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thexsilentxwordsmith · 3 months

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Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Simon needing to hold you after a bad day.

The tiny apartment was completely silent as Simon unlocked the door and stepped inside, head hung low and shoulders tense. Lights were turned down, tv was off; you were most likely already asleep by now. It was late, much later than he had told you he’d be back, but he had been struggling with the weight of his thoughts again today and had barely made it in. He would have let you know that he was going to be late… it was just…he couldn’t find the will to even shoot you a quick text.

It wasn’t like him to be concerned about who knew where he was or what he was doing, choosing to distance himself from everything and everyone that could potentially catch a glimpse of him cracking behind the mask, but right now all he wanted was to get back to the place he called home before he fell apart and the world would swallow him whole.

As quietly as he could he set his things down beside the door and continued on through the flat, catching little bits of you everywhere: your shoes lying scattered by the wall, the blanket you’d just been curled up in tossed haphazardly in a bundle on the sofa, a mug on the coffee table that had the remnants of your drink stuck to the inside. Scattered bits of you everywhere across his life as little reminders of what he had that waited for him here and for the first time all day it felt a little easier to breathe to know his angel was close by.

Passing near the kitchen, Simon spotted a piece of paper with his name scribbled on the front waiting for him on the countertop, your familiar handwriting obvious to his eye. He picked it up and unfolded it.

Hey baby,

I really tried to stay up, I promise, but you know how work has been kicking my ass lately. I thought maybe I could just take a nap until you got in, but I was worried that if I laid down I wouldn’t wake up, so I thought I’d leave this here for you to find. Didn’t want you to think I forgot about you. Just wake me when you get in, alright? I don’t care what time it is, I want to see you!

Love you.

P.S. I left some dinner in the fridge if you haven’t eaten yet. We can reheat it and eat it together. XOXO

Christ, what did he do to deserve all this?

Always looking out for him, always making sure he had a place back in the real world whenever he came home. He held that piece of paper between his hardened fingers, the note more significant than it should have been after the type of day he had. You were the closest to heaven as he could get, more than he ever thought he would get to have and that’s why it was you he was trying to break down that wall to come to for comfort.

His sight flicked to the fridge where you said you’d left him something; he was definitely starving, but just the thought of the effort it would take to eat right now was too much and the knot that rested in the pit of his stomach made him too nauseous anyway. There was something that would fill him far better than food could and he knew just where to find it now.

Moving on to the living room, he set himself down heavily on the couch and began to remove his boots and the outer layers of his clothing along with his mask, stripping away all the bits of his life as the stone cold sniper now that he was safe here in his little sanctuary. Stripped bare until he was down to his boxers, Simon gently crept towards the back of the apartment hoping he would make it to the bedroom before this feeling took him.

Closer and closer he walked towards the other half of his heart.

The door stood slightly ajar to invite him inside and as he stepped up to it, he caught the hushed, rhythmic sounds of your breathing as you slumbered. It sounded so peaceful that he could have stood there in the dimly lit hallway and listen to it all night long. Just a few more steps, barely any distance left, and he would truly be home.

The room was completely dark save for the small crack in the curtains that let in just a bit of light from the streetlamp outside, helping him to find his way through the maze of darkness. As those brown eyes adjusted to the lack of light, Simon turned his attention to the bed and his heart skipped a beat. There you were: the outline of your body silhouetted under the covers, your head buried in your pillow, all cares left behind as you slept.

No sound did he make as he crept to the edge of the bed and lifted the sheets so that he could climb inside and up against your body laying in the center. One strong arm slipped up under your pillowed head while the other wrapped around your waist until you were encircled and he pulled you slowly so that your back rested up against his chest. His body molded into yours still warm from being wrapped up tight.

You stirred awake gently at the feeling of that familiar large body suddenly laying beside you. “Hey you,” you whispered sleepily, a smile on your lips as your eyes fluttered as they worked to open. “Tried to wait up, but I got so tired I had to go lay down. I’m sorry, but I’ll make it up to you.”

Only silence greeted you as a response. No chuckle at your predictability, no picking remarks about how you couldn’t even stay up to see him, just the sound of labored breaths in and out as he lay there in the darkness curled up against you.

Silence only meant one thing and you knew it well.

“You okay baby?” you asked, but again there was no answer. Only the squeeze of his arm around your waist pulling you in tighter to his chest gave you any sort of reply as Simon’s nose nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his eyelashes brushing over your skin.

It was clear just from the silence that he was far from okay, that he must have been bottling this up for God knows how many hours so that the world would not see that he was not always the tough, put together soldier he was supposed to be. But he could not hide it from you...he didn't want to hide it from you.

You heard him inhale deeply, trying to capture as much of your scent as he could until it filled his head: your natural musk mixed with the smell of the sheets and added hints of shampoo and body wash. That comforting scent that belonged to only you that he couldn't ever get enough of, the one that helped to relax his troubled mind. Instantly the tension he had been carrying like a boulder upon his shoulders all day finally released him from its stranglehold.

Gentle, exploring hands tentatively went up under your baggy shirt, one of his old worn ones you loved to wear to bed to keep him close even when he wasn’t there, as he just wanted to make contact with all that delicately soft skin. He traced over curved paths he knew by touch alone: it was soft, it was familiar, it was safe and his heartbeat slowed as the ache in his chest dissipated enough that he could finally talk.

“Bad day,” he whispered finally, warm breath against your shoulder. "Really fuckin' bad day... again."

