, yakuza leader, a mass murderer, chemist and now, a hooker. What else do we not know about you?” Kokonoi asked, voice laced with curiosity. His eyebrows raised as his eyes searched for answers in yours.

“Oh darling, I’m a walking unsolved mystery. Yer wanna find out? Yer gotta dig deep into the layers of this earth. Yer wanna solve me still?”

“Yeah, I do.” The short, purple haired spoke up. (You forgot his name.)

“Oh then, put on a raincoat. This year’s theme is bloody halloween. Wouldn’t want blood staining yer expensive suits.” You stuck out your tongue, making a move as sirens filled the quiet warehouse. 

‘Roppongi, Don Quijote, 31st October, 9 P.M. Be there or else you owe me candy.’ The boys chuckled, making a run as the police broke in.

#tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo rev smut #tokyo revengers fic #bonten #toman #kakucho x you #izana #tokyo revengers angst #ran haitani #tokyo revengers rindou #mikey #tokyo revengers x y/n #tokyo revengers x you smut #sanzu haruchiyo #akashi takeomi #kokonoi x you #bonten kakucho #bonten kokonoi #bonten sanzu #bonten ran #bonten rindou #bonten mikey #izana headcanons #mikey x you #tokyo revengers scenarios

[goldenkirstein]

i'd be home with you

or alternatively, jean has a bad day at work, and you pamper him

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

zuzu requested: Modern AU Jean/fem reader where Jean comes home after a really long day at work (his shift ends later than yours does so you always come in a few hours before him) He's in a rly pissy mood but you think it's adorable so you give him a nice tight hug and he relaxes a bit 😭 then you coax him towards the bedroom so you can pamper him, asking him to place his head on your lap so you can rub his temples until he falls asleep...

pairing: jean x fem! reader

wc: 2.2k+

tags: fluff, some angst (?) modern! au, female reader, language, mentions of food.

a/n: this was so much fun to write, I love jean and always wanna take care of him bhsbhsbh, i changed up some things to make it fit, and it kinda got a teeeeensy but angsty but not too much. i hope you enjoy.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

You outstretched your arms, eyes glancing over to the clock in the corner of the living room.

Jean should be home soon.

The sound of the ticking clock filled the room as you laid back down on the couch, the side of your face pressed against the cool leather of the armrest, fingers lazily grazing over the pale white stitches, the bumps and ridges comforting you while you waited for your husband to come home.

Not too long after, you heard the familiar noise of the keys jingle against the doorknob, prompting you to shift your body to watch Jean as he walked through the front door; your lips quirked into a gentle smile, and you got up to greet him.

However, you noticed that he wasn’t his usual cheery self today. Weariness was clear as day on his face. He raised his eyebrows at you, the only indication that he acknowledged your presence.

He struggled to slip off his shoes until eventually sighing and reaching down to untie them, hair falling in front of his face, he cursed under his breath. You let out a giggle, immediately slapping your hand over your mouth, suppressing the noise.

“What are you laughing about?” He furrowed his brows, following your eyes until he realized you were staring at the socks peeping out of his shoes.

Tiny fried eggs decorated the navy socks he was wearing. He looked back up at you, an amused expression on your face, still trying to suppress your laughter.

His shoulders drooped, and he scowled at you, “knew I shouldn’t have worn these dumb socks today.”

You frowned and made your way over to him, “aww, baby, I wasn’t laughing at you, and hey, you love those socks! You look so cute with them on! ”

Jean turned his face away from you, “I’m not cute,” your frown deepened, and you brought your hand up to his face, causing him to look at you. Your wedding band was cool contrast against his cheek.

“Sure you are, my love. Did you not have a good day today?” At that, his eyes fluttered shut. He brought his hand up to remove yours; however, his hand lingered, resting on top of yours.

“Gonna take that as a no then.”

He nodded in agreement before opening his eyes and dropping his hand. You traced your fingers on his cheek until moving your arm around his neck, pulling him into a tight embrace. Jean wrapped his arms around your torso, relaxing into your touch. You nuzzled into the crook of his neck, breathing in his cologne, “missed you today, baby.”

You felt him release a deep breath, and you moved your hand to run your fingers through his hair. He hugged you tighter in response to your action, “missed you too.” His voice a low grumble.

Jean let go first, mumbling a quick thank you, and he gave you a slight smile, the first sign of happiness you could see on his face since he walked through the door minutes prior.

He began to bend down to finish taking off his shoes before you stopped him, “Nuh-uh, come with me.”

You gently tugged him up by elbow before clasping his hand in yours, leading the both of you into your bedroom. He opened his mouth in protest, “what are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing, hun? Someone requires some T.L.C.” Pronouncing every letter with a slight lilt in your voice, you turned your head to smile at your husband; his eyebrows were still furrowed, shoulders carrying the weight of the day on him. You knew that if you left Jean to his own devices, he would end up bottling his feelings and act like nothing was wrong.

Your feet padded gently into the room; Jean followed suit. He pulled at your hand to let him go, but you weren’t giving up that easy. He was a stubborn man, no doubt about it, but after years of being together, when it came to Jean, you were just as headstrong.

Smoothing your palm over the soft beige bedsheets, you sat down, tapping your clothed thigh, “come lay down; you’ll feel better if you do.” You watched the man in front of you clench his jaw, tired, hazel eyes gazing into yours.

“I haven’t even taken my shoes off yet.” He sighed; your only response was to tug him closer to your seated frame. Pouting your lips up at him, you watched him chew the inside of his cheek before finally obliging.

“See, that wasn’t so hard” You grinned as you saw Jean sit down next to you and lay his head in your lap, ash brown hair splaying across your thighs. He hummed in content when he felt you run your fingers through the hair near his temples. “You wanna talk about what happened?” Jean shook his head, furrowing his brows once again. You swiped your thumb over the creased skin, causing his expression to soften.

He blinked his eyes up at you, “you don’t have to do this; I’m fine.” He tried to get up, but you pressed your palm against his chest, eyes pleading. You tilted your head at him, gazing with tenderness before hunching over to lightly kiss his forehead.

“Let me take care of you, Jeanie? Please?”

He laid back down, allowing you to rub his temples, taking away the pain of the day. It was the least you could do; on days where you felt unloveable, Jean would be there for you, holding you, whispering reassurances in your ear, delicately reminding you of his love and lending his strength to you when you needed it. So, while it pained your heart to watch Jean feel less than, it was second nature to you; you would always be there for him when he needs it.

The repetitive movements of the pads of your fingers against his head were soothing him, Jean’s eyelids were heavy, the time he spent with his eyes shut getting longer and longer with each passing minute.

“Haven’t taken my socks off.” He whispered, sleep overtaking him; his speech was slightly slurred.

“Don’t worry, you just sleep.” You continued massaging his head until his breathing steadied, eyes no longer opening. You smiled at the sight; he looked so peaceful and beautiful when he slept. Pausing your movements, you bent down and gave him another kiss on his forehead, smoothing the hair on his head.

You lifted him off your lap, sliding out from underneath him, and softly placed his head down on a pillow, careful not to disturb him. He shifted, turning to face the window next to the bed. The sun was beginning to set, and the slivers of orange light peeking through the curtains dusted over Jean’s face.

“My beautiful boy.” Warmth spread over your chest as you watched your husband rest, content that at this moment, his worries were not plaguing him.

You slid off his shoes, chuckling at the sight of socks once more. Jean had called the socks dumb, but you knew that he loved them. When you got them for him for his birthday, you remembered how he laughed when he unwrapped the package; the sound rang through the air, causing you to giggle at his reaction, before he reached over to plant a sloppy kiss on your cheek, murmuring a soft thank you through a wide-toothed smile.

After pulling off his socks, you quietly got him out of his dress shirt and pants and slipped a pair of sweatpants over his legs before drawing the comforter over his body and placing a kiss on his shoulder.

