#about it and someone who cares about you so deeply that they think about you at night and smile so big that it hurts and someone who loves
Note
plsss would u do sukuna taking care of his pregnant wife? like noticing his robes keep disappearing, only to figure out its his wife. or more dad!kuna 🙏🏾
robes — ryomen sukuna x f!reader
a/n: me👰♀️ ➕ 👹heianera!sukuna
sukuna is a deeply preceptive man.
it’s something he prides himself over, and since he is observant, he quickly notices that his robes start going missing.
in the beginning, he thinks that it’s probably the increased number of bloodied robes because he has been going on a higher number of rampages the past couple of days.
so, he goes to uraume to inquire about why the delivery of his robes has been later than usual.
uraume quickly responds that they have been personally delivering the clean robes to his chambers and ensuring that they are placed where he can clearly see them.
the revelation makes sukuna annoyed because that means that someone has been stealing his robes directly from his chambers.
he is presented with two courses of actions—excluding the option of saving himself the trouble and just killing all the servants: sending uraume to spy on the whole ordeal or investigate it himself.
considering how he has been pretty bored the past couple of days, he decides on the latter. the past few rampages have given a clear warning to the rest of the villages surrounding his castle.
so, with nothing else to do, sukuna takes it upon himself to monitor the main entrance of his chambers to see whether anybody enters the room after uraume places the robes in the room.
so, he situates himself near the room but far away so that they can’t catch him.
he stays there for a good couple of hours, yet he sees no one, not even in the darkness of the night: the supposed prime time for a thief.
perhaps the thief has been made aware of sukuna’s inspection? but that would mean that the robes would still be in the chambers. so, sukuna enters his room in search of his robes, but, to his surprise, he doesn’t find them.
that immediately leads him to concluding that whoever is stealing his robes is someone who has access to the hidden door of his room.
and no one knows about that door except—
“y/n.”
you yelp and slowly turn to your husband. he is standing there, arms crossed, brows furrowed, and an everlasting frown on his face. you have been caught and are in some big trouble.
you don’t falter immediately though. you try to act normal. you smile nervously, “yes, my love? is something bothering you?”
keyword: try.
he repeats your name lowly, and you quickly crumble. you visibly deflate and lower your head as you murmur, “yes…”
he nods in satisfaction before asking the awaited question, “where are my robes?”
your hands rest on your lap, and you fidget with your fingers.
you still can’t figure out what his reaction will be. so far, he is just gathering information. he is giving you nothing to work with, so you have no other option but to comply and just keep answering him.
sighing, you answer him, “my closet.”
he quirks an eyebrow and sits in front of you. his hand is placed on your head, and he raises your head, so you’re looking him in the eyes. it’s something that you have noticed only being done to you.
you had absentmindedly asked your head servant about it, and said servant, uraume, had told you that it’s because he views you as an equal and does not take pleasure in your fear and acting inferior to him.
and in the end, sukuna only does what pleases him. if it doesn’t please him then why do it?
he hums as if in thought before egging you on, “and why are my robes in your closet? in fact—” he smirks, eyes observing your frame, “why are you currently wearing my robes?”
you pull the robes tighter around yourself, and you purse your lips. sukuna wants an answer right now, and while he is enjoying your ‘suffering’, but he also wants to know what’s wrong.
if there is anything that he hates then it’s not knowing, especially if it’s something about you, his very pregnant wife.
his hand travels to your jaw, and he grips it lightly.
“so?” he says as he tilts your head to the slide slightly.
“you…have been gone for longer than usual lately, and I have been missing you,” you admit softly as you try your best to maintain eye contact, but you end up looking away.
he is still silent, so you continue laying out your reasoning, “and for some reason, the robes alleviate the pregnancy pain. I couldn’t find any logical or scientific reason, but I think—
—it’s because the robes are filled with your cursed energy, maybe acting as a kind of assurance to the baby that you are beside us even if you aren’t.”
he doesn’t grace you with any reaction nor reply for quite a while, and it makes you think that he is probably thinking about how foolish the entire scenario is.
so, you add hesitantly, “or something like that…”
after a moment, though, he sighs and simply says, “you could’ve just asked me, you foolish woman.”
you blink confused, “and you, my ‘no one takes what’s mine’ husband, would’ve allowed that?”
“you, idiot, are mine, so my belongings are yours anyway,” he states, and his hands rest on your stomach, “this is mine too, so you have to take good care of it.”
a smile takes over your face, and you nod happily, “of course, I will!”
you pause for a second, and it has sukuna confused.
you frown and you point your finger at him while reprimanding him, “and don’t call me an idiot, mister! I am your wife, and I am blessed with a good name.”
a pinch is delivered to your butt which makes you shriek. you jump away from you husband and start rubbing the spot in attempt to soothe it.
sukuna smiles wickedly before suggesting, “how about I help you with that?”
“no! keep your hands off of me, you brute!”
he chuckles, and it echoes throughout the room. it’s kind of creepy. you always said that you wanted to add more furniture to avoid that situation.
you start thinking about the new design for the room when your husband speaks up, “and regarding my absence the past few of days.”
you turn your head to him, and he continues, “I will be putting my plans on pause for a while, so you don’t have to resort to the robes for the time.”
he turns his back to you before announcing, “I am expecting you at dinner and later in my chamber. is that clear?”
you feel giddiness fill you up, and you reply enthusiastically, “yes, my king!”
“good,” he smirks.
taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @sonder-paradise @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies@pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @satoryaa @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author @stray-npc @libbyistired @anon1412 @anakalana @maehemthemisfit @satorustar @b4nka1 @sad-darksoul @ko-fi-heart @pumpkindudeishere @suyaaachin @babyqueen17 @chaosguy352 @murakami-kotone @sukun4ryomen @yumieis @hearts4itoshi @sleepyxxhead @dunixxd @sleepycrybbylaiah @imjustaduckwholikesbread @emilyyyy-08 @spacebaby1 @arabellatreaty @viscade @washeduphasbeen @janbannan @sugurubabe
copyright © tender-rosiey
do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported
#sukuna x reader#sukuna x you#sukuna x y/n#sukuna ryomen x reader#sukuna ryomen x you#ryomen sukuna x you#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna fluff#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#jjk imagines#sukuna imagine#jjk sukuna x reader#jjk sukuna x you#jjk sukuna x y/n
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
₊˚.- NEEDLES AND PINS
Patience breeds success. However, Dr. Veritas Ratio's patience has successfully run thin when it comes to the Intelligentsia Guild's new professor.
OR
Dr. Ratio hate reads about you.
wc - 3.4k
A/N - Basically a Dr. Ratio character study, inspired by the Deftones song Needles and Pins.
Veritas Ratio was a Needle.
At least, that is what he saw himself as. He was sharp, precise, and calculated. One had to be in this world full of ignorant minds.
His known prestige amongst scholars was by no accident. Every equation, formula, and theory engraved into his mind was nothing he didn’t want there. His reputation at the Intelligentsia Guild was by no fault other than his own. And he liked it this way.
So when Dr. Veritas Ratio’s curiosity peaks, he will seek out information regardless of what stands in his way. It just so happens that the rumor of a Genius Society member abandoning their ranking to join the Intelligence Guild not only piques his interest but puzzles him quite a bit.
Everything Veritas Ratio has ever done—ever accomplished was with intent. That’s just what a needle does.
And as he reads the passage before him in the worn textbook he fished out of the bookshelves at his university, he intends to figure out your perplexing nature.
“…and discovered five different constellations that are now crucial to Intercosmic Space Travel, earning the name of the ‘Star Lit Genius’ just after finishing her Associates.”
- Excerpt from Exploring the Starlit Genius
A fool.
Ratio closes the bulky biography with a booming thud. The echo can be heard bouncing off the walls of his office.
That is what you were. That is your nature.
A fool is the only description he can think of as he sharply brings his fingers to his lips. Questions bubble inside him, but the one that escapes himself is, “Why?”
Why would anyone do such a thing? The mere thought that someone could leave the Genius Society was baffling. Sure, there probably were some that had left, but that had to be Amber Eras in the past.
It wasn’t ignorance it was foolishness. Perhaps he was right about Genius Society members having a rock up their asses. There was truly nothing that separated them from the mundane, such as himself. They were just as equally subjected to idiocy.
But could you do such a thing?
You. A scholar blessed by Nous! Given a chance—an opportunity.
He scoffs, his head jerking to the side as if catching himself in an act.
He shouldn’t care.
He doesn’t care.
He’s over that.
Ratio sighs and shakes his head. He doesn’t care. You were foolish, that’s all. It was nothing more.
But who might this fool be?
Ratio’s cold finger travels around the textbook's hardcover. He quickly flips through the pages. Frustration is evident on his face as his brows furrow the more pages he turns.
Yet, there’s nothing.
There’s not one picture of you—the fool—that perplexes his mind. Of course, there wouldn’t be. The Genius Society's “holy” standing wouldn’t allow that. So, he’ll just have to wait for the day he meets the deluded “genius.”
“Immediately after finishing her Associates, the Star Lit Genius earned funds from the IPC for her findings, causing the young brilliant mind to venture more deeply into the cosmos.”
- Excerpt form Exploring the Starlit Genius
Time had passed and life went on. It had been a month since Veritas’ initial read of your biography. He had learned much. Such as your main fields of anatomy, pathology, chemistry and of course astronomy. Little details of your past are stored neatly in the back of the Doctor’s mind, but he has had no use for it. The new semester had started and as time went on he too started to carry on. The new semester started and students plagued his mind instead, yet a star glittered somewhere near.
“Dr. Ratio.”
It’s no voice he’s familiar with. Or maybe one he’s just not accustomed to yet. Most likely a new student in one of his classes.
He doesn’t even bother to look up. Instead he continues to shuffle through his papers with equations and calculations of the new curriculum that he would soon ignore altogether in his lessons.
He sighs. “Students are to ask questions during the appointed time.” His voice lacks any interest whatsoever.
He was tired of students who seemed to think they were special. If anything, the unfamiliar voice is probably a student coming to butter him up before the semester starts to get on his good side.
“Oh, I’m not a student.” Your voice isn’t familiar, but the syllables that roll off your tongue are ever engraved into his mind. His inner consciousness has read the name so much that he can envision the letters.
Before he looks up, a smug grin shows on his face. Finally, he could put the foolish mind to the face. It was a gift, really. You, coming straight to his door. You had done all the work for him.
But then he takes his first look at you.
Veritas Ratio isn’t one to be rendered speechless, but his surprise is evident. His grin drops at the look of you. Before, he had imagined that he should have put on his mask of marble to forbid his eyes from the sight of such a foolish person. But now his frustrations were fueled even more by the undeniable fact that a fool could look like…you.
“Professor Alvarez said you would be the person to go to regarding any Physics textbooks,” you say, and Ratio comes back to reality as your voice vibrates around the large space. You stand in the wide door frame, hands held together in front of you.