You rolled over in his arms until you came face to face with those sad auburn eyes, moved by the shame in his tone. It broke your heart that each time he had one of these days he felt such guilt about it, as if he simply should have been over it all by now, as if he wasn't human, but you were not about to let him overthink the struggle. There was nothing to be shameful about.

“I’m sorry baby. These things just happen, you know, but its alright; we'll get through it together, ” you said quietly, fingertips gently running over the line of his eyebrow, down his cheekbone and further to his jaw in soothing circles.

Together.

Simon closed his eyes and eased into your hand as you traced patterns across his temple and through the cropped sides of his hair, letting the vile, churning thoughts rummaging around in his brain to fall away. No one else could ever see him like this save for you, no one else's touch he craved more than anything to bring him back into himself after the day had brought him down so low.

He brought his hand up and placed the tough palm over top of yours to hold it firmly against his cheek as if to make sure that all of this was real, that you were not simply a mirage cast by his broken mind.

“You’re home now, baby,” you reassured him as he took deep breaths in and out with his eyes closed, only wanting to feel you. “It’s gonna be okay, I got you.”

Home, still such a strange word for him.

Wherever you were that was home. Not a place, but a person, one who made certain that no matter how far he drifted she would always pull him back in. Simon had never had such a tether before, but fuck did he need it. He could feel it like medicine running through his blood, when you held him he could feel the chemicals rush to soothe the gaping wound in his heart.

Pulling your hand off his cheek, he brought it to his mouth and pressed his lips to the surface before leaning in to give one to your gentle lips. You embraced him back with such tenderness as if to remind him of that promise you had made to each other that neither of you would have to traverse the hell of this world alone.

“Home,” he repeated the tender word in his gravely tone, letting the emotionless second mask fall away. "I hope ya know... that you are my home, sweetheart."

You smiled. "You're mine too, Simon."

He took a deep breath, trying to swallow down the lump in his throat. "Bein' near ya is the only fuckin' thing that seems to help quiet the shit in my 'ead these days."

Pulling him back in, you gave him another kiss. "Then get nice and close," you said softly as you squirmed up under him more, setting his arm back over you.

Securing his arms around you again he moved over top of you so that his head rested against the middle of your chest, ear pressed in against your sternum to listen to your heartbeat rhythmically thump inside. With his hand still inside your shirt he drew his fingertips along your bare hips, not wanting anything more than your company tonight.

Your calming fingers ran through his short hair and over his scalp as he counted the beats of your heart until he melted into your body. Discussion could happen later if and when he was ready, for now this was all he needed. However long he wanted to cling to your torso, you’d let him.

You were his life raft, pulling him back in and no matter how far he drifted and it was because of you that for the first time in his life he didn’t feel like he was going to get lost.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #cod mw2 #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simin ghost riley #ghost simon riley #simon riley fluff #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #ghost #cod ghost #ghost call of duty

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onlyswan · 7 months

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summary: in which jungkook is one of your greatest fears and you’re his achilles’ heel.

idol!jungkook x reader, est. relationship / fluff, angst / word count: 4.1k

content/warnings: i love you i want us both to eat well T_T sigh. oc has abandonment issues pls protect at all costs + oc is worried bc jk is working so hard :( + a worm (???) cameo. ily protective and hopeless romantic iw!jk <3 the ending 🥲💔 this drabble literally goes 📈📉

> in which masterlist!

note: *insert my melody mugshot scene* me if planting puzzle pieces in my drabbles + making oc cry (IM SORRY) were a crime. this was sm fun writing <3 i cried and laughed they’re so precious </3

—

“jungkook, baby?”

your silky voice fills the quiet apartment as you pad across the floor. you’re carrying your heeled mary janes by its straps, leaving you only in your white socks.

“babe?”

you frown as the seconds pass and you receive no response from your lover. there’s no music playing, no rustling somewhere in the kitchen or the living room. the lights are dim like they usually are, but the vivid colors are absent.

him? asleep at 9pm? jeon jungkook? it can’t be, but you’d be delighted to finally see him resting early if it was real.

and so, spurred by that tiny glimmer of hope, you carefully crack the bedroom door open, as if you’re fifteen again and you just came back from sneaking out of the house.

but you’re grown now; you live in a building with complete strangers for neighbors. you just got home from work, and you’re no longer used to sleeping alone because you share the bed with another person.

you find it empty. devoid of any creases, sign of life. as neat as a hotel room’s make believe that no one lived there until two hours prior.

the disappointment weighs down on your shoulders, causing them to drop.

he didn’t tell you he was going somewhere else after practice, you think to yourself as your lips permanently shape into a pout. what happened to going out with you for dinner?

agreeing, your empty stomach grumbles angrily.

maybe he got caught up at work. maybe he’s on his way home. maybe he’s on his way to the restaurant and he’s about to text you to come over. maybe he forgot about your plans and he’s having dinner with somebody else.

whatever the reason is, you’re too lazy and tired to whip up something edible on your own. with or without him, you’re going out and you’re stuffing your mouth full with rice and meat. after all, autumn is here, your dear old friend.

in search for a coat that will accompany you in your late-night stroll, you enter the walk-in closet and flip on the lightswitch.

you can count them with just your fingers— the amount of times you’ve felt this type of fear. absent eyes, melting spine, chills running to the top of your head down to your fingertips, mind racing with an overload of thoughts (it appears as a blank page, the same way that white is the presence of all colors of visible light). this fear… you associate it with impulsive mistakes, fire, police and ambulance sirens, and… empty closets.

jungkook’s side of the closet is empty.

clothes. shoes. bucket hats. beanies. belts. everything. gone.