--

Jean awoke to the smell of spices wafting in from the kitchen; he rubbed his eyes. It was dark outside. He wondered how he got into bed; the last thing he remembered was him laying in your lap.

Oh.

The young man felt a wave of guilt wash over his body. He realized that he was wearing sweatpants, his office attire neatly hanging in the closet adjacent to him. Jean groaned and pulled the covers off his body; had he been sleeping all this time? You were working away in the kitchen, you even took off his shoes, and here he was, lazing away like a dog.

It was pathetic, he thought, making you take care of him just because he had a bad day at work. Jean stepped out of the bedroom; stretching out his limbs, he made his way over to the kitchen, the smell of food getting more robust with each step.

You turned when you heard the soft padding of his feet against the kitchen tile, “you’re awake! Did you sleep well?” You beamed at him before turning your attention back to the stovetop.

He padded over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist, “you seriously don’t have to do this; I’m alright.” His voice husky, vibrating against your back.

You shifted your body to look at him, quizzical expression painting your face, “why won’t you let me pamper you? Don’t you deserve that?”

Jean was silent.

“You don’t have to be perfect for me, Jean.” Your hand left the handle of the pan and held onto the hands around your middle. “Let me carry some of that burden. Let me.”

“It’s not fair.” Jean’s eyes between yours and the food on the stove.

“What’s not fair, baby? You take care of me when I’m sick when I can barely get out of bed. Isn’t that the vow we made to each other?” You paused, watching as Jean’s head fell into the crook of your neck. “I won’t love you any less, and I certainly will not let you act like everything is fine when it’s not. You don’t have to tell me what happened, but just allow me to look after you.”

“You tell me how much you love me every day, so let me show you how much I love you through this, okay?”

Jean wondered what stars aligned for him to find someone like you. He still felt guilty, but he knew that arguing would be futile, so he finally succumbed, “I love you.”

His mouth curled up into a slight smile; he meant it every time he said it, even when the both of you had been arguing or when you left for work, he meant it every single time.

You didn’t think it was possible, but your heart grew in fondness for Jean, “I know.” You gave his hand a gentle squeeze before returning yours to the handle.

Jean’s stomach grumbled, causing him to groan. You let out a laugh, “See, I knew you hadn’t eaten at work. Go sit; I’ll finish up this Omurice.”

He slipped his arms away from your waist before going to sit on the stool near the kitchen island, head resting on his propped-up palm, watching as you plate up the food.

His eyes twinkled with adoration, the guilt in his chest dissipating as he noticed how much care you’re putting into the meal. There was a time that Jean didn’t think he was worthy of being loved, but having you in his life pieced him back together again.

You made your way over to him, handing him a fork and setting down the plate. Your husband took it from your hands, giving you a questioning look, before taking a bite. His eyes widened, “this is really fucking good, here try some.”

You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, glad that he liked the food; Jean brought the fork to your lips, which you opened, the warm rice and luscious egg filled your mouth, you shut your eyes, savouring the taste, "holy shit."

Jean laughed at your surprise, taking another bite of the food. You went over to a drawer to grab a fork before sitting next to him to eat.

When both of you finished your meal, you stood up to grab the plate to clean it. However, Jean halted you before you could pick it up, "let me."

His voice came out a gentle whisper, but it was sincere; you nodded your head, relaxing back in your seat, watching as the man went around the kitchen island to clean the utensils.

He worked swiftly in silence. After drying the plate and placing it in the cupboard, Jean looked up at you, "thank you for this."

"You don't have to thank me, my love."

He blushed at your words, "still, I'm so lucky to have you; I don't know if I tell you that enough."

You stood up and made your way over to Jean, his hands rested on your hips, and you moved your fingers to brush away the few strands of hair that fell in front of his eyes. He smiled tenderly at you before pulling you closer to him by your hips.

He pressed his lips against yours, and you reciprocated the kiss, soft lips melding against each other. His hands travelled up your sides, eventually cupping your face. You smiled against his lips before pulling away.

"I'll love you always, Jean." Your hands came up to hold his, and you turned your cheek to press a kiss into his palm.

"I know."

a/n: i hope you enjoyed this !! any feedback is appreciated !! i'm really not sure what is going on with tagging, but if anyone knows how to fix the issue of certain people not being able to get tagged that would be super helpful !!

taglist: @c0urtn3y, @depressedbisexual, @dai-tsukki-desu, @clean-soap

click here to join my taglist

As always, please leave a like/reblog if you enjoyed this, I appreciate it lots <33

#jean kirstein x reader #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirstein #attack on titan #aot #aot x reader #aot fluff #jean x reader #jean kirschtein imagine #jean kirstein fanfiction #jean kirstein fluff #jean kirstein imagine #jean kirschtein x you #jean x y/n #snk #snk x reader #snk imagines #jean kirstein x you #jean kirschtein x y/n #jean kirstein x y/n #attack on titan x reader #my writing #jean kirstein angst #jean angst #jean fluff #jean kirschtein angst #jean kirschtein fluff #aot angst #snk angst #jean kirschtein

[getlostsquidward]

The gaps in your hearts (Part 2)

Lou Miller x fem!reader

A/N: You asked for part 2, and I shall deliver. I hope it's worth your wait!!

Summary: After your departure, an unexpected circumstance had you arriving back at the loft, back at Lou. Will the gaps in your hearts only become wider or will they be finally filled?

Part one

“Oh, bugger. Baby? I’m home.”

“Nice place.”

“Try heating it.”

“There’s a room for you upstairs. Your stuff’s upstairs too.”

Lou called your name a couple of times but she got no answer. Maybe you went out and got something from the store. She furrowed her eyebrows at the notion that you didn’t let her know you’ll go out like you usually does.

She can’t wait for you to meet Debbie.

The sun has set down and you weren’t at home yet. Lou was growing worried each minute that passes. She’d left you text messages, she tried to call you several times, but all of it went to voicemail. Where did you go?

Debbie had returned from her closure meeting with Claude. She had bought takeout for dinner but Lou wasn’t in any mood to eat. She was antsy but keeping it down so her friend won’t notice. Maybe you were called in at work? Maybe you went out with a friend and forgot to send her a text. The blonde knows you can perfectly take care of yourself but she can’t help but be worried.

“Where’s your girl?” Debbie asked, reminded of Lou calling someone ‘baby’ when they arrived earlier.

Lou just shrugged her shoulders, not really knowing what to answer.

“Maybe she hit her head and woke up from the truth,” the brunette joked.

Lou glared at her friend. “Not funny.”

“Tell me about her.”

The blonde started to tell her friend everything. From how you met, the ups and downs of your relationship, and how loving and wonderful you are. You were patient and understanding; you were perfect in every way and she hated how she’d managed to hurt the one person that did nothing but love her.

The day you moved out of the loft was the most devastating day of her life. It was way much worse than when Debbie left before.

She knew that you were checking in on her through Matt, and she was wracked with guilt. Even after what she’d done, you still care for her. Lou unconsciously checks her phone to see if you left a message but to no avail. You really honoured your word that you’d give her time, and she was thankful for that.

In your two-month break, she really had thought about it all. She used the time to sort out her feelings. Hell, she even opened up to some of her other friends for help, something she rarely does even with those who know her. Unearthing her feelings.

Lou had feelings for Debbie. She didn’t know if it was romantic or if it was just a deep affection. She didn’t really think much of it. Debbie was one of the few of the persons she knows she could trust with her life and in the conworld, such a person was like a rare gem. It was hard to find, and if you do, you’ve got to treasure it. And so she did.

“Maybe you’d mistaken the concept of love and affection. You told me you really didn’t think anything about it and that explains it. The moment you felt that that person was dear to you, you immediately equated it to romantic love.”