“Ah,” he chokes out. “Our new professor.” He quickly gets up to walk to the bookshelf behind him to rid the sight of you. His steps are light but eager; however, his back stands straight, and his head is held high. This was it? This was the fool he had read about? What a pity, he thinks as he climbs a few steps up the ladder of the bookshelf. Looks wasted on a simpleton.
Ratio tries to change the topic of conversation while trying not to show his evident surprise. “Say, what does an astronomer have that warrants the need for physics?” He questions.
You're quick to answer. “Well, the two are connected, I’m sure you’re aware.”
He is aware—he’s well aware. But he’s also aware of his unwelcomed knowledge of your hatred for anything purely mathematical in any sense, especially physics, which you loathe the most. He even remembers the page clearly in chapter twenty-six, section fou—but that's beside the point. His ever-growing facts about you are a card he cannot yet play. He has only gazed at you for a mere eight seconds. So for now, he will keep his mouth shut.
“I am,” he says confidently, a slight hint of offense in his voice. “Professors here, however usually tend to their specific fields rather than branching off.” His fingers trace the spine of the dusty books before carefully selecting one and then another.
“One of my students is infatuated by the correlation of the two. It’s something that I had no interest in during my years of studying.” The sound of you shuffling your feet bounces off the walls. “I’m forced to learn now I suppose.”
“Whatever for? You’re no physicist,” he scoffs. His hand lingers around a book as he debates himself in his mind.
“To answer my students' questions, of course,” you answer without a second thought.
A genius interested in the pursuit of other’s knowledge. Ratio’s frustrations physically manifest in the form of a silent sigh. An anomaly you were. An Irritating one at that.
He picks up the book.
He doesn’t say anything as he descends the ladder—or when he walks to where you stand with an uninterested look on his face. He simply plops the books in your hands with a quick “Here.” Their weight jolts you down briefly.
“Some of these are limited or editor's copies.” His eyes meet yours for the first time since you came in. “Do try not to dirty them.”
He turns to walk back to his desk, but the sound of your voice stops him.
“Which is your favorite?”
Ratio turns to walk back to you as he looks you up and down. His fingers fish between the books in your arms, and he pulls out one. It’s encased in golden leather. He lifts it up to hold it out in front of you.
Your hand grazes the hardcover. You look at it, eying the author. ‘Professor Emeritus.’ You look up at him with a hint of playfulness in your eyes. It makes him uneasy—like the breath has been sucked out of his lungs. But then you have the nerve to smile at him, and he can feel himself getting hot.
“Thank you,” you say, and you turn away.
His mind races. His heart beats a bit faster. It’s only when the click of your heels are out of earshot and when the doctor is trying to recover in his desk chair that he realizes he’s forgotten to tell you when to bring them back.
“...the only way to transcend the limitations of the individual is to have an academic network of mutual learning.”
- Intelligentsia Guild
He ignores you.
That’s not to say he doesn't see you. Of course, he does. How could one not see you? It has turned into a game over the past two weeks. He must spot you first to make sure you do not spot him.
So he does just that.
He has no use conversing with a Genius Society member turned idiot. He simply gave you those books to help the students you were teaching, nothing more.
So he carries on with his usual routine of avoiding you. Until, there’s a pile of books with ribbon wrapped around them at his office door. But there’s only three of them.
Ratio quickly picks up the stack of books and unlocks his office door. When at his desk, he finally notices the note placed neatly between the book and ribbon.
Thank you for letting me borrow these. They were very insightful. I have saved your recommendation for last. I will bring it back once I have finished it.
He examines your handwriting—your signature—and how the way you write your A’s and H’s differ from him.
As Ratio revels in the fact that you took his word at face value, he examines the books. His fingers caress the covers and flip through the pages.
You made sure not to dirty them.
“To grow and excel as a Scholar is to reconsider. A Hypothesis that is drawn due to stubbornness and ignorance is a hypothesis from no mind worth listening to.”
- Professor Emeritus in “Attentive Beings”
“Come in,” Ratio replies to the three knocks on his study door. This time, he looks up from his reading as soon as he hears the heels click on the polished wooden floor.
You smile at him—book held in hand.
He greets you with another disinterested look as he turns his head back to the papers in front of him. “Did you enjoy it?”
“I certainly did,” you call out. Although he doesn’t look at you, he can hear you walk slowly around his office. He lets out a sigh as he writes down something.
But then your heels click too close to the round table by the window in the corner of his study, and his mouth grows dry. He looks up as he watches you eye the books he had left open on the table, and put the book you had borrowed down. Your fingernails graze the papers slowly, and you turn the page.
“You read about me?”
Ratio’s throat closes up at your question as he scurries to organize the files and loose sheets of paper before him just to occupy his hands. He puts a fist to his lips and clears his throat. “I simply wanted to know more about the new Professor who would teach some of my former students,” he affirms boldly.
“It’s okay.” your eyes lift up from the pages and turn to him with a smile. “I read about you too.”
He’s not surprised. He shouldn’t be surprised. Any good scholar would do that. But something stirs inside him still. His stomach flips from…excitement. This odd feeling goes unnoticed by you as the doctor quickly covers himself with his swift response “Is that so?”
“Mhm,” you hum. You grab the book and slowly make your way closer and closer to his desk—to him. “Your quite the mathematician,” you smile. “…and philosopher.”
His arms fold and his eyes trail your figure as you approach.
“So tell me, after reading this thing.” You hold up the book. “What’s your ‘philosophy’ on me?”
He sits there in silence looking at you.
“Please, Doctor,” you smirk. “Tell us your verdict on the new professor.”
He’s still hesitant. But the look you give him is like fire on his skin, and he wants to rid of it. So he speaks. “Fine, if you must know.” He lets out an exasperated sigh.
“You’re a fool. Through and through.”
“Is that so?”
“The evidence is clear.”
“Do elaborate, Doctor.”
He sighs again. What has he gotten himself into? “You’re an astronomer.”
“That I am,” you smirk. Oh, he hates that smirk of yours. That smile of yours. That face of yours.
“Your an astronomer that hates physics.” Ratio stand subtly and makes his was round his desk to you. “Quite absurd actually.” He crosses his arms and you shift your body to look him in the eye. “You have no interest in anything mathematical when math is the foundation of all that ever was and will ever be.”
“Mhmm.” And there’s that smirk again as you look up at him.
“You’ve done mounds of research, and any organization would want you.” His voice is booming and stern as if he were lecturing one of his students. “Yet, you pick the IPC of all things to give your work to.”
You're a star, you blaze. Yet you choose to be mediocre like him. It's infuriating.
You nod, and he takes a step closer to you. His brows furrow in frustration, and his finger points down at you.
“And the cherry on top is that you’ve chosen to stray from the Erudition and-“
“Leave the genius Society,” you finish.
Your voice strikes him. He flinches backward and his back stiffens. You’re toying with him. He wonders if it is something he’s opposed to.
“Is that why you dislike me, Veritas?”
He’s opposed to it, he concludes. He steps back, and his arms go to his chest once more. “Dislike?” He lets out an exclaimed scoff. “I barely know you, Professor.” He lets the last word roll off his tongue like an insult.
You hold up the book in your hands and read the title to yourself. ‘Exploring the Starlit Genius’
“Barely?” You ask.
“Nonsense,” is all he can claim as he returns to his desk.
You lean over it, your spread ou hands creating a mess of his once neatly placed papers. “You make a conscious effort not to meet my eyes around here.”
Ever the observant one you were. But he denies it. “Our paths must have never crossed,” he explains.
You tilt your head with a knowing look as you cross your arms. “Don’t lie Veritas.”
A shiver goes down his spine. He doesn’t know if it's because it’s the first time he’s ever been called a liar or because you’ve just said his first name. It’s been a while since someone called him something other than “Doctor” or “Professor.” At least that's the quick excuse he can come up with on the spot to ease his jittery mind.
He’s caught. He’s finally caught. So he defends his hypothesis.
“I don’t like fools,” he states matter-a-factly. “I tend to stay away from them.”
“But not from me?”
Oh your tongue is clever. Not as clever as his, he reassures himself.
“You seem to know a lot about me.”
He’s red. He knows it. But he cant seem to find something to throw back at you. His quick wit is anywhere but in the present.
“Is it because deep down you know I’m right?” Your face softens.
He stays silent.
“Out of all the literature about me, you’ve chosen that which is not written by me.” You run your hands across the book's cover and place it neatly before him. “You’ve been reading the books with my name on them but have never picked up the ones that I myself created. Why is that?” You smile, but your face shows genuine perplexity.
If he has an answer, he doesn’t tell you. He keeps it to himself. However, the question he asks in response is an answer in itself.
“Why did you leave?” His voice is low—broken even.
Your smile turns into an expression filled with a touch of sadness. “You ask questions you know the answer to?”
“Don't you dare mock me,” he snaps.
“What else are fools good for?”
He’s silent as his lips purse in anger. There are a few beats before he responds. “Teaching.”
Your face lightens in surprise, and your original charming smile returns.
He wants to know. He yearns to know. But when you finally give him his answer, he knows it will burn like fire. He’ll finally have a reason why the thing he fought so much for was not all it was chopped up to be. The younger years of his life–wasted to appease THEM—all for nothing. Although he had reached a place of contentment. There was a little boy still in him who wanted to keep his former fantasy alive.
“The Erudition is something that consumes people as do all Aeons. You know this, right Professor?”
What you say is common sense. He gives you no answer or satisfaction. But he continues to listen attentively.
“All intelligent minds are selfish to some extent. The genius society is filled with people who will pursue knowledge regardless of the people hurt. This includes themselves.In order to be a person of pure logic—a genius…” You pause for a second. “…you must lack empathy to some extent.”
You turn to meet him, and he swears he’s never seen any eyes more beautiful and full of honesty than yours. “And I have too much.”
And then, at your words, something clicks in his brain.
Another smile takes over your lips as you face your body towards him. “And I believe you have more than you let on, Doctor.”
He’s in silence.
He says nothing because he can’t say something.
You walk around to the other side of his desk where he sits. His eyes follow your ever move while you do so. Your hand unlocks the clasp of your satchel and disappears inside. When it comes out, a book appears before him.
He takes it in his hands tenderly and then looks at the title. ‘Philosophy of the Stars,’ he reads to himself. Then his eyes wander to the bottom of the cover, and there’s your name printed in gold. He looks up at you expectantly.
Of course, when his eyes land on your face, your face is full of glee. “If you wish to learn more about me, I hope you’ll do so through a book with all of my own words.”
You say nothing more as you turn on your heels and leave his office. Leaving Ratio with a feeling of shock and emptiness.
His hand comes up to his face, and he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He sits there in silence and realizes…
You are none of what he had made you out to be…
Not a fool. Not an idiot. Not a genius.
But a kind soul.
He realizes that he was good enough. That he was not a fool either. Just a young boy who cared.
His eyes linger on the book you left him— the book in his hands refuse to put down. He opens it to the very first page, and he finds your writing in it and a note that slips out on his lap.