but the floor is scattered with random pieces of clothing that look like they accidentally fell while someone was in a rush to pack them all in a bag. so in a rush that they didn’t even bother to pick them up.

your weak knees almost give way, but you force yourself to stumble backwards until your back hits the doorframe— you refuse to let yourself look like you’ve been carelessly discarded too.

not again. not again. not this goddamn vicious curse you thought you’ve already broken out of. not. again.

you blink away the tears threatening to spill as you scramble to open the zipper of your bag, but they spill anyway when your shoes clatter to the floor. you flinch at the thunderous sound, clutching your phone tightly against your chest. you keep your eyes closed throughout the defeaning silence that comes after.

the empty space mocks you. it knows your intricate design was not meant to live in an empty home.

you guess nothing much has changed. you’re still afraid of jungkook and his power to take away the sun, just as he did before, and you deeply despise being afraid. you don’t like it when the walls are closing in on you, poisoning your mind into believing that you’re small when the heart inside your chest burns with a fire brighter than that of the damn sun.

anyone would be foolish to leave you; it’s only jungkook who could have you mourning the death of the garden you’ve given the past five years of your life to.

—

jungkook returns to the apartment half an hour later. despite the long, grueling hours of dance practice he nearly didn’t survive, the excitement vibrating through his body is manifested through the lightness of his movements. he’s finally seeing his lover for the first time today… awake.

when he brought his natural body warmth along with him to the bathroom this morning, you sunk yourself further into mattress, beneath the thick blankets and against the soft pillows. by the time he had to give you your obligatory goodbye kiss before he leaves for work (or else you’d sulk about it for the rest of the week), half of your face has been hidden from sight. he was only able to press a loving kiss on your forehead, and then your eyelids that were fluttering as you dreamt.

night time comes and he is still deprived of the sight of your beautiful face? he somberly wonders as he finds you slumped over the dining table; he swears that there is a dark rain cloud hovering above you. your arms are thrown over the hardwood as they serve as a makeshift pillow for your vessel— his little firefly curiously bleak.

“baby? are you sick?” he asks, voice dripping with concern as he tenderly rubs your back.

the legs of the chair screeches against the tiled floor, neglectedly pushed behind.

“kook?” you manage to choke out, frantically sitting up once your muddled brain registered the familiarity of his touch on your bare skin.

his heart drops to his stomach as your tear-stained face comes into view. this isn’t how he envisioned your greeting; it usually came in the form of a bright light not harsh as the sunlight, a softness that begs to be held.

“are you crying?!”

your reply only comes out as a pitiful whimper. he stumbles a step backwards when you unceremoniously jump into his embrace, wrapping your arms over his shoulders. he gets a whiff of your sweet perfume, and then it becomes the air that he breathes, but he doesn’t have much time to revel in it.

“baby!”

he squeezes your waist taut against his body, affectionately nosing at your cheek before giving you a kiss. “did something happen? tell me- tell me.”

“jungkook,” your voice cracks as you utter his name, sounding almost like a plea, and then an endless string of heartbreaking sobs comes out muffled against his shirt. “where have you been?”

this sends him into a state of panic. seeing you in pain— it’s his biggest weakness. after all, you are his achilles’ heel.

“why? why, why, why?” you’re weak and pliant as he pulls your arms down, collapsing against his chest when he envelopes you in his embrace. he cradles your head in his palm, soothing you with gentle pats and shushes. “shh, shhh- it’s okay, i’m here now. everything’s okay, you hear me?”

his efforts prove to be fruitless, because you only seem to cry harder as he slowly rocks your bodies back and forth.

you shake your head, hands attempting to hold on to the back of his shirt to regain sensation in your limbs, but they miserably fail and fall on the sides of his hips.

“talk to me… please, mhmm?“ he hums quietly, pressing his soft lips to your temple. “tell me what’s wrong and your boyfriend will take care of it.”

from your sniffles to your hiccups, you remain unable to form any coherent response, and it leads his imagination to construct the worst possible scenarios. he feels his stomach turn with uneasiness, jaw clenching as he carefully pulls away to meet you eye-to-eye.

“did someone touch you? hurt you?” he spits out with urgency, and the unparalleled care he displays puts you in a daze, simply dumbfounded as he strokes your face. “huh, baby? just tell me and i’ll take care of the rest.”

now that you’re being reminded that jungkook could quite literally kill a person with his bare hands if they ever inflict harm on you, the fog is clearing up and you feel so incredibly… stupid.

but that’s more the reason why it’s difficult not to be sensitive when it comes to him; his absence proves to be lethal.

“shit, you’re scaring me.” he breathes out shakily as he taps your cheek lightly to bring you back to him, the distant look in your eyes triggering the emergency alarms in his head.

he unconsciously licks his lips and he tastes your tears; he doesn’t want anybody else to ever come this close.

“okay, okay- let’s put that aside for now. what do you need? should we go to bed and rest instead?”

“i thought you left,” you whisper as you hang your head in shame.

he blinks at you in confusion. “to where? my flight isn’t until next week, baby.”

fantastic! now you sound like the most dramatic, clingiest bitch to ever grace the planet. you bury your face in your hands to hide the battle zone between your heart and mind, but your boyfriend seizes your wrists because he can’t bear another second of it.

“is-is that why you’re upset…?” he asks with not a trace of malice or ridicule. he is only filled with guilt as it dawns on him then— how you’ve only gotten used to always having him around four years into your relationship, when he was taking a break from work.

the changes in his life are also changes in yours, but they still affect you in many different ways.