The words mentioned had hit Lou, hard. Once she realized that, she promptly had to find you. She called you, but you didn’t answer. She didn’t know where you were staying so she asked your friends, and that’s how Lou found you drowning in liquor in some alley.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” Debbie berated, feeling rather guilty about how she was probably the reason you left for the second time around.

“I do. No need to remind me.”

“I’m gonna tell you to go find her, but I also need you to focus on the job. Can you do both?”

“Of course,” Lou sighed. She won’t know what she would do if she were to lose you for real this time.

-

You were feeling rueful for leaving Lou without a word. You knew she’d be worried sick, but it was the best for the two of you. Once again, you fell into your routine. It was incredibly helpful that an event was coming and you can spend all of your time at work. Though this time, the constant drinking was out of your to-do list.

Your mind often wandered to Lou. She said something about a job, maybe that’s what they’re doing right now. Has she been thinking of you too?

The messages and missed calls Lou had sent you were not in your knowledge as you’d let your best friend hide your phone, and bought a new one for you. At first, you thought that it would be ridiculous and childlike of you but maybe she had a point. The worst-case scenario would be Lou filing for a missing person’s case, but you knew she wouldn’t dare cross paths with the police.

-

“Oh my god, you guys. This party is nuts. I’m not kidding! If your dress is ugly, you can’t wear it, no shit! They will bower your wardrobe!” Tammy rambled and rushed to get into the loft where she got everyone’s attention.

“I love that!” Lou quipped.

“Oh I gotta pee,” Tammy continued to ramble. “Every table cost a quarter-million dollars that if they allow you to buy one! I mean not just any $250,000 check will be approved, I mean they literally have to tell you whether or not they’ll take your money, it’s crazy!”

Everyone was standing outside the bathroom, still listening to Tammy rant about the Met.

“And then you can’t bring anyone, that you clearly go by yourself. They spend a hundred grand on food and apparently no one eats, it’s really crazy,” the blonde finished as she went out, kind of out of breath from the continuous rambling.

“Did you get the seating chart?” asked Debbie.

“The what?”

“The seating chart.” Tammy handed the special glasses she was wearing to Debbie.

“If I haven’t said it, it’s really crazy. This one person that I’m working with maybe is the only saving grace of that place. Thank goodness for Y/N,” the blonde sighed, capturing the attention of Lou.

She shared looks with Debbie, hoping that it was you their friend was talking about.

After discussing the seating chart, they approached Tammy and straightforwardly asked about you, if you were the same person she’d mentioned. Apparently, you quit your last job and had started few weeks prior to Tammy. Lou asked if you’re doing well, and almost cried when she nodded. When Tammy asked why they are curious, Debbie answered. “Lou’s girl. Left because of this dumbass right here.”

The blonde had a surprised expression on her face, a bit amazed at how small the world is. The person they’ve been looking for was only at their reach this whole time.

“She’s sweet. If you’re planning to get her back, which I know you would, you better not mess up.”

Since that day, Lou was itching to contact you but inhibited herself. She’d finish the job first, then she would have you back. If she was lucky enough to be given a second chance, which she wouldn’t fucking waste, she can finally go to California riding with you on her new bike like you always wanted to do.

Finally, it was the first Monday in May. Lou was still in the van with Nineball, preparing food for her. She remembered you telling her she would look good in a chef’s uniform. She wasn’t actually a chef right now, but she still owes you a hundred bucks.

What if you weren’t gone? Maybe you would be in on the heist too, and you would be the most beautiful woman in her eyes, everyone else in the Met is damned. She knew you would have loved and drooled over the green jumpsuit she was wearing.

The heist was successful, and the ladies were lounging at the loft. Their dillydally was halted when an unexpected guest has stormed the loft. Daphne Kluger.

“You guys are fucked,” the actress huffed. “Wow, nice place.”

“Excuse me, you are trespassing-”

“No, we asked her to come,” Lou cut Tammy’s accusation.

Debbie started to explain how Daphne might have gotten a sense of what they were doing, so they roped the brunette in. Daphne then asserted how she was the one who was saving everyone from insurance fraud. Another revelation had caused panic to those who didn’t know, scared that they might be busted and imprisoned.

“We will not be the prime suspect.”

“Then who will be the prime suspect?”

Lou listed several people like the security guys and the busboy. Their attention was focused on Daphne that they didn’t notice another person coming in. You quietly opened the door in purpose, glancing at each of the women inside. You’d heard the last bit of their conversation and captured their attention by announcing your presence.

“The shady guy who put Debbie away,” you casually commented, walking towards everyone.

“Wow,” Daphne chuckled. “The boyfriend.”

Everyone but Debbie and Daphne was shocked, for the third time around. They didn’t really expect guests today. Lou looked like she had seen a ghost but didn’t take her eyes off you.

“Yup. If they were gonna be looking for somebody, just had to make sure it wasn’t one of us.”

You whispered a “Hi, Tam” to your coworker, and took a sit in the middle of her and Daphne. “The precision, right?” the actress turned to you. “The attention to detail, a little grace note that really makes something sing.”

While she was blubbering about how well-thought the job was, she scooted closer to you and put a hand on your thigh. Lou raised an eyebrow at the action, jealousy bubbling in her chest.

“Why are you doing this?” Tammy asked, referring to Daphne. “And Y/N? You were in too? How?”

You let the brunette answer first and when she finished, Debbie had answered for you.

“She was our other mole in the Met, aside from you and Nine.”

“Oh, you were an angel, Y/N. She made sure I was okay after hurling my guts out. Much much better company than my date,” Daphne preached, leaning her head on your shoulder. You rest your head on hers in return.

Lou’s jaw was gritted, it was too much for her and she couldn’t look any longer. She looked at Debbie and gave her a perplexed look, asking for further explanation.

The brunette just shrugged her shoulder, knowing it was up to you to talk to Lou. After all, it was the reason she approached you. At first, she had only talked to you about Lou, but later called to ask if you were willing to join in the job. You’d said yes right away.

That night, you saw Lou sitting near the shore. She was staring straight ahead as you sat next to her.

“Lou?”

“You know, I planned to talk to you after we got the money. But you got to me first,” she whispered.

“You have to thank Debs for that.”

Lou chuckled, “Debs? What, you’re on a nickname basis now? She doesn’t even let me call her that.”

“She told me everything. And, I- I’m sorry, Lou. I shouldn’t have left like that, left you worried though you had a job to focus on-”

Lou cut you off as she pulled you in for a hug. “No, Y/N. I should be the one apologizing.”

Her hand was running up and down your back, the touch soothing all of your troubles. You can finally feel at peace. There was no snarling voice at the back of your head, no heavy feeling. You feel like a sailor in the middle of a calm sea.

“I’ll make it up to you, for real, this time,” Lou pulled back, giving you a smile. You nodded in return.

“Although you may have to explain first what was that earlier,” her smile faded, and glared at you playfully.

You were about to ask what she was referring to when you suddenly remembered. You told her how you may or may not have told Daphne that you were on a rough patch and she volunteered to help make Lou jealous. Both of you shared a laugh as she commented on how effective it was that she had to restrain herself from tearing you apart from the actress.

There was no time to waste, you thought as you pressed your lips against Lou’s. The kiss was slow and passionate, the both of you pouring all your feelings out. Her hand entangled itself on the base of your skull as she deepened the kiss, tongue swiping on your bottom lip asking for entrance. You let her dominate you, a soft moan coaxed out of your mouth.

The only thing you could focus on was the feeling of Lou’s lips; your hammering heart and the waves lapping gently at the shore.

“I love you, baby,” Lou murmured, both of you breathless.

“I know, Lou. I love you too.”