For the mediocre Dr. Veritas Ratio.
Your name is signed as elegantly as before. He puts down the book on his desk and picks up the folded note on his lap.
Feel free to dirty this. But keep it clean if you wish to auction it. It will be worth more with both our names on it, so don’t undersell. It is yours to do with as you please.
One thing Veritas knows for sure is that this book won’t leave his possession in all his years to come.
“THEIR silence was deafening.”
- Genius Society–Erudition, Astral Express Data Bank
Dr. Ratio is sharp, precise, and calculated. He considers himself to be all those things; he is a needle.
But if Dr. Veritas Ratio is a needle, then you are a pin.
ty for reading. reblogs are appreciated <3
#skip.writes#dr ratio#dr ratio x reader#hsr x reader#hsr#honkai star rail#honkai#honkai fanfic#dr. ratio#dr. ratio x reader#dr ratio x you#honkai star rail x you#penacony#star rail#honkai x reader#hsr dr ratio#aventurine x reader#fem reader
481 notes
·
View notes
Text
thinking about how shuro was laios's first friend on the island even though he'd already met marcille by that point. thinking about how marcille and chilchuck and namari are unapologetically blunt and unafraid to be HatersTM, in contrast to shuro who comes from a very nonconfontational culture. thinking about how shuro's unwillingness to be direct made him resent laios and made true friendship between them impossible. thinking about how chilchuck and marcille are quick to tell laios when they think hes being obnoxious, never hiding their true feelings about what he says. how even senshi tells laois when hes being Not Normal.
it often comes across as mean.
but
thinking about when i was young and couldn't stand any hint that people were annoyed at me, so i latched onto the people who wouldn't turn me away — but i never felt close to them. thinking about now, when my closest friends are those i trust to set boundaries and be honest, to say the things i can't infer. but that's a place i could only reach once i knew i was worthy of being loved.
and ive known people like shuro. and i find his depiction so refreshing — there are no true villains in dungeon meshi. that's just how it is, a clash of how clues are interpreted, and that makes it hurt so much more. to be resented not because someone else is an unambiguous jerk, but because there is something about you that is simply incompatible with others if you're not met halfway.
thinking about how chilchuck and senshi and marcille care about laios so deeply. thinking about how he still wont let himself trust that they do, that they would go back into the dungeon for him.
thinking about how they never abandon him or resent him.
deep down, shuro's hidden secret when it comes to laios is that he resents him.
but marcille's is that she's terrified of losing him and the others as he ages. chilchuck's is that he doesn't want them all to die. senshi's is that he wants to look after laios and the others like he was looked after and is terrified he can't do it properly.
im having many thoughts.
369 notes
·
View notes
Note
I usually see fics where Sukuna is 'the experienced one' and reader on the other hand is the shy one who never had those types of experiences before so Sukuna has to ""teach"" her how to do it.
However, as Sukuna canonically has never experienced love and attachment to someone in his life, what if he's the one who needs to learn?
What if it's Sukuna who finds himself trembling when he and reader are going to kiss
What if he finds himself ashamed when he wants to go further with reader but doesn't know how to do it because he has never done it so it's reader who softly shows and explains to him how to do it?
I love to imagine and write Sukuna as someone who is experienced when it comes to sex but completely inexperienced when it comes to love.
Modern!Sukuna is used to casual, little flings that mean nothing. Trueform/King of Curses Sukuna is used to admirers throwing themselves at him, begging for a night with him, or people bringing him their daughters to sacrifice their virginity to him in exchange for his blessings. And Sukuna lets himself indulge in those desires of the flesh. He takes what he wants and selfishly uses those strangers' bodies for his own pleasure. Oftentimes, he doesn't even ask for their names or forgets them again because he simply doesn't care.
Sex is easy for Sukuna. But what absolutely terrifies him is when his heart and his stomach feel so strange anytime you are near him and smile at him and treat him with so much affection and love. It scares Sukuna out of his mind that you mean something to him. The thought of losing you makes him almost sick with worry. He fears it would destroy him.
And he catches himself being reluctant to go further. For the first time in his life, he doesn't want to fuck, but wants to make love. But it is a concept so new and strange to him that it scares him. He doesn't know how to proceed because so much is at stake all of a sudden. He doesn't want this to just be a night of meaningless fun. He doesn't want to risk seeing you walk away from him afterward.
Sukuna never cared that deeply about someone. For a long time, he assumed he wasn't capable of love. Maybe because no one ever treated him with love either. Maybe because no one saw him in that light. Maybe because he always was just the guy for one night. Or maybe because he was a god-like monster that people admired but also feared. Maybe because he scared everyone off with his intimidating looks and personality.
But you somehow saw something more in him. Sukuna thinks you are the first and only one who saw his true self, which was hidden so deeply behind his perfect mask of arrogance and indifference.
And now Sukuna's world has been turned upside down. Suddenly, he doesn't want to take but wants to give instead. He doesn't just care about his own pleasure but wants you to feel good. He wants to see your eyes roll back and hear you moan his name, not because it gives him a feeling of power but because he wants to make you happy. He wants you to stay in his bed and in his arms afterward. He wants to wake up with you snuggled against him. He wants to kiss your hands and your lips and tell you that you own his heart. He wants it to mean something.
Sukuna doesn't know how to return to the person he was before you loved him and taught him how to love, too. And he knows he could never share this with anyone else. So please forgive him if his large, strong hands tremble slightly when he touches your cheek. Even a man like him can be scared of something.
#i am crying because i am way too soft for him :((#sukuna x reader#sukuna#sukuna fluff#jjk x reader#sukuna x you
281 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ━━ ❛ 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 ❜
chapter no. 001!
𝗈𝗈𝗈. ⠀CONTENT : paige “with” another girl (for the plot). reader is so terribly down bad. also, i don’t proofread so if you see typos or grammar mistakes i’m sorry. and this chapter is kinda boring but it's necessary soo.
𝗈𝗈𝗈. ⠀ WORD COUNT : 1.5k
𝗈𝗈𝗈. ⠀AUTHORS NOTE : yall seemed to like the prologue so i hope yall like this too!!
THEY’RE KISSING. and she’s enjoying it, by the looks of it. you can tell because she’s doing that thing where she pulls the other person closer like they could never be close enough. the thing she used to do to you.
it’s almost comical that the first time you see paige again, she’s kissing some other girl with eyes like yours outside the diner where you and the girls were. she thinks she’s being sneaky (she’s not). she always thought she was sneaky, you remember that much. in fact, you somehow remember everything about the blonde except what her lips tasted like. so of course you’re a little jealous, feeling a bit out of the loop. that’s normal. right? and maybe definitely it’s stupid to mourn so deeply over a relationship that you ended but, whatever, you can’t help that you miss her.
there was nothing human about the feeling, it was more like a typhoon or a volcanic eruption, something so completely out of your control. it was purely sickening…but whenever you see the peroxide-blonde with someone new, you find yourself apprehensively scanning their hair, their skin, the words that they would say –– always finding a hint of yourself within them. the delusional part of you wanted that to mean she still wanted you, but logic said that maybe she just started having a type. but then you’d think back to before…the paige before you never had a specific type. but since you? there’s an unmistakable one. but that’s not enough proof that she still feels for you. in fact, it’s nothing. it’s hard not to see yourself when you’re actively looking for it. you’d keep up with the torture by staring at paige kissing that girl through the window but then you feel a sharp kick to your shin from underneath the table.
“stop staring, perv.” nika mutters, rolling her eyes lightly. although nika was one of the few people who knew about the dead relationship, she didn’t know that your feelings for paige still lingered. she only knew what paige told her, that the two of you were friends.
“i wasn’t ––”
“you were.”
okay –– maybe you were. you sigh silently to yourself, taking a sip of your milkshake. this is the first time you’re actually hanging out with your friends together rather than just one on one (which you only did because you didn’t want to see paige). the two of you agreed to be friends but that was clearly not going to happen. however, you felt bad for denying your friends every time they asked to spend time with you. so, you sucked up your pride. you could spend an hour in paige’s presence, it wouldn’t kill you. at least not literally.
angel, a redhead who shares a dorm with nika and a major with you, is sitting in between azzi and you. she’s eyeing you carefully, after all, the two of you are very close and she knows why you and paige broke up. she also knows that you still care about her. her gaze is simultaneously suffocating and protective.
“...are you okay?” she whispers only loud enough for you to hear. you simply nod, munching on your fries trying not to look out of the window again. in truth, your head was spinning. you haven’t seen paige face to face since the breakup. you were hoping you’d never have to again…
then she finally enters, walking up to the booth. every step she takes is just as confident as they always are. her hair is down, running across the length of her back. her eyes meet yours, they’re more familiar than your own name. her beauty is still unquestionable –– but you wouldn’t admit it. it would make looking away from her even more difficult. so instead you pretend not to look as she sits down at the booth right next to nika…right in front of you. she pokes nika’s side just to piss her off before snatching a fry from angel’s plate and dipping it in her own milkshake. angel rolls her eyes but says nothing.
“that’s disgusting.” nika turns up her nose as paige bites it.
“don’t knock it till you try it.” paige dramatically licks her fingers. nika makes a fist, gently hitting the table a few times with her knuckles. you chuckle at nika’s attitude.
“what are you giggling about? you used to like it too.” paige mutters, smiling lightly but her words send a pang to your chest. nobody else seems to catch the bitterness in her tone….but you do. her eyes look almost guilty when she sees the sharp intake of breath you take. but before she could say anything else, you look away. you avoid her eye contact like it’s deadly.
nika clears her throat, eventually sensing the tension, and turns her attention to azzi whose eyes are close and head is rested against the booth. “you okay?”
“mhm…just really tired.” she mutters, opening her eyes to sip her lemonade.
you chuckle. “i bet you are, we stayed up all last night studying.”
“finals?” angel questions.
“yeah…” azzi mumbles.
“can we please not talk about that right now?” paige groans.
“says you, scholar athlete.” azzi mutters, rolling her eyes at the blonde.
“she’s too busy with that girl to focus on studying these days.” nika chuckles. angel looks over at you for a quick moment but you keep your gaze steady on your plate.
you nearly jump out of your skin trying to relax your tensing shoulders before someone notices. you ended things with her…she couldn’t even call you her girlfriend. so why did it hurt so much to even hear of someone else in your place? this wasn’t exactly the plan, you were meant to move on by now. but seeing her…again…all you can wonder is what she’s thinking about right now.
“who? cleo?” paige snorts. “we’re not talking about that either.”
cleo. cleo. the girl who just had her tongue down paige’s throat no less than ten minutes ago. you feel sick to your stomach at the mention but you hide it well, then you feel sicker when you think about how pathetic it is that you even felt this way to begin with. it’s just another indignity among many.
“why not?” nika mutters. “it’s more interesting than talking about studying.”