“then just come with me. i’ll make it work. maybe we can extend for a bit, spend an entire day by ourselves- there’s a lot of museu-”

“i thought you left,” you repeat yourself, exposed and vulnerable, vision swallowed by the darkness because you can’t make yourself look at him. “your clothes… they’re gone, and i was calling but you… you weren’t answering my calls so i thought…”

“my clothes?” he exclaims, eyes going wide as he realizes that they’ve accidentally slipped from his mind. “ahh, i thought about cleaning the closet while waiting for you so i moved everything to the other room!”

you open your mouth to speak, but much to your chagrin, no words come out. you purse your lips as your chin wobbles— the new wave of tears in your eyes mimic shiny crystals.

“____!”

and at the stern mention of your name, you know that you’re about to receive a (loving) scolding from your boyfriend. your lips curve into a frown before a sob inevitably escapes past them.

“why would you think that? why would i leave you? that doesn’t make sense at all, does it…?”

you shake your head, hugging him so tight, possibly tighter than you’ve ever done before. between your bodies, his heart is being unbearably wrung.

“i’m sorry, baby. seeing you cry like this breaks my heart…” he closes his eyes with a heavy sigh, resting his cheek on the side of your head. “but why would that be the first thing you think of…? i must be doing something wrong, right? have i been too busy with work? am i neglecting you?”

you’re breathless, a little dizzy— bloodshot eyes meeting his that are now gleaming with sadness. “no, it’s not like that! i just panicked, i couldn’t think straight.”

“are you sure?”

he looks at you skeptically, scanning your face.

“baby-” his voice breaks, then he pauses with his gaze still trained on you. “okay, i’m sorry. i… should’ve thought about what cleaning the closet would look like.”

“i was just being stupid.” you give him a small smile, rubbing your eyes to chase away the burning sensation. “sorry for scaring you.”

“stop, you’ll hurt yourself.” he tuts, pushing your wrists aside to cup your face in his hands, much gentler in comparison to your own self. his thumbs draw shapes on your soft skin, and then out of the blue, he curiously squeezes one of the space buns on top of your head. “wow, this is so pretty?”

“huh…? oh, thanks.” you mumble, still feeling out of it.

“this, too.” the white silk ribbon wrapped prettily around your neck, he means, which he hooks a finger on to tug lightly. it matches the lace straps on your shoulders that falls across the underbust of your dress, tied together to form a ribbon in the middle of it. that makes two, so clasically you.

and while it may be partly true that he’s trying to lighten the atmosphere, he just can’t defy the urge to express his admiration for you, even in a situation like this. he’s perpetually love-drunk.

“thank you.” you nod, shyly looking away to sniffle. “but you’re the reason why my makeup is ruined… need to wash it off before we go.”

“you’re beautiful either way, baby.”

“i know.” you scoff. “would you date me for five years if i wasn’t?”

he releases a throaty chuckle, capturing your lips in his with a smile of endearment that he fails to subdue.

“you’re so fucking cute. i love you-” he says with merely an inch of distance between you.

he grunts in melodramatic anguish, overcome by the insensity of his affections overflowing past the brim of his very being, leaning so close that the edge of the table digs into your lower back, surely to leave a temporary mark.

and he carries on to kiss you so many times that you lose count; you can only melt as you collect them in that bottomless pocket located somewhere in your soul, where all the love you’ve received across lifetimes is recorded to prove i was once here.

“i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you. i’m never leaving. you’re stuck with me and bam forever.”

if the time comes that the two of you break up, who would bam come home to? jungkook stubbornly refuses to have that conversation.

however, you still can’t let go of something, and you pout as you shove him lightly. unsurprisingly, his strong build doesn’t budge at all.

“but why didn’t you answer my calls?” at last, you gain enough energy to complain, but your face grows hot as the urge to cry returns. “i mean, what else was i supposed to think?!”

jungkook is struck by yet another lightning.

may the heavens have mercy, he’s been making you angry more than usual lately.

“shit, i forgot. i turned off my phone.” he mutters under his breath, feeling extremely regretful that he was not reachable when you needed him most to be. “i wanted to focus only on you tonight. what do they call it again…? leaving work at work?”

he winces guiltily.

“i’m sorry. maybe it wasn’t a smart idea.”

“no, i like that.” you almost interrupt him from talking because of how fast you are to brush off his apology.

he makes a mental note of it— the way you’re gripping at his shirt in small fists. you’re tense and overwhelmed; you need him to stay close.

“leave work at work. focus on me, and let me be your rest.”

unbeknownst to you, jungkook bites back his tears then. after all this time, he still gets mesmerized by the tenderness that naturally governs your every word and action; he thinks that he needs you more than you need him.

—

“just eat, baby. i’ll cook the meat for us.” jungkook coos at you as he cuts more meat into bite-sized pieces using a pair of kitchen shears.

“okay, then i’ll make sure that you eat.” you grin excitedly, dragging your chair closer to his.

you set down the tongs, grabbing your chopsticks to pick up a cooked piece of pork belly from the grill. you don’t forget to blow on it, mindful of burning his tongue.

of course, you don’t want to hurt him, but it would be especially painful for him as a singer.

“ahhh-” still busy with cooking, jungkook opens wide at your cue, catching the meat in between his teeth.

“rice,” he demands as he chews.

you scoop up rice from your bowl, and he devours it happily as he continues to flip the strips of pork belly lined up across the grill.

“mmhmm, it’s so delicious!” he dramatically says out loud. his eyebrows are knitted together and his legs are bouncing under the table, tell-tale signs of him enjoying the food.

witnessing this kind of reaction, any chef would be happy to slave away in the kitchen to serve him a meal. you recognize it in the smile of the owner after jungkook ordered more side dishes, and the way he dashed through the door to reduce the waiting time.