#cate blanchett #cate blanchett x reader #lou miller x reader #lou miller #ocean's 8 #ocean's 8 fanfiction #debbie ocean #tammy #daphne kluger

[urlkssknt]

office shenanigans

assistant!nanami x boss!fem!reader (mentions of gojou)

warnings - nsfw content!!! oral (f receiving) inappropriate use of the workplace(?) p*ssy slapping fingering

a/n - this is very poorly written and not proofread but nanami kento makes me feral

A small knock alerted you of the presence of a certain stoic man, the one that had been occupying your thoughts, particularly the fantasies filled with lust. Kento nanami applied for the position as your assistant four years ago when you first got your high-earning job. He was a diligent worker, always ready to serve you to the best of his abilities, always ready to exceed your expectations. As you came to work with him, you couldn’t help but compare the men you took companionship to your loyal secretary. Kento had become your standard and it was impossibly hard to find anyone that met them.

“Ma’am, the man from last night is waiting for you,” the blond man stated in a bored tone, almost as if he was also bothered by the other male presence. Your eyebrow would have raised if you weren’t overcome with instant regret, you just had to ignore everyone’s warnings about Gojou Satoru. At least the dick was worth it, you thought to yourself.

In annoyance, you mutter under your breath, eyes closing as you pinched the skin of the bridge of your nose, “so fucking clingy.” The clear eyes of your secretary widened at the vulgar language escaping your pretty mouth. It was Kento's job to understand you, it only took him three months to realise that you wouldn’t settle down with any man you had a ‘relationship’ with, simply using them for your sexual needs. The longest you had been with a partner was for six months before calling it quits. Kento noticed that you got bored easily. He understood, more than anyone, that your current lifestyle was not suitable for a stable romantic relationship. It was just more simple to have a strict sexual relationship.

Kento walks over to your stiff figure, slumped over the large desk filled with documents after documents. You didn’t notice how close he was until soft words were spoken into your ears. Kento was so close you could smell the rich cologne he wore ripple off him, the scent went straight to your head, swirling your thoughts together into a puddle. A hand settled at the top of the leather seat whilst the other rested near your own, caging you between himself and the chair.

“Should I get rid of him for you?”

Slowly, you lifted your gaze up to the deep brown eyes staring back at you, there was a coy smile along Kento's face, the sight caused your brain to stop functioning for a moment. Has your assistant always been so attractive? Your eyes stopped on his sharp nose whilst sinful thoughts crawled to the front of your mind. God would you like to sit on his face.

A deep hum sounds from his throat, “hmm, would you like me to do that for you,” kento takes a pause, fully aware of the hungry lustrous look swimming in your eyes, a look he was more than familiar with, however you were far too professional to make a move on him, “ma’am?”

Thoughtlessly, all you could manage to do was nod at the diligent blond man. Your assistant left without another word to go follow out your demand, leaving as quickly as he came.

Finally, you were alone with your thoughts. A shaky breath slipped through your parted lips as an attempt to get rid of the dirty thoughts running through your mind. You couldn’t help imagining the muscles hidden underneath his crisp pristine white shirts. You would be lying if you didn’t wonder how it would feel to have Kento’s large hands wander along the expanse of your skin, squeezing at the flesh of your hips, as he takes you from behind, bending you across your desk, fucking you till your legs become sore and lose feeling. He didn’t have a girlfriend, that much you knew, so you felt no ounce of guilt for your fantasy, it also meant you won’t feel any guilt when you will touch yourself to the thought of him, stuffing your cunt with your fingers pretending it’s his hard cock. The throbbing of your clit became more uncomfortable as you continued to think more about your assistant’s godly features, particularly his thick muscular thighs. Shifting around in your seat didn’t help ease the tension you felt, it only worsened your need. Rubbing your thighs together in an attempt for a form of friction was useless as well. Maybe you should have invited Gojou back into your office, at least your mind would be thinking about something else other than your assistant. A sinister thought crawled to the forefront of your dazed mind. Why not deal with your sexual urges right now? Kento would definitely take a few more minutes to deal with other things and to send an egotistical maniac away. Biting your lip out of frustration, you thought, fuck it, people have done worse things in the workplace and this was your office. Just before your small fingers could slip past the waistband of your skirt and a voice sounds through the room, stilling you into shock.

“Ma’am,” suddenly, Kento’s voice reaches your ears and shocks you to the point your blood runs cold and you think you may have a heart attack.

“Fuck, why didn’t you knock?” You seethed through your teeth, a tone you used with inferiors who didn’t do their job correctly. The sexual frustration you were feeling a few seconds earlier just turns into full on rage. It amused Kento.

“Are you alright?” he asks with a sweet tone and an even sweeter smile, it was sickly. He chose to feign innocence to your obvious frustration. The man found your anger adorable. Of course he had witnessed it a thousand times in the length of his career, never being on the receiving end, but this time around. Kento’s heart soared at your deeply furrowed brows and tightly clenched jaw. “Did you want to get yourself off, pretty girl?” A hand grasps at your chin, tilting your face to look at the blond figure, “I can help you with that.”

Before you know it, the hand on your chin travels into your hair, intertwining itself with your locs, as his lips press a gentle kiss on a space on your neck behind your ear. A sigh falls from your lips as you succumb to the ministrations of his lips along your neck, lapping at the soft skin to soothe it after biting down harshly. As you whine at the loss of touch, Kento chuckles softly. He bends down to kiss you again with more fervour, wasting no time to explore the cavern of your warm mouth.

The sight of your assistant sitting on his knees caused your brain to melt, no longer having the ability to form coherent thoughts, his large palms radiating so much heat as they caressed the exposed skin of your thighs. “Let me make you feel good.” You gulped loudly. A smirk spreads along Kento's lips, pride swelling in his chest at the fact he was the one who caused you to lose composure.

“Okay,” you agreed, voice barely over a whisper. Internally, you slapped yourself for sounding so weak and small in front of your employee. Kento’s hands grab at your waist to drag you to the end of the leather seat, barely able to hang on, before you knew it your skirt was being pushed up and your soaked-through panties were dragged down your legs, secretly stashed in Kento’s pocket.

You sighed at the feeling of the warmth of the muscle against you, a stripe licked through your folds. Widening your legs out of reflex, your fingers grazed through Kento's blond locks before tugging at them, bringing him impossibly closer to your cunt. Kento's sharp nose brushed against your clit deliciously as he lapped at your entrance like a starved man, the small action sending jolts of pleasure through you. Your hole was seeping with sweet wetness, just waiting to be collected by Kento’s hot tongue. He couldn’t help the moan escaping his throat as he devoured your pussy, you tasted like heaven.

“You’re skilled at everything, huh?” you managed to breathe out in a steady voice, surprising yourself. The low hum kento let out sent vibrations against you, adding to the pleasure, making your head spin. “Fuck, I should raise your salary for this.”

If someone could be pussydrunk, it would be Kento Nanami. There was something so addicting about the way your slick tasted, bitter yet sweet, he never wanted to detach from your cunt, he couldn’t bring himself to do such a thing. Especially not when you whimpered so softly it barely reached his ears. With two fingers, Kento spreads out the folds of your pussy to admire the slick mixture of your wetness and his spit all along your sex, some of it trailing down the skin of your bottom. Just before you could protest and whine about the withdrawal of Kento’s touch, a sharp slap against your cunt causes the words to choke in your throat. You were stunned. No man had ever dared to slap you, it would have infuriated you, however there was an unfamiliar look in Kento’s eyes, one that made you want to be quiet and cower. It also didn’t help that the slap against your pussy felt so good, it made you forget about the pain.

“This pretty pussy,” another harsh slap landed against your cunt, you couldn’t stop the high pitched whine leaving your lips, “is mine,” Kento slapped you once more to punctuate his words. The man was getting high off the reversal of roles, normally he would be the one to follow your every command, always so eager to please you by any means necessary. The image of your chest raising and falling, hips thrusting to gain more friction, your tight skirt pushed above your hips. Kento could have cum from just looking at you. No wonder you had so many incapable men crawling back to you, fully knowing that they will never get a second glance.