“true.” azzi adds.
paige looks over at you, her way of saying that she’s not going to talk about another girl in front of you. “where’s aubrey?”
you appreciate the conversation shift even if you know it’s in vain. they want to know about this mystery girl and honestly, so do you.
“late.” nika mutters.
“i ordered her food for her.” angel smiles softly.
“and she’s gonna wanna talk about the girl too.” azzi chuckles. angel’s leg shakes underneath the table, she’s clearly empathetic for you. she knows the girls don’t mean to hurt you but she also knows that it is hurting you. you wanted to relax her, make her feel less guilty for not saying anything even if she wasn’t participating in the conversation.
so you chuckle lightly, pretending to be completely fine and say, “can you please be still?”
“can you please be still?” you sigh softly, braiding her hair in its signature style. paige is sitting in front of you on the bed with her legs crossed. she has a game later, and she asked you to braid her hair for her.
“you’re pretty.” paige mumbles as you finish up her first braid, still squirming at your touch.
for a second you almost forget yourself, paige being damn near sickeningly sweet. she seems to notice how her words have temporarily struck you, pride swelling within her since she loves making you happy.
you shrug it off and remember that her back is facing you, so you chuckle at her commenting on your appearance. “you can’t even see me.”
“i don’t have to. i’m thinking about how your face looks right now.” she turns back to look at you over her shoulder. “pretty.”
you bite back a smile, turning her head back so you can braid the other side. “you’re corny, you know that?”
“i’m enamored.”
“oh, someone learned a new word.” you snort, continuing braiding her hair, being as gentle as you can with her. (though it gets increasingly difficult when she won’t stop moving).
“shut up.” she mutters. “i’m super smart.”
you finish braiding her hair, tapping her side to let her know that you’re done and she can go look. she stands up from the bed, long legs taking her to the dresser which has a mirror over it, she eyes her braids carefully. “they’re a little crooked, babe.”
you roll your eyes. “cause you wouldn’t stop mo––”
she turns back your way, walking back to you. paige towers over you while you sit on the bed, she puts a hand under your chin and kisses you. “i’m joking. they’re perfect. thank you, baby.”
“anything for you…” you whisper back and your words make her smile. it’s wide and toothy –– the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.
186 notes
·
View notes
Text
Sleepless nights
Pairing: High lord! Eris x Fem! Reader
Warnings: Nothing much, maybe a little bit suggestive towards the end
Summary: High lord of the autumn court helps you sleep
Masterlist
After the war, nightmares plagued your sleep every night. You can't remember the last time you slept the whole night, always waking up because of the terrors that followed you every time you dared to close your eyes. No sleep tonic is helping you. Not even your high lord powers could protect you. Leaving you desperate and hopeless for anything that can help you.
Madja recommended taking your mind off by busying yourself with work, so you don't have the time to think about anything else. That's why you're currently sitting on bed in autumn court, your room not far away from the high lords. As an administrative of night court, you travelled there to strengthen the relationship between the two courts. The sudden death of Beron forced Eris to take his place sooner than expected. Lucily, it wasn't drastic for the plans of your court.
It's not like you cared about them that much, but you sweared to be loyal, and you will be loyal to your court till the day of your death.
After half an hour of restless tossing, you decided to go on a walk around the house. Not expecting to meet someone at such an hour, you threw a light silk robe over your shoulders. Quietly slipping away from your room, you mindlessly started walking - letting your body guide you away from the room.
"Still awake, princess?" You swiftly turned started that someone was awake now. Focusing on the person your shoulders visibly releaxed and you let out signt you didn't even know you were holding in. "You scared me, Eris," coming closer to him, you couldn't help but admire his beauty. He had a strong and sharp jaw, which made you wonder if it would cut you when caressing it. His eyes burned with fire that burned brightly even after surviving things that you could never imagine. "I'm sorry if I woke you up." He probably was tired after a long day of duties, and you woke him up. Feeling guilty you averted your eyes from him.
"It's quite alright, I wasn't sleeping anyway," daring to look into his eyes to examine him even further. You could see the dark purple circles under his eyes. "You're not the only one who struggles, don't worry," his hand fixed stray strand of your hair that escaped the braid you put it in. It felt so natural, and you couldn't help but melt into his touch, never feeling more comfortable than right now. "You can sleep in my bed if you would like to." Pointing with his chin in the direction of his bedroom.
You wanted to refuse him. Sleeping with him in the same bed was highly inappropriate. This is still a work trip, and you don't think Rhysand would be happy if he knew about it. But Eris warm was attracting you like moth to light, it wrapped around you in cosy warm cocoon. "Only if you don't mind my snoring," Eris laughed at your joke. "I won't mind your snoring, only if you don't mind me stealing your blanket." Opening door to his room and guiding you inside with his hand on your lower back.
You quickly lay in his bed with blanket to your chin, hoping that the dark will shield your reddened cheeks from his burning gaze. Having a crush on the male for years now didn't help your situation in a bit. Your cheeks are getting red the longer you are in his room, in his bed thinking about his strong frame that will lay next to you. What if he wraps his arms around you? What if he's feeling the same as you, and this is his flirting strategy?
Eris laid next to you, laying on his side facing you, looking deeply into your eyes. "You're beautiful." If you weren't focused just on him, you wouldn't probably even hear it. But you're glad you did, finally mustering enough courage to do the thing you been thinking of for such a long time now. You gently cupped his cheek in your hand, looking deeply in his eyes. You kissed him. Your chest explodes with feeling you never felt before making you feel everything yet nothing at the same time.
"Took you long enough, princess"
Unhurriedly parting your lips from him, you gasped for air. "Y-you're my mate," realisation making you push Eris on his back and straddle his lap. His hands took hold of your waist, caressing you softly. One of his hands moved to the back of your head, pushing you closer to him. Kissing you with more intensity than you ever been kissed before.
Eris kissed you like there is no tomorrow, not letting you go until you were gasping for air, wishing for more. You parted from him, looking deeply into his eyes. The high lord under you just smirked while playing with your hair.
#a court of thorns and roses#acotar#acotar x reader#acotar x you#acotar fluff#eris vanserra#high lord eris#eris vanserra x reader#eris acotar#eris x reader#eris vandaddy#eris x y/n#eris x you#eris fluff#acotar eris
184 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hii I love your work so much!! I was wondering if you would do Frank Castle x reader based off of Sunlight or Francesca By Hozier? I don’t know I just feel like with how deeply this man feels that one or those would be perfect for Frank and the reader.
I WOULD DO IT AGAIN ➵ F. CASTLE
Summary: A glimpse into the way Frank feels for you.
Warnings: Fem!reader, violence, reader has unspecified mental health issues
Word count: 1.2k
Author’s note: I fell in love with both these songs thanks to this request!! I tried to combine both of them, though I suppose I got more out of Francesca. I’m a little on the fence about this one shot in general, but I hope you like it! Thanks for your patience <3 Also, I keep forgetting to say this, but thank you so much for 700 followers!!! It means so much to me that we’ve created this little community of traumatized Frank lovers :)
There was nothing Frank wouldn’t have done for you. He had known that quite early into your relationship, his devotion for you growing more and more every day, even if you weren’t officially dating. In fact, your feelings for each other had gone unspoken ever since you had met, but he couldn’t deny they were there — he cared for you so much it terrified him, it kept him up at night.
He thought about the first time he met you often. He’d never forget the way you looked in that dress you had dug out of your closet just for the occasion, how the warm bar light illuminated your starry eyes and how you had been nervously gnawing on your lip while glancing at your phone for the millionth time.
”Whoever’s standin’ you up would regret if they saw you in that dress”, he had spoken up from across the mostly empty bar counter, and you had immediately looked up only to find a man so attractive your stomach did a somersault. Rough around the edges but undeniably easy on the eyes, even more so when the corner of his mouth had twitched upwards in a sneaky smirk, even when his stare was focused on the crowd behind you. You had shuffled on your feet, looking around to see who he was referring to, but when you had turned back to him, you found him gazing right at you, making your mouth run dry.
”I was supposed to have a date”, you had explained over the music, ”guess it was a waste of a pretty dress.”
He had chuckled at that. ”Well, for what it’s worth, you made this old sucker’s heart skip a beat”, he had shrugged before gesturing at the empty seat next to him. ”Buy you a drink?”
And ever since then, he had been hooked on you. You made him feel alive, you gave him a reason to get up in the morning. So when you had told him you felt like you were doing the opposite, his heart had shattered in his chest.
”I realize I have a lot of baggage. So I don’t blame you if you want to, I dunno, check out now”, you had explained meekly, distance between you as you both stood in your kitchen at an ungodly hour, fresh stitches on Frank’s abdomen. ”I guess I’m not a very easy person to be around, is what I’m saying”, you had added with a quiet chuckle, and at that, Frank had closed the space between you, his hand coming to rest on your cheek as he swallowed all the air from your personal space.
”You think I am?” he had stated matter-of-factly. ”You’re wrong, sweetheart. I don’t remember the last time it was this easy for me to be around someone. You make me feel… Yeah, you just make me feel. I can’t get enough of you. Don’t ever think I’d wanna get rid of you, ’cause shit, as long as you’ll have me, I ain’t goin’ anywhere”, he had explained, passion behind every word, and it had made you tear up.
”You know everything that’s wrong with me and you’re saying you still want to be my friend?” you had asked to confirm, and licking his lips, Frank had glanced at yours before nodding. He had forced himself to withdraw, not wanting to cross any lines, but he had given your hand a squeeze, nonetheless.
”Never been more sure of anything.”
He wasn’t letting go of you. As much was confirmed when his enemies caught whiff of you being involved with him — before he knew it, your name fell from the lips of his latest target, and he had seen red. The men were coming from left and right, punching him, stabbing him, each of them claiming their piece of the Punisher, but he wasn’t going to rest until he’d know you were safe. Their taunts of getting to his little girlfriend had pushed him over the edge, and with feral anger, he slaughtered the lot of them, not letting a single henchman slip out and get to you.
He had wanted to avoid you seeing him like this so badly. But as soon as he was done, as soon as the men lay dead at his feet, he was rushing out of the warehouse he had been lured into, just to make his way to you.
The urgent knock on your door in the middle of the night wasn’t a completely unfamiliar sound — you had stitched Frank up more than a few times, but you could tell something was wrong. As soon as you opened the door, a bloodied Frank burst through, his eyes wide and alert, his shaky hands clamoring to find purchase on your shoulders.
”Hey, hey, what is it? Are you okay?” you asked with worry, eyebrows knitted together as you tried to balance Frank’s larger frame, your hands resting on his arms.
”I—I needed to know you were okay”, he managed to get out, breathless and panicking, and nodding to promise him that you were, you attempted to meet his frantic eyes and calm him down.
”I’m okay, Frankie, I’m okay. Breathe, honey”, you reassured, and slumping against your body, Frank pulled you into a vicelike hug, squeezing you tight, breathing you in. Blood stained your clothes and hair, but your priority was getting Frank across the panicked state he was in, to assure him everything was okay.
