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ssahotchnerr · 10 months

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Hii!! Can you do hotch x reader where hotch is all grumpy and reader is the complete opposite but he is all soft and cute towards the reader

perspectives

wc; 1.2k cw; bau!reader, angst, hurt to comfort, no established relationship but <3

aaron had never been a fan of car rides.

long car rides, to be exact. heading to the bau was never an issue, same with running around town, errands, taking jack to soccer. but a journey more than an hour? nearly unacceptable.

the luxury of traveling via the jet throughout the years definitely didn't help. and while numerous rides exceeded well over that hour time frame, at least that didn't compare to a car ride's length to the destination. that ideology was more manageable, easier to accept. and besides, he wasn't the one who was flying the plane.

so whenever it was necessary to make the trek to the state prison for interviews, about two hours away from quantico, it was displeasing. it was irritating. but it had to be done and complaining wasn't in his vocabulary.

the changing point, however, was you.

the first time you accompanied him, you had newly been added to the unit- still wide-eyed with innocence, not subjected to the horrors just yet, nervous yet excited jitters making you squirm in your seat.

he envied you in that aspect- being able to see the world in a lighter view. so maybe when you asked if you could turn on the radio, he didn't hesitate to comply.

and upon your second ride together, he flicked the radio on as soon as the engine started.

perhaps that gave you the confidence you were waiting for - finding an open, more inviting atmosphere to speak your mind.

"you know, you frown more in the car."

your words surprised him, "what?"

"it's true." you were relaxed in your seat, looking out the window and admiring the scenery passing by. "sometimes i wonder if you can even see past the windshield with how much your eyebrows are drawn over your eyes."

his lips fell into a line, but amusement bubbled within his chest. "i can see perfectly fine."

you laughed, and in that moment, aaron realized just how badly he needed that to grace his ears. "i would hope so. we haven't crashed yet."

aaron chuckled softly, his eyes returning to the road ahead.

"so, car rides huh?" not only was your wit quick, but so was your ability to read him like a book.

he huffed out a breath through his nose. "hate 'em."

"haven't you heard, it's not about the destination, but the journey?"

"our journey leads us to a high security establishment containing the worst of the worst." aaron deadpanned.

"sure." you shrugged, turning back towards the window. "but maybe it's all about perspective."

and maybe you were right.

as time moved forward, you became his frequent passenger. when the opportunity arose to take a drive, anywhere in that matter, you were always the first to volunteer.

it became routine- aaron tuning the radio to your favorite station upon the engine's ignition. his once silent rides were now accompanied by music, small talk followed and ultimately turned into full blown conversations. work related or not.

and suddenly aaron preferred the car to the jet, enjoying your presence and lightness you suddenly indulged him in. you were rather talented in elaborating, your intuition seemingly limitless. the conversations you fabricated were both amusing and constructive, and the two of you could partake in such for hours. you were easy to talk to, kind and open, not the one to be judgmental. and throughout, you looked at him in a way that made him feel so vulnerable it was frightening, but extremely safe. he could open up about the depths of his mind and you would still look at him the same way. in addition, he couldn't remember the last time he actually had the urge to open up. willingly.

sure, he could sit with you on the jet (and notably, he did) and get the same exchange, but he preferred the peace and stillness of just the two of you. you, him, and the open road.

and maybe more importantly, you made him feel like himself again.

while it was bound to happen, aaron dreaded when the job would take it's toll on you.

aaron often admired your level-headedness, your ability to remain objective and to not dwell on the darkness as many agents do; the all consuming abyss. your bubbly personality coincided with seeing the good in all things, despite all circumstances.

no wonder you got along so well with garcia.

you maintained your sense of strength, for so long, aaron feared how hard it would hit you; the realization darkness would never cease it's attempts to triumph light. and that same darkness would attempt to overcome you, no matter how much light you offered.

manageable. if he couldn't protect you from the inevitable (although, he would if he could - in less than a heartbeat), he could at least make it manageable.

slowly and surely, your inner sparkle was dimming. and he wouldn't dare allow your light to diminish.

an interview at the virginia reformatory arose, and something about this unsub had riled you up to the extreme- aaron's never seen so much fiery behind your eyes. but despite your hatred, you had insisted on going- your vigor all too similar to one he knew well.

"his guy," you seethed, buckling your seatbelt rather forcefully. "is sick. what he's done-"

"i know."

"they didn't deserve it hotch." aaron nearly flinched at the use of his name, he's gotten used to hearing aaron from you. "why do we have to drive all this way, to get stupid answers from a stupid, vile ass clown who doesn't want to speak to us to begin with? we're going to get nothing out of it. nothing."

"i see you've been hanging around dave too much." aaron commented, hoping to lighten the mood.

but your attitude didn't falter, not like it would've previously. "why do we have to go? driving all the way out there is pointless."

aaron shrugged, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. "i don't mind the drive."

you snorted a laugh, your comment flying out of your mouth. "since when?"

"since someone," aaron's eyes found yours. "changed my perspective."

"yeah, well," you slouched in your seat, mumbling under your breath. "what do i know."

"a lot more than you give yourself credit for." his answer was simple, true.

"c'mon."

"i'm serious. yeah, this sucks. it's going to be an unpleasant afternoon. but..." he paused for emphasis, bringing a sense of playfulness. "the journey."

another scoff came from you. "and what could possibly come from that."

"you never know." before aaron could overthink himself out of it, his hand reached over the center console, finding yours naturally- as if it were it's rightful place to be. where it belonged.

your hand was just as soft as he expected, somehow more, even. he gave it a squeeze, and it immediately brought a bit of light back into you. your shoulders dropped, warmth returned to your face, looking at him in a sense of awe, almost.

unknowingly to each other, both of you felt it. where aaron's touch met yours, every part of him was aflame.

"the journey." he repeated. "that's the whole point, isn't it? you never know what, or who, will be the outcome."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine #criminal minds x you #criminal minds imagine

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brabblesblog · 3 months

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Ch 17: Whom have I in heaven but thee?

Astarion has ascended, and she has stayed with him. Life in the Crimson Palace isn’t as idyllic as it seems. Is there a chance for their relationship to go back to how it was? Or is it too late for the Ascendant and his consort?

This series is about Ban, my Tav, and the Vampire Ascendant. Will be angst and smut, with sprinkles of fluff.

This fic is a softer take on Ascendant!Astarion and of the changes he undergoes after the rite. Can Ban handle the change, and if a chance came, would she choose to run? And can the Ascendant win her back in time? Inspired by the concept of vampire wives and that IGN interview with Larian that discussed the ascension.

Professionally edited by @editing-by-night

Astarion and Ban are presented with an opportunity whilst visiting the former Shadow-Cursed lands.

Read on AO3.

Masterlist.

Moonrise Towers.

Still empty but less dour, the old crumbling walls looked less threatening and more desolate than anything else. Seeing the sun shine on the facade felt wrong-

A nudge, and Ban shook off the thought.

“Are you alright, love?” Her husband stood beside her, wearing one of his older shirts - one from before. Astarion had packed clothes he’d worn during their adventure, shirts and trousers that had not seen the light of day in months before this.

“I’m not risking any of my actual clothes, Ban.” Astarion stuffed the old clothing into his pack haphazardly.

She tried not to laugh as he made an attempt to close the now-bulging pack and failed.

“You do know you needn’t bring so many shirts, right? It’s just Reithwin and the surrounding area.”

He stared at the pack, frowning. Living in the Crimson Palace meant an abundant if not limitless amount of clothes; he’d become accustomed to changing on a whim. Conceding the point, he dumped the contents of the bag out, picking through the small mountain of clothing that spilled out.

“I suppose so,” he grumbled, “I’ll just have to subsist on a meager variety of shirts then. Pity.”

Pulling her mind out of her reverie, Ban shrugged. Was she alright?

So many memories they’d created here, good and bad alike. Sometimes it was still hard to reconcile the fact that she shared those memories with the man next to her, not with some nebulous phantom of him.

Astarion marked the silence; he saw her turn away, expression closing off.

“Ban.” His voice was tense, but not excessively so. He took her hand, threading his fingers through hers. “Let’s just head inside, love.”

He led her through, eyes scanning ahead to avoid any potentially dangerous spots. He’d done this back in the early days too, scouting ahead for traps and ambushes. Ban wasn’t the most observant sort; he’d found out early on that she needed protecting.

Funny, that. He had thought he was using her for protection, but had quickly found himself wanting to shield her from danger in return. His eyes had always sought her out in battle, shooting at anything that dared approach; just as she’d cut down anything that had tried to get to him.

Initially, it had been to ensure she wouldn’t fall to a stray arrow or an errant sword. It wouldn’t have done to have their leader die, leaving no one by his side when Cazador inevitably came for him, would it? As the days had passed, however, he’d begun to have to repeat this fact to himself, reminding his heart that petty affection - even love, gods forbid - wasn’t the reason, here. Obviously, that plan had failed miserably.

Pushing Ban away that day in Vel’s mansion had been instinctive, a reflex that hadn’t warranted a second thought.

“Ban-” He pointed, but it was a little late. Her boot snagged on a piece of broken stone; she toppled forward and Astarion braced, catching her effortlessly.

“You seriously have to pay closer attention,” he chided, but there was no anger there; just amusement and a little nostalgia. He held her close, allowing himself to revel in her presence.

“Sorry,” Ban said automatically. She let him wrap his arms around her, head pressed against his shoulder as her mind drifted back.

"You- ... you're incredible. You deserve something real. I want us to be something real."

Memories. They shouldn’t be painful, and yet they stung. She turned her face to hide from the world, from him; unwilling to admit that she was still mourning, grieving a life that never came to pass.

Astarion felt her tense, muscles shifting as though preparing for a fight. He sighed, part of him wishing to confront her. The larger part decided to wait for a better moment.

He pulled away, pretending to miss her tears. He kissed her forehead.

“No need to apologize, darling,” he murmured, “Just missed a rock. Which - well, you do do that a little too often for my liking, but -”

She smacked him, melancholy forgotten for the moment. With a satisfied smirk, Astarion continued leading her through the ruin.

They arrived at the table where Araj had set up shop. Astarion ran his fingers across the wood. He could smell it even now, the drow’s blood - rank and vile and alien. Ban had shown him he was more than just a thing to be used then, that his choices mattered. He had never forgotten.

“That was interesting, the drow,” he mused. “A pity she’s dead, or I would’ve had her brought to the palace and killed her myself.”

“Astarion,” Ban said, a little leery of the tone his voice had taken.

He paused, hand stilling against the wooden grain of the table, meeting her eyes. “Oh, not literally. Can’t I say something in jest, Ban? I didn’t kill her when we saw her at her shop, did I? In fact, I like to think I was positively polite.”

A small smile broke across Ban’s features. It was difficult at times, figuring out what was a joke with him and what was not. She knew that in some ways, it wasn’t even he who changed, but rather her perception of him; something she’d been working on, but she admittedly still had a ways to go.

Astarion exhaled. He took a step towards her, hands held out. He was still worried, fearing the day she’d shy away from his touch yet again. But she let him take her hands, and just like every time she did, he felt a wave of relief.

Bracing himself, he met her gaze.

“Can we talk, Ban? Tonight,” he murmured, swallowing down the urge to avoid it altogether. After that confrontation the first day they’d arrived at Halsin’s community, Astarion had felt a lot more willing to be open around his wife. He could sense Ban trying to do the same, though her doubts still seemed to linger; he had resolved to fix that.

“I… of course,” she said, worry crossing her expression.

He squeezed her hands. “It’s nothing big, nothing that will change things,” he reassured her. And at least on his end, he was resolved that it would hold true.

Ban stared at him for a moment. In these ruins and in those clothes, Astarion looked exactly like he had back then, down to the soft expression on his face and the slight, uncertain curl of his lips. The sight was comforting, and she nodded.

“Tonight, then.”

With that said, Astarion led her further into the ruins of Moonrise Towers.

Having played with the children after dinner, Ban headed back to their little hut. She opened the door to find Astarion on the bed, shirtless; his hands were behind his head, and he was staring out the window.

“Do you ever think of choosing him?” he asked, not meeting her gaze.

“Choosing-” She frowned, then realized what he meant. “Halsin. Choosing Halsin.” She gestured at the hut they were staying in. A calm, quiet existence; days spent playing with the children and nights wrapped up in Halsin’s warm embrace. She could not say she hadn't thought of it.

Astarion’s eyes slid back to Ban. He watched her, a hand moving down to tap his knee absently. Waiting.

“Perhaps,” Ban finally said, “It would have been a peaceful life.”

“Happier,” Astarion corrected, still staring at her intently, eyes tense. His lean body lounged on the bed in a well-practiced position that suggested nothing but nonchalance.

“Okay. Happier.” She crossed her arms. “What of it? Is this… is this what you wanted to talk about?”

There was a small twist in the calm of his features; he forced himself to ease off. “It’s one of several, but yes,” he returned to the topic at hand, “If you want. Should you want - still want that.”

Say it.

He drew a deep breath. The hand tapping his knee stilled, the manufactured pose disappearing under rapidly tensing limbs; he readjusted, sitting up.

“If you still want Halsin-“

His voice cracked, the depth of his emotion proving too much. Hurt, a little anger. Fear.

His eyes tried to convey what he could not say; his mind reached for hers, and she allowed him in.

Thoughts. Images. Ban dancing with the children, riding on Halsin’s broad back. Smiling. Doing chores. Running in the woods. Carefree; happy.

Astarion quirked an eyebrow at her, and let his emotions suffuse the images.

The first thing Ban felt was a wave of jealousy - he wanted Ban to save those smiles for him, and him alone. This wave, however, was miniscule compared to the weight of his envy; Astarion was sickened to imagine her with Halsin, but he also wished to be the one running in the woods with her, making love on the forest floor - to be the one she lived such a simple, carefree life with.

Ban was ready to snap, to ask him what the point of this exercise was when the color of his emotions changed. There was more, more to him that he wished for her to discover.

See me, he thought, opening his heart, pouring it out before her waiting gaze.

Joy, at seeing her happiness. Contentment, knowing that she finally had what he so longed to give her. And the deepest one of all - resignation, knowing it wasn’t him who’d been able to give it to her. Not soon enough.

“Do you understand?” he asked. He couldn’t bring himself to say it, but he could at least show her.

“You’re saying you’ll let me go.” Ban was disbelieving.

Astarion barely believed it himself. But he’d seen her with Halsin, seen how easily she laughed in his presence; how she effortlessly allowed him into her space.

Astarion thought he and Ban were getting there, but a part of him wondered if it wasn’t just better to save her the trouble. He looked away. In his breast, his heart raged in a blind panic.

Take that back, you fucking idiot! You’re throwing everything away!

He felt her hand on his shoulder and looked up, surprised.

“I want to be with you,” she said.

“What? Why?” Familiar words; he found himself wistful at the memory. “I’m hard work, Ban. You know that.”

He took the hand on his shoulder and brought it to his lips.

“It is.” She tried to meet his gaze, but he kept his eyes firmly on her hand.

“It sure is worth it, though,” Ban added, “I still choose you.”

Astarion merely nodded, for once speechless; he tugged at her hand, drawing her to the bed alongside him.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, “I needed to hear that.”

She nuzzled into the crook of his neck, and he braced himself for the next thing he was about to say.

“Ban. I want to know… what’s on your mind. What’s been on your mind for a while now.”

“Nothing? We’ve been happy, no?” she immediately deflected, but Astarion shook his head.

“Better than before, certainly. Happy? I wouldn’t use that word. Not on your end, at least.” His eyes stared forward, boring holes into the wall of the hut. “If you seemed happy, Ban, I wouldn’t have asked you about Halsin. I would-”

His jaw worked, tightening. “I wouldn’t be so worried.”

She could feel his chest rise and fall faster, fear breaking through the facade he was trying so hard to maintain.

“I didn’t want to hurt you. Scare you,” Ban ventured cautiously. But she now recognized that in doing so, in shielding him from the truth, she had inadvertently caused the very thing she’d been trying to avoid.

Astarion laughed, a short and pained bark of noise. “You think I don’t see how you look at me? Most of the time you don’t anymore, thank the gods, but sometimes, Ban - you look at me the way you used to. After.”