“Say it.”

A thick finger began to slowly inched its way through your gummy walls, taking much longer than needed, your tight walls welcoming the pleasing touch, begging to be filled. If anyone had walked in on the scene, they would have guessed that a porno was being filmed from the heavy stench of sex in the air to the lewd squelching sounds of your drench cunt, especially with your slick glistening against Kento’s chin and nose.

“All yours,” you sighed breathlessly when Kento was knuckle deep, no longer being able to hold yourself up, you fell into the chair behind you, “this pussy is yours.”

Satisfied with your response, Kento’s finger began curling against the walls of your warmth, trying to find the certain spongy spot to make you see stars. His lips attached to your swollen clit, the slow circling of his tongue was torturous, you couldn’t even buck your hips as his hands held them down to stop your squirming. It wasn’t enough. The high of your orgasm was approaching and you desperately wanted to cum.

Studying your expressions, Kento knew he found your g-spot from the moan you emit and the tug against his hair, the aggressiveness made him groan into your clit. Tears began to brim in your eyes, fingers curling in the blond hair, mouth gaping open. You were so close. From the clamping of your walls against his singular finger, Kento knew you were close to cumming.

The speed of his finger quickened, pulling out of your cunt to thrust it back in again, consistently hitting against your bundle of nerves. It was a spot you couldn’t reach yourself when you touched yourself, your fingers were never enough.

“Come on pretty girl,” Kento coos as if were praising a child, he desperately wanted to experience you fall apart, all because of him, “cum all over my finger and I’ll make sure it will be my cock next.”

As if on command, your body listened to softly spoken words and let the orgasm ripple through you, a sinful moan filling the walls of your office, which quickly turned into another whine as the thick finger leaves your cunt, completely soaked with your cum, to only have Kento’s tongue lap at your arousal.

“T-too much,” you spluttered out, trying to use the minimal energy you had left to peel the blond away from your abused cunt. It was no use. Kento was much stronger than you and the grip he had on your hips was like a vice.

A grin stretched across Kento’s face as he rested against your thigh, finally allowing you to climb down from your orgasmic high, this was the first time you had seen him smile in the years he’s been with you. He looked like a child who had been given candy. You felt the beating of your chest skip a beat.

“Pretty girl gets sir’s cock now,” the smile drops from his face as Kento stands to his full height, towering over you like a giant. You couldn’t help your eyes falling onto the prominent tent in his slacks.

“Maybe overtime will be fun today?”

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #nanami kento x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[apocalypticgargoyle]

meet clay, he knows how you'll die.

intro filler chapter sorry

☾ pairing: dream x reader

☾ cw: interact at your own risk; contains graphic depictions of various character death and violence, suicide, blood, gore, and other triggering material. angst, language, guns, adult content, mentions of sex, slow burn friends to lovers

☾ wc: ~4100

Clay pulled the strap of his backpack further on his shoulder as he wove through the mindless sea of college students, eyes scanning the crowd for you, his best friend and the only person he could stand at the early hour. His knuckles flashed white as he sighed, taking the blunt impact of someone walking into him. He removed one of his headphones, mumbling a quick apology and swatting off the enthusiastically apologetic sophomore girl. All he could focus on was how much she bit her lip as she stammered on about not seeing him. It wasn’t alluring to him when most girls tried to sway his affections by looking at him with a puppy dog expression; all his mind drifted to was the dead skin across the body of her lower lip.

He finally nodded and reinstated his headphone, turning on his heel and heading for the front of the building. He received a few greetings from his peers as they crossed his path, people who shared past lectures with him and who had cheated off of him during exams. He wasn’t popular by any means, but he stayed out of people’s business and didn’t express his opinions loudly, so people tended to like him. The autumn breeze picked up as he stood in the dwellings of political science majors on the front lawn, acting as if they hadn’t seen one another in years when it had been only a few days. Clay absent-mindedly looked down at his cellphone, flipping through music as he leaned against the cool brick of the hall’s facade, waiting for you to find him.

Clay’s usual brooding manner was often off-putting to outsiders, with the careless-hollow look in his eyes giving bystanders the impression that he was nothing but a machiavellian. But you always saw the brightness in him; the side that you always experienced was specifically for you, and he made sure to keep it that way. You had wedged herself into his life and he was ever grateful for the love you had given him.

Despite the understood truth between the two of you that nothing was to be left unsaid, Clay still found himself keeping one of the most important aspects of his character unknown to you. His bloodcurdling secret was his own curse, something that would only be poison for another soul to know.

“What’s up, stud?” Somehow a flush of relief rippled through Clay’s body as his eyes locked to yours, pulling him from his isolated shell. Your hair looked brighter today against the dark hoodie peeking out from beneath an all too familiar bomber jacket. The wind fluffed your locks slightly as you continued towards him.

His eyebrows perked up as if to signal he was attempting to downplay his excited demeanor. “Stud, huh?” You smirked at his response, taking one of his headphones and putting it in your own ear, her face angled up to Clay as you waited to recognize the song, swaying slightly.

He chuckled as you shrunk away from him after muttering the song’s artist disappointedly and rolling your eyes, pulling on his hoodie pocket to follow you. As chaotic as his life often felt, he could always rely on the consistency of you. You usually attached yourself to one of his backpack straps, handles, his belt loop, or ended up under his arm, wedged against his side. It had gotten to the point that he felt naked if you weren’t within arm’s length of him, which was rare for the two of you. “So, I have something for you.” He smugly looked down at you, green eyes masking a hidden sparkle as you handed him a can of root beer, making him chuckle.

“Aren’t you sweet?” He popped the tab, taking a sip as you waved at a group of girls passing the two of you before slipping your hand against the crook of his elbow where his hoodie sleeves were pushed back.

“Actually, I was hoping it could be payment for later. I need to head over to the cemetery for some rubbings. History 270 has me getting into some weird shit, huh?” He laughed again at you, offering you the drink.

“And you need wheels?” You nodded and smiled politely at him, beaming at his words. “Yeah, alright. I have to sketch something for art anyway.” He thought about the week’s assignment and then about your little project he had dealt with the prior year. You had acted like the two of you hadn’t been to the cemetery on a regular basis, but he was grateful that you wanted him to come along with you.

You quietly jumped once. “You are my hero in faded denim, Clay. You know that, right?”

The two of you parted ways to your select destinations, one of Clay’s least favorite parts of the day, which was only solidified as he sunk into his seat and attempted to look equipped for the lecture. He spotted an unfamiliar kid shaking his knee in a distant section of the classroom. In any other circumstance, he wouldn’t have thought twice, but the sie of the class had given him the pleasantries of getting his own personal curse out of the way on the first day.

He carefully watched the boy speak smugly to a few of the more athletic kids in the room. One of the athletes pointed to the general direction Clay was sitting in and they all moved towards him. He, yet again, took out his headphones, knowing full well that they would be talking to him for the rest of the class.

“Oi, Shaman,” one of the main guys greeted Clay like they always did: a strange pattern of slapping and shaking his hand. He was thankful he had gotten all of their first impressions months prior and didn’t have to worry about getting their scenarios again, but he geared up to meet the new kid.

“How are you, Punz?” Clay took a deep breath as the new kid was gestured to and brought into the light.

“This is Mark. He’s a transfer from one of the commuter campuses. Mark, this is the mastermind you pay for notes.”

Clay sarcastically smiled at Punz. “My, you flatter me more than any girl. Nice to meet you, man.” As soon as he touched Mark’s hand, Clay’s mind flashed to a dingy-looking barn out in the middle of nowhere before an older man in his mid-thirties came into view with a lever-action rifle in his hand. In another flash, Clay was in front of the man, now kneeling with the gun in his mouth, red, blurry eyes looking straight through Clay. A pang of guilt broke open in Clay’s stomach as he pushed against the handguard lever and pulled it back into place, squeezing the trigger and sending Ckay back to the class. He let out a sigh and fought to plaster one of his less absent smiles.