”They said they were coming for you. I—I couldn’t let them. I wasn’t gonna let them”, he repeated, before grunting, ”I killed ’em all.”
Pulling away slightly, you looked into dark eyes with a disbelieving frown. ”You did that for me?” you whispered, and finding solace in your gaze, Frank found it in himself to catch his breath and understand that the imminent danger was over.
”You’re goddamn right I did. I’d do it again and again. I’d do anything for you”, he swore, letting his forehead fall against yours. You closed your eyes and took his hand, giving it a firm squeeze before pulling him towards the bathroom.
”Let’s get you cleaned up, big guy.”
Even after he had had time to shower, he was still on alert, constantly checking the windows and pacing around your apartment. You had to fight him to the bedroom, insisting that you both needed to get some rest, and he supposed he could do that — watch over you, make sure you’d get to sleep soundly. Soon enough, you were cuddled up in the bed and Frank was sitting next to you, resting against the headboard with his eyes laser-focused on the closed door.
”Hey, you can relax. They’re all gone. No one’s coming for me”, you reminded him softly, caressing his arm with tender fingers, and swallowing, Frank slowly and reluctantly sank deeper into the mattress to be closer to you.
”I ain’t ever lettin’ anythin’ happen to you. You know that, right?” he grunted, and with a nod, you reassured him.
”I know. You always make me feel safe.” His eyes softened at your words, and gently, he reached over to kiss your forehead, his lips lingering for a brief moment.
He really would have done anything for you.
136 notes
·
View notes
Text
Actually, They're Called Tetrominoes
Been holding out on some kinda Video Game trigger, here's a bit of an odd Russian cultural/racial TF, enjoy! -Occam
Michael could stand to be a more pleasant person. Day to day he is a pretty run of the mill head-down kinda guy, amicable but never really goes out his way to chat or make friends. Instead he finds his free time often used to prowl the internet looking for people to torment online in whatever way he finds funny at the moment. Born too late to be a goon on SomethingAwful he typically pages through Reddit threads and communities looking for someone sensitive or cartoonishly argumentative.
This is precisely where he finds himself tonight, being a pedant on some video game thread that he doesn’t truly care about. Some presumably Russian user, u/ZandrIvnov, seems to be quite proud of Tetris which Michael finds incredibly amusing. As an American he too takes pride in many of the cultural exports and ideas that his nation has sent into the world, including many of the deeply entrenched ideas about the Russian and Soviet people taught in world history. It takes especially little for him to decide to start taunting and baiting this man sitting at his keyboard a world away.
Michael launches petty taunts at the Russian, poking fun at his nationality and Eastern Europe at large, stopping short at making fun of the man’s less than perfect English, for now at least. Michael switches between accounts to upvote his responses and even add additional dunks on the Tetris-fan as needed. Try as he might though to get the conversation away from the ancient game and get some more personal and profane digs in there he finds it difficult to find any truly satisfying or clever insults.
Getting tired of hearing this man assert Russian superiority he prepares to pull the ripcord and move on before he sees the Russian misstep talking about the game he’s so invested in, as probably the only fun fact he has on deck comes to mind. After the Russian so eloquently compares Michael’s head to a Tetris piece Michael immediately replies, “okay lol big fan huh they’re actually called tetrominoes” and then moves on to find some other doofus to bully on the internet.
On the other side of the screen Sasha seethes at the man, so juvenile in his mockery “Проклятые американцы. (Fucking Americans.)” He takes to his own keyboard messaging Michael directly as his arrogant messages dry up in the thread proper, Sasha was going to have him put his money where his mouth was. He offers a challenge, “u americans are so proud da? how about we see whos country rly is the best”
Michael felt his pulse rise in excitement at how much he has truly bothered this man. Smug smile on his face as he types his response, “what did u have in mind, Zander?”
“Саша(Sasha) is my name. since u are so smart about tetris, why not see who is actual master of game da?” Sasha offers, knowing already that the troll is sure to accept out of pride alone. Michael wasn’t all that much of a gamer but surely he could show this dweeb what’s what yeah? He starts looking up tips to win Tetris as he replies “sure whatever dude, what are u thinkin”
Sasha smirks as he has Michael right where he wants him, “loser agrees with winner about national superiority? should not be problem if you americans are so good at every thing” Michael was already eager to give it a go and Sasha’s taunt only makes him all the more raring to go. Before he can even pause his meager attempt to study strategy, Sasha sends over a link to the game and Michael clicks over to play, leaving the cheat sheet open on a second monitor.
Michael types his name into the game and finds himself looking at a familiar screen. He’s never played the game competitively but it’s a pretty simple game right? He just needs to keep his cool once the pieces start flying in. He gets the cheeky idea to check the cheat sheet in between pieces. That’s that good-old red white and blue ingenuity, Michael thinks. Unaware that these are of course also of the Russian flag. There’s a ping from the board as Sasha uses the in game chat to ask “u understand the rules da”
Michael sends back a thumbs up and Sasha sets the game going. It is predictably uneventful at the beginning, neither man making any particularly interesting plays. Michael continues to skim how to best cheat the game while Sasha waits for the perfect moment to fuck him over. Michael finds himself enjoying the game more than he thought he would as he hears the familiar tune, it is awfully catchy isn’t it? He’s gotta hand it to the soviets for that. His gameplay slows down as he tries to speedread the page on his other monitor. Instead of forcing pieces quickly he instead lets them drift slowly while his board is relatively clear. Sasha sees this and decides to go in for the kill.
Suddenly as Michael’s eyes wander away from the game for just a second too long there is an unfamiliar sound. He darts his attention back only to see the floor of his Tetris board rocket up in response to Sasha doing an impossibly well timed combo of lines. Michael’s heartbeat increases at a shocking rate in response as losing becomes a very real possibility. Why is he so upset? His face grows red as he realizes just how outclassed he is. Obviously this is no big deal right? Just a game. But Michael cannot help but feel physically uncomfortable as the tides start to turn so swiftly.
There is suddenly a crick in his neck that he stretches to avail but only exacerbates as a soreness begins to spread further across his body. Man is he tensing up too much? It’s just, it’s just a game right? Trying to calm down he is hit with the thought as if it were a shot of adrenaline that he absolutely cannot lose this game. His eyebrows furrow as they begin to square and thicken, casting dark shadows over his rage-filled eyes. His limbs take turns cramping as he clenches his neck and jaw to distract from the pane, not noticing as the structure of his face begins to change.
His chest grows to join the chorus of muscle spasms as Michael struggles to keep up with even Sasha’s slower gameplay. Across the seas Sasha takes his time, knowing victory is in the bag, and savoring what he knows must be happening to his little troll Michael right now. He smirks as he imagines the discomfort in Michael’s changing body as he feels warmth grow in his own chest, and crotch, as he decides just how much he wants to play with his food.
Back in the states Michael finds the heat, the sweat, the tightness of his clothes increasingly unbearable. As he continues to mash buttons on his remote he is too intent on the game to notice as hair begins to darken around his forearms and begin to snake its way towards his hands. He rubs them each down to placate the tickle on his growing arms. This is absolutely nothing to the creeping itch that is starting to encompass the entirety of his rapidly expansive legs. He shifts his heavier thighs trying to soothe the discomfort, making a loud sound as they pull away from the sweat sticking them to the chair but not allaying the soreness or itch in the slightest.
He grunts and notices not how his voice has grown both deeper and gruffer in his throat. Michael struggles to keep the remote from slipping out of his hands as sweat trickles down from his hairy arms and into his palms. Before it becomes a problem however Michael takes advantage of the lull in Sasha’s gameplay and tries to quickly remove his far too strained shirt. It should be a simple task after all, just put the remote down for a second, slide it off, and then back to the game. He does a brief check in to ensure he has even that and after believing he does Michael starts to try and remove the shirt strained and sticking to his skin.
He has precious little time as the pieces continue to fall at their set pace in game. He gets one hand under the hem of his shirt and tries to wrench it while keeping his other hand on the controller, this lets in a breeze of cold air sending quivers of pleasure across his pulsating muscle, as well as igniting a burning ache in his chest and torso. His upper body grows even further, finally overfilling his shirt as the sound of tears ring out in his bedroom alongside the same repetitive folk song he knows well. The idea that this shirt was loose fitting when he threw it on this morning or that he just identified the Tetris theme as a folk song rather than an 8-bit annoyance don’t have a chance to come to mind as he struggles to remain focused on not losing the game.
He pulls the shirt up to his chest before it gets uncomfortably stuck “Ach, bog uh- god damnit.” He scratches at his chest as the soreness and growing muscle makes way for a fiery prickling as the few chest hairs he has been a tad ashamed of begin to thicken and darken on his chest. Swirling out from his nipples and inching higher on his chest with each breath, he continues to struggle to remove himself mindlessly. Finding his shirt caught on his expansive pecs he rubs his hand underneath it across his sweaty chest, and finding it pleasurably drag through more hair on his pecs than he would’ve sworn he had in his pubes, he resolves to remove the shirt however he can.
As soon as he finishes a line Michael tosses the remote down and goes to raise his shirt above his head, his thicker arms struggling as they adjust to their new range of motion. He wrests the tight shirt above his head, his chest bursting large once more, freed from the garment as the breeze tickles the sweat covered chest hair and forces his enlarged nipples to harden. Having overcome his suddenly massive pecs the neckline is now caught on his chin, his arms raised high above his head expose his pits to the cold open air. He feels the air con blow against his recently shaved pits as the hair begins to grow back. It starts to catch as the hair begins to grow thicker and longer than it had ever done before, curling together as new hairs begin to push out and form a bush thick enough to never see the skin beneath again.
This also brings his attention to new development in his body, with his face shoved into his shirt it would be impossible not to notice the unbecoming amount of sweat soaking it. Arms raised though he finally notices that he has an altogether far more powerful scent, on par with a macro-obsessed body builder or hygiene-phobic wild man. Michael feels a beard start to push out into the shirt still hugging his face. Shaving once a month was more than enough to keep him clean shaven but now he knew deep in his mind that he would never have a day again where his face would be smooth. It’s that Ru- That American blood in him, right?
He begins to feel himself lost in the scent as his mind begins to grow distracted, attention fading from the game despite the looping tune filling his mind. He turns his head to smell his pits through his shirt which is when he hears the dreaded sound of Sasha making a combo once more, “Gah! Nyo, I can’t lose” he shouts, not noticing as his rough tone begins to develop a slight accent. Ending the long-standing struggle against his shirt he simply rips it off and jumps for the controller, ashamed at how foolish and lustful he has suddenly found himself in the middle of this all-important competition.
He needs to make his people proud! He cannot let Amerika down, ya? His focus and vision return to the game as he stumbles through one more line before all the pieces fall from view and the game declares Sasha the winner. Mikael reflexively pounds his table shouting, “Ny- no! I, this!” struggling to find any words to make his loss okay. Unable to notice just how bizarre this game has affected him, though sure that something grave has occurred. He scrambles to the chat box where he sees Sasha has yet again beaten him to the punch, “gg Брат(brother) yes?”