“yah, feed yourself, too!” jungkook chides you after you feed him meat three times in a row, but with an open palm that catches the juice that drips from the kimchi, you still tap your chopsticks against his lips. he spares it a glance before catching it using his tongue.

“i am!” you then rush to wrap a piece of pork belly in lettuce, dipping it into ssamjang before stuffing it into your mouth.

“good job, baby.” he grins in satisfaction, rubbing your back as praise. this makes you preen. “make sure to eat lots, got it?”

but then you’re back to spoiling him rotten, this time with an egg roll. so far, he has only touched his own chopsticks twice.

“i just told you to eat first!”

you glare at him, pouting. “but you worked so hard practicing today and you haven’t even eaten properly yet.”

he is too busy with work, and it’s not news that you’ve been worried sick about his health. it’s difficult to watch him work himself to the bone, but no one truly has the power to stop jungkook from doing what he wants, sometimes not even himself. and you find it impossible to fault him for it when you know that everything he does is done out of love. from the vigorous vocal and dance lessons, and to the deep cleaning of the apartment because his baby has been developing an allergy to dust.

“you need to make it up to your body. here, please?”

he loves being loved, jungkook thinks to himself as he eats the egg roll whole.

—

you were already prepared to go home after dinner, but your night owl for a boyfriend insisted on going on a walk at the park because he wanted to, and you quote, ‘see you awake for a little while longer,’ or whatever the hell he meant by that.

with his tattooed arm protectively swung over your shoulder, you’re engulfed in a wave of nostalgia. for the first two years of your relationship, before you started living together, you only met with each other at night, save for the very rare day-offs that he got. the only places that are still open after midnight are nightclubs, fastfood chains, convenience stores… and well, parks.

and he would always hold you close like this to make you feel safe, and the rest of you melts away while the side of your ribcage that he is pressed against remains to shelter your heart. on the contrary, you also remember how your bodies used to be so tense. you wanted to sacrifice more sleep and to walk to the other side of the park, of the street, to that other convenience store five blocks away because this one didn’t have the flavor of ice cream you wanted, anything… just… anything so you could be with each other ten minutes more.

and it was cold. it was always cold.

“what do you mean ‘it exploded’?”

“it seriously exploded! it was on fire! that’s why i went out to buy a new extension cord!”

“jungkook, it’s because you plug in too many things at once!” you cry out in frustration, your steps becoming heavy stomps. “i told you to stop doing that!”

“what do you mean? if it has six slots, doesn’t that mean six devices is the maximum?” he continues to stubbornly defend himself, and you can only hang your head in defeat. “otherwise, it’s a scam!”

“it is a scam! see…? they made you buy a ne-”

your sentence is cut short as your tongue gets paralyzed.

a dark and striped, long figure approaching ahead, slithering its across the grass.

your mind immediately registers it as the animal you fear most.

oh, no. no, no, no, no, no.

“jungkook,” you utter his name with a tremble.

the same fear you experienced only two hours ago holds you hostage once more, add all the hair in your body standing up and you’re as frightened as a cat.

“what’s wrong? yah! what are you doing?! baby, ba- fuck!” he sputters out as you forcefully pull him back along with you, displaying a type of strength and agility he doesn’t normally see.

the two of you continue to stumble backwards as you struggle to maintain balance, and somehow jungkook manages to switch your positions so that you’re the one who lands on top him instead of the other way around when you eventually end up as a heap on the soft earth.

he begins to feel his throat closing up at the sight of pure, genuine fear in your eyes.

“jungkook, snake- it’s small bu-”

you interrupt your own sentence with a high-pitched squeal, garnering looks from strangers moving and unmoving. in the blink of an eye, your boyfriend has swept you off your feet as if you’re light as a feather, driven by the instinct to protect the love of his life.

you cover your mouth in shock, your other arm coming up around his neck to keep yourself from falling.

you think you may have fallen for jungkook all over again.

“are you spiderman?”

he was too busy searching for the subject of your fear under dim lights, and so he looks at you in bewilderment to ask, “what was that?”

you shake your head with your wide eyes shining with faux innocence. you squeak. “nothing.”

he releases a sigh, followed by a chuckle of obvious relief and amusement as he squeezes your body closer to plant a kiss on your forehead. “aigoo, my ____! why are you so scared today? what am i going to do with you…? it’s just a worm.”

“are you sure? i swear i saw it raise its head!“

“i’m sure,” he lulls you. “i think worms can do that, too?”

your face twists in an expression of mixed bewilderment and distrust.

“that i’m not sure about, but it’s really just a worm! would i still be standing here if it wasn’t?” he clicks his tongue sharply. “we need to get your eyes rechecked.”

you roll your eyes with a huff. you’ve have had enough of his teasing before it even starts.

“uh?! i’m serious over here!”

this is new— you mean bickering with jungkook in a public place isn’t, but being carried by him like a bride while it happens definitely is.

“fine, i’ll go this weekend. happy?” you fake an obedient smile. “you can put me down now.”

he blinks, and then he adjusts the way he’s holding you to ensure that your dress won’t show what’s for his eyes only— for a split second, you were flying.

“i’ll go with you,”

“okay. now put me down.“ you tap his shoulder repeatedly to prompt him to heed your words. “babe, this is embarrassing!”

“nope,” he ignores your protest with nonchalance as he resumes to walk the path you’re on, evidently enjoying the attention he’s stealing and the way you’re curling yourself smaller to hide.

“oh my god! weren’t you just complaining about your body hurting?!”