“Speaking of our lovely girls, Mark here has a question about her.” Clay’s head tilted towards Mark, not exactly squaring up to him, but sending him an amused look as if to warn him not to cross a line, knowing full-well this conversation would somehow involve you. “We all know that no guy would ever intrude on her without your blessing, but Mark sat near her on the bus before his first class and was thinking about asking her out.”

Clay bit back a laugh, feeling like the Vito Corleone. “Well, you know her, Punz, and you know she would be mortified if I told some guy to fuck off, so I would just ask her yourself?” Oh, how desperately Clay wanted to bash Mark for not even telling Clay himself and the fact that the boy before him was nowhere near your type, but Clay knew better than to burn bridges and he felt bad for the way Mark would meet his end.

Nobody, not even you, knew about Clay’s gift. In the going-on-five years of knowing you, he came breaths away from letting his secret slip but has always kept it hidden, hoping to bury it with him after being married to you for forty happy years.

The visions started around his fifth-grade year, beginning with vivid dreams of dying in the midst of the Civil War, feeling the warm gushing of blood leaving his system, and the stabbing pain of being shot multiple times beside a woman who oddly looked enough like you that he almost called out your name. He had lived what he presumed to be his death in the life before this one several times, each vision taking him a few clicks further.

Soon, he found himself catching glimpses of others’ deaths before they happened as soon as they touched him, but thankfully it was usually over with no time passing and he only endured the visions once for each person, fate having already sealed itself. The only person who seemed to mix him up was you.

It was love at first sight for him, but as soon as you touched his arm, bleak snapshots of a boating accident raced into his mind, only to have to re-experience the scenario a few months later with you stepping in front of a train. Even as a measly high school freshman, he promised himself that there was no way he was letting you die in the gruesome manners being predicted to you. He didn’t think changing fate was possible until he witnessed you in action. He hated seeing you so young in each of the glimpses, tearing him to shreds as he knew time and time again that there was no way he could change what was meant to be.

There were even times when he quietly promised you that he’d die by your side if he couldn’t stop it.

As his lecture let out, Clay found you tucked into a corner of the library, smiling to yourself silently as knew you had finally found what you were looking for in one of the massive books before you. There were many moments like this that Clay wished he could pause and remember for the rest of his life. He was proud that you were there for him even though you could have left instead of playing your own little game of library scavenger hunts.

Since knowing you, he had taken note of how you treated other boys, usually as first dates and never true pick-ups. You didn’t care if they called you the next day or not and he was sure you had never even been kissed before. Something about your guys’ relationship gave others the nod to leave it the fuck alone, and that your heart truly belonged to Clay; a responsibility he wished didn’t plague you with. Despite this, he couldn’t bring himself to be with you, only worried that what you had would be destroyed because he knew that as soon as he told you about his gift, you might leave.

You always brought a bag of marbles and a bouquet of flowers to the cemetery. You loved to find the tombstones that looked neglected or ones with older dates, knowing that the possibility of having family members who remembered the person was lower. The trees in the graveyard were reds and yellows with the changing season, leaves scattered over the grass, naturally piling in large masses. This was your favorite for how neglected it seemed to always be. You had a knack for making inanimate objects and lost souls feel loved; Clay often feeling like he was one of these disembodied figures.

Clay leaned his back against one of the massive trees a few paces from the tombstone you had picked, smiling as he watched you carry out her routine. He flipped to a clean page in his sketchbook as you sat cross-legged in front of the great stone resting place, pulling the long-dead flowers from the concrete gauntlet and replenishing a few flowers in their place while setting an equal number of marbles along the grass line of the stone. A daisy was tucked behind your ear as you ran her fingers against the worn chiseling of the dates, smiling slightly. He began to sketch you out. Your eyes drifted to him before the corners of your mouth curled up into a smirk and you returned to her previous position, straightening your shoulders. “Who is it?” He asked, blending a rough edge with the pads of his finger as you tilted your head at the script carvings.

“George McAfee. Born 1926. Died 1963.” The wind picked up, blowing your hair away from your face as you pulled your jacket closer around you. “What was happening in 1963?” You turned your head to him momentarily before looking back at the lucky man. “I mean besides Beatlemania and JFK’s assassination?”

Clay outstretched one of his legs, swallowing as he thought, his eyes fluttering from the page in front of him to you. “Well, Alcatraz was shut down, Studebaker stopped production, the USSR sent the first woman into space…” he trailed off, watching you as the gears began to spin in your head.

“Do you think he died in the Coliseum explosion?” You wet your lips and he couldn’t help but smile at you.

“Maybe he died in the USS Thresher sinking?” He was thankful that he could capture your thoughtful gaze in this picture.

“You’re smart, Dream. Have I ever told you that?” He chuckled at the sigh in your voice. He detailed the bomber jacket you were wearing---which you’d stolen from his closet god knows when---a bit as you placed a piece of paper over the engraving and rubbed a crayon against the stone, his name coming to life on the paper as you came to life on Clay’s. It didn’t matter why you two would be in the cemetery, you always had a type of bond with the dead, surprising Clay due to how bright you were and your power of holding onto so much compassion. He threw his sketchbook into his backpack and slug in over his shoulder, moving to help you up. You decided to give the rest of the flowers to George as Clay stood next to you, gazing down at his grave.

A high-pitched moan startled the two of you, snapping your heads to look over the hedges separating your section of graves and the one beside it. Clay’s eyes widened as they fell to a girl in all black with porcelain skin propped on top of one of the tombstones. You clasped your hand over his mouth pulling him onto the ground next to you as you peered through a hole in the bushes. His mind noticed your arms first. One of them was secured over his chest and the other wrapped around his shoulder from beneath his arm, holding onto him as he steadied himself in the weird crouching position. “Are you enjoying this?” He jeered, looking over his shoulder slightly as he heard you snicker. The girl began to ride the stone harder.

“How many times in your life are you going to see a girl humping a gravestone? Honestly, Clay, how many?” He shook his head as you both looked at the girl, giggling to yourselves. You dug her face into his shoulder trying to stifle the next laugh trying to rip through your body as the gothic girl moaned, letting out more labored breaths. Clay’s face contorted into a twisted look of disgust as the girl tugged on her own hair. “Oh, do you think that hurts?” You took the words out of his mouth, tightening your arms around him as he shrugged.

“I doubt it’s any rockier than sex with a human.” He bit his lip, a hollow sound interrupting him quietly laughing at his own joke as you thumped him in the chest. The girl moaned louder. “Alright, she’s climaxing. I’m uncomfortable now.” Clay stood and Willow popped up next to him, lacing your fingers with his, bringing color back to his cheeks as you slipped the remaining marbles into his pocket.

“Oh, hi!” In the midst of holding hands with you again and trying to slink back to his car, he hadn’t even realized that the moaning had stopped. The girl now stood near the two of you in what seemed to be a black slip. Clay found it hard to make direct eye contact with her. “Are you guys looking for someone?”

“We were, but we couldn’t find him so-” you began, gesturing for Clay’s car and pulling him next to you.

“Well, I can help. Who are you looking for?” A thousand sarcastically vulgar comments ran through Clay’shead but his eyes flickered from her face to the tombstone she was on previously.

“Uh, my grandpa. His name was Rupert Daniels,” Clay managed to choke out. Your nails dug into his arm while your hand squeezed his. The girl looked around at the surrounding stones.

“I don’t see him right now, but I can look?” You both shook your heads quickly and muttered various responses before finally slipping away from her and getting into his car. Neither of you said anything as you pulled off the gravel driveway until crossing the railroad tracks when Clay burst out laughing.

“Do you think she even knew who it was she was gettin’ it on with or did she just pick somewhere random?” Clay laughed harder at your stunned response. “I’m serious. Clay, what the fuck. How can someone even get off in a cemetery?”