Mikael’s eyes don’t even notice the language switch in the message as he quickly races to demand a rematch. Punching keys slower than the career-cyberbully is accustomed to, almost as if he would be more comfortable with a different keyboard format, slowly he punches his response “one more best dva out of tri ya?” Sasha laughs out loud seeing Mikael suddenly typing out anglicized Russian. He smirks and squeezes his crotch in excitement at just how far this American brat has fallen into his hands. Sasha responds in full Russian knowing that Mikael may as well already be his countryman. “конечно, почему бы и нет, брат (sure why not, brother)”
Mikael smiles as he prepares for yet another go against Sasha, he’s eager to learn from his, uh? Suddenly he can’t quite remember how he knows Sasha exactly as his memories of his persistent pathetic history of being a troll begins to fade from his mind. As the Tetris theme starts once more with the game Mikael finds himself singing along as the words to the folk song it is based on, blushing at the vulgarity therein.
The race is on once more and though he was sure this was a competition against his friend, no, his брат(brother), Sasha, He can’t help but feel a giddiness as the game progresses. He feels a warmth in his chest just from playing a game of his childhood, of his country? No he’s a born and bred statesman da? He’s from, uh Moscow is a city in one of the states too da? Though he finds himself distracted his body continues to expertly control the game subconsciously.
He blushes as he struggles to remember where he grew up, it was a smaller town for sure. Somewhere very far North for sure, after all why else would he grow so hairy! He launches into a hearty laugh as body hair continues to push out from every pore in his body, sure to be peaking out from every shirt collar on both sides. He scratches at his pubes as it becomes clear that even besides his massive package there will evermore be a bulge in his pants from this unkept jungle as well.
His eyes continue to follow the pieces up and down as they slowly begin to lighten and bleach themselves an icy blue. The itchiness that has made itself at home through the whole of its body is replaced with a burning pleasure as he thinks oh his home. Full days where there is only sun, long treks into the city to visit St. Basil’s, helping his mother fry pirozhki. The hair atop his head bleaches itself a sandy blonde while still thickening and pulling itself short as a lightbulb goes off in his head his voice rumbles in his chest as he reflexively speaks in what must be his mother tongue, “Конечно! я спрошу у Саши (Of course! I’ll just ask Sasha).”
He goes to pause the game as he now knows he can do and types to Sasha in chat, “hey брат, wher am i от again?” Sasha smirks at just how easy this was stopping short from fully masturbating as he thinks of his new massive countryman living a world away as he replies, “недалеко от Москвы, Миша (just outside of Moscow, Misha).”
Misha’s eyes glaze over as he reads this, the room around him changes, American flags familiar patterns shift into the Russian tricolor. Any writing within the room shifts from English to the cyrillic alphabet and Misha sits there with a smile as he recalls his home. Long winters working alongside his best friend Sasha. His neck thickens and his waist expands as he thinks of long nights drinking alongside his friends to abate the cold. The game of Tetris continues on and he again feels a warmth in his chest at the chance to play with his dearest Друг(friend) Sasha.
For the life of him he can’t quite remember why he has moved to Америки though he is sure that Sasha will know. Sasha always knows the right thing to do. One thing is for sure though, he is going to do his Motherland proud.
85 notes
·
View notes
Text
Do you know how people have work husbands/wifes? Let me introduce you to ✨a work uncle✨.
In your case, that’s Wayne Munson.
You go on smoke breaks together, you bring him homemade food, he brings snacks. You two take care of each other and are practically like family. You are alone, and you remind Wayne of his sister, Eddie’s mum so it works out great.
And then it’s just about to be your birthday and you are ready to spend it on your own as you always do (because sometimes making friends is super hard) and Wayne won’t have any of that. Not on his watch.
He invites you over and you meet Eddie and for him is love at first sight.
Who is the lovely lady at his door? Is he dreaming? Did he die and go to heaven?
“Hey! You must be Eddie?” He forgets he is supposed to answer. “Are you not?”
“No, no! I am Eddie! And you are…?”
You introduce yourself, and Eddie seems even to fall deeply then and there. So you are the reason Wayne has been looking healthier? You are for sure an angel.
“Oh, Wayne is in his room! I’m guessing you are looking for him?”
“Actually son, it’s someone’s birthday today…”
Turns out, it’s the best birthday ever, cake and all. Beats for sure staying at home with ice cream. And by the end, Wayne has gone to bed and you an Eddie are sharing a joint in his room.
“Sooooo, will you be coming here more often?”
“Oh I don’t want to intrude.”
“Please Wayne is on the verge of adoption and I like knowing that you two take care of each other. I know how hard it is at the plant.”
“Eddie I-“
“Well then let me take you out on a date.”
“What?”
“Listen you seem like an incredible person, super pretty too. And I- I think we would be a good match. A great one.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay Munson, one date. But let’s not tell Wayne, I don’t want to get his hopes up.”
He already has. He had been listening to the whole conversation through the door “on accident”.
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson x you#eddie x fem!reader#eddie munson#i love wayne the man deserved better
62 notes
·
View notes
Note
So, I read your Pebble x reader thing and it gave me the idea for this request.
Stone x reader, and they're like hanging out, on a date, idk. Point is, trying to hang out alone together but Pebble is being a little shit and ruining it.
Only if you want to tho, ofc!
Date Night! + Pebble!
Stone x Reader
a/n: pebble can ruin my dates
°l||l°l||l°l||l°l||l°l||l°l||l°l||l°l||l°l||l°l||l°
°l||l°l||l°l||l°l||l°l||l°l||l°l||l°l||l°l||l°l||l°
You and Stone shared an ice cream that you just stole. You giggled as you gently wiped off ice cream from Stone’s lips. “How silly…” You teased. Stone titled his head to the side, before he smirked. “You look so—“ “Can I have a bite?”
You and Stone looked over, seeing Pebble staring at your ice cream. “Jesus Christ…” You sighed, rubbing your head, shaking your head. “No, you can’t. Go harass someone else.” Stone muttered, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. Turning you both away from Pebble. “He’s a stalking.” “I mean technically he is you—“ Stone cuts you off by shoving ice cream into your mouth. You huffed, muttering under your breath. “Careful—I might just shove something in your mouth—“ Stone was also cut off, by Pebble who was munching on the ice cream. The two of them made eye contact. “Why me…” Stone groaned as he grabbed your hand and pulled you away.
You and Stone ran off. He tugged you along the sidewalk, holding your hand tightly. “Why is he following us anyways?” You asked, leaning closer to him, titling your head to the side. “I don’t know. He’s annoying.” Stone grumbled while rolling his eyes. “But he’s you?” “Shut up!”
Pebble suddenly appeared above you two. “You’re basically talking crap about yourself.” Pebble said, smirking as he licked a lollipop. “I hate myself already.” Stone grumbled as he shoved Pebble’s face away. Then tugging you along. You laughed. “That’s kinda of funny…” You giggled. “See! Even your little partner thinks so too.” Pebble said, winking over to you. “You could flirt with anyone—literally anyone. But you choose them?!” Stone groaned as he pointed over to you.
“Hey what’s wrong with me?” You asked, huffing. You crossed your arms over your chest. “Technically aren’t we both dating them?” “No!”
Stone grumbled as he pulled you away. You smiled sheepishly while following him.
°l||l°l||l°l||l°l||l°l||l°l||l°l||l°l||l°l||l°l||l°
Your back was pinned against an alleyway wall, Stone pressing against you. The two of you weren’t do anything—that would be considered has inappropriate. The two of you were just simply staring at each other deeply. Speaking a few words, then going back to silent.
Stone leaned his face closer to yours, his breath gently hitting the tip of your nose. Your gaze soften at him, your eyes flickering down to his lips. You both began to lean in close to each other.
“Want some candy?” Pebble said, popping up in between of you and Stone. The both of you froze. “Pebble!!”
Pebble was lying on the floor with bruises and bumps. Stone and you stared down at him, before smiling. “Wanna get some food?” “Sure.”
#x you#ramshackle x you#ramshackle x reader#oneshot#stone x reader ramshackle#stone x reader#x reader#fluff#silly#ramshackle stone#pebble ramshackle
49 notes
·
View notes
Text
“But now…”
Lockwood is so vulnerable in this moment.
He’s responding directly to what she said just before she stormed away from him and into their house:
“What does it even matter if we end up stabbed, or dead at the bottom of the Thames with nobody left to care?!
This doesn’t feel like winning.”
He stood there stunned, watching her go.
Hours before, he had stood in the same spot near a different taxi, watching her stride towards him in the same blue dress with the wind in her hair. She was a vision. He smiled despite himself.
“So it’s just us”
“Is that alright?” He had asked, as she held his gaze, her smile warming him thoroughly in the chill air, his heart pounding as he held the cab door for her.
There was no smile for him now.
And it was all his fault.
After showering off the river and putting on a fresh set of clothes, he’s had a quiet moment to think about what she said in anger… and how right she was to say it. She has the truth of the matter- he put them in terrible danger and they only barely survived the night. He was so reckless and careless and utterly foolish. The self loathing voice in his head threatens to take over as the weight of it settles on his mind. She’d be right to leave him, to hate him and never forgive him, he thinks, and the thought almost breaks his heart. Self loathing collides with a sense of desperation— she can’t leave me …I need her… I’ve fallen completely and desperately in love with Lucy …and I can’t—I mustn’t— screw this up, …if I haven’t already. He takes a slow breath and gathers himself, mentally rehearsing his apology before finding her in the kitchen.
He struggles through the apology… it’s not enough. The words feel like they’re falling flat and sound hollow in his ears. He moves closer, unsure if that will help but compelled to be close, drawn to her as always.
“I just wanted to say, don’t give up on us— please”
She drops the butter knife and it clangs to the plate.
He knows he’s got it wrong- he’s barely half way to the truth. He moves closer, compelled to see her and desperate to look into her eyes. He turns his body to her, she hesitates, still and waiting.
“Or, what I really should say is… don’t give up on me.”
Now she turns to him, and he’s grateful for it. Though her expression is unreadable, she gives him strength to show her his darkness. It’s her strength now that compels him:
“To be honest the bottom of the Thames used to be a far more appealing place to be.
And really no one would have cared.
But now…”
Is almost a question he poses, it’s so tentative.
There’s so much unsaid after those two words, and he has to believe it’s enough and she already knows the rest:
But now… Now I want to live. Because of you, Lucy. You came along and gave me something to live for.
But now, maybe someone would care if I ended up at the bottom of the Thames. I didn’t dare to think you cared about me, Lucy… but then you went and told me so. It was just before we went into Winkman’s auction earlier that night.
I was frustrated and rash and I said “when my time comes I don’t plan on leaving anyone behind who’s going to stare at that door every night, wishing I would just walk through it one more time”
And then you stopped me in my tracks:
“Well you should have never let me in, or George, because now it’s far too late.”