“you were scared of me leaving,” he smiles, glancing down at you. “so now i’m gluing you to myself.”

that made you quiet for a while. inside your tote, the container of kimchi, wrapped in a plastic bag, rattles with his every stride. you noticed that jungkook loved it so much, so you ordered it to go when he went to the bathroom before you were to leave the restaurant.

“you know, we used to just hold hands,” you mumble with a childish pout. “like normal people?”

“this is very normal,” he argues.

the scenery becomes more familiar as he takes the long way home.

“some would even say romantic.”

a wave of nostalgia hits, and you visibly shiver.

you don’t know if he would remember, but he has said the same exact words once before.

you scrunch your nose, supposedly to give him a look of disgust, but a giddy smile betrays you. you are five years younger again, and the night ends with the moon bidding you an adieu.

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook drabble #jungkook one shot #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook smut

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gojossocks · 1 month

Text

We can't be friends

Gojo x Reader Summary: You decided to erase Gojo from your memory.

“Who is Gojo Satoru to you?”

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, before giving the doctor a tight-lipped smile. “W-we were together for 6 years.”

He’s no one important really, just the love of your life.

There has been an on-going trend all over the world— technology has upgraded enough that you can erase someone entirely out of your memory, as if they’ve never existed. If they do, it wasn’t like how you knew them.

You weren’t sure what dragged you in this clinic with all of the most important things that remind you of him. Maybe it was the way he ignored you like the plague, the way the familiarity in his eyes disappeared just earlier last week when he spoke to you so freely like you’ve never been together. It was clear that he got his memory of you erased after that incident. You were just another colleague. Perhaps, the pain in your heart is too much to handle.

You don’t remember the way to the clinic that much. It was a surprise you even got there in one piece considering you were sobbing the whole way there. So even if you aren’t entirely sure whether you’re ready to let go of Satoru, you signed the consent form anyway.

If he’s got you erased completely from your life, then what’s the point of living in hell remembering him? You didn’t want to mourn for someone alive and well.

You never really understood why he left because everything was just working out between the two of you. Satoru provided you with no explanation and packed up his things to leave you behind to your own devices. You almost wanted to back out when you started reminiscing vividly of everything you once shared with him.

You remembered falling in love with him, how it feels like the first day of spring, how his kisses taste like daylight. How he squeezes your hand three times before you part ways for a mission. How he holds you like you’re the only thing that matters in his world. How it was always you and him against the world, him making you laugh while you tended to his wounds. He would tell you that everything would be okay because he has you and only you.

The bad outweighed the good that you had forgotten that loving him and being loved with him is something that you never wanted to forget, even if your relationship with him crashed and burned. You don’t want him to be a stranger you can’t recognize anymore.

But it had already been done and everything faded into nothingness as you try to grasp with whatever you have left of him.

-.-

You have been working with Gojo for quite some time now, maybe about six years. But you’ve never directly initiated conversations with him outside work. He’s the only one you don’t know much about in Jujutsu High. Today is no different as you’re waiting with him in the clinic for your mutual friend Shoko.

“That’s a beautiful necklace you have there.” He acknowledges you for the first time since you got there. Even if you’re just a few meters away, he doesn’t talk to you. You find that a little bit weird because everyone tells you that he’s obnoxious and loud. Somehow with you, he’s always quiet.

You didn’t remember much of how you got the necklace. You figured that the reason why Gojo’s asking about it is because it matches the color of his eyes. There was a hazy memory though— you were crying, telling a doctor to ‘let me keep it, please. Just this one.’ but you didn’t think much of it. Maybe it was all a dream.

You responded with a laugh before toying with the pendant of the necklace. “Yeah, It was a gift to me.”

“Oh?” He looked at you through his glasses, his intense gaze making you feel a little nervous. “Mind telling me who?”

“I forgot.” You replied, slowly relaxing in your seat while looking around at Shoko’s clinic. He nodded at you, a small smile adorning his lips and he didn’t say anything more.

You missed the way his eyes linger on you for a moment before putting back his blindfold on or the apologetic look that Shoko gave him before he leaves.

“So, who’s Gojo Satoru to you?”

“He’s the strongest of course.”

But to him, you’re still his everything—because he didn’t really remove you from his memory. Maybe if he was braver, you’d remember him.

a/ n: part 2? :0

#jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo fic #gojo angst #gojo x reader angst #jjk angst #jjk fanfic

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bamsara · 5 months

Note

I’m a little confused, who is Arson? Did you name your computer that or the program or something like that? Been trying to piece stuff together with all the posts about Arson but I feel a little lost. Like it’s an inside joke that I wasn’t there for the development of it

Rip I forgot new followers are not Aware of Arson

Arson is my laptop. Specifically a laptop sona I made for my laptop because of the sheer amount of trouble I've had with him. Twitch chat started shipping an 'enemies to lovers' between me and my laptop and it was giving me such a hard time during a livestream that it turned into a full fledged oc.

He's a gaming laptop I got in 2018 and had saved up for and while he's very good, his technical service life was only for 3 years and it's been about 5 and a half years since I've had him because I didn't want to replace him.

This means for the last two years he's been progressivly getting worse; starting with the battery going out completely, and then it getting discontinued so I couldn't replace it, the laptop started lagging hard, which I just kinda delt with. Then he's bluescreening a lot, and my files are getting corrupted and disappear. He cannot detatch from the wall so he's not a laptop anymore but really just a desktop now anyway. His model is discontinued so I cant get parts to replace him or have him repaired.

It's a running joke that 99% of all streaming problems are Arson's fault because for no reason he'll just. Crash and critcal error this and bluescreen that.