“I don’t know, man. Would you hook up with someone in a cemetery?” Clay quipped, wiggling his eyebrows at you, causing you to laugh. You dug into his console, pulling out a bag of M&Ms you had stashed in there last week, popping one in your mouth.

“Only if it was you.”

He giggled. “Excuse me, what?”

“There are just some things you do with certain people, Dream. You know what I mean.”

“I don’t know if I should be flattered I’m the only one you would have sex with in a cemetery, or like, disgusted?” You laughed at his reaction.

Within ten minutes the sun had begun to set and Clay sang loudly with you to the song playing over the radio as Clay sped along one of the county roads near your apartment complex, not wanting the night to end. He loved these moments with you. You turned down the radio and threw your hair back into a ponytail. “So, what do you think of that new kid, Mark?” Something in Clay shifted, taking away the free feeling he had recently possessed next to you. He thought carefully.

He chewed his bottom lip. “Depends on what you think?”

“Well, he seems like a wannabe Punz. And he asked me out. Naturally, I said ‘yes’ because maybe he’s different?” Clay chuckled at your sarcasm, putting his car in park on the side of the street your flat was on and getting out with you. The radio still hummed in the air lowly. “He insisted on Friday, though.” Clay dramatically acted like you had stabbed him in the heart, even though it did hurt. Friday night was their night. It had been a running tradition for movie night every Friday since your freshman year and you had never canceled on Clay for a date. “I know, I know. But I figured that I’d tell him I had diarrhea when it hit eight o’clock and be over at your place with an extra pizza? Your roommate’s working right?” He chuckled with a nod, walking you up the first three steps to your place as you made it to the concrete landing. You turned to him. “And he said he was taking me somewhere fancy, so I’ll snag you some breadsticks.” He tilted his head at you as you winked at him.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. Wanna be Punz might be fun. Maybe I’ll call up Minx and hang out with her?” He joked. Minx was a friend of yours that hung out with the two of you sometimes. He had never really liked her, but she was friends with you and thus he was always civil.

“You’re still my number one, babe.” You pushed him slightly as you climbed a few more steps, leaning on the railing as he waved to leave. “Hey, Dream?” He turned on his heel as you forced yourself to make eye contact. He stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets. “You could kiss me, you know? For science.” You smiled softly at him from where you were perched. He wet his lips as his heart hammered in his chest. He wanted to scale the steps and close the space between you, to knock you off your feet and show you just how much he was in love with you.

He hated himself. “A first kiss should have more magic in it than just for science. As a romantic, you should know first hand.” You smiled at the ground in front of you.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” The two of you seemed to shake off the serious moment as you stuck your tongue out at him and slipped inside your house as both giggled.

“I love you,” he murmured as you left, punching himself in the shoulder as he got back into his car.

Clay’s heartbeat pulsed in his ears, making him truly believe he was going to pass out. He had lost his gun at least a mile back. He was running mindlessly now, not knowing how long or where he was going. He trudged through the forest, hearing dogs barking and gunshots erupting around him, the ringing in his ears building with every step he forced himself to make. He wanted to rip open the front of his jacket to release the body heat drenching his collar, but he didn’t move other than propelling his body further and further away from the soldiers. You ran beside him, holding your skirt up while your hair danced around your shoulders like a great waterfall. As soon as his body felt like it might just give out, he would look at you and somehow find more of a drive to pull forward. His breaths were brittle and hoarse as he drew in borrowed oxygen. His lungs felt shallow like they were giving out on him.

You reached back, grasping his hand and pulling him into a sharp corner, hoping to lose the group. You both had managed to weave into the forest, but the dogs were somehow still picking up on your scent. The pair of you finally came upon a clearing and kneeled down out of sight, spotting a house in the middle of a glen. Bullets were streaming through the air. The forest was catching fire and cannons were echoing through the distant air. You squeezed his hand tightly, looking at him with terror in your eyes. He had gotten the two of you into this mess, but he was glad he was beside you.

He pulled you to your feet as the pair of you sprinted for a distant house. A sharp pain stabbed into Clay’s back, making him drop to the ground. How did he not hear the gun? You dropped to your feet, your eyes welling with tears, ripping at his jacket, but he pushed you off, telling you to leave quickly. He leaned forward, eyes locking on the soldiers in gray coming towards them, reloading their rifles. He groaned, pushing himself up, but only having the same stabbing sensation two more times in his chest. He heard you scream, but he couldn’t see you.

His hands were going numb as he touched where the bullets entered, feeling the warm and sticky crimson substance seep between his fingers. The soldiers reached you before you had made it to the house, pulling you to the ground next to him. You were crying heavily as you looked at him. Everything began to run quiet as you held onto him tightly. You were saying something to him, but he couldn’t hear you. He was only aware of his jacket soaking with blood. He coughed, wanting to tell you he loved you one last time, but you were tugged away from him, pressed to one of the men in gray. He raised a hand to you as you fought against the man. And then everything went dark.

Dream Tag List: (hopefully this works)

@karlkitten @pluto-dizzz @more-like-reyna @honk-izzie-was-taken @marrymetheonott @froggyy06 @ghoulandghost @savingpluto @marshmallow-babe @drunkpumpkincake @unstableye @tinyegg @behzzyboo @twist3dtinkerbell @sparkletash @shroomieissmall @clubfairy @camerondiaz48104 @victory-is-here @rat-poisin @alm334 @acidluvs @pachowpachowbucket @bbigbbrainn @cdizzlevalntyne @idiotinnit @generallysleepdeprived @sacvf @phsychopathetic @froggerrrr @robinslie @essencee @jemalovesmarvel @sbi-is-my-onlysanity @jenlouvre @victoria-a567 @miilliiie @bunnylotl @thegirlwhowritesawksh-t @carlyferrell @dumb-chaotic-bi-energy @nyxieahh @quivvyintheclouds @sarcasticmichelle @book-of-anarchy @millavalntyne @lightdreamy @baddiesforcorpse @sunnynapp @fantasy-innit @rat-poisin @wreny24 @deepestofwaters @exenestea @indecisivehusky @fallxnly @alm334 @skaratjung @punzcanrailme @sap-naps @denki-exe @angeltears18 @silvemistxe33 @andreamalik6 @kris-stuff @sun-fiower-seed @where-thesundoesntshine @dilfdream @esmegregory04 @itsparasocial @mlqcool @mcgoddess404 @rinatdawn @chaoscait @peppermintkisses @libbynotfound @speedrunningtherapy @lunxramour @aoonai @loraleiix @ghoulpixiie

#dream x you #dream x fem!reader #dream x y/n #dream imagine #dream x reader #mcyt au #mcyt x reader #cw gore #cw language #tw violence #tw death #tw angst #tw gore #tw suicide #tw blood

[scrawnytreedemon]

Victor Frankenstein and Frustration: a Not-Essay, because I can’t structure for shit.

Alright, I’ll try to keep it as clean and concise as I can, but at the end of the day this is a sorta-heat-in-the-moment thing I’m writing while all the ideas and motivation are in me yet. I will be jumping around alot of topics, as this covers alot of ground, but I can’t say I’ll do it with grace: for this, I apologise.

I’ve noticed a trend in online lit fandom, not just on Tumblr, to condense Victor’s character to something roughly following “arrogant, ineffectual and selfish weenie who failed horribly at parenting, who ought not to be taken seriously in any significant way, largely in-due to his constant whining“ --In other words, a right twat.

And here’s the thing: largely, I agree.

However, what I take issue with, I suppose, is largely how this is all framed.

See, fandom has a tendency to sort characters into boxes, and then pick favourites or bête noires from that selection; this is helpful for the largely memetic(as in, shareable,) nature of online spaces; but where I think this thinking falls short is that it tends to divide casts into More Good or More Evil, with little room for nuance.