And that left me speechless.
So yes, I can say something as profound and crazy as “but now…” because I dare to believe you, Lucy. I have to try to believe you, to believe that I matter to someone. To two people even, my best friends that I love dearly and one that I love so deeply that it terrifies me.
“But now…”.
Silence. I have no more words. And I hope it’s enough.
I can only stare into her eyes, totally at her mercy, waiting for whatever she might say next …fully knowing it can break me. But what else can I do. I’m wrecked for her. And I’m a complete idiot and we both know it and she’d be right to reject my apology, to reject me. I stand with bated breath, looking into her beautiful eyes not daring to hope for forgiveness.
“Grenadier guard or policeman”
I exhale.
A wave of relief floods through my chest as the tension I didn’t know I held is released. I struggle to stand composed, this close to her while I’m taken by a flood of gratefulness and love for this fierce and brilliant girl who has —and forever will have— my heart.
#locklyle#anthony lockwood#lucy carlyle#lockwood and co#save lockwood and co#lockwood netflix#locknation#renew lockwood and co
25 notes
·
View notes
Text
How to Save the World—Stranger Things 5
I’ve had some time to sleep on the episode titles and think about them, read theories, etc. and I now believe they might be real.
Hear me out: Stranger Things is all about cycles, parallels, tropes happening over and over again. The Duffers love taking a moment and repeating it in slightly different ways to prove a point. The story started with “The Vanishing of Will Byers” because we needed to place a small, innocent child in the center of our story, something to bring our character together and drive them to action. Well, that child is no longer in danger and our team is ripping apart at the seams. It’s almost like we need something similar to reunite everyone and drive them to action again.
Remember: The Duffers love parallels. Will’s disappearance brought his deeply fractured family together, uniting them for a common cause. It also brought Nancy and Jon together when their families needed them most. Now, the Byers are a united front, ready to tackle any monster that comes their way. They are the glorification of the avant-gard family. Now which family is struggling? The Wheelers. The perfect, All-America Nuclear Family: Mom, Dad, 3 kids, and a picket fence. They look perfect to the outside world, but behind closed doors, they are deeply struggling. They don’t communicate, the parents have idea what’s happening in their children’s lives, and if they’re not careful, if they don’t come together and form a united front—they’re going to lose everything, potentially causing the end of the world. (Why? I haven’t gotten that far yet!)
Now, how do we inspire them to action? Maybe by taking the child who was born to save their crumbling marriage—the one has seen everything but, up until this point, been too young to contribute. Now, she’ll be the same age Will was when he disappeared and Mike and Will are the same age as Jon and Nancy. The Duffers are trying to illustrate the idea of “The Next Generation.” This evil, this Upside Down dimension is NEVER going to stop until someone from the Wheeler and Byers families breaks the cycle. Children will continue to vanish, the world will continue to crumble, until someone steps up and says ENOUGH. The Wheelers and Byers (parents and children) must step up and face their pasts in order to move forward.
The “Stranger Things” are not only LGBTQ+ matters, they are the skeletons we hide in the closet that literally eat us alive. They are the dark, festering parts of ourselves we don’t let anyone else see. The invisible cancers that slowly and silently kill us. Until we face them head on, until we bring them to the light, they will NEVER die. Stranger Things is about owning your past, facing your fears, and finding the light again.
So yes, Stranger Things will end with Will Byers making it home from Mike Wheeler’s house on November 6, 1983, but not in a time traveling way, in a finally letting go of that scared, pained little boy who thought the world was better off without him. It’s Mike accepting his sexuality and place in his family. His role as a leader. It’s Joyce accepting love from Hopper, who must accept that he is not actually cursed, but that sometimes, bad things happen to good people, even when they think they’re doing the right thing (Vietnam). it’s Karen and Ted falling in love again and fighting to save their family. It’s Eleven discovering that love, not anger, should fuel her powers. It’s mourning your stolen childhood while stepping into the version of yourself that child never got to be. It’s stopping the cycle and creating a better world for the Will Byers and Mike Wheelers and Jane Hoppers of tomorrow. THAT’S how you become a Hero.
#stranger things#will byers#mike wheeler#byler#byler endgame#stranger things analysis#stranger things headcanons#byler is requited#stranger things 5#eleven#jane hopper#holly wheeler#nancy wheeler#jonathan byers#vecna stranger things#break the cycle#trauma#joyce byers#jim hopper#karen wheeler#ted wheeler#mental health
44 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hydrangeas'
Lucifer x Reader
Warnings: Hanahaki fic. Established relationship, jealousy, self-doubt, relationship anxiety, blood, vomit.
Part 1
Word count: 1,241
Hell was never some where people actively wanted to end up; Tales of an eternal afterlife of suffering and punishment, when you first arrived in hell that’s what you expected. Opening your eyes to see a… Some what inviting place, was absolutely not what you had expected.
However that was years ago, now you’re helping Charlie with the hotel, no real want to redeem yourself. Charlie always asks you why and you have to just shrug and not really explain, your relationship with her father was a secret and you didn’t know how she would react to him dating someone else other than her mother.
You always heard from Charlie how amazing their love story is and how deeply in love they where, “I mean he still wears her ring” she would say. You always deluded yourself to think the reason he kept it on was because he still was in love with her. That he still solely cared about her, you felt you had no place to tell him he has to take it off, he was grieving the loss of his wife and you have to respect that.
But when with him, and just him. You never felt any pressure to be something different. Dancing around in his flower garden, his arms resting around your waist, yours hanging loosely around his shoulders.
Music was playing softly in the background, post modern jukebox. He always says how he loves more classical and older styled music compared to the new way music was made, but you where born in the early 2000’s and enjoyed the music you grew up with. So you made a deal (though not a magical one) that we only listen to music covered by them so we both get enjoyment out of music while with eachother.
Stopping for a moment you detached from him to look at the garden, that is why you where invited over after all. To see his flower garden, he stays at the hotel but doesn’t trust any of the staff in the palace to actually look after the garden properly so he comes every day to make sure they’re being well looked after.
Lilies…Lilly of the valley… Royal lilly… Spider lilly… His love for Lillith ran deep and you’re no longer sure to yourself if he loves you as much.
“Y/N.. Are you alright? You’ve been looking at the flowers for awhile” He says, his voice is so sweet to you and you’re starting to hate it, you hate how jealous you’re becoming…How possessive. You want people say how in love he seems with you, you want flowers to be planted and taken care of as well as he does as these for you. You want to be more with him.
Ofcourse though, he doesn’t give you much more time to think as he scoops you into his arms, pulling you into a deep hug, lifting you off of the ground. Looking down was a mistake as you realise how quickly and how far you had gone off of the ground now.
Like any sane person you cling onto him worried about falling, souls where a fragil thing, and that’s all you where. A sinner, a lost soul who wasn’t good enough to get into heaven.
You could feel the two of you turning slowly in the air like a ballerina in a music box, scared still you look up at Lucifer and he has the worlds most loving and dotefull eyes. The moment seemed perfect, you hadn’t had a first kiss yet and thought it was now or never you swear you feel him pulling away but then feel the rain coming down, he laughs a bit and despite being confused you laugh along as he carefully but quickly hurries the both of you inside.
You can’t help but smile and laugh more at your circus leader boyfriend’s soaked hair and clothing making him look a bit like a sewer rat. He smiles too and for the first moment since being there today there was no doubt, no anxiety or second thoughts about your relationship with him.
“I’ll go get a towel for you” He says grinning with his sharp teeth you nod in response, “Okay Luce” you say and wonder the foyer into the overtly large dining room, raising your eyebrow at the grand and glaringly expensive dining room.
Lucifer doesn’t take long too come back puting the towel on your damp head for you to dry yourself off with. He takes a seat on the chair in front of you as he grabs your hands..Which forces you to drop the towel and look at him. “You’re so gorgeous Y/N” he’d tell you, you smile. You can’t help it, he has that effect on you. Something about him naturally makes you fall for him, wanting his praise and approval, some type of weird spell was cast on you the day you met him.
You didn’t even realise when you said it, fucking hell you regretted it the moment it came past your lips. You felt his hands retract from his, watched as his face fell and fear take over his previously peaceful and happy expression.
“I love you” is what you said..Regret is what you felt when he reacted that way, hurt is what you felt when he said “I’m sorry?” as if the complete notion of ever being loved by someone was lost on him. He laughed a bit when you didn’t respond, as if your feelings where a joke and what you had said was some type of childish prank.
Your heart ached, it twisted and turned and you where still, frozen in place as your heart begged your brain to start to allow you to move, run away. You can’t deal with him laughing in your face. It hurt. It wasn’t until the vomit crawled up into your throat that you felt your eyes tearing up. The rain didn’t seem to be a concern anymore as your legs moved.
They moved faster than you thought you could ever possibly do. Your own mind washing out the way he called out for you, the concerned voices of the hotel patrons and guests as you ran past and into your room.
You didn’t realise the breath you where holding, the amount of emotions you had until your legs trembled and gave out in your bathroom that was attached to your bedroom. Holding onto the bench you felt the vomit come back up your throat. That horrible feeling of vile burning the back of it until you couldn’t take it anymore and gave in.
As you vomited into the toilet, heaving and gasping for air, feeling as if your lungs where crushing under your ribs. Tears brimming your eyes as you hoped for it to pass.
The metallic taste in your mouth brought you out of the daze, confused you pat your finger tips to the soft skin of your lips.. Blood, there was blood on your lip, looking down at the toilet basin you see some of what you expect, pale vomit.. You didn’t expect to see a mix of blood as well as blue and while hydrangea petals.
You thought to yourself how stupid this was.
This had to be some weird curse, you read about it when you where alive. It was fictional right?
Well…Fiction is always based on some type of truth..
#lucifer hazbin hotel#lucifer morningstar#lucifer magne#hazbin lucifer#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader#lucifer x reader#lucifer morningstar x reader#x reader
20 notes
·
View notes
Text
tw: yandere, kidnapping/basement spousery, depression, mentions of noncon, gn reader
characters: Crocodile, Sanji, Doflamingo, Law
word count: 1.3k
One thing I learned recently is that I'm definitely a social creature and would get horribly, horribly depressed as someone's basement wife, even a well entertained one. All the books, the crafts, the soft music in the world couldn't prevent me from sobbing into my pillows, couldn't get me to crawl out of bed and to paint a smile on my face. Oh, but how would your captor react? For some, it's definitely a necessary evil - Crocodile comes to mind here. Annoyed by your lethargy, by your random tears and your meek, taciturn responses, he finds himself frustrated at times. This state of mind really isn’t ideal - he wanted you docile, sure, but not lifeless. Yet it's also awfully convenient when you just let him push you around, let him caress and touch you - and not out of fear of him, simply because you don't care to struggle. He discovers that he can forgive a lot when you're especially shaken and cling to him, bury your head in his chest because he's the only human you'll ever know again and the world is so bleak around you and you just need him right now. Of course, it would be nicer if you didn't do it because he's the only warm-blooded creature that you interact with, but he'll take what he can get. (And with time, it weirdly grows on him: him turning into the center of your life, the way your eyes seem to light up the tiniest bit when he comes home to you, something he thought mildly annoying at first turning out to be awfully convenient.)