He got his name because he overheats really badly, and while gaming laptops are built to withstand that kind of heat, it still does wear and tear over time.

It would have been fine for 2-3 years but it's climbing near to 6 and part of the front is melted and I have to turn stream and art off early sometimes to let him cool down because the keyboard has left burns on my fingers. (Though this only happens when using him intensly, like streaming or gaming or art....which is 90% of what I do. The other being writing and work.) (Also before anyone asks, I regularly clean out the fans and I have a cooling stand beneath him)

Currently the top part of his keyboard is not working anymore and he's missing keys anyway. Part of his casing near the charging port is broken off. I've used his heat to cook tiny cookies while I've played skyrim before

TBH If you just search up Arson on my blog you'll see a whole series of posts about him.

he's my guy......my robot.........

#arson oc

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attyattlaw · 4 months

Text

cross posting yesterday's rambling thread for posterity and because tumblr lets me edit things. anyway this is a sorta long thing and i might add things i forgot to mention in the twt thread

i tend to draw on-model canon because im a coward + just personal preferences. but the way i convert the canon designs into my artstyle is that i take the distinct features oda gives them and then combine it with personal headcanons to complete what should look like a unique human. Starting with Trafalgar Law, who is unfortunately a bland-ass conventionally pretty boy

someone commented a while ago the law hat drawing tutorial i made a while ago didn't make much sense and i realize its bc of the specific way i draw law's face: heart shaped (ba-dum-tss). That meaning, a narrow chin widening into a mild defined jaw, wide cheekbones, and up to his know-it-all brain dome.

given that, the pudgy guitar pick shape of his head i mentioned here should make a lot more sense.

i don't think this design point is unique to me, as most conventional pretty anime boy gets given jaws like this. a lot of law artists tend to veer into this head shape. just how life be sometimes. other points: flat, thick eyebrows is bc im a hairy gal and i need to feel better about myself.

Killer gets to be more interesting, because he shouldn't be considered conventionally attractive. my idea behind killer's is that those individual features is smth he would be insecure with enough to hide himself in a helmet but i draw him with all the love in the world actually. i'd like to think its how kid sees him or yknow, law, bc he's my kin assigned blorbo and maybe you ship lawkill as a guilty pleasure too i mentioned before (and ruined people's days) when i said whenever i draw killer he looks like griffith before i put on his goatee. the upper half of his face is distinctly feminine, with the lower half kinda over compensating. other than that uhh...idk. stan killer

Kidd is the bane of my existence, i feel like i can never draw his face consistently. yet at the same time he's so damn fun to draw everyone gotta try it.

my problem with kidd is that this mf does have eyelids. most kidd painters out there interpret this as him having deep set eyes (think Matt Smith or jeffrey star) . and yeh skill issue on me i should practice that. other notes, i try to make him younger than canon makes him look. he is my babygirl and he deserves to look cuddly. my band au kidd version has the honor of being allowed some chubs. he's just tries to look older and more menacing with edgy makeup. also i try to give him dimples when i can because, well i can.

Rosinante last bc i lost steam after kidd. the thing abt cora is that aside from not having eyebrows, everything is structured with the generic one piece man template. which means i gotta do everything myself doffy is there bc the way to figure out how to draw these two is to give them minor differences from each other, that being doffy gets slightly sharper features. in canon, these two are also rly wide boys (more of an oda style feat tbh) but i make them long. though bigger brained donquixote artists know that of these two brothers, doffy should be the wiry-er built. anyway that's it. in conclusion, i need to draw more girls actually i feel like im becoming misogynistic by osmosis from oda's style and now i draw girls all looking the same too.

#one piece #trafalgar law #eustass kid #eustass kidd #op killer #massacre soldier killer #donquixote rosinante #donquixote corazon #donquixote doflamingo #was gonna do robin and perona too at least but like...i have a job and stuff

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theanimeoftheblackbunnymask · 3 months

Text

Yandere Sabo Alphabet

Author's Note: I've deadass been off the rig for like, half a year. I'm lowkey sorry, at some point I forgot about this blog. My creepypasta blog kind of became my main and I wasn't watching anime fr, but I got back into One Piece and Sabo has stolen my heart-

Warnings: Emotional Abuse, Mental Abuse, Manipulation, Physical Assault, Guilt Tripping, Rape Mentioned, S/A implied, Deception, Mind Games, Sadism Mentioned, Burning, Injuries, Death, Two Faced Behavior, Jealousy, Amnesia Mentioned, and Being Held Captive.

Links: {Masterlist} {Alphabet Used}

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

He is very cuddly, I can say that the ASL brothers in general are very touchy people (especially Luffy.)

Since Sabo is often on missions, he doesn't get to see you as much as he'd like to, so when he does see you, he's hugging and kissing you at any chance he can get.

He also loves seeing you in his hat, it's the cutest thing to him.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

The thing is, Sabo is willing to kill for his darling, but I wouldn't say it's messy. I can definitely see Sabo killing a few people while on missions, so I'd say he's pretty clean with it.

Sabo isn't cruel, so he wouldn't kill them infront of you, but he'll definitely make you know that they're dead, and that it was by his hands.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Sabo is scary. He's charming, kind, and chivalrous to the max. He's pretty much every girls dream guy, and when you met him you probably fell for him hard.

Sabo is deranged and unhinged however, but he can hide it extremely well. Once you two started dating and you already went with him to the revolutionary army, that's when his strange behavior starts to slowly surface.