After the ascension. When he had begun to lose her, bit by painful bit.

“I don’t mean to,” she said. She drew away from him, just enough to see the hard lines of his face and the way his eyes refused to look anywhere but the wall. “Astarion, please. Look at me.”

Astarion acquiesced after a moment of hesitation; their gazes met. For a heartbeat his eyes were glassy and distant, but then they shifted, becoming wide and round. The uncertainty was plain to see; he no longer made any effort to hide it when it was just the two of them.

As vulnerable as it made him, he knew it was necessary. If she couldn’t do it, he would have to, no matter how much he loathed it. For her. For them.

“I still mourn what our life could’ve been if you didn’t ascend,” she admitted, “Brief flashes of memory, small flickers of pain here and there. A lot less often now, but still there at times.”

“Do you still see two different people?” A question he hadn’t dared ask since the night she’d decided to move back in.

“No,” she said with certainty, “I merely still grieve what we could have been - a different future, not a different person.”

He absorbed her words, understood them. A moment passed while he gathered his resolve.

“I know we said it would take time,” he finally said, “And I am… willing to wait. But can I ask for one thing?”

She frowned, biting her lip - unsure. He saw it, and a wave of hurt washed over him.

“See.” Astarion pointed out, smiling sadly. “That’s exactly what I mean, Ban. You’re doing it right now.”

“Doing what?” Her tone was a little too harsh, and she winced. “Just tell me. Don’t hint at it and expect me to know.”

“You don’t tell me how you really feel. You close yourself off, like you did after the rite. You just disappear, and your face goes blank. Empty. I-” He shook his head. “I’m terrified of it, Ban.”

She considered his words, painfully aware that he’d hit the nail on the head. In moments when she felt wary of him she hid away, an almost involuntary response drilled into her during those months between the rite and her flight. Perhaps even before Astarion came into my life, Ban mused, but didn’t allow herself to dwell on those… thoughts.

“You’re not wrong.” Ban weighed her words. “It’s… almost just instinct, Astarion. I get nervous when I can’t read you, and it makes me want to run and hide.”

Astarion breathed out heavily, eyes falling shut. “Can you do this for me, then? One thing. When it happens… tell me. Ask me what I’m feeling. What I’m thinking. If I can’t tell you, I’ll show you.”

He took her hand, relieved when she let him without question or resistance. He placed it gently over his heart.

“I know I haven’t been kind, especially those six months. But if we are to fix this - us,” he added, trying to blink away the moisture gathering in his eyes. “I need you to at least try to talk to me, that’s all. If you’re frightened of me, then that’s alright. If you want time to yourself, then so be it. I would just prefer to know your thoughts, and wish to have mine be heard in return.”

His eyes opened again; they were a little bright and wet, and he fixed her with yet another smile. He aimed for hopeful; it came out tremulous. “It’s the least you can do to help your husband out, don’t you think, darling?”

A small attempt at lightening the situation, but one they needed at present.

“Of course,” she nodded. “I think I can at least do that.”

His face brightened. “That’s all I ask.”

Astarion’s hand cupped her cheek, and he leaned in to press his lips against hers. It was a gentle, unhurried meeting of mouths; he let her in, allowing her to taste him.

“Ban. While you were with those damnable children,” he murmured, laughing a little as he pulled away from the kiss, the tips of his ears flushing pink before he proceeded. “Halsin gave me a, ah… a present.”

“You?” she laughed, incredulous.

“Well, for us. He apologized for what happened - and yes, it was an actual apology this time, mind you.” He looked smug, and although Ban doubted the veracity of his claim, she didn’t contest it.

Astarion slipped a hand under the pillow at his back, pulling out a small package.

“I don’t know if you’ll like it, and I don’t presume to know what exactly you and Halsin did when you were together, but-”

He unwrapped the package, revealing a whittled cock.

Ban stared.

She stared for such a long time that Astarion began to worry.

“We don’t- look.” He began to wrap it back up, but Ban grasped his wrist to stop him.

“I could do it,” she offered, “But I don’t have any experience in that location, and I’d rather have it be you if it’s in-”

He couldn’t help the laugh that burst out of him; he quickly grabbed her for a kiss, affection overwhelming him.

“Ban,” he said slowly, each word dripping from his lips, “If I wanted to fuck you in the ass, I’d do it with my cock.”

She shivered at his words; Astarion smirked, smugly pleased.

“This isn’t for you, darling.”

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eremikas-bby · 10 months

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𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝑨𝑶𝑻 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝑾𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑭𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑨𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒐𝒏 𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎

[Pt. 1]

Overview: You cuddle them for the first time, doing the sweetheart cradle/head-to-chest position.

Theme: Fluff, comfort, Headcanons, AOT x reader

Characters: Eren Yeager, Mikasa Ackerman, Armin Arlert, Sasha Braus, Connie Springer, Jean Kirstein, Ymir, Historia Reiss

TW: Slight angst (?), physical touch

Eren Yeager

"Y/N?", he gently asks receiving no response. His breath hitched upon realizing that you have fallen asleep, observing your relaxed and calmed breathing.

His eyes widened, surprised by the thought of you getting to fall asleep on him. You feel his heartbeat pace faster.

You were unaware but he felt self-conscious and anxious, guilty if he would hurt you, as he recalled the people he had pained before.

He observed your precious and vulnerable state, and that softened him.

He eases into your touch, hugging you back softly. The beating goes slower, and a cold drop drops on your cheek, perishing on his shirt.

He felt comfort, he felt home feeling your warmth. And that stormed his head with thoughts, of fulfillment and apprehension to have found you.

"I love you...", he lightly whispered to your ear, a bittersweet tone.

[Mans has a soft spot for you 😭]

‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧︵‿

Mikasa Ackerman

She is not very much fond of physical touch but she knew and saw how tired you were, so she anticipated it and used it as an opportunity to show her affection with what she can and what she's comfortable with.

You were dazed, exhausted. There she was, welcoming you with open arms to lie on her. You had a small pillow talk about your day and how you felt until your eyes dropped heavier. You dozed off.

She sat there, frozen, holding you gently as porcelain like you were to break at any moment.

She closes her eyes, listening to the rhythm of your breathing, feeling the closeness of you and immersing in the moment.

She cautiously checks you out to see if there may be anything wrong. She's the one to observe your breathing patterns, and the positions you would shift to.

She will freely correct it because she wouldn't like for you to have muscle strains upon waking up.

If you tremble, she will rub your back gently and wrap her arms around you. "Shhh... Honey, calm down, deep breaths. Are you alright?"

Like how she promised Carla that she would protect Eren, she vows to her heart and to her own being, that she will love and protect you unconditionally for eternity for hers already beats for you... And she was fated with you, she believes.

‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧︵‿

Armin Arlert

His hands were occupied with a book until you teasingly laid on his chest. He felt nervous and you told him that you'll leave, though he insisted. He said he liked it.

Like Eren, Armin would be anxious, since he never really got close to anyone like this.

Though, once he gets used to it, the story he's reading gave him a spark of joy; an impulse to mollycoddle you. He brings the book to the side and puts his focus on you.

He adores you, stroking your hair lightly, rubbing circles on your back, rocking you back and forth mildly like a baby.

He smiles at you lovingly, cheeks plastered with light pink. He admires you quietly and sweetly. Thinking of how glad he is to have met you, how you completed him and improved him as a person. He reminisces the time you went to the sea together.

"When I'm with you, it seems like the world seems to stop... It's like everything calm and at peace, um... You're like the ocean to me, something I've loved dearly. Akin to the limitless horizon, and the infinite waves, I wish to love you endlessly forever." he unconsciously muttered, earning a little flinch from you. "Oh- I'm sorry.", he said stilly pressing his lips together with cheeks flushed, cringing at what he had said. He sighs, scratching gently through your hair, rocking you once again.

‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧︵‿

Sasha Braus

You guys just finished having a pillow fight when you laid on her. Seeing you comfy on her chest ignited an affectionate side of her, so she tried hugging you back giggling seeing that you'd fallen asleep.

She looks at you observantly, randomly booping your nose or poking your cheek, then will mutter how cute you look.

A few moments apart, she'll probably order Connie around to get her some chips, water, and chocolate right after, and let's say she'd try her best to not get crumbs on you which she would later on flick off.

"Thanks for being my best bud, and for always being by my side Y/N." She yawns, "Nap time!"

She will fall asleep in milliseconds. Be prepared and take caution for she may throw you out of her arms since she has deep sleep sessions.

‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧︵‿

Connie Springer

He isn't that much of a fan of physical touch, so it will take a lot of persuading.

However, once he gave it a chance, it becomes a big core memory in your relationship. He will take goofy ahh photos of you and would crack up some inside jokes about it. He will probably apply the simple drawing techniques Jean taught him to draw you. He will overexaggerate it to sorta meme you, and it will be hilarious.

Though, he may have not said it but he finds you so cute and delicate when you're asleep.

Just like what he murmured; "Hope you know that you have a special place in my heart and soul. I'm glad to be the one you chose." He will smile and cringe what he said and would just snicker it off.

He will probably complain about his arm/ leg falling asleep right after to cover up what he said but he wouldn't move one bit because he doesn't want to wake you up. (he'd still complain about leg and arm pains once you wake up-)

‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧︵‿

Jean Kirstein

You would've talked tons about it previously. And as promised, you were on his chest. the pace of his heart is fast because he would be very flustered and happy.

His hands and feet would be s h a k i n g that you could feel him randomly just move ever so often. And that's because he's just in awe of you.

He will say things like;

"Aww you're so adorable."

"You're so pretty, it's unreal."

Once he gets breather, he would be so soft. He will let you stay there, caressing you.

"Thank you for being mine, chipmunk."

He would probably doze off with you, as well.

Unlike Sasha, he would be more cautious of his surroundings and would protect her baby >:(

Like Connie, he would draw you, too! The image of you sleeping got a little too stuck in his mind and he will draw that ever so often when he needs to practice or gain drawing motivation.

(He will make you appreciate yourself about them, too 🥺)

Once, you wake up he would jump high asfk, flexing that he's a gentleman now or whatever

‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧︵‿

Ymir Freckles-

You told her that you wanted to cuddle. And unexpectedly, she said yes. Though, let's just say that came with a cost.

Ymir acts like she hates physical touch and she will bully you out of your clasp. When you fall asleep on her, she will wake you up teasingly. She will also storm you with tickles to wake you tf up when you don't move away (LMFAO she's just a big meanie).

But that's just how she shows her love. Of course, she would let you cuddle her... Just right after you have fallen asleep.

She will pull you close to her chest and apologize, kissing your forehead. She will run her hands through your scalp and hair, occasionally kissing every expanse of what she's able to reach.

"I love you so much. Please don't ever leave me. You are all I want and need, sweetheart."

‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧︵‿

Historia Reiss-

Considering that Historia is very much a hopeless romantic, cuddling like this has been a bucket list for her from the first time she laid her eyes on you.

She will mention it several times, and you would reach the extent where you just crave it. So, you both agreed to finally do it.

Oh, she will be so sweet and loving to you. Seeing you peacefully dozing off makes her determined to protect and love you more.

She will shush every person that dares to enter and lightly point at you, smiling proudly. Let's say she may have shooed them away, as she wants to maintain the serenity and intimacy of the room with you.

She will be smiling brightly, cheeks painted with pink, looking at you. She will caress your cheek, back, and neck returning to stroking your hair. She does not. AND TRIES TO NOT look away from you. She wants to see you every single second, not missing anything.

"I'm glad to be with you, love. I wish I could make it up for everything you've done for me. Remember that I'll always be by your side, okay?" She says in a low voice, slightly unnoticeable.

She will give off a light giggle when she sees you smile in your sleep.

================================================

A/N: Not vv original and sorta cringe, honestly. (Don't come at me-)

Wattpady wattpad post for the week but hope y'all enjoyed it! ^^

Feel free to send in your comments/ suggestions on what I may still have to improve on. Comment down below if ya want pt. 2 :P

Love y'all. Please take care of yourselves <3

--------------------------------------------------

Notes: Accomplished on June 22, 2023. Edited and re-written on June 23-24

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stayinhellevator · 5 months

Text

Shades Of Love

Where you thought love was red but it was golden

Pairing: S.Coups x gn!Reader//Wonwoo x gn!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst//S2L, L2E

Word Count: 1922

Warning: Mentions of seggsy times(not explicit)

Playlist: Red and Daylight ~ Taylor Swift

"Order 895 is ready. Please collect it."

You could hear your own voice booming in the buzzed cafeteria followed which a sturdy familiar young man walked towards the counter, flashing you his infamous gummy dimpled smile.

"Thank you! Now that I've had the best coffee that there is, my day would be better."

You shook your head at his antics and prepared his receipt as you tried to hide the smile that threatened to come out in order to not encourage his tactics. He did this every single day, coming to the cafe you worked at without fail with his regular order of an americano and melon bread and asked you out, also without fail.

However, you weren't quite ready to date and certainly not this handsome overly rich guy. He was so damn charming that nobody could ignore him, no matter how hard they tried to resist him, to you he seemed like a god damn celebrity and you, were just you. A broke final year college student, with big dreams, struggling with multiple part time jobs but that's what happens when your parents couldn't care any less about your existence. You had somehow survived school under their control and now you were almost done with your college all on your own and you were very proud of yourself. You had so much on your plate that you couldn't really prioritise a relationship in your life much less the attention that'd come upon you, with a guy like him.

"So are you free tonight? Tomorrow? Overmorrow?"

But he was also good at breaking your resolve; especially when he looked at you with that adorable puppy face and an even cuter pout on those luscious lips of his. And just like that, after six months of resistance, you had cracked.

"Real smooth Seungcheol, real smooth. I've to give this to you."

And you watched as his eyes glowed with a playfulness and he smirked at you in victory but you couldn't find it in yourself to dismiss his smugness.

Loving Choi Seungcheol was red.

He made you see the world through rose tinted glasses; everything that was so plain and cynical previously, now seemed bright and meaningful. You had something to look forward to every single day you woke up.

You'd think as time gradually passed, you'd come out of the honeymoon phase of your relationship but no Seungcheol made you feel special everyday, as if he was still courting you. He'd flirt with you, compliment you, voice out any and even a slight change in your look.

Bringing you your favourite flowers everyday without fail, taking you out on cute little dates frequently, going on a walk with his adorable fur baby like a happy family every evening and going as far as to pose like a trophy CEO boyfriend who'd pick you up from college every single day. Life with him seemed something straight like a rom-com fiction that you'd enjoy as a guilty pleasure.

He was passionate, if his constant pining of six months wasnt proof enough. He knew what he wanted and how to get it, be it opportunities, things or people. He did everything with all his heart, felt all kinds of emotions to their extreme. If he loved you, he'd travel to the ends of the world for you and God forbid if he hated you, he'd make sure he dragged you to that end and buried you in the deepest pits of hell. That's how passionate Choi Seungcheol is.

Seungcheol was also synonymous to a fiery lust that you'd never even imagined would burn through you. His kisses looked as hot as they felt when he imprinted them on every curve of your body. No matter how many times he took you, it never felt enough to either of you.

Because Seungcheol's emotions were limitless, so was his anger. Such was his anger that you'd rather die than be at the receiving end of his hostility. You first witnessed it when he found you getting uncomfortable with the gossip around your relationship in your campus and you'd swore to never explore that side of his passion.

In theory, it looked hot to see your boyfriend with such a burning determination in his eyes, jaws clenched in fury and knuckles fisted as if ready to get bloody if needed however, his violent rage sent chills down your spine because he really had no control over his actions when he went down that road.

And unfortunately for you, your worst fears had actually come true when the two of you ended up in an argument in your bedroom when you were supposed to be celebrating your fifth anniversary.

"Cheol! How did we end up here? It's not like you hadn't known of my plans for the future?"

You asked exasperatedly trying to make sense of this conversation. You had always wanted to own a cute cafe of your own with a bookshop above it and Cheol had always known about it. So how had he come from admiring your dreams to going against them?

"Because I thought you might change your plans baby. Today when mom asked me about our plans for future I realised we had never even discussed about our future. And now that I'm finally taking over the business I'd really like to settle down with you."