To others, it's devastating. Sanji lives for your smiles, your warmth, the way your eyes crinkle and you jut your head forward when you fully, genuinely laugh - total apathy is worse than antagonism to him. If you were to scream, shout, put your fingers around his neck and squeeze with the desperation of a cornered prey animal, he'd at least get a reaction, some signs of life out of you. But you don't even do that. You just sit and try to suppress tears while he holds your hand. Sometimes he just cries with you, letting himself fall into the same hole you're being pulled into. It makes him regret taking you so utterly, bitterly, makes him feel all those memories from when he was a child bubble up in his stomach until they force themselves out and he has to vomit to be rid of them. He’s just like his father, he thinks, and it makes him sick. He’s rotten down to the very core, cursed from birth and now he has gone and soiled you, too - he’ll end up sobbing into the crook of your neck more than once, full of genuine remorse. And all you’ll be able to do is absentmindedly pat his hair, thoughts spilling like an knocked over ink well.
No, you slipping into a deeply depressive state is only going to worsen the hatred he has for himself, is going to poison him slowly and steadily until he’ll be in agony. Maybe it’s his just punishment.
Then there are the ones like Doflamingo who simply don’t care.
You don’t crawl out of bed until noon? You just stare into space or bury yourself in books when you finally do? You’re just lifeless by his side, just blink, shrug your shoulders when spoken to, just exist? Whatever, he has always treated you like a doll from the start. He can even weather the elusive bouts of sobbing and crying (even if he hates it when they happen), because most of the time you’re just his poseable thing and he is nothing if not generous to allow you a tantrum here and there. He doesn't feel bad about you being a more of a hollowed out shell of a person than a fully-fledged human with a rich inner life and doesn't care that most of it is his fault - his fault that you fester and rot beneath the surface, his fault that all the opulent, vibrant clothing and the scorching hot days by the pool still leave you frosty and weirdly bloodless, like a cold-blooded creature in winter. Food is ash in your mouth and only sours your stomach but you still eat when he tells you to, touches feel foreign and loveless but you still let him fuck you if he so wishes. Why should he care what circles around in your head when he gets to do anything he wants to you? That you feel like life is no luster, only desperation? The truly bothersome parts are taken care of by his myriad of servants and the family.
Messes left behind get cleaned up, baths are forced on you regularly, as are grooming sessions. If you don’t get dressed on your own either someone else will see to it or he will - and he’ll have his payment for his time, trust me. The solemn mood, the non-existent smiles… he doesn't care for that. You’re not here for your entertainment, you’re here for his. And you just accepting your fate and letting him do whatever it is he wants… That’s just perfect, isn’t it?
Of course, let’s not forget about the ones who secretly love it. Law is a prime example, especially with his medical background. He isn’t surprised that your mood sways - he expected as much when he restricted your every move, declared the outside world to be too unhealthy for you. Of course you’d slip into a depressive episode. And it’s not a flaw, it’s intentional.
Because now - now, when you can’t peel yourself out of bed, when everything feels too much, when you can’t feed or move or dress or take care of yourself- he gets to swoop in. He gets to do it for you, gets to tell you that he’s here and that he’ll always catch you when you fall. That his assessment of your condition was accurate - that you always needed him, right from the start.
Dependency is worth more than all the love in the world to him. It simply doesn’t matter if you’d rather slit his throat than to behave for him out of your own volition - as long as you can’t leave. Even if he genuinely loves you, he’s not deluded enough to cling to daydreams of him and you living a quiet, happy life full of reciprocated affection, that ship has long sailed - sailed ever since his childhood got irrevocably destroyed. No. Love is nice and good and makes him wash you gladly, makes him care for you with delicate hands and with a patient brow - but your sickness makes you stay, renders you unable to leave him. It’s the only currency he can trade in when it comes to you.
He’s your savior and tormentor rolled into one person; but above all he is the only one who cares and will forever care. You could rot yourself into a pathetic, sweat-soaked, disgusting corner, could turn into nothing but a husk and he’d always, always nurse you out of the ditch he’s found you in, just at the right time.
What he doesn’t tell you is that he could help you. At least artificially. Boost your moods with SSRIs until you bounce off the walls with nervousness and sweat thrice as much; make you giddy and shaky until you get used to the dose. Until the world seems worth living in once more, until at least some color returns to your drab eyes. He could get you the medication, even try some speech therapy, could help you like a good boyfriend should. But why? It makes no sense. Why help you only to get some fire back, maybe even for you to slip through his fingers? It’s easier to sit in twosome silence with tired eyes watching him, eyes that one day might be grateful for all the work he has put into them. Until then, it’s of utmost importance that they stay right where they are: in a cramped, dirty corner of a bed, dull and lifeless.
#i hope you can see where i'm going with law's part? he's such a little creeper... but also deeply traumatized... ugh#idk i hope this was coherrent it has been rotting away in my brain for 3 weeks now#yandere one piece#trafalgar law x reader#sanji x reader#crocodile x reader#doflamingo x reader#tw.yandere#/crocodile#/sanji#/doflamingo#/law#/one piece
53 notes
·
View notes
Text
Steve! Ruuuuuuun!
I thought it sounded like Jonathan, then I thought it sounded like Dustin...
I kinda don't want to accept the possibility of it to be Will, because I think there is more fun options for his anguish than worry of seeing Steve die (and somehow feeling guilty for it). Let him scream about Mike or his family, or maybe even Mike's family or other party members. Steve is barely someone Will knows (he is really the one who knows Steve the least, El being second on that list) and there are so many characters he is deeply connected to. If you want a heart wrenching scream to land, you will tap into character connections.
Dustin obviously works, because after seeing Eddie die, he couldn't bear the same for Steve, duh. Jonathan is probably even more fun, because they were rivals and they literally fought, then worked together and made peace, while remaining romantic rivals. To see Jonathan care for Steve's wellbeing to the point of gut wrenching panic would be emotionally satisfying.
Dustin is a bit straight forward so might seem not so exciting to theorize about but it could really emotionally land for the audience. Like "nooooo, he can't, not that, he'll break!"
Now Will being the perpetrator, woooh, that is a fun option to consider! Then after that scene he would have an interesting connection to Steve too that could pay off later.
#stranger things 5#stranger things leaks#steve harrington#jonathan byers#dustin henderson#will byers#byler#stranger things prediction
20 notes
·
View notes
Note
way back in 2014, probably a few weeks or months after you posted that picture of boone with the stick on his head, i checked your blog out and so dearly enjoyed all the dogposting that i followed. i think you were the first dogblr blog i actually followed at the time, but it's been ages and my memory is bad, so i'm not fully sure. it wasn't long before then--2012 i think?--that i had gotten a new dog of my own, a border collie. iirc he and boone were just about the same age.
in 2018 i lost that blog i'd followed you with, and a lot of connections with it. i didn't return until 2021, and when i did, i didn't refollow most of the old blogs; i don't think i even really went looking for them. it took me a while to get back into the swing of using tumblr.
last september, my border collie had a sharp health decline, and i had to say goodbye. it's not the first time i've had to put a pet down, but i think it was the hardest. i'm still not over it. even just typing this now, i feel raw.
then in march or so, i made a new fandom friend who knows you, and i enthusiastically recalled following you before and how much i enjoyed it. i didn't even know about stellina, and now there's kep too! but... i also didn't know you'd lost boone. i followed because i still really enjoy your blog, and i love your collies too. and butters!!! so glad she's still here!
idk what made me look tonight... maybe because i talked about my old border collie with someone today. i went looking for the posts immediately around when you lost boone, because i guess some part of me wanted to know what happened. i spent the better part of an hour (maybe longer?) reading posts from the weeks before the decline, and then the loss, and then the deluge of old boone pictures after, and i've been crying pretty much the whole time just reading your posts and tags about him.
and this is a long and windy way to get to saying thank you. i'm glad you shared your grief, though that seems like a weird thing to say. there's something cathartic about crying over someone else's dog when you still hurt about your own, and knowing you're not alone in that kind of sorrow. boone was such a beautiful boy. i'll never forget that silly post that made me check your blog out in the first place, or the years of posts i stuck around for after. i wish i'd remembered to follow sooner, but the archive is still there, and it's so fun looking through all those old posts about him and his quirks and antics. he was amazing.
sorry for the length of this, i just... really wanted you to know that he touched yet another life, i guess. and i've been so deeply enjoying your posts about stellina and kep. i know it'll be a year soon... i hope there's some peace in how things have gone since he passed, and i hope the anniversary isn't too hard on you. thank you for sharing him with us.
i've been on tumblr for 14 years and this is, genuinely, the nicest ask i think i've ever been sent.
thank you - sincerely. there's been a lot of times over the course of this blog that i've felt like i was oversharing, or talking about pointless things only i cared about. i still so frequently start typing out a post only to stop mid-sentence and delete it because i can't help but think "no one cares about this." possibly it's why i like to talk about my pets so much - they're not me, but i'm the one who knows them best, so i get to say "hey look at this" and ramble and have people say "i'm looking" back. when boone passed, i lost that filter and i poured my grief out into this blog because it was the closest outlet i had. and to have hundreds of people not only acknowledge this but to commiserate, to reassure, to share their own stories - that helped healed me more than i can put into words. it's exactly as you said: there's a catharsis in grieving together.
i am sorry you also had to say goodbye. i wish i could say it gets easier, but i think that would be defeating the point of grief. your grief is your love and damn it if there isn't any act more loving in the world than choosing to say goodbye to an old, loyal dog. you think of how dogs were domesticated tens of thousands of years ago, of how human society and dogs have developed intertwined, of how we have records of ancient greeks and romans carving loving epitaths on their dog's graves, of how a prehistoric dog's skull was found with a bone placed in it's mouth after death, and you wonder if grieving a dog isn't one of the most consistent experiences in the whole of human history that there is.
i'm glad to know that this could bring you some comfort, in some way. it's incredibly touching to know that you kept me and boone in your thoughts for all this time. i am doing ok - i've been reflecting a lot as we approach the one-year mark. i'm not sure if i'll be able to condense those thoughts down into coherent words, but i'll do my best. i hope that my silly little pets continue to bring you some happiness, and that you've found peace with your own grief.
thank you, again - this is extremely touching and means a hell of a lot to me.
#i know exactly what you mean about reading posts about other peoples loss and grieving in camaraderie with them. i do that too#also mayhaps i am nosy sometimes and want to intrude. i cant help my nature to be a looky-loo#which is to say: you should never feel like you are intruding for doing so back to me.
45 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
fuckyeahpipesofpan
Pipes of Pan
jollyrancher33
Just a Servant
confusedlittleguy
Weevile Mantis
nikadd
dance, dance