I think you can see where I’m going with this.

Victor Frankenstein, by all accounts, is an incredibly frustrating character to witness; he gets way in over his head, isolates himself from his loved ones, leaving them worried, deems those ambitions failed, hides from them, then when shit starts hitting the fan, he takes initial actions to try and mitigate the consequence, hits a roadblock, either stops their or chooses an even worse option, someone else gets hurt, he whines, rinse and repeat until the final act of the book, as the stakes get higher and higher and his mental state deteriorates more, and more, and more. If you look at this entirely from an outsiders’ perspective, as you, the audience, being subjected to his moaning time and time again, it can wear on you and your sympathies-- Needless to say, I Get It™.

I think, however, it needs be remarked that Victor is also just some guy. 

What I feel is often missed, is that even before Victor goes to university, he has just suffered the loss of his mother, with little time to recover, and that all of this is being told in hindsight, on his deathbed.

When Victor took on, all by himself, at twenty-two years old, not even letting anyone else know what he was up to, the monumental task of creating life, and then finding that life horribly botched, he did not have the perspective that what he created was equivalent to a newborn child-- For all he knew, he might have animated an actual demon. It isn’t until two years later, after the death of his little brother at the hands of said demon, the he’s even remotely made aware of this.

Victor had worn himself out over the course of several months, physically and mentally, to this one task. He was not equipped to deal witht he consequences. I do not say this to downplay the weight of his actions, or the horrible mess of events that come afterwards, but to state perspective. Victor does not have the hindsight we have at the time of this act. I cannot stress this enough. As much as I enjoy Deadbeat Dad Vick jokes, I get the feeling many people actually view the story from this lens, and hold Victor up to that standard.

Then there’s the trial of Justine: a horrible, useless, unneeded and avoidable affair that ends in even more senseless death. This is where alot of people’s sympathy for Victor runs out-- For more than understandable reasons. He failed to act accordingly, to share the information he had, deeming it to be either dismissed instantly or for himself to be put under scrutiny; it’s clear he’s passionate about Justine’s innocence, but he cannot push himself past his fear and doubt, and ultimately, it ends in her death.

It is a horrible, horrible moment, and one that cements the tone of the story from there on out.

These are two key events that largely colour this image of Victor so prevelant online; and it certainly doesn’t help, what with fandom being almost aggressively left-leaning at times, that Victor comes from a place of privilege; he is almost tailor-made to push all the buttons of fandom sensitivities.

Let me elaborate.

A key feature of Victor’s character is his complete and utter inability to ask for help; no matter how dire the situation. Victor feels, that, despite and even because of his incompetence, that it is his cross and his cross alone to bear. Any inolvement from others, such as Clerval when he heads to England, is hesitant and highly discouraged, even when he wants nothing more than to partake in the company of his loved ones, after all he’s been through. While it is also heavily coloured by the anguished sentiment that borders on self-absorption so much of the time, I think it is also worthy to examine this too.

Victor’s tendency to indulge in self-pity and self-loathing is nigh, if not entirely, all-consuming; it pervades the narrative to a painful degree, particularly as it comes from his recollections; it is often exhausting to read through, and nigh unbearable if you already hold a disdane from his previous actions; but here’s the thing I think most people miss,

Victor is depressed.

I don’t mean “ooh, he’s so sad, leave him alone 🥺,“ I mean the guy is fucking depressed, stuck in a constant cycle of attempting to make do but failing, hating himself even more, letting it consume him because he at once feels like he deserves to be consumed and it’s the only thing he can do then and there to soothe to pain as shit gets worse and worse.

Victor Frankenstein’s internal monolgue is a prime example of deep-seated, far-gone depression, and I say this because I myself have experienced and do experience this. Depression is fucking soul-sucking, man; it turns you in on yourself, makes you feel entirely undeserving of love and compassion, leaves you feeling like you must, have to, deal with this entirely by yourself because it is your cross to bear.

Depression is so often self-flagellating and pointless, leaving the subject drained and often largely unable to experience the world outside their own miserable little bubble.

Victor is so wrapped up in this soul-sucking guilt, attempting to fight his own ineffectuality and in doing so only furthering his own ineffectuality, refusing to ask for help, that he ends up putting the ones he’s trying to protect in further danger as he tries to scramble a hodge-podge solution to the problem he created and couldn’t have even begun to forsee its consequences at twenty-two years old. It is a painful, painful example of how if only he reached out, if only he told someone, was honest, all of this could have been avoided, or at least mitigated.

And I think that’s the thing with Victor.

He’s a kind of banal evil-- If such continuous stumbling can even be considered so --He is an example of every day self-isolation and refusal to let anyone else in ballooning to such a degree it ends in distaster.

People are far, far more willing to forgive Adam for his transgressions-- And I say this as someone far more sympathetic to his plight, what with the absolute abandonment he faced at the hands of humanity --Despite their far more horrific consequences; in many ways, they’re attributed to Victor’s failing; which isn’t entirely untrue,

But I have to wonder, if alot of this also comes down to the fact that Victor’s wrongdoings are so human; leaving someone in your care behind; not speaking up in cases of injustice; being self-involved; again, the constant whining. In a way, it’s the sentiment that in stories a horrible person is often far more bearable than an annoying one.

That doesn’t even begin to touch on how much of the bemoaning might largely be and often is directly post-hoc regret colouring all his previous actions. This, above all else, is a cautionary tale to a fellow idealist in the hopes that Robert Walton doesn’t Fuck Up the way he did. Victor stresses his regret and his failings and his misery time and time again because he wants to protect Robert from a similar fate; a fate that ultimately ends in his death.

Victor Frankenstein is a study in frustration; in audience frustration, self-frustration, narrative frustration; it seeps into every corner of the story.

I am not trying to defend Victor Frankenstein as a person; he is flawed; and he’s meant to be flawed. Victor, at the end of the day, is a deconstruction of the Byronic hero-- Of Great and Powerful Men on the Fronteers of History™-- And most importantly, I think, a deconstruction he himself undergoes. Victor eventually alerts someone, a Genevan magistrate, is doubted just as he feared, and then runs off to take revenge into his own hands.

It takes the death of Elizabeth Lavenza to do so.

Victor is a flawed, miserable man, but not an evil one. That doesn’t mean he deserved to have his life crumble around him.

He could have done better. Should have done better.

And he knows this.

His entire arc is about how he knows this.

Victor dies knowing this.

Him being unlikable doesn’t make him a bad character. Him being unlikable is part of the character; and in a meaningful way.

God, I don’t know how to end this. I’ll probably come back and edit this many, many times.

I guess I’m just tired of people flattening characters just because they’re not particularly endearing.

#frankenstein #scrawny speaks #scrawny rambles #analysis #victor frankenstein #there's probably even more i want to say and will regret failing to touch on #and believe me i do see the irony in a thinkpiece about victor frankenstein so laser-focusing on him #i really do #but it's kinda all the energy i have for #point is i don't think victor is a particularly good person #or admirable in any way shape or form #but that doesn't mean his character doesn't have worth #and i guess i'm tired about all of this just getting... tossed out the window #fandom is fun but also exhausting #he's a weenie yes but he isn't j us t a weenie can we please acknowledge that? #he's a guy. some fucking guy who fucked up. like alot of fucking guys who fucked up. #i wonder how much of this is also The Protagonist Complex #wherein we insert ourselves and go 'i would have done this better!' #because BELIEVE ME i hope i'd be far more empathetic and far more... Less That #but i don't know and i won't pretend to know #and i do wonder if some of this comes down to people not wanting to sympathise with a Bad Person because then it means they could be Bad #spoiler alert: yes. all of us have the potential to be miserable weenies. #none of us are safe. #i want to stress *potential* #please don't leap down my throat #ughghjg i'll stop. hopefully this was... Okay. i guess. #long post