He tried to explain as best as he could but not enough to make sense to you. So was it his parents? You always knew they disapproved of your lifestyle and disinterest in fitting to theirs so did they say something to him?

"Cheol I never said that we can't get married. Of course I want to marry you and grow a family with you. However what I don't understand is, how does me wanting to establish a cafe of my own has anything to do with us getting married?"

You felt cornered the longer you watched his face that didn't soften even a bit with understanding and growing more determined every second.

"I'm more than capable enough to take care of you so what's the need to work?"

Your heart was pounding against your ribs so loud you swear you could hear it when you realised where this conversation was going. This wasn't your Cheol but Choi Seungcheol, the business man that his father was proud of.

"And you can still take care of me. I told you it's more about me fulfilling my dreams and not about survival or money anymore Cheol."

You could recognise the timidness in your wavering voice as you tried for the last time to save your relationship that was dangling by a single strand of thread.

"And how would it look that my wife is working in a cafe, even if you own it. People would think I don't provide well enough for you, there'd be too much gossip-"

He paused abruptly as he realised the look of growing horror on your face.

"So it's about your family's reputation and tabloids and not us anymore."

He shook his head desperately and scampered to his knees in front of you, trying to bring you back to him as you drifted away not just from him but even yourself.

"Baby please I didn't mean it that way."

He continued babbling but you couldn't hear him with the constant ringing in your ears.

You had always known it. So why did it still hurt?

Nearly three years later, as you stood outside your own cafe that you built with blood, sweat and tears literally, with pride all alone, Jeon Wonwoo came in your life with his warmth that thawed even the deepest corners of your heart, that seemed to be numb over the years of loneliness.

Wonwoo's compassion made everything seem easier than it actually was. Individually, you two were extremely reserved people who were neither interested in social interaction nor actively seeked it however together you two were like two perfectly fitting puzzle pieces. You remembered when you first met Wonwoo and were immediately intimidated by his persona however by the end of the day, it felt like you two had known each other since forever. And soon enough, it was to no one's surprise, you two were in a relationship.

Wonwoo was equally wise as he was warm; he knew how to make someone feel welcome but he also knew who actually deserved to be welcomed. He wasn't just your life partner, who knew how to handle you but also your business partner who provided his insights to your now joint venture. He owned the bookstore above your cafeteria that you two now jointly run. He was in every sense your missing brain cell.

Everything was easy with Wonwoo, even your arguments. You both tend to avoid arguing but when you do, he made it a point that you two never go to bed without resolving it and truly, it reassured you because you never want to be lonely, especially now that you've found him.

Wonwoo was thoroughly loyal and caring. He knew what you wanted before you could even acknowledge your emotions. You cherished every part of your life with him. Be it passing each other meaningful or sometimes even suggestive looks amidst the crowd of your cafe or snuggling up with each other with hands absent mindedly wandering on each other's skin with your favourite books in front of you.

Wonwoo was luxurious and not just materialistically. Every kiss that you placed on him felt like you touched the finest silks and likewise every kiss that he placed on you was as intoxicating as an expensive wine. It was sinful, addicting and never enough.

As regal as he was, he was also powerful, capable of making someone question their entire existence with just one look. His domineering aura also extended to a protectiveness over, which weirdly made you feel assured and safe but never suffocated.

As fine of a man as he was, of course he had a bit of a superiority complex but it never oppressed you or scared you. As long as you both were respectful of each other's boundaries and limits, everything was okay and that was an established fact. Besides, if he were a little too perfect, you think you'd be a little paranoid around him. So you guess you can bear a bit of his narcissism that his handsome face and compassionate heart deserved.

"Baby!? What are you thinking?"

A deep baritone that you could swear you felt vibrate deep within you brought you out of your musings as you faced your fiance who had joined you on the couch with two steaming cups of coffee.

"Thinking how lucky I am to have you in my life."

He smiled at you before wrapping an arm around your shoulders as he settled comfortably beside you in a snuggle.

"Hmm lucky you are. What would you have done without me?"

You give him a poker face before hitting him on the chest which made him laugh and hug you a little tighter.

"I love you so much!"

You placed a peck on his lips before smiling at him as you settled his glasses back up his nose.

"I love you more Woo!"

If he is the end result of all your struggles in every universe, then you'd gladly do it all over again.

You once believed love would be burning red but it was a shimmering gold for you and there's nothing you'd change about it.

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phramboise · 7 months

Text

the dry salvages — captainjohnpricexfemale reader

is it smoking he hates?

short take, angst, smoking, character death…

How he hates smoking this filth. Now stubbing it down and scraping the metal of the ashtray with his index finger as he rubs the cigar on it, his thumb pulsates, he presses it over the still burning spot as if punishing himself.

For what, exactly? He seems not to know, now. Rather, he ignores it.

He hates the taste, tar pooling down his palate, burning down his trachea. He hastes tasting it even when tasting something else. He hates that he has the chance to taste the warm, untouched, and limitless pleasure off you, one to lick the caramel smeared on your lips but there is always a veil at the roof of his mouth that limits it. He hates being this addicted, hates that all there’s left to him after the hallucinogenic pinnacle that lures him along with the bite tugging on his lips with your teeth when you part, is the poison behind his teeth.

The smell, he hates that it seeps behind his nails, even when trimmed until they pulsate and washed to the point where skin breaks, how it permeates through the fabric of his clothes even after they are aired, washed over and over with the many programmes of the machine. He hates that he smells ash and tobacco when rising his shirt to his nose, instead of burnt lavender and coconut of your lotion, or the musky oil of your skin; and however he denies, he hates the fact that the whole house smells like it too, smells like him. Him and the smoke, roaming in the ground like rivulets, rising in the air like chimneys, together and inseparable like lovers.

He hates that he cannot sleep because of it, for it invades his sleep, steals the only moment where he gets to not to think of a thing. His fingers itch, wishing for something to get his mind off it, and you yourself are sleeping. Waking up more than once on some nights, he hates that it still is on his mind after brushing his teeth to get rid of it for countless minutes, dozing off with the brush in his hand, leaned against the cold tiles. Hates the times where he had to go out to the balcony and leave your hold for a smoke, where he couldn’t kiss you to not stain your diligent skin too. And as if reminding himself of those moments, -and perhaps the wounded yearns for another wound, he keeps smoking, and not even bothering stepping out to clear air anymore. On your shared bed, with your pillow soaked in your perfume to suppress the desperate, desolate air, he lays down on his side, taking a deep puff, then another without letting the blow out of his lips. Teeth bite the roll, one hand presses on his temples as the other searches for you on your side of the bed. He hates how common this occurs, and each moment where he had the chance to kiss you but just couldn’t, hates each wasted opportunity, each kiss traded for something so mundane.

He hates it for it is always near. Always with him, always able and never leaving. For however deep he wishes, however determined, he cannot quit.

For unlike you, it stays.

So, he comes to see you with it between his lips, for yours cannot be. And he hates how he even thinks to try replacing an object of worship with something so simple, something so filthy. It can never give what your lips did, yet he still tries. For there’s nothing else to do, and he still waits for you to tell him to stop it.

But you don’t.

Leaning back against the cold concrete, the lighter still burns the cigar even when it rains slightly, and he lays his head on the one by your feet, while his eyes look at the stone that has your name carved on. And the cigar is still with him. Tears are pointless when it’s raining. Regret is unmemorable when what’s gone is gone.

He loves another, and thus he hates himself. For now, something much more solid holds your delicate skin, has you tight in a much more promising hold, much more loyal than his. And this hold is consuming, much persistent, never letting you out. Never once in his nighttime dreams, and he hates it too. Never once an illusion, never once you sleep in his head.

He hates smoking for it causes a slow and painful death, and what you had giving him the exact same.

...

heavily influenced by Brooke Solis

#call of duty #cod mwii #john price #captain john price #captain price #captain john price x you #captain price x reader #john price x you #price x you #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #mwii #price x reader #cod #cod x reader #cod mw2 #john price cod #price cod

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mononijikayu · 4 months

Text

time after time ━ gojo satoru.

He could feel the warmth of the sun as he and his beloved darling laid onto their backyard to sit upon the white brim chairs, while his lover read aloud to him. He could remember laying down in the grass with him, during a meteor shower as they embraced and spoke of the most useless things and marveling at the wonder that they are living a dream - being able to have the opportunity to see those wide skies.

note: i wrote this, remembering that december 24th was when satoru gojo faced sukuna and got nerfed by gege akutami. GEGE WHEN I GET YOU GEGE??? anyway, happy christmas <3

Genre: Astronaut AU, Interstellar-esque;

Warning/s: Angst, Hurt and No Comfort, Death, Grief, Romance, Friends to Lovers, Lovers to Marriage, Mentions of Space, Mention of Technology Failure, Possible Trigger to Astrophobia;

masterlist

play: time after time by margaret whiting

IT WAS HARD TO WATCH WHAT WAS HAPPENING. But it was even harder to comprehend that there was no more hope. Whatever he did, Gojo Satoru knew that the chances of survival were too good. As he peered through the glass of the oxygen meter, there was give or take five or ten minutes left of oxygen. Maybe even less than that.

The power station malfunctioning, soon enough going out of action, would not be able to tell. Satoru was certain that it was as if time had taken to slowing down on its own. Life flashed before his eyes as he pushed through the miniscule halls and into the outer chamber, where the escape pod readied for a venture for survival.

He looked through the pod, making certain that the sleeping form within was still in the state of slumber. Satoru didn’t want to wake his lover up, he wished they wouldn’t wake up until the pod had already left. That’s all he could ask for. After all, Gojo Satoru did not have the heart to say goodbye.

As Satoru struggled to grapple with the harsh reality unfolding before him, the enormity of the situation pressed heavily on his shoulders. The dimly lit chamber, once filled with the hope of escape, now seemed like a confined space echoing the impending doom. Time itself appeared to slow down, each passing second carrying the weight of irreversible consequences.

He bit his lip, turning away as he tried to not let the tears fall. Satoru had always joked that he would not cry at partings. He’s never one to be willing to let his tears fall. They loved his smile more than anything. He knew that too well. He took a deep breath, gathering all the strength he had left in him.

Nodding his head, he looks at his lover with all the devotion that stemmed from his soul. He looked at them, as though they were everything he could ever dreamed of. As if they were all that sustained whatever is left of his being. His lover was life itself to Satoru. This was all he could ever have, this parting. He cherished each millisecond as though they were the treasure of the world.

The white haired man couldn't shake off the bitter irony that lingered in his mind. Memories of his youth, spent in the embrace of his wonders of the universe and beyond. All the knowledge of his training had come through to him in fragmented pieces. During their training, they were assured that the escape pod would have little use.

There would be no need for it, rather it was precautionary. A chance of one to thousands of impossibilities. Gojo Satoru, with unwavering confidence, had embraced this belief. He had no reason to distrust those that had more knowledge in the infinity and limitless than he. Yet, little did he know that this conviction would become the bitter catalyst for their undoing.

The experts and the scientists who had designed the now-crumbling spaceship had boasted proudly of its indestructibility. Their vessel was hailed as impervious, capable of withstanding any cosmic debris that dared to threaten it.

The advancements in technology, the pinnacle of human achievement, had seemingly fortified their journey into the vast unknown. Yet, in the silent void of space, reality unfolded with merciless clarity. He can no longer contact them. But Satoru was certain that they could not offer any other remedies now.

Technology, for all its progress, couldn't defy the fundamental truth of existence—nothing is truly reserved from destruction, and nothing can endure forever. The spaceship, once deemed the most indestructible, the most invincible of its kind, now succumbed to the relentless forces that governed the cosmos.

As the vessel disintegrated, it served as a stark reminder that even the most advanced creations of humankind were subject to the relentless passage of time.

The echo of history reverberated through Satoru's thoughts as he remembered the tragic tale of the Titanic. His lover had shared this piece of history during their shared days in the dormitories with fellow trainees at the space center. They often borrowed books from the space center’s library.

Often, they brought it back and read it to him and Suguru. At rare times, Shoko would come by and share a smoke with them. Satoru enjoyed the tone of his lover’s voice, narrating days gone by. Even the sound of their voice as they read through tragedy, he treasured it all.

The voice of his lover echoed hauntingly in Satoru's mind, a relentless loop that reverberated against the confines of the escape pod. The imagery painted by their words unfolded like a vivid scene—a moonless night, an unforgiving sea, and the chilling embrace of hopelessness in the dark. The parallels between their current plight and the tragic history of the Titanic became an inescapable reality.

The hubris that had surrounded the belief in the Titanic's strength now cast a long shadow over Gojo Satoru's thoughts. The ship, deemed incredibly infallible, had dared to challenge the heavens and the mysteries beyond. It had arrogantly positioned itself as greater than the enigma of life itself.

As Satoru grappled with the impending doom of their own spaceship, he found himself drawn back to a time when he, too, had dismissed the notion of facing a catastrophic fate.

The echoes of shared laughter and camaraderie reverberated in Satoru's mind as he confronted the undeniable truth—their spaceship, once believed to be beyond the vulnerabilities of the past, now succumbed to the harsh realities of the cosmos. The comfort derived from the confidence in technological progress now stood shattered, replaced by the cold, unforgiving expanse of space that surrounded the escape pod.

As the remnants of their once-invincible spaceship drifted away, Satoru found himself grappling with the harsh reality that their journey had become a poignant testament to the consequences of blind faith in the face of the unknown. The escape pod, once an afterthought in their preparations, now bore the weight of their diminishing hopes—a fragile vessel adrift in the cosmic sea.

The memories of reassurance that Satoru had offered to his lover resurfaced. They had been each other's longest friends since youth, their bond stretching across shared dreams and countless hours of training. Satoru's conviction that there was nothing to fear had been a source of solace for his friend turned lover. It was a belief rooted in the collective dedication of years spent in rigorous training, relentless work, continuous learning, and dedicated study.

The commitment extended beyond personal aspirations; it was a collective endeavor for the betterment of humanity. Their sacrifices, the toil, the shared vision—they were all invested in the pursuit of excellence. The pursuit of adventure, of exploration. Of seeing the stars from where they sat in the vast vacuum of space. His lover smiled at the thought of doing it together.

Hand in hand, The exchange of love for the sight of the big blue sphere from afar. The spaceship, once conceived as a symbol of human achievement, the big wide wonder that his lover had given their devotion to, the home they had found themselves wrapped within, now stood as a testament to the inherent fragility of such endeavors.

Yet, in the face of impending doom, Gojo Satoru couldn't help but question the cosmic order that allowed the dissolution of their dreams. The once-sturdy vessel had become a victim of the unpredictable forces of the universe. The weight of hope alive bore heavily on Satoru's shoulders, burdened by the realization that his efforts, however earnest, couldn't shield them from the capricious whims of fate.

Satoru's gaze lingered at one of the small window panes, the infinite expanse of space stretching out beyond it. The vision of stars, once a source of wonder and inspiration, now served as a backdrop to the unraveling tragedy. The space ship, with its precious cargo of dreams and love in one capsule that fit only a soul, floated aimlessly in the cosmic abyss—a stark reminder of the impermanence of human endeavors and the relentless march of time.

Life, with its unpredictable twists, can transform into a relentless adversary, especially when one basks too blissfully in the illusion of security. He realizes that he took too much for granted. The irony of this reality provokes a bitter laugh in Satoru, reminiscent of their friend Suguru.

Geto Suguru, a crucial part of the team responsible for calculating the intricate details of the space flight, had often navigated the delicate balance between optimism and the harsh truths of their mission. Satoru wondered if he was still asleep. Or if he was panicking that they couldn’t get any communication from the ship. He would have known by now that something was wrong.

"You’ve got to learn how to forgive me, Suguru. It seems I won't be joining you guys for that beer run." Satoru murmured into the air, surrounded by the slow and steady swirls of smoke within the chamber housing the escape pod. The power chamber overheated, he knew. Barely any time now.His words hung in the weighty atmosphere, a testament to the somber acknowledgment of an unfulfilled promise.

“Man, you still owe me for that tab, don’t you? Pay that up! Don’t you dare let my darling pay for it, stingy bangs!”

Satoru coughed for a moment, feeling the pressure in his lungs. He felt a sense of gratitude that the remaining oxygen still allowed him to breathe in the shrinking confines of space. He was sure that Suguru would see it somehow. The ship records everything. With what power it has left, it would record. Suguru would see it. He laughs for a moment. At the very least his lover wouldn’t have to pay for more of the beer when they get back.

]However, the cruel reality persisted—the lifeline he clung to had an inevitable expiration point. His gaze fixed upon his partner, securely strapped into the chair within the escape pod, and Satoru's eyes, hollow and fatigued, conveyed a poignant mixture of regret and an unspoken farewell.

Prior to their departure, Satoru took meticulous care in ensuring his partner was securely fastened for the challenging journey back to Earth. Doubts lingered about the adequacy of the fuel gauges for the trip, but amidst the uncertainty, Satoru clung to the necessity of hope—that the escape pod would reach safety, anywhere but here.

"Sorry, darling. I’m really sorry." he murmured, his once-confident voice now laced with pain, his lips forming a small frown. Satoru's eyes shifted to a picture on the wall, a repository of precious memories shared between him and his partner.

While many of these memories had been stowed away in the escape pod beside his partner, a select few remained with him—a snapshot from their wedding day, another with their dogs, one with their families, and a cherished moment with Suguru in the training hall at the space center. “I hope you learn to forgive me again. Learn to live and forgive your loving fool."

Turning his attention to the pod's facets, Satoru meticulously checked every detail. He ensured an assortment of food, refreshments, and books awaited his partner upon their awakening, once all the protective measures were removed. Swiftly, he placed his partner's earphones and music player within reach. The cerulean eyed man looks at the music player for a second longer. He thinks if his lower will listen to the music and think of him. Of how they used to dance in the ship’s kitchen and laugh together.

He shakes his head as he takes his lover’s hand. His thumb threads through the familiar etches, the lines across each finger, of the palm of their hand. Gojo Satoru stared at the metallic sphere on their left hand. He huffed a laugh, tears falling tenderly, as he secured their wedding ring against his touch. Trying to breathe against the grain of space’s pressure, he started to take off his own ring and carefully placed it on his lover’s other ring finger.

Parting from the ring was the most painful part of all of this; His beloved lover had gifted it to him during a moment of unexpected revelation. All those happy years, his darling had out of the blue blurted their love for him. The scarlet blush upon their cheeks, the bright beam of love echoing in shaking eyes. Winter snow fell all around them. Satoru was beyond surprised, his clutches were all that was keeping him still and balanced. They never even dated before. Yet, they knelt beside him with all their might in their heart and soul, defying convention to be honest about love.

Gojo Satoru did nothing but laugh in the most beautiful of manners. That’s what his darling had told him. Under the pale bright snow, the beauty of his blue eyes shined the most. Almost like stars themselves. Satoru leaned forward to lean for the most passionate embrace. Their lips intertwined. He could taste wonder from the strawberry mochi, the smell of lavender perfume. Most of all, there was warmth. There was warmth in being so truly loved.

Satoru vividly recalled the disbelief etched on his beloved darling’s face as he later proposed. His darling was not one to hastily reveal their feelings, and yet, they had summoned every ounce of courage to express their love for Satoru. Their smile was everything to Satoru. It was almost like the sun, so wide and radiant.

It brought him back to life again. Just as much as the moment when they accepted his marriage proposal. Their response became the confirmation of their love, and tears of happiness flowed freely as his beloved darling admitted that, since meeting Satoru, their entire being had been consumed by love. In that moment, His smiling love became all Satoru ever needed.

Their marriage, officiated by Suguru in a simple office setting, marked the beginning of a shared journey outside the space station. Shoko was there to be a witness, and she brought Nanami and Haibara with her. Though Nanami complained that he would be late for the training at the gravity center, he seemed happy enough to stay.

Haibara was the one that pointed that out, though. Suguru, having keenly observed their profound love, eagerly supported their union and played a pivotal role in navigating bureaucratic hurdles. Once the paperwork was signed, they relocated to a different place, just outside the space center.

Suguru diligently advocated to higher-ups that their commitment would not hinder their work. Satoru could have done it himself, with his connections and all. But, he was too enamored in his new found status as a married man to want to worry about the rest of the world.

They had built quite a wonderful life together. That’s all he could think about. Those happy, fulfilled years sustained Satoru, he could feel the tears pour down the blinking screens. He longed for those days again. To have all those bright beaming echoes of the mundane life, of the white picket fence. Those dance parties, those late night drives, those meaningless banters. He wanted it all back.

The playful times with their dogs down the park across their lovely home. Taking a small run around their neighborhood, even if his lover would complain about how hot and painfully long the trail was each time, they still did it and when the walking time gathered.

As long as Satoru smiled, it was all worth it. In all that moment, they held Satoru’s hand tightly. The small moments of talking about what they should eat for dinner, the pout on his lover’s lips at each imagining of their food. It was the wonder in his lover’s face which made him giggle every single time.

There were those wonderful weekends when they hosted barbecue parties for their family and friends, drowning in joyous feasting. His beloved darling, going around talking to everyone and socializing. The bright echo of the playing music kept everyone in a light mood. Suguru and Shoko looking around at the guests, enamored in guessing games. Nanami diligently manning the grilling station, Haibara pulling out the piles and piles of meat from the fridge. Satoru smiled at everyone he passed as he greeted them with drinks.

Every moment spent lazily making breakfast after a long tiring night at work, the loud laughter that could only echo between the two of them. The dogs kept them entertained as they played against the chair’s shadow in the morning rise. Satoru made faces as he followed up their play with a game of chase in the backyard.

His beloved darling would laugh at how silly it all was. For years, Gojo Satoru had pride in the idea that he was the only one that could make his lover laugh that way, that bubbly wondrous manner and each and every time, he was certain that it made him feel alive over and over. It made him fall in love over and over.

Every passing compliment spoken tenderly as they let the night drift in without complaint, their hands joined together in a way that made a whole of the world in their touch. Walking hand in hand on the boulevard, his shaded eyes full of devoted love as they walked towards the restaurants.

In those small impromptu dates that he would arrange for his darling, there was so much joy in seeing them so excited to try the new food. Satoru would stare so longingly, full of endless adoration and their eyes would meet. He would be watching his lover partner blush ever so shily, saying such words in return to him.

Satoru's realization struck him like a harsh awakening, a sudden understanding that he had taken precious moments for granted, assuming an endless supply of time. He had often proclaimed with pride that he would age gracefully, enjoying the luxury of more years.

However, Satoru's proclamation proved futile; time slipped away inexorably. He wiped away tears, the wailing sirens from the main deck serving as a mournful backdrop. Warning messages blared from the ship's screens, each echoing the demise of the once-invincible features. Despite the rapid deterioration, Satoru strained to expedite his coding efforts, knowing that the salvation of his beloved darling depended on his speed.

Amid flickering lights and shattering electrical wiring, Satoru raced against time to enter the final codes. The engines sparked and caught fire as the ship's structure began to rupture. Fear gripped him—the fear of not being fast enough, of the coding for the red button lagging, risking the collapse of their ship into chaos. Satoru's determination surged; losing was not an option.

The sequence of calamitous events unfolded with the stealthy intrusion of an unseen dark asteroid rock, cruelly striking the side of the once-sturdy spaceship. In the initial aftermath, his cherished partner nonchalantly brushed off the impact, deeming it minor, while the ship maintained an ominous silence regarding any substantial concerns. In the eyes of his beloved, it appeared to be nothing more than a superficial scratch, evoking shared laughter and a tender kiss—a testament to their enduring bond.

Amidst the laughter and exchanged affections, plans were hatched to entrust the ship to autopilot, allowing the wearied couple to retreat to the embrace of their sleeping quarters. Bright tones of reassurance filled the air as promises of a peaceful night echoed through the dimly lit corridors.

Yet, the tranquility was abruptly shattered as his beloved left the lush confines of the greenery. An urgent alert pierced the air, thrusting their attention to a critical issue that demanded immediate intervention. The collision had wrought havoc on the ship's delicate equilibrium, compromising oxygen levels in the vicinity of the main power station. Responding with swiftness and determination, his beloved donned an oxygen suit and hastened to the scene, driven by an impending sense of foreboding.

The scene that unfolded before them surpassed the realm of nightmares. The asteroid's impact had ravaged the core of the ship, tearing apart the main power station with ruthless efficiency. For Satoru, the realization of this devastating development crystallized a long-dreaded nightmare, an eventuality that he had hoped would never materialize. As chaos and urgency enveloped the ship, the gravity of the situation bore down on them, leaving no room for denial or escape from the impending catastrophe.

Realizing the inevitability of the ship's impending shutdown, Satoru grappled with a profound sense of helplessness. Whatever actions he contemplated seemed futile in the face of an unstoppable, self-inflicted catastrophe.

That’s why he made a choice.

The love of this life had to survive.

Even without him.

But then that red button lights up.

Satoru felt a glimmer of warmth return to his face as hope illuminated his eyes. Laughter, almost manic in its intensity, erupted from him—the kind of laughter borne out of sheer relief. There was hope. There was still a chance.

However, the sedatives that were meant to maintain his beloved darling's unconscious state seemed to have lost their grip. Their eyes fluttered open, dazed and confused, as if emerging from a foggy, drunken stupor. Satoru, taken aback, wondered if he had miscalculated the dosage in his panicked state.

Satoru had hoped to spare his beloved from the heart-wrenching farewell, to let them slip away peacefully in their sleep. But fate had other plans.

"Toru," his beloved murmured, their eyes struggling to focus. "Where...?"

Satoru hesitated, his finger hovering over the mic button, torn between the desire to shield them from the harsh reality and the need to be honest.

"My love," Satoru finally spoke, summoning every ounce of courage amid his own tears. Their partner's voice triggered a full awakening, their body straightening with a sudden realization. This wasn't their bedroom. Something was amiss.

The truth hit them, and Satoru saw the dawning comprehension in their eyes—the escape pod.

"Toru, why am I...?" their partner's voice wavered with worry as they looked at Satoru, who struggled to maintain composure. A sad smile, an anomaly on their usually joyful features, played on his lips. He was always smiling, a trait his beloved cherished.

"There's a lot happening, my love," Satoru said, trying to steady himself. He couldn't bear to see the worry etched on their partner's face. "I'm sorry you had to see it."

As the reality of their situation sank in, his beloved pleaded, "Satoru, why are you there? Why am I here?"

The anguish in their partner's voice tore at Satoru's heart.

"You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen," Satoru whispered, his own tears mingling with the weight of the impending farewell. "I was so glad to have met you that day when my ball went into that tiny broken corner of your house fence."

Their partner's eyes started to well up, realizing the gravity of the situation. Desperation laced their voice, urging Satoru to join them inside the escape pod. But Satoru knew they couldn't.

"You kicked the ball and motioned for me to kick back! You never really liked to speak then, but I guess I changed that, didn't I? I made you a chatterbox," Satoru reminisced, laughter tinged with pain. "I love you so much, so much. Ever since that day. I just never realized it then. But I do. I did. I love you. You are and always have been my world."

His beloved sobbed, their hands desperately working to break free from the constraints. Time was slipping away, and Satoru knew he had to act quickly. The ship was tearing itself apart, and their partner needed to leave now.

"In another life, there would be no fault in our stars," Satoru promised, a shaky breath escaping their lips. "I want you to live on and grow old, even without me. Find love again. I will find you again. I will meet you again. I will love you again."

The anguish in their partner's voice reached a crescendo as they pleaded, "I can't live a long, empty life without you."

Satoru felt the heaviness in his chest, choking on his own emotions. "I know," he whispered.

Finally free, his beloved forced their way to the door, pounding on it in a desperate attempt to override the programmed controls. Satoru maintained eye contact, their hands poised above the red button.

"We'll meet again," Satoru said tenderly, offering one last parting smile. The escape pod separated with finality, and as his beloved screamed in despair, Satoru walked away toward their inevitable fate. “I know we will.”

“Don’t do this to me.” His lover cried out, tears pouring faster than they could blink. “Don’t you dare.”

“I love you.” Gojo Satoru turned around, smiled tenderly. “I love you.”

In the dwindling moments, Satoru found himself standing at the threshold, caught between the vast expanse of space and the memories of a life abruptly cut short. With a heavy sigh, he cast a last lingering look at the escape pod, where his beloved darling looked at him ever so helplessly, banging through the glass.

Once more, Satoru Gojo turned to face the cold reality in the ship.

The vessel, once a titan sailing through the cosmos, now surrendered to the inexorable grip of destruction. It groaned and convulsed, a lamentation echoing through the void—a symphony of demise composed in anguished creaks and shivers.

Satoru, on the precipice of the abyss, inhaled deeply, savoring the acrid cocktail of fear, remorse, and an unwavering resolve to carve a slender lifeline for his cherished one. His only one. The only one that was ever meant for him. Time unfurled like an eternal scroll, each moment an agonizing tapestry that Gojo Satoru faced with stoic acceptance.

In those final heartbeats, he imbibed another breath, a silent requiem woven into the vast emptiness of the cosmos. With a heart weighed down by the gravity of farewell, Gojo Satoru traversed the threshold and sealed the door of the command center—a poignant adieu etched in the frigid embrace of metallic confines.

He closed his cerulean eyes, humming that song. The one that played at their wedding. He couldn’t remember the title. But the thought of remembering the lyrics gave him strength. Because they were here with them again. They were together, always together.

“I only know what I know,” He sang softly, imagining they were beside him. As though they were just under the tree in their backyard. “The passing years will show, you've kept my love so young, so new.”

Amidst the desolate hush of space, Gojo Satoru knew that the escape pod was safe. He knew it had disentangled itself from the disintegrating vestiges of the once-mighty spaceship. His soul would survive with it, as much as his heart will. It embarked on a solitary journey, carrying with it the echoes of a life that had blossomed within the cosmic expanse. The most precious of all cargo in the world, in the universe.

The universe, now a silent observer, bore witness to the tragic odyssey of Gojo Satoru, who, in the name of love, relinquished everything. Thus, he left behind a legacy, a poignant resonance that rippled across the celestial tapestry, eternally echoing in the cosmic winds.

“And time after time,” He grins in his final moments, opening his cerulean eyes.

He sees them, standing in front of him one last time, returning his grin with a bright beam.

He held out his hand. “You'll hear me say that I'm so lucky to be loving you.”

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lucxiii · 11 months

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False Tranquility | Luis Serra x GN! Reader

A/N: THIS FIC IS UNFINISHED. Looking back at this after it’s been sitting in my google docs for months, I don’t think it’s even a fic anymore ngl. I don’t feel like working on it anymore but I wanna put it out here so that’s what I did. Again I’m open to the idea of finishing this in the future. Any form of feedback is greatly appreciated. Lastly, thank you very much and please enjoy.

Synopsis: Waking up with Luis after a night spent together, you can’t help but think over your arrangement.

WC - 1.083

Content: NSFW | explicit | 18+, FWB TO LOVERS, language, (slight) angst with a sprinkle of fluff, i’m sorry but reader has a smoke please bear with me, mental anguish, VERY mundane intro

Mindfully adjusting your position on the sheets so as not to disturb the slumber of the man beside you to face him, you take hold of his arm that lays limp over your waist and gently bring his hand up to your lips for a lasting kiss. Luis’ sleeping form is a captivating sight, a view that you burn into your memory to be admired over and over in moments of seclusion- likely more than would be healthy. A peaceful expression is displayed over his features, so very soft and innocent it's as if responsibility is nonexistent when it’s just the two of you. And even if it's just the two of you, you still can’t have him in the way you want. Luis was very adamant about making that clear the first time, and if that’s the closest you can get to having him, then of course you would latch onto that opportunity. One sided as it is, you can only hope it doesn’t kill you.

Ridiculous.

That’s one of the limitless words in the English dictionary you would use to describe how you feel about this whole thing. Ridiculous because you know it’s toxic. Ridiculous because even if it’s toxic you still love it. Ridiculous because you know you should leave. Ridiculous because even if you know you should leave you still wanna stay. Ridiculous because you’ve allowed yourself to be tangled in this web of pleasure and despair.

Settling Luis’ arm beside him and yanking your eyes away from his face, you turn onto your back to meet the view of the faraway ceiling of chiffon white. Yet before long the contrasting color of the hanging ceiling lights catches your attention, its complex structure challenging your mind to distract you from thinking of the stupid man beside you. Futile, its attempts prove to be. The source of your insanity, he is the center of your attention.

Unwanted or wanted- you can’t tell, the memory of events that transpired the fervid night before begin to resurface your mind. Like an oakwood log, your memories violently emerge from the depths of a chasmic stream, embodying the very depths of your brain itself. Exactly like how it was last night, you revive the sensation of needily planting your lips against Luis’, sweet like sugar. In turn he devours your mouth with intense fervor, wanting and more-so starved. Like how it always is with him, it was fulfilling, the manner his lips latched onto yours- perfect. The feel of his hands left burning hot trails on your exposed flesh, altering the cool air surrounding your figures. The overflowing thirst for pleasure amongst yourselves, it was heat and fire.

Taking a deep breath and heaving out a sigh past your lips, you lazily roll over to your edge of the king-sized bed and relinquish the milky duvet covers from your comfort for another- exposing your bare form once more to the cooling air. Momentarily basking in the penetrating sunlight with closed lids, you slide your legs out gracelessly to place your feet on the soft material of a wooly rug. Scanning the mess of your surroundings- garments tossed here and there in a very disorderly fashion and curtains heedlessly pulled together to conceal privacy, with half-lidded eyes, a hand of yours reaches up to slide behind your neck. Settling firstly for your undergarments for a sense of decency, you bend over with vague ease and swing an arm forward to swiftly snatch your undergarments, fortunately not too far from reach. Slipping them on whilst shuffling limbs on sheets, you raise both arms high above for a good stretch that extends to your fingers and twist your torso both sides to work your abdominal muscles and the rest.

Hmmm…

Sliding off the bed and attempting to find balance on your feet in a weak state, you start towards the left-most side of the room for the wide windows while avoiding stepping on the remainder of clothing left lying around. Deftly maneuvering around and through the bedroom, your steps slow once the dark beige curtains are within reach. Grip light on the smooth fabric, you begin to pull away till half the room is enveloped with the warmth of the rising morning sun. A good half, to cherish the natural luminance. The other half- well, engulfed in cool darkness. His side. Maybe if you joined Luis on the other side, you wouldn’t have to face the other end of oblivion and delusion. Truth and reality

The glass is cold. Cold in a comfortable way- refreshing. Opposite of the burning feeling imparted from Luis’ hands. From the center, the sensation follows as you gently drag a finger downwards, as if tracing runny wax from a candle. Making quick work of the latches, you clutch onto the aluminum frame and push the sliding window’s glass panes outwards in a steady motion. Revitalizing morning air flows in, kissing your sun-touched skin. Taking a deep breath in, a yawn is involuntarily produced and released without sound, hidden by the back of your fist in time for courtesy.

Refreshing.

Sauntering back to bed, you spin and tenderly seat yourself, Luis’ sleeping figure taken into account. Hands splayed flat atop the white sheets on both sides beside you with one leg propped over the other, you tilt your head back and look over at the espresso-wood nightstand on your side of the mattress. The glint of Luis’ prized silver lighter confirms your objective, its shine alluring and luminous in the dark where the sun cannot reach. It’s accompanying partner, a box of cigarettes of Luis’ favorites, lays soundly next to it. Like hand-in-hand. Something you can only dream of. Leaning on your side to grasp both objects at the same time with a singular hand, your success is rewarded with a brief wave of satisfaction and most importantly, what you wanted the most- a smoke.

#Luis Serra #luis sera #luis serra x reader #luis sera x reader #luis serra x you #luis sera x you #Luis Serra x gn!reader #Luis sera x gn!reader #Luis Serra x gender neutral reader #Luis sera x gender neutral reader #luis serra smut #Luis sera smut

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chiyoso · 6 months

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HALL OF FAVORITE WRITERS

▶PLAY. contains personal letters to each person tagged.

▶NOTE. yes, there was absolutely no need to make this, but i wanted to, just to show how deep my love is for the writing fandom, and those who i've encountered along the way.

▶EXTRAS. yes, i'll be adding more writers. too much people have impacted me and left me in awe. been wanting to do this for a damn good while too. (totally not making this as a shortcut so i can go to all of your blogs & stories with ease.)

i. 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐃 — @teapartyspilled

SFW, R-18; Genshin Impact Writer.

♡ letter ! nat, i don't know how many times i've said this, but that day, the day where i read your alhaitham oneshot, you truly, truly had inspired me that time, back then i was still in contemplation to return to playing genshin, i wasn't that much of an alhaitham nerd even, but that- that fic, it seriously broadened my views towards writing and fanfiction by so, so much. you literally opened a whole new world for me, inspired me to the point where i began pursuing writing too, i cannot stress that enough, and with that, thank you, thank you and thank you. i hope you're doing okay nat with how life is going for you, ILY, stay safe.

♡ recs; ICONIC two-part Lyney angst that GENUINELY MADE ME CRY SO HARD IN BOTH PARTS. Scaramouche Angst Series (heh made me hate scara for a bit, Alhaitham oneshot that kickstarted it all for me.

ii. 𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐁𝐄 — @ainescribe / @lychniis

SFW, R-18; Genshin Impact and Honkai Star Rail Writer.

♡ letter ! AINE. One of my first few supporters who supported my first work (Cynosure's Ascendance), wrote so much sweet things to me in my time of need, and also a fucking AMAZING writer. how the fffuuuck did you even manage find me??? SHIT like, i was no one, i was new to tumblr, and then somehow you managed to find the very first fic i wrote where my inexperience was VISIBLE to everyone, even to you—whose fics left me mind fucking blown from how skillful, poetic and your words can be. Fuck Aine, thank you for your continuous support to me, even if i haven't been so damn interacted, ilysm ilysm ILY.

♡ recs; This made me cry (i love you neuvi, zhongli). THIS made me cry harder. THIS STOPPED THE TEARS. THIS was so fucking impactful for me (zhongli oneshot).

iii. 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 — @wanderingconstellations

SFW, R-18; Genshin Impact, Honkai Star Rail Writer.

♡ letter ! YUAAAA MY CRUSH. MY WANDERER. HEHE. YUA YUA YUA was one of many smut writers that kickstarted my obsessions towards Wanderer/Scaramouche, AND the one who made me think “Mmm... maybe I can write smut for Scara next time,” so YEAH. YOU'RE A WHOLE ASS INSPIRATION TO ME TOO!!!! Let's not forget your sweet ass asks and interactions with me, making me all blush n' all that. I've been noticing your absence lately too, I hope everything outside tumblr is okay, and I wish for limitless opportunities of positive choices to you!!! (I miss you and I hope you're really enjoying the banner I made for you <3)

♡ recs; Threesome with Wanderer & Scaramouche that keeps satisfying me til' now. Breeding w/Scaramouche after he consoles you (My ask). Manipulating Bully!Scara (My ask). Lyney HC THAT MADE ME BLUSH SO HARD.

iv. 𝐅𝐔𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐃𝐁𝐘𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐎 — @fueledbysano

SFW, R-18; Tokyo Revengers, JJK, AoT, Bluelock Writer.

♡ letter ! i plead guilty, your honor. i haven't interacted with you as much, but i really, really genuinely loved reading your tokyo revenger works robyn. you're actually one of the reasons that made me explore more of my writing styles, hence the creation of my hsr fic 'the mara's will' - i created it just perhaps a few days or weeks after reading your if/then series, you inspired and impacted me a FUCK TON TOO. you're also the main reason why i started to take things a bit more seriously and realistically in a writing aspect, given the message you telling me about the words power hold? yeah, that message changed me. thank you for existing and being a writer, robyn. <3

♡ recs; her if/then mikey series. i had a long ass manila mikey-crush phase because of this HNNH. THIS manila mikey bday oneshot hit fucking home.

v. 𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐙 — @antimatterz

SFW; Honkai Star Rail Writer.

♡ letter ! HIII!!! hi enyoo!! i haven't interacted with you a lot, but as a reader (AND FAN) of your works, i seriously SERIOUSLY love the way you write, as well as the poetic goodness you bring in your works!!! your specialty? bringing so, so much comfort with a set story. i was in a state of spiraling depression and was going through a rough breakup when i read your fics, it was after the blade banner too, (the start of my blade obsession cough) so reading your self aware AUs, genuinely impacted me so much at the time, hence inspiring me to make that one jing yuan self aware au comfort fic. you're one of those impactful writers, please remember that! thank you ily <3

♡ recs; all of their self aware hsr AUs (heh) they're all SO comforting it hurts. AND her normal fics, i envy your poetics so much hnn. THIS SELF AWARE BLADE ONE IS MY FAVORITE OUT OF ALL.

vi. 𝐌𝐄𝐎𝐖𝐙𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐙 — @meowzfordayz

SFW, R-18; Demon Slayer, Jujutsu Kaisen, MHA Writer.

♡ letter ! fuuuck i haven't interacted with you in awhile too, BUT PLEASE ALLOW ME TO PRAISE YOUR WORK IMMENSELY. i also... couldn't find your tanjiro poetry fic, i wanted to include it in too hnngh. okay but PLEASE KNOW YOUR WRITING IS SO- IT LEAVES ME SO SATISFIED SO MUCHHH!!! i don't know how to word it, but its just... your writing genuinely leaves me full of emotion depending on the genre, like you know how you eat good ass food, your mouth wants more but you can't cause you've been well fed? YEAH THAT, but with emotions. I FUCKING WANT MORE FROM YOUUUUU RAHHH, another explanation is like- the warmth is addictive??? the bubbly, gushy feelings after reading your fic- its so addictive, its why i suddenly yk, come bursting your notifs at random times PFF sorry!!!

♡ recs; my emergency req (sanemi) fuck i was such in a low place at the time. THIS ONE WAS SO FUCKING HEART WARMING AND i just ADORE his characterization here RAHHHH. your honor, if i were to die, let it be near my man sanemi shinazugawa, ty. POETRY W/TANJIRO.

vii. 𝐕𝟑𝐋𝐕𝟑𝐓𝐅𝟎𝐗 — @v3lv3tf0x

SFW, R-18; Writer for a lot of fandoms heheh.

♡ letter ! fuck, you're kinda proving to be my no. 1 most interactive mutual pfft, i've seen you hover eagerly around my blog, always quick to gnaw at my updates, reblogs, all that—WHICH I FIND HEAVILY ENDEARING AND YOUR SUPPORT BRINGS NOTHING BUT GIDDY, ACCOMPANIED WITH DELIGHT. that and you are so damn underrated its insane, no matter what, you are an amazing writer, and i hope numbers won't stray you off from that opinion of mine. genuinely, when you sent off that gojo drabble of a depressive reader pov, shit, did i mention i had a crying spree at the end? i first felt happy finishing the fic because it was inspired by my words, then the dread settled in, the shittiness of my situation, cried a fuckton, then after i calmed down, i went something along the lines of “fuck, shit, that was a good ass crying session” THEN i asked for an alternative good end (since i'm not the type to push people away) FUCK IM RAMBLING OMFG NOT AGAIN

♡ recs; at my time of need, you put out such a HEAVILY comforting satoru fic- or drabble, either way, this one is close to my heart. here's the alternate end to the 1st link nnh.

viii. 𝐕𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐘𝐑𝐘𝐒𝐌 — @vampyrsm

SFW, R-18; Jujutsu Kaisen, MHA, Obey Me Writer.

♡ letter ! its like im writing to a celebrity who doesn't know my existence, but you do. fffuuuuuckkk can i just say how much of a SKILLFUL WRITER you are????? the research you have to do for cor unum, perhaps even greek mythology to your other fics- you put so much calculative thought into your work and word building its INSANE. i aspire to write like you (tough aspiration considering my consistent burnout) BUT EITHER WAY, you're so admirable, i love how you handle gorey, realistic topics, and even if its just fanfiction? the realism is just so scrumptious, you're one of many major inspirations why i've decided to try and handle sensitive topics like cor unum too! and with whatever you're going through- prevail.

just like how sukuna would.

♡ recs; cor unum. cor unum. cor fucking unum. did i mention cor unum? this is a series i fucking wait for EAGERLY in each update (sukuna x you). greek mythology x bakugo is hot as hell HNNGHHFF.

HAH. ty coffee for letting me stay alive by the time i published this, which was somewhere 5am, i need a fucking snack (gojo) 'n yeah, ill be adding more writers since there's still a lot more i wanna mention, BUT I NEED TO PASS OUT NOW TYVM BYE

#— [THE MOON SHINES WITH ORDER] ••#` 2023 CHIYOSO. All media made by me.

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voidcat · 2 years

Text

characters: gojo satoru, you

wc & genre: 1.3k – comfort, light angst?

cw: implied sexual content

as most constants in life, it begins with a string of miscalculated, chain of small coincidences and opportunities followed up by one another.

–until the chain piles up on its own, the scattered pieces of paper stack on top of each and every shred and it evolves from something random into becoming part of a routine, taking its place in your life, no matter how frequent, or not.

as most nights go, it begins with a text. simple, forward, no need to elaborate or pry further.

and that's what makes the entire ordeal better, what keeps it alive still; that neither gojo nor you care, nor does either of you pry.

a company in one's own solitude that's as dark and consuming like a black hole is what you both seek for.

some nights, this requires no effort whatsoever, those are the easiest.

if there is one thing you've learnt, and seen for yourself, is that gojo satoru rarely needs sleep to keep himself awake and functioning, ready for what the world will bring any second. no need for recharging for several hours, not when he is limitless, unlike the rest of the unfortunate humans– be it a sorcerer or not.

and most nights, it is less about him, and his presence, and more about just having anyone, anything, when the old owl shaped pillow back at home doesn't cut it and your cat is being noisy about your lack of energy.

just crawl into the bed, he follows right after. the proximity that comes with the comfort was hard to achieve and to grow used to it. yet surely worth all the alarming bells inside your mind for several months and that voice keep on nagging to get out, leave, and this is weird, this is wrong, this is gojo satoru of all people, have you truly lost it for good?–

give or take, is what this essentially is, something you’ve both mastered– despite the lines have blurred in the meantime.

for the awful mask he flashes in public, and the captivating air surrounding him when he gets serious truly, the warmth that radiates off his body, enveloping you from behind and wrapping around as if it's solely you that exists in the universe, in this space– and him, you're reminded of, much to your dismay, whenever you hear a sigh leaving his lips.

it is unintentional, for you not to hear, for you to ignore, and for him to relax and just be for once in a while.

gojo satoru cannot help but wonder why it is him that you always seek out like this when you have better options.

an act of deeply rooted self hatred perhaps, the belief you do not deserve anything better– that is how you try to act, at least, making your dismay of him and his antics always clear.

yet the way you always drift to sleep so quickly, into deep slumber where no dreams can plague you and exhaust your mind would tell otherwise– it implies otherwise. one neither of you are exactly dying to acknowledge, let alone act on.

it is odd, really, how easily you both end up like this night after night, day after day, a heavy mission or a busy day never required for this to happen over and over again.

it is something, how one arm reaches forward from under you, palm slightly open, inside your hand belonging to the arm between you and the bed, held by his, not firmly, never, but the security of his loose grip is there.

it reminds of sand, your hand, and how he handles you in those silent moments.

most days you are content just with this. even so, drifting off so easily, you dont realize his other arm wrapped around your, keeping you in place, bringing you closer to him, legs pressed and tangled up, his nose almost, almost buried into your skin and he can smell the faint scent of your olive oil shampoo, or the scent of blood you cannot rid yourself off of, no matter how hard you scrub.

most days you are content. until the hand between you and the bed moves, bringing his along with yours, following it down and closer to you, your beating heart so close now, barely under his fingertips. your other grabbing his hand gently, slowly guiding south, and closer, like you did with the other one.

just another night to indulge yourselves in, another to pretend doesn't exist come morning.

he doesn't say a word, not a joke to follow up, or poke fun at you later. gojo satoru sees this for what it truly is: a mere distraction.

give and take, and so you do, as does he. both taking from one another as giving as well– the technicalities, the details and how much, how little, how balanced are thrown out of the window. it is just the moment that exists, how much one took and one gave becoming dull and unimportant in the grand scheme of things.

no want or need present, just to get away from the moment, from the world, from the times you're stuck at, and he is more than pleased to oblige when it is him that you come for these distractions.

and if there is one thing gojo satoru has learnt about you, something only a certain range of people can know, or learn by experience, through these routinely meet-ups, it is that you don't do kisses.

by your logic, it is quite simple actually. because be it placed anywhere else, for an effect to take hold on, the area needs to be sensitive, or the person to just be touch starved, or desperate.

and as resigned as you are, you are not exactly touch starved, or one to succumb off to desire so easily. a kiss on the hand, inside the wrist, or on the lips; those do not exactly have a hold on the person unless the other party has some sort of meaning to them now, do they?

so be it with him, or anyone else, you brush the ideas away, never offer your hand in the first place, claim it's all just a waste of time.

if you so value time, then how come the two of you always end up in each other's company?

he knows despite the words leaving your mouth, you don't necessarily believe in them, or care to actually do so. yet it is better than to stay silent, or try to explain just how far and wide your lack of care goes.

so his lips find elsewhere, as do yours. after all, there are many ways to silence one than to capture their lips with your own.

if it wasn't for the surreal feeling these little ...distractions, these getaways had possessed, and perhaps if he was anyone other than gojo satoru himself; he could've found it harder and harder each day to adjust just how quickly your behavior switches again.

how you seem to fit right into his chest mere hours ago, snuggling closer to his form in your sleep more often than not; only for you to dodge any and every physical contact with him, and with almost everyone else. or the glare you send his way whenever he tries to– tried to, invade your personal space, more just to mess with you than anything else, or how tense your body becomes even when it comes to exchanging hugs with the few people you've ever allowed into your life.

he decides, at the end of the day it doesn't matter; a distraction is a distraction. with you sound asleep in his arms, body moving ever so slightly as you breathe in and out, a hand crafted reality to take shelter in, to avoid the reality that awaits behind the door and windows; it serves its purpose, even just for a few minutes, or hours.

that is all there is to a distraction in the end, nothing more, nothing less.

#IDK WHAT THIS IS EEHHEHE HI... hope u guys like this #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #wait... this emans i gotta add jjk tot he mlist now which means i gotta make a banner for it and alll..............#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk comfort #gojo comfort #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you

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ffion451 · 2 years

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Chapter Seventeen: Breathe Differently | Diving: JJK (m)

▷ Jungkook prepares for change ❯❯❯ ❛ Now there’s nothing in his way and those chances are spread out invitingly, as expansive as the warm pink sky beyond the window, as limitless as the blue ocean on the horizon, unbound and limitless ❜

Chapter characters/pairings: Jungkook x reader, brother-in-law!Namjoon

Genre: non idol au, fluff, teeny amount of angst, smut (see warnings below) see series m.post for fic summary etc.

Chapter warnings: Smut (rough, unprotected penetrative sex) ⚠️🔞No minors please🔞⚠️

Beta credit: Thanks to @abitjess for reading through this for me 💛

Word count: 4.9K

Note: Sorry for the delay in publishing this one. I haven’t been well and so it’s taken a while. To quote a beloved reader after she read the last chapter, “I just need some happiness from them for a while now”… well, here it is! Well, it’s my attempt to write something soft and fluffy and warm. We may all come to regret it… Let me know what you think!

<<< Chapter Sixteen | Chapter Eighteen >>>

You lie sprawled over the sofa; a geometry of light cutting shapes across your face, illuminating every feature. Golden light suffuses the room, the setting sun, just visible on the horizon through the window, is a fiery orange haze. Jungkook, with soft barefoot steps, circles the sofa, placing the steaming cup of tea intended for you on the coffee table. He nurses his own in his sweater-covered hands, smiling softly as he takes in your face, drinking in every curve and plane as he sips his tea.

Jungkook has known crushes, lust, desire and the heady obsession of a new fling, and has been disillusioned with them all. Thanks to you, he’s also come to experience the desperate pangs of unrequited love and all its aching yearning; though he’s enjoyed the thrill of a new feeling, the pain accompanying it has been much less welcome. This feeling, the one he’s in the thrall of right now, is also new to him and he’s struggled to put it into words or even fully understand it. He had thought that loving you was the best feeling in the world, a heady euphoria from which he’d never come down, even if the pain of its one-sidedness stung, but this, this is so much more than that. Loving you may have felt euphoric while he suspected you loved him back, but now that he knows you do, it’s a whole, new world. The experience has been transformative, in many ways it’s been like learning to dive; he simply has to learn to breathe differently and take the plunge with you.

In the last few days you’ve changed completely with him; in confessing your love and apologising to him you seem to have unburdened yourself, the walls and barriers that stood between have vanished. Jungkook had felt like your heart had been surrounded by an impenetrable case of crystal-clear glass; he could see what lay within, his nose pressed to the cold glass, he could see all the opportunities and possibilities for love that were so tantalisingly close, but always beyond his touch. Now there’s nothing in his way and those chances are spread out invitingly, as expansive as the warm pink sky beyond the window, as limitless as the blue ocean on the horizon, unbound and limitless.

If he had to put words to it, Jungkook would say that being loved by you is like when the sun emerges from behind a cloud on a cool day; suddenly everything has become brighter, everything glows and is bathed in warmth. That light-hearted silliness he was so keen to eke out of you in momentary molecules now flows freely, streaming from you in rays of easy laughter and broad smiles: every day since has felt like the best day of his life.

Now, after a day walking the coast with the dogs and trying to keep up with Jungkook’s fast pace, you have passed out from tiredness on the sofa at some point whilst he was brewing tea for the two of you; he feels a little guilty for dragging you along at such a speed and for such a distance, but these days he seems to have more energy than he can use. He watches you exhale softly, dead to the world; the tea will go cold, but what does he care? He’ll make you another when you wake, there’s plenty of time for tea. There’s plenty of time for everything; before, the dread of losing you hung over his head like the sword of Damocles, but now there’s nothing but time ahead of you.

He takes a blanket from the basket beside the fire, discarding the first one of rough twill and picks the softer wool one that he knows you prefer. He drapes it over you gently before he arranges the grate, kindling a small flame that grows and crackles rapidly, forming a blaze that warms the room; it doesn’t take a long time for the two tired dogs to lollop slowly into the room and collapse flat out beside the fire’s warmth, throwing accusatory glances at Jungkook for tiring their legs out too.

After some apologetic head rubs to the dogs, Jungkook softly lowers himself to the floor beside you, wanting to be near you. Resting his back against the sofa, his head gently settles near yours as he smiles to himself and recalls the last few days of bliss, thinking on your very first date: true to your word, you’d taken him on the date you promised, though he had to interfere, refusing to let you drive in your little lemon of a car and bartering you into splitting the bill, his pride not allowing him to let you pay outright.

___________________________________

The restaurant was expensively furnished and dimly lit; the soft amber light was absorbed by the rich, damask walls and thick velvet of the seats, only reflecting from the occasional burnished copper surface. Soft piano music tinkled from the bar as you were led into the quiet part of the dining area. With all the expertise of his trade, the maitre d’ had noted Jungkook’s nervous, darting eyes and thrumming anxiety and escorted the two of you to a round booth in a quiet corner; the sly smile he shot Jungkook as he departed confirmed Jungkook’s suspicions that the man knew Jungkook needed all the help he could get.

Jungkook is rarely nervous, yet from the moment he collected you he’d been in a foggy daze, his mind clouded by the vision of you dressed up: it wasn’t that you’d overdressed, if anything you were demure and elegantly understated, perhaps that was what had so unsettled him. Jungkook had only ever seen you casual and relaxed; dressed for walking or for work. Seeing you dressed so differently, he took in every detail, from your makeup and jewellery to the easy grace of your movement in your high heels. He’d never really thought about it before, but now, seeing you like this, he understands how you fit so perfectly into Mina’s wealthy world, even if that kind of money was as foreign to your upbringing as it was his. You stole his breath away, he was left lightheaded by this part of you, realising how much he has yet to learn, how many sides of you there are that he has yet to see.

So, sat stiffly beside you in the booth, Jungkook had realised that he hadn’t been on a date in forever and felt strangely nervous of how to act. That was the moment that he realised that something had changed in how you behaved with him.

“Jungkook, are you ok?” you’d asked softly, taking his clammy hand in yours, “If you’re not comfortable we can leave.”

You’d been so keen to reassure him, though it was clear that you too were nervous and disappointed that he didn’t seem to be happy; he realised then how badly you wanted the date to go well, sensing your own eagerness for the night to be a success. Jungkook had seen you nervous many times, but not like this before, not this sweetly, and he melted for you. Again, he was back on safe ground, as he always was when you needed him to take control.

The rest of the date passed smoothly; more than that, it was probably the best date of his life. Somehow everything was the same and yet different: you were still the same two people you’d been these last months but the texture was somehow entirely different. Before, a slim, diaphanous thread tried to stitch you together, prone to coming undone; now, as he’d dreamed so long ago on the beach, a strong red thread binds you together, the weft and weave binding you.

The two of you talked fluidly, you opening up more than ever before, and the distance between you closed as you ate. By the end of the meal as you licked the last of the cream from your spoon the two of you were speaking in heated, whispered voices, knees and arms pressed close together: one kind of hunger sated, another growing quietly ravenous in its place.

Now, sitting beside you on your floor, he blushes at the memory of all the things he’d done to you when he got you home and a soft chuckle escapes him.

___________________________________

A sensation of warmth pulls you awake, your lids tingling from the heat of the sun, your ears alive to the musical sound of Jungkook’s laughter and you smile at the sight of the back of his head so close to your face as your eyes flutter open.

Given everything you two have been through, or, more accurately, everything you’ve done, you’re still surprised that you can call this man yours. You can’t help but smile as you think, and what a man he is... You hadn’t fully allowed yourself to appreciate that, your understanding fogged by your lust for him and the guilt and shame you felt for having those feelings. Mina’s white-hot judgement had burnt the last of that fog away and in those clear skies left behind you saw Jungkook for everything he was and is.

If you had to put words to it, you could only say that Jungkook seems to be love personified. Seemingly infinite in his patience, generosity and warmth. In opening your heart to him, you’ve been rewarded by more love than you could have ever expected to feel again in your lifetime; being with him makes you want to be better, his boundless energy and enthusiasm energise you and make you believe in the possibility of a happy future: you’re drunk with love and it’s a high you don’t think you’ll ever come down from, nor do you want to.

Your mind drifts back to your date, how sweetly nervous he’d been and how he’d slowly warmed and opened up. That first date had felt like a fresh start, a blank slate on which you could write your love story afresh. Over the course of the meal, you’d noticed things you never had before: how he stutters over his words when he’s excited; the way his brows knit in a frown each time he tastes something delicious and the approving nod that follows; the adorable nyuk-nyuk-nyuk sound that follows his excited laughter… With every course, you fell that bit more in love with Jungkook as though you were seeing him with new eyes. No, not with new eyes exactly, rather with untainted eyes; Mina had helped you to see that your love for Jion had turned toxic and was poisoning you and how you saw Jungkook, freed from that at last, a whole new world lay before you.

You’re not naive; you’re not simply now healed, it could never be so simple. Rather, you can see your guilt and shame for what they are and can choose whether or not to let them control you. Mina had thrown a new light on your thoughts when she sat you down and forced you to properly discuss your feelings about Jungkook, Jion and the whole mess you’d created. She pointed out that there was a selfish and casual cruelty in the way you still cling to Jion, freezing yourself and those around you in an impossible moment, spreading pain and unhappiness like oil on water. That had been it, finally, finally, you realised the damage that you were doing to those you loved and, in a bizarre serendipity, the shame of that freed you from the shame you were cleaving to.

You’d been swimming against the tide, pushing on in darkness through a featureless seascape of pain and despair, driven seemingly by stubbornness rather than hope. Mina had simply suggested that you turn your head and seek the light instead. It was easy to find; Jungkook was the lighthouse in the storm, beckoning you to shore and safe harbours, all you needed to do was follow the current pulling you back to shore, and your heart.

You watch as Jungkook places his empty mug on the coffee table and as he leans back, you stretch out your hand to tangle your fingers gently in the soft hair that gathers at his neck. He doesn’t even flinch, instead humming happily as your fingers turn to massaging his scalp.

“I think your tea should still be warm,” he says with a smile, “Want it?”

You smile and sit up as he passes it to you; he moves to sit beside you and hooks your legs over his lap as you sip on the still-warm, soothing brew. He offers to make you another of this one isn’t perfect and you’re warmed by his eagerness to attend to any little thing you might need all whilst assuring him that it’s not necessary.

His hand runs up and down your shin, gliding over the smooth fabric of your leggings, “What time do we need to leave tomorrow?” he asks.

Ah, tomorrow. Jungkook now only has a fortnight until his course begins and so the need to find accommodation in the city is urgent; you’d decided together that you’d tackle it as a pair, staying with Mina for a few days while you searched. You’re not anxious about any of it, confident that you’ll sort something out. If anything, you’re nervous of the time you won’t be with him, specifically the day that Mina will take him to visit Jion. All these thoughts fly around your head, but all that comes out of your mouth is that you need to make an early start.

It doesn’t matter though, Jungkook is well-versed in the silent language of your face, “If you don’t want me to visit him, I won’t,” he offers simply.

You smile at his ability to read you, putting down your drained mug and moving to straddle his lap. His hands quickly come to rest on your waist as you brush his hair from his face with feather-light caresses, your lips ghosting across his cheekbones and nose.

“I love you,” you breathe, “so much. I know you want to go, it’s ok.”

Jungkook wants to say something meaningful, something deep, but your mouth is too close, your soft breath tickling his cheeks; without thinking his mouth is on yours, his hands slipping under your tee as each kiss bleeds into the next in a slow, lazy display of your love for each other.

Finally, with swollen lips and racing hearts, you break apart. You know where this will lead and you feel a need to be responsible and not give into blind lust, after all there are dishes to wash and dinner to prepare, “I’ll take these mugs out,” you pant breathlessly, “I’d also better start thinking about making dinner.”

Also breathless, Jungkook nods, trying to find words through the fog of desire clouding his mind, none come before you’re already clambering off him and leaving the room.

Noting the still sleeping dogs, Jungkook eases himself to his feet and moves silently towards the kitchen, pulling the door shut behind him with a soft click. Jungkook learns from his mistakes and the last thing he wants is to feel Bertie’s sharp teeth sinking into his ass when he’s balls deep inside you, he suspects it might kill the moment.

You don’t notice Jungkook approaching, lost in thought, standing at the kitchen sink washing up. Jungkook can tell from the tense knot of your shoulders and your tight breaths that you’re as horny as he is and that you’re trying to push the thoughts from your mind. Still, he notices how your thighs clench and he knows you’re throbbing for him, your walls craving something to tense around… the thought sends blood rushing to his cock, his broad palm rubs at his straining bulge as he smirks to himself.

At the sink you gasp as Jungkook’s hands close around your waist, his soft mouth kissing your neck as he grinds his erection into your ass, “Want you,” he breathes into your neck in a desperate slur.

You moan in soft reply, pulling off your rubber gloves, all thought of dishes, dinner and responsibility gone with each press of his lips, each thrust of his hips. He’s impatient, and his hands dip into the warm soapy water before bringing them to massage into the material of your tee, causing you to squeal in shock and delight. He kneads your breasts through the thin fabric, grateful that your bra had been quickly discarded when you’d settled on the sofa, as he rolls his hips against you.

“Speak up, baby,” he teases as he pinches your nipples in his soapy fingers, drawing another guttural gasp of desire from you.

“Don’t tease, Jungkookie,” you whine, “please just fuck me.”

He’s too far gone to hold back: in swift movements, your leggings are swiftly pulled down, then you’re pulled by your waist away from the sink before you’re bent over, your hands clinging at the edge. You lick your lips and pant in anticipation as you hear him shrug off his sweats, swiftly pressing his blunt tip through your wet folds, gathering your slick across his cock.

“Ready?” he growls in a voice filled with barely-restrained hunger.

“Go hard,” you plead without embarrassment, the need in your voice matching his own.

He merely grunts in satisfaction as he breaches your tight entrance, drawing a deep shudder from the both of you. He pushes in slowly as you hiss through your teeth, “That’s it baby,” he praises, his grip on your hips tightening, “take it like a good girl.”

You whine needily at the praise, it makes his cock pulse and his balls tighten. In one swift movement that is both him pushing forward and pulling you onto his cock, he sinks his full length inside you, drawing a cry from you, “Good girl, good girl,” he soothes, grinding his hips against you, “so good for me, you take me so fucking well.”

When he feels you push back against him, he knows he doesn’t need to restrain himself and sets a rhythm of rapid, deep thrusts, jackhammering into you with a desperate ferocity. You brace yourself against the sink and he drops a hand to your clit, tracing fervent circles as he pounds you relentlessly, the kitchen filled with the slap of skin against skin, of breathy moans and heavy grunts.

His high is so close he can almost taste it at the back of his throat, he can certainly feel it in the tightening of his balls and the building heat inside him; he listens carefully, alert to the small whimpers that you’re making. Fuck, he thinks, as he stills his movements, you’re not even close. Gone are the days where Jungkook is satisfied with pumping you full of his cum and then taking care of you, he needs you to come before or with him.

He groans in frustration as he pulls you back against him, one arm across your chest, hand firmly attached to your breast, his other hand between your legs; all frustration with you is lost when you whine needily at the feel of him slipping from you, “It’s ok babe, need you to come for me first then I’ll fuck you up,” he reassures and simultaenously urges, replacing his cock with two expertly curled fingers, the heel of his hand rubbing against your clit.

He loves the way you shudder against him, hands clawing at his, your head lolling back against his shoulder as he sucks at your neck with furious need making you groan in pain and pleasure. It’s not long before you’re crying out, coming undone for him yet again as he shoves you forward, desperate to plunge his aching cock back into your spasming walls.

The deep groan he releases is pure sin, and he almost comes undone right there, your wet, warm walls fighting every inch of his intrusion as you spasm, “Is it ok?” he asks, worried at how hard he’s had to press.

Beneath him you’re a panting, sweaty wreck and each word is an effort, “Cum for me,” you moan.

It’s all the reassurance he needs; he weaves his hands into your hair, careful to get close to the scalp so he doesn’t hurt you, the other hand pressing into the small of your back, forcing your ass higher so he can bottom out with each thrust, “Hang on,” he warns, watching your knuckles turn white as you brace yourself.

He pounds into you then, desperately chasing his high; you cry out with each thrust, he knows he’s hurting you a little but he knows you can take it, he knows you want it… You don’t have to hold out long, he reasons, after edging himself he’s nearly at his limit again.

Underneath him, you try to hold back your cries as he pounds into your aching walls. You love sex with Jungkook in any way and any position, but sometimes the lust for each other can only be sated by not even attempting to hold back, even if its a little too much to take. Finally his hammering starts to lose rhythm and he’s jerking into you before he forces one final, deep thrust. You’ve come to love this feeling, his need to be as deep in you as he can get, his balls pressed to your body when he releases inside you. Then he’s coming, with a yell and a sharp bite to your shoulder as he collapses on top of you.

Moments later, his vacant blissed-out mind refilling with thoughts, Jungkook wraps an arm about your waist and pulls your weak body against his chest, realising that under his weight you were about to collapse. Chivalrously passing you some kitchen roll to catch the mess, he slips from you and follows your uncomfortable waddle, leggings still around your calves, to the washroom, where the two of you clean up.

You giggle at each other, him leaning against the seat while you struggle from the toilet. With a soft stroke of your sweaty hair, eyeing your wet tee, Jungkook smiles, “Take out for dinner?”

You nod, laughing tiredly, “Definitely take out.”

___________________________________

Namjoon rubs his full stomach happily, stretching back into the comfortable plush fabric of his chair. Before him delicate tableware houses the little food remaining, a banquet of empty dishes litter the elegant table. Mina and her housekeeper had worked together for most of the day to prepare this feast to welcome you and Jungkook and it was worth it; all four of you sit around the table now, replete and smiling.

“I want you to relax whilst you’re here,” Mina insists, “you can both come to the spa with me,” she cajoles.

You smile generously, but your tone is firm, “We’d love to, but we have to spend our time -”

Jungkook, who had been happily cleaning his bowl of the remnants of his dessert, looks up to see why you’ve paused, his gaze flickering between your eyes that are narrowing with suspicion and Mina’s which dance with a kind of smug mirth.

He smiles as you laugh, his newest favourite sound, “I see there’s a scheme in the works,” you sigh, splaying your hands in a gesture of surrender, or perhaps simply resignation, “Please go ahead.”

Mina requires little prompting, “Oh, it’s not my plan, dearest,” she says, sharing a look with Namjoon.

Leaning forward at the dining table, Jungkook sips at his beer and watches as your eyes narrow again as you fix Namjoon with your enquiring stare, “Joonie?” you ask.

Namjoon smiles, “Relax,” he reassures, “It’s a good plan. Eomma was telling me all the things that Jungkook wanted: somewhere quiet, close enough to campus, no young students, somewhere only to stay in the week so he could get back to Little Cove at weekends, privacy but perhaps someone else around for company in the evenings...”

You nod, “It’s a tall order, I know.”

Namjoon merely grins, “Except it isn’t. It’s been on my mind for a while now that I have all of those things and more. So when Jimin moved out a couple of months ago, I couldn’t quite bring myself to rent the room out again,” he turns his attention to Jungkook, “It’s something I’ve given a lot of thought to and so it’s entirely up to you, you can come over and check the room out first,” he explains.

Jungkook splutters on his drink in surprise, “I’m sorry?”

Namjoon laughs, “I have the space and we know we get along,” he argues convincingly, “I work long hours, and I just like quiet evenings. The only time I have people over is on weekends and you won’t even be around then. I think we’d make good roommates. Also, the rent I charged Jimin was far less than you’ve been expecting to pay. It makes sense to me to keep things in the family. After all, I think you two aren’t planning on breaking up anytime soon.”

Jungkook is surprised to feel your hand slide over his, “I hope not,” you say softly, “I have no intention of letting him go.”

Jungkook’s heart sings, fireworks of joy exploding in his chest and fizzing through his veins; this is everything he wants, acceptance into your family and a sense of security about what the future holds for the two of you. He believes in his heart that your relationship will survive his weekday absences, but something like this feels reassuring. He turns his bunny smile to Namjoon, “Yes please, I’d really like to see the room,” he grins eagerly and everyone around the table chuckles softly before they fall to discussing it properly.

___________________________________

Jungkook and Mina make coffee together shortly after; it’s a deliberate decision on Mina’s part. The photos that had been developed from Jion’s camera have arrived and Namjoon wants to tell you about them, she knows you and he need privacy for that conversation. Jungkook is not troubled by it, now secure in your love for him, the past holds no threat.

“You’ve made him so happy by saying you’ll see the room and think about his offer,” smiles Mina as she pours hot water into the large cafetière.

Jungkook shrugs off the compliment, “He’s the one doing me a favour,” he insists.

Mina smiles and lays a hand on his forearm, “He was always such a force in Jion’s life, he was so good at being an older brother and I know he misses it terribly,” she explains, before quickly adding, “Not that you’re replacing Jion, of course. But Namjoon is very fond of you and having you around will be as helpful to him as it is to you.”

Mina worries for a moment that she’s said the wrong thing; she’s suddenly aware that she and Namjoon may be overwhelming for him, that Jungkook may feel he is being moulded and groomed into a new version of Jion.

Jungkook smiles, “I don’t have any brothers or sisters,” he confesses as Mina arranges cups and saucers onto a tray, “Hobi-hyung at home is the closest I have, it’s a nice feeling.”

Mina speaks her fears, asking Jungkook if they’re being too much, pushing him too hard, all whilst he tries to reassure her that they’re not. She elaborates, “You might not realise it, but you and Jion couldn’t be more different. He was as optimistic as you, yes, but in personality, you’re nothing alike at all.”

Jungkook shifts awkwardly, “Really?” he asks sheepishly, “But you still think we’re a good match?” he says, gesturing in the direction of the dining room where you sit.

“The best match,” Mina asserts, “She was very young, naive and tender when she met Jion and they fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. She’s a different woman now, she’s older and has been shaped by her suffering and grief. As beautiful a soul as Jion was, I don’t think he’d be a good match for her now. She needs a Jungkook: she needs your determination, honesty and uncompromisingness. You’re her soulmate now.”

Jungkook smiles weakly, despite his pleasure at her words, that honesty of his bubbles to the surface and he speaks his doubts, “What happens when she feels better? Grows stronger? She might not need me anymore.”

Mina laughs, gently cuffing his arm, “Stupid boy,” she says affectionately, “Do you think she’s weak now?”

He shakes his head, “No, she’s the strongest person I know after my Dad,” he enthuses as Mina presses the tray into his hands.

Mina smiles softly, “She feels better because of you. She’s not drawing strength from you, she doesn’t need you in that way,” she explains, taking her time, needing him to understand her meaning, “My girl has learnt to stand on her own two feet, that’s been hard won. She’s with you because she wants you, she’s chosen you, and somehow I think that’s stronger than needing someone to simply love her, don’t you agree?”

Jungkook nods, thinking of the last few days and multitude of soft moments that have passed between you. He realises the truth of Mina’s words, of how well-matched and suited the two of you are, how lucky you’ve been to find each other. As they walk back to the dining room together he offers her a shy, but firm smile, “I do.”

A/N: Hope you enjoyed, if you did, please comment or send me an ask.

<<< Chapter Sixteen | Chapter Eighteen >>>

<<< back to series m.post

Taglist (always open, let me know if you want to be added): @moonleeai

#jungkook fic #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts fanfic #bts smut #jungkook imagine #btswritersclub #bangtanwhq

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strawhatsoraya · 1 year

Text

⌨ кιѕѕ нιм, кιѕѕ мє : a modern office romance au ft nanami kento, gojo satoru, fushiguro toji and geto suguru x oc (and a little bit of everything in between; messy romances)

⌨ 𝔰𝔢𝔱𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤: modern day, beginning of summer

⌨ 𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤: 18+ at any given moment

⌨ 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: right now it's at 4.1k, expected to be multi-chaptered.

⌨ 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤: employee of the month every month nanami kento, geto petty-ass suguru, ceo gojo satoru, luna aka squish, and her sensible yet senseless best friend callie, featuring everyone's friendly ain't shit jackass fushiguro toji.

⌨ 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: female oc, nsfw for the most part (18+ mdni), miscommunications trope, is-this-a-love-polygon-or-what trope, a little blackmail here and there for the razzle dazzle, contract relationships, rom com vibes, enemies to friends to enemies to lovers, who knows anymore, corporate rivals, voyeurism, cat fights, lots of rumors, and there will be more as the writing progresses so please just bare with me.

⌨ 𝔞 𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: Gojo Satoru is the heir to popular Limitless Gaming Studios. With his position under threat by relatives, Satoru intends to prove himself worthy as the heir to the Gojo family. He takes it upon himself to commandeer an almost run to the ground smaller division in charge of visual novels and dating simulation games, bringing his childhood friend Nanami Kento into the company, trusting him to help to redeem the division’s reputation.

Luna has always aspired to be a writer. She joined Limitless Gaming Studios with her best friend Callie, and while she has made zero progress with her office crush Nanami Kento, her side career as a BL webcomic author starts taking off! Before she can start enjoying her online attention, a technical glitch threatens to expose her secrets to the one man she wants to hide it from the most and has her boss, Gojo Satoru, suddenly very interested in her extra curricular activities.

But his attention comes at a price, and it isn’t long before Luna gets caught up in Geto Suguru’s petty pursuit for revenge.

𝖑𝖊𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖉

💗 - fluff ❤️️ - smut 💜 - angst 💔 - hurt/comfort

✂ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄: 🇹‌🇭‌🇪‌ 🇴‌🇳‌🇪‌ 🇼‌🇮‌🇹‌🇭‌ 🇹‌🇭‌🇪‌ 🇨‌🇴‌🇲‌🇵‌🇺‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇻‌🇮‌🇷‌🇺‌🇸‌ [ X 3/19/23] 💗

✂ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎 : 🇹‌🇭‌🇪‌ 🇴‌🇳‌🇪‌ 🇼‌🇭‌🇪‌🇷‌🇪‌ 🇭‌🇪‌ 🇫‌🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇸‌ 🇴‌🇺‌🇹‌...TBA

✂ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄: 🇹‌🇭‌🇪‌ 🇴‌🇳‌🇪‌ 🇼‌🇮‌🇹‌🇭‌ 🇬‌🇪‌🇹‌🇴‌'🇸‌ 🇯‌🇪‌🇦‌🇱‌🇴‌🇺‌🇸‌🇾‌...TBA

✂ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑: 🇹‌🇭‌🇪‌ 🇴‌🇳‌🇪‌ 🇼‌🇮‌🇹‌🇭‌ 🇧‌🇱‌🇦‌🇨‌🇰‌🇲‌🇦‌🇮‌🇱‌...TBA

✂ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄: 🇹‌🇭‌🇪‌ 🇴‌🇳‌🇪‌ 🇼‌🇮‌🇹‌🇭‌ 🇹‌🇭‌🇪‌ 🇩‌🇦‌🇹‌🇪‌ 🇦‌🇳‌🇩‌ 🇹‌🇴‌🇯‌🇮‌...TBA

✂ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐗: 🇹‌🇭‌🇪‌ 🇴‌🇳‌🇪‌ 🇼‌🇮‌🇹‌🇭‌ 🇨‌🇭‌🇪‌🇦‌🇹‌🇮‌🇳‌🇬‌...TBA

✂ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍: 🇹‌🇭‌🇪‌ 🇴‌🇳‌🇪‌ 🇼‌🇮‌🇹‌🇭‌ 🇹‌🇭‌🇪‌ 🇬‌🇾‌🇲‌ 🇸‌🇪‌🇸‌🇸‌🇮‌🇴‌🇳‌...TBA

✂ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓: 🇹‌🇭‌🇪‌ 🇴‌🇳‌🇪‌ 🇼‌🇮‌🇹‌🇭‌ 🇧‌🇱‌🇦‌🇨‌🇰‌🇲‌🇦‌🇮‌🇱‌ 🇵‌🇦‌🇷‌🇹‌ 2...TBA

✂ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄: 🇹‌🇭‌🇪‌ 🇴‌🇳‌🇪‌ 🇼‌🇮‌🇹‌🇭‌ 🇳‌🇦‌🇳‌🇦‌🇲‌🇮‌, 🇦‌ 🇸‌🇦‌🇳‌🇩‌🇼‌🇮‌🇨‌🇭‌, 🇦‌🇳‌🇩‌ 🇦‌🇳‌ 🇮‌🇨‌🇪‌🇩‌ 🇨‌🇴‌🇫‌🇫‌🇪‌🇪‌...TBA

✂ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐄𝐍: 🇹‌🇭‌🇪‌ 🇴‌🇳‌🇪‌ 🇼‌🇮‌🇹‌🇭‌ 🇹‌🇭‌🇪‌ 🇻‌🇮‌🇩‌🇪‌🇴‌ 🇨‌🇦‌🇱‌🇱‌, 🇦‌🇳‌🇩‌ 🇳‌🇦‌🇳‌🇦‌🇲‌🇮‌ 🇬‌🇪‌🇹‌🇸‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇩‌...TBA

✂ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍: ...TBA

αµƭɦσ૨'ร ɳσƭεร:

hi. it's me. i'm the problem it's me. if you made it to the end of this long post, thank you for reading and showing interest. i've been working on this au for several months now and I have approximately 11 chapters so far plotted out, I just need to get driving from chapter one to that point. i don't know how long exactly this will be. i have an idea of what will happen but you know, sometimes i be winging it in the google docs, so we shall see what happens! this is meant to be a fun read with lots of comedy, definitely a little cringe, but plenty of opportunities for cute romance (and some smut lol) .

if you want to be added to the tag list, please don't hesitate to interact. just leave a comment or send me a message/ask if you prefer and i'd be happy to add you.

☎ тαgℓιѕт: @soleilnomoon, @spitfire-of-the-sea

#jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #series: kiss him kiss me #geto suguru #gojo satoru #nanami kento #fushiguro toji #satosugu

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fandom-space-princess · 1 year

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Long Way Down (Circle Back Around)

Fandom: Supernatural Rating: Gen Length: 1.4k Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Angst, Depression, Michael in Lucifer's Cage Summary:

Was this the cost of failure, or an opportunity in disguise? None of his Brothers had ever been given such tasks as those he had borne. He had been granted much—been granted everything, First and Favored. It was only reasonable that much would be asked of him.

He wills himself to believe this, as he tries, and fails, and tries—and fails—to pray.

--------------------

A gift for Void @mansplainmanipulatemalewife for the SPN Archangels Discord Server Secret Satan Exchange. Based on the prompt "introspective on life in the cage" and a request for angst, I offer you the gift of Michael having a bad time <3

Read below, or on AO3.

-------------------------

For a place with no floor, hitting it hurt more than he knew how to express.

-------------------------

Show me.

There is no articulate response. Only strung-out confusion, indignation, inarticulable pain.

You will do as I instruct.

Somewhere below, the human man bows his head.

And then?

Hands: clasped. Eyes: closed. Knees: bent.

Michael circles him. Is this all you have for me? This pantomime of reverence?

The human curls in on itself. “I don’t know. You just do it. I don’t know. I don’t know."

-------------------------

He can’t find the walls, but he is aware of them. They define a negative space through which he cannot pass. He is free to move infinitely in any direction, except where he is not: everywhere but here.

The contradiction is an insult.

you get used to it, Lucifer titters.

I will do no such thing.

There is a monumental shrugging of wings—the scent of singed feathers and corrupted ichor. suit yourself, his Brother replies, and then they skirl away and away and away.

They are still trapped here together.

He is alone.

-------------------------

Again.

Another day or night or morning; a repetition of this farce. This human body, that should have been so instructive—but that was in the world. This partnership had utility in the realm they’d left behind—has none here whatsoever—

“The position’s not important, you can do it however.”

—almost none.

There must be a way.

Sobbing, for a long while: the man not in pain, but overwhelmed. Michael creates space between them. His grace can shield his vessel from the worst aspects of the Cage; there is nothing to be done about shielding the vessel from the grace. He picks a direction—the one he has arbitrarily assigned “up”—and allows himself to drift that way for a time, unspooling his patience across space that passes without changing.

Eventually he brings his attention back to the body, in a vast rallying of spirit.

My Father must have given you the gift of communion for a purpose. He winds himself into literal crevices between the vessel’s bones, metaphorical crevices along the contours of its soul. He tests me. My understanding of you is so woefully incomplete.

The vessel squirms.

Show me again.

-------------------------

The limitlessness of this space is only paradoxical. That is to say: it is without end in the same way as the ouroboros is without end, and for the same reason.

Pounding echoes from places he cannot see. It may be from outside the walls—this seems likely. Although what manner of Hellish cacophony could carry with such strength as to filter through into this abyss, he hesitates to imagine. On his better days, he believes that what he is hearing is simply the vessel’s pulse. His senses have become inextricably bound up with the body, and he is no better equipped to understand the sensation of humanity than his host is to understand Michael’s own inner workings. On his worse days, though:

do you ever think you can hear them?

If he does not answer, perhaps Lucifer will let it lie.

I think so, some days. I used to hear Gabriel’s horn at the beginning. calling and calling. it was so close, right around the corner, but I’ve turned corner after corner in here and never gotten any closer. do you know what that’s like? watch your human dream sometime—it felt like that.

He will not dignify this with an answer. Lucifer’s madness is a bottomless well, and if he does not ripple the surface, he may yet stay dry.

If only the pounding from without would not sound so much like the beat of Raphael’s wings.

-------------------------

Is it supposed to feel like this?

“Prayer never hurt before.”

What did it feel like?

Silence.

-------------------------

you enjoying the view?

Vasty nothingness slips by around him. He dives, and Lucifer dives with him, spiraling along an impossible vector toward a nonexistent center. Faster, and faster still. They used to fly like this, Michael recalls. In Heaven: before. When the Morning Star wore another name, and their wings in tandem spun creation like scattering seed.

you'll learn to like it. it's funny, Lucifer laughs, the sound bereft of humor, we’re finally in a position to see things from the same point of view.

Michael tears away, tumbles back again. I share no perspective with you. Not any more.

mmhmm. you sure about that? His Brother veers off, wheels back, spins: they revolve around each other, close, closer, not touching. it's still the worst thing you can imagine, isn’t it?

You have no idea of the limits of my imagination.

yet you never entertained this as a possibility. They do touch him, then. Just quickly. A single clawing swipe, in passing, cut-glass loneliness and sorrow between them:

we're so close, now.

would it kill you to close the distance?

just this once?

-------------------------

“People think you’re crazy if you talk to yourself too much. Humans, I mean.”

The breadth of your presumption is truly boundless.

“I’m just saying. Nobody ever gets any good answers to prayers.”

My kind answers your prayers with some frequency.

“ ...”

-------------------------

Time passes.

He is still in the Cage.

He wills himself to believe this, as he tries, and fails, and tries—and fails—to pray.

-------------------------

Rewards are reserved only for the strong in faith.

“Sure. Yeah. You’re the expert.”

My Father’s will, in all things, is perfect. If I am here, it is because He wishes it. It is important to Him, in some way I cannot yet see.

An emotion passes over his vessel’s soul, one he does not fully understand. “And me? Where do I figure into that?”

… I am not often given to regrets, Adam.

“What—”

You have suffered for an error in judgement which was solely mine. When He permits me to make atonement for my failures, I will make amends, first, to you.

-------------------------

Begging implies a lack of trust in his Father’s wisdom, so Michael will never beg.

He must not even ask the question. He turns this over in his mind, many times. Searching for a way to frame the words that is not a plea. Nothing that, in any language—modern, long-dead, human or angelic—could be misconstrued as a request.

He rededicates himself to silence.

-------------------------

“Halo? You good?”

…

“It’s just, y’know. You stopped praying.”

…

-------------------------

Would that he were a better son. Stronger. So that he might not long to ask at all.

-------------------------

...

“... Michael?”

-------------------------

Perhaps it is he, himself, that is the problem. This must be it. Something must have gone rotten in his traitorous core. No other explanation will suffice for this weakness, this willful unfealty. The urge to debase himself fully, to prostrate himself before the memory of his Father and wail for mercy: it must come from this wrong part of him.

He will take inventory of himself; he will find it, and gouge it out.

-------------------------

“He just stopped talking to me.”

leave him alone with his internal monologue.

“You aren’t worried about him? I know you’re... uh... what I mean is, I know you guys have complicated history, so I guess... is there anything we should... do? For him?”

what do you see yourself offering him? the hole he’s down is deep. he's going to be in there for a while.

“I guess I’ll just... wait.”

-------------------------

Michael can no longer measure the passage of time; it has lost all meaning, if it ever held any. Again and again, he searches within himself for his failure. Methodically, he excises those thoughts which he deems unworthy. Feelings he considers too blasphemous, he works to squash. Moment to moment, he makes of himself a blade, and carves himself apart. When he comes to the end of his search he starts again. Circling further into himself, and further still: he starts again.

Perhaps, he muses, dizzy, there may come a day when there will be nothing left of him but the knife.

He prays that, when that day comes, he may at last be the son his Father requires him to be.

#spn #michael spn #lucifer spn #adam milligan #fanfic #gift fic

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shunshuntaiga · 1 year

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i hate it when life gets in the way of me dicking around on tumblr with my favourite people. truly homophobic of the universe to give me serious stuff to do instead of just letting me ramble in your asks about spadi and aure >:( but anywaaaay, i'm back!! *really animated finger guns gestures* how have you been, dear? all hood, i hope. <3 may the new year treat you kindly. ok, so, i HAVE read a bunch of suburra fics in english, and i stand by my statement. yours is one of the best, you can't change my mind. 😌 the only thing i agree with is that suburra fic writers DO go hard af. them insane, talented folks don't mess around, bless their hearts. :)))) Oooh!! the whole thing starting after Lele's death and Aureliano's admission would fuck so hard, i like it. s2 and s3 aurelia is more.. polished, more distinguished. i feel like he would handle the hook up better than the s1 blond disaster. i have been laughing my ass off thinking about the absolute CLICHE that is aurelia getting knocked up in the back of the car lmfaoooo. it would be so in character for s1 spadeliano, it's Perfect!! ... oooh... i just got hit with a thought... what if he doesn't realize right away, what with all the stress of the situation back then. and even once he does, he gets the opportunity to tell spadi that night on the beach, after livia.. so, in a way... he lost his family, but also he has gained a new one... kind of... if that makes sense... i love love love your big, smart brain!!! the loop starting to manifest more and more for aureliano the more he looses spadi is si cruel and insane and i ADORE it <33 “No matter what I do it always ends the same way, where I’m on that fucking boat and you’re dead in my arms!”---- well... ouch... thank you... i didn't need my heart anymore anyway... :') AGHHHH i am so so glad the idea clicked with you too!!! one i finish my self-indulgent post s1 fix-it, i might give the time loop au a shot too... like you said, it's a good au and there is not enough of it in this fandom. <33 good luck on your fic, dear!! may you have all the inspiration and time to write you heart desires. :33

Doing much better anon, once I saw your charming little unknown user icon appear in my asks! Seeing your messages gives me so much serotonin❤️❤️

Life is so unfair certainly, I was prevented from writing because I had to do adult things as well. Though hopefully I can get back into tonight! I'm already working in chapter two of the loop fic because all our dicking around via anons (lol) has me so excited to write it!!

We're definitely gonna see Spadi go a bit feral at some point during this one, and I CANT WAIT to write it.

Right though? Season 2 + 3 Aure is polished. He's a little more mature in some ways, and I really like that version of him.

But the car scene.... hooking up in the car.... it's so tempting lol

But I also want the two of them to be emotionally ready for a baby, you know? And I feel like season 1 Spadi and Aurelia, as much as I love them, are NOT. It's the last thing they need lol.

Maybe I'll save that idea for a different fic.... ?

But yes! Loosing Livia but gaining Spadi and Rubina would be the perfect sort of full circle moment. He's definitely gaining a much better family.

Oh gosh, but that could be the thing that somewhat forsee him to grow up a little and become that polished version.... the possibilities are limitless and you are so good at making me think of them all!

And anon you're gonna have to drop that fix-it when you're done with it👀👀 I crave it.

I'd absolutely LOVE to see what you'd do with a time loop as well! It's such a fun idea and it's totally consuming my brain right now.

*I didn't need my anymore anyway*

Lol that is high praise to me. I know it's terrible but I do enjoy making people deal with my angst-y fics or ideas (knowing full well of course I'm a sucker for a happy end and I'll always write one)

#i am just going bonkers over all these ideas #my to be written list is already so dang long but it keeps getting longer lol #i just want to write aurelia legs up over the drivers seat lol #its calling to me

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porterprophet · 2 years

Text

C3E36

Spoilers and Speculation

The Delilah Briarwood and Laudna Tragic-Angst-Bucket Segment

(Disclaimer: still haven’t found time for C1)

———

Starting with the Laudna in the hut!

I don’t think it was actually Laudna. She’s described as a dark shadow with a purple light in her chest, presumably a heart. Souls so far have all been light in a single colour, even FCG, though they were somewhat less vibrant and the light less all encompassing as the others (as far as I understood). Delilah’s influence in Laudna has so far always been described as Green. It could be somehow related to the gnarlrock, a purple that Laudna is now intimately familiar with and that has a direct impact and correlation with Laudna’s heart and heartbeat and the shadow of the soul could be the fact that it is dead and untethered, unlike the Hells; but I genuinely feel like there also is the possibility of it just not being her.

I think at best, it might be a shade or memory of Laudna’s that is spilling over in this domain because Laudna and Delilah are so entwined. At worst, it’s a lure of some sort maybe made by Delilah, who has access to all of this because she’s been there in Laudna’s head through all of this. Does she know the Hells are there and coming for Laudna? Who’s to say. What could she use them for if they do get to her? Not a clue. But it’s a thought I’ve been caught on.

There’s also been a lot of mention of it all being a Laudna-mindscape and dream-walk type deal, which it kind of is. But it also isn’t. Delilah pulled Laudna back from wherever she was going to go in death and Pike felt Laudna where Delilah was, in Delilah’s domain. Pike then sent the Hells to where Laudna’s spirit is, in Delilah’s domain.

Whatever is going on would then appear to be connected to Delilah first unless Laudna is either a: exerting some level of influence and leaking tragic ooze all over the plane, or b: stronger than or equal to Delilah in this place. The potential influence Delilah has over this is something I don’t think I can overlook (given I have little to no clue what Delilah can actually do so she is, to me, currently limitless in possible ability), especially with the Hells emerging into the Briarwood Whitestone; which is where Delilah was the most settled and had the most power/influence (so far as I am aware) and also where Laudna and Delilah both died.

Other factors of interest/questions!

What is Laudna’s pact with Delilah?

How were they bound into the same body and souls entwined in the first place? Does it have something to do with why it took a year for Delilah to appear to Laudna after her Raising?

What deal did Laudna make to become a warlock of Delilah’s patronage?

Is Delilah stronger in her domain when she is so much weaker when acting in the material world?

Who has the stronger tie to Laudna’s body if they are both bound to it, especially given that when Pike reached for Laudna, Delilah reached out first?

Where would Laudna have gone if Delilah hadn’t pulled her into her domain?

If Laudna could die and go to her rightful place in death and Delilah had to pull her into her domain, what does that mean?

Do warlocks not go to their patron’s domain in death automatically? If so, what does that mean for the connection between Laudna and Delilah as warlock and patron?

Is it possible that Laudna wasn’t locked into a traditional deal with Delilah until this recent level in warlock and was instead duped into believing such a thing until it became truth?

If they can separate the souls to bring Laudna back, does that terminate the contract that made Laudna a warlock? Or will Laudna just come back with Delilah still her patron but now pissed at her a la Uko’toa?

What is the likelihood that their souls were not at all entwined until Laudna died in E34, and Delilah embraced her? Delilah could’ve been bound to her body with Laudna, yes, but perhaps never had the opportunity (she showed up a year after Laudna was Raised) to interact with the soul of Laudna until her death and took advantage of the opportunity presented.

But if that is so, why now? Why not any of the other times Laudna nearly died and she ‘not yet’ her into life. Was the bond to Laudna’s body not strong enough? Was Delilah not strong enough? The only thing that’s really different is that Laudna levelled up in warlock and fed Delilah another rock. Which is more important to her strength and influence over Laudna? Is it a compound effect?

Keyleth immediately asked if the Hells had 25,000 gold - which is a factor of True Resurrection. Pike asked for diamonds but not a specific amount, though Vex seemed to intuit the correct value and retrieve them, but it seemed far less than the amount required for True Resurrection. Is it then possible that the only way to Resurrect Laudna without Delilah is through True Resurrection in a new body that she is not also bound to? What does that mean for the current plot to separate their souls and resurrect Laudna using a less powerful spell?

If it was actually Laudna in the hut, where did she go? Is she just being forced to live through all of her tragic backstory all over again? Is it possible we will see her, or an apparition, hanging? Are the Hells meant to collect her tragedies and treat her with humanity, in order to convince her to join them?

(Will they cut her down? That is the real thing I want to know. Will Imogen and the Hells see her hanging and cut her down? Will she see her tortured and act to protect her? Will they even be able to - or will they only be able to act against the aggressors when Laudna has already fled/suffered?)

Will Delilah be in the castle? Or in the Ziggurat?

Or will she even be there at all? If Delilah and Laudna are entwined, will she make Laudna fight the Hells as her puppet?

I’m so intrigued!

#critical role #cr3 #laudna #cr spoilers #delilah briarwood #c3e36 #spoilers and speculation #cr theory #i am so invested #i am so Intrigued #it’s so interesting!#this is mostly for me to keep shit straight in my head because i have not seen c1 #this is mostly just for me

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