He'd never hit you on purpose, but sometimes his sadism get in the way. He never makes you aware of his true intentions, sometimes he's completely in love with you and your own little golden retriever, doing everything you say with no question, but sometimes when you two fight, he becomes a completely different person. I can see him sharing Ace's temper (despite him being the calmest and nicest brother)

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

He is so manipulative its not even funny. Sabo loved playing mind games with you, he often tells you that you knew that he was like this, but you went with him anyway, so technically it's your fault your in this situation, which couldn't be further from the truth.

Sometimes he hates seeing you cry, but when you cry wuth rage in your eyes, yelling at him about how much he fucks with your head and how you can't even remember what really happened and instead you remember the false memories he told placed in your head, he can't help but chuckle.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

I don’t see Sabo being vulnerable with you at first. Most of the time he's vulnerable, it's often with Koala because he trustes that woman with his life, and they're pretty much best friends.

But I'd say the first time you saw him vulnerable was when Ace died. He had so many break downs in front of you and all you could do was try and comfort him the best way you could. Times like those really fuck with your head because Sabo is kind of holding you against your will, mentally and emotionally abusing you, and kind of an manipulative asshole, but the times he's genuinely a sweet guy who just wants to make you happy just pop into your mind and you can't help but hug him and tell him it'll be ok and that it wasn't his fault.

Sabo genuinely wants you to be happy, just his method of doing so is fucked up.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

It only adds fuel to the fire. Sabo is pretty patient for the most part and often wants your arguments to be as quick as possible. But, if you keep arguing and yelling at him, his patience runs thin, and that's when you see his Ace like temper.

You two could go at for hours, and he'll eventually just erupt into Flames (literally) and end up hurting you. He'd end up feeling terrible because Sabo never wants to hurt you (Physically of course), so he'd just stare at his arm, surrounded in Flames, before looking at your curled up position in the corner of the room, holding your arm as you cried in pain.

So yeah, try not to fight with him.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

If you escape, he's panicked. Losing Ace really fucked him up, so you leaving him is his biggest nightmare. If the world government knows about your existence, either as his S/O, or you were part of the revolutionary army before hand, or you were a pirate or something, that only makes his paranoia worse because you most likely have a bounty on your head.

He'd look for you everywhere, that man wouldn't sleep until he found you.

I feel like Sabo has developed a fear of forgetting, so he probably writes down everything that happens to him or other people in a diary of some sorts. So he'd write about each day he looked for you, doing anything he could if there was a rare chance that he would forget you.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

The two of you got into a really bad fight. Like, the worst one you two had ever had.

You were sick and tired of Sabo's lies, his manipulative behavior, and just all the bullshit he pulled on you. At first he was dismissing you, telling you that you were making a big deal out of such a small issue, but you kept pressing him and telling him to stop down playing his actions.

Eventually he started arguing back and things got even more heated, and when he got too close, you punched him right in the face. When you realize what you did, you slowly started to back up as Sabo placed his hand on his face in shock. You've never hit him before, ever.

He started at you in silence before slowly making his way towards you.

"I-I’m sorry, I didn't mean to..." You say over as over again as you backed yourself into a corner, your hmeyes tearing up as he got closer.

He'd grab both you wrist in one hand, causing you to yelp in pain as you cried further. He only started at you with cold eyes.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry... please..." You mumbled, you legs almost giving out as you shoot.

He'd then grab your chin roughly, ans then kiss you. But it wasn't a rough kiss, but a gentle and genuine one. It wasn't like the ones he'd give after not seeing you for weeks on end, but it was different, it was kind. It caught you off guard, why was he so gentle?

But eventually you leaned into it, closing your eyes in the process. He eventually loosened his grip on your wrist, but you didn't feel his hand slowly make it's way to your neck.

"I'm sorry, love..."

Then, his grip tightened as you felt burning sensation on your neck. Before you could scream, Sabo smashed his lips against yours, grabbing the back of your head so you couldn't break away.

Your legs gave out in that moment, and Sabo went down with you. You were practically screaming into his lips, it hurt so fucking bad. So, he shoved his tongue in your mouth as a way to muffle your screams. His hands weren't on fire, but he heated them up so they would burn your neck.

When he pulled his lips back, a long trail of saliva connecting your lips, he quickly covered your mouth as he stared to your pained face.

"I'm sorry," He'd say, wiping the spit away before kissing your tears as you slowly passed out from the pain.

When you wake up in the morning, you don't remember a thing. But when you touch your neck and feel bandages, memories start to flood back to you as you cry into the pillow. Sabo was sent on a mission the same day you woke up, so he was long gone before you woke up. But, he felt fucking awful for what he did.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

World government taken down, his book published, and you two living happily together.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Sabo gets jealous a lot easier than he would like to admit.

When he's jealous, he gets a lot more touchy and often makes back handed remarks about said person.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

When Sabo isn't manipulating you or the two of you a arguing, he's a fucking golden retriever boyfriend. Follows you around, is at your beck and call and will do pretty much anything you want, crazy affectionate, and loves to tease you. If it wasn't for his manipulative and abusive behavior, he pretty much acts like a normal boyfriend.

This also plays a key part on why Sabo is so good at manipulating you. The way he treats you the majority of the time, this kind loving boyfriend, makes you fucking think you're crazy. Like, didn't he guilt trip you into sleeping with him last night? But hey, he gave you the best aftercare of you life, and he got you that jacket you kept looking at when the two of you went shopping. So it wasn't that bad, right?

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Sabo would pretty much go up to you and just start being his charming self. Sabo is extremelylikeable, and he'll get you to blush and laugh a few times. Eventually, he'll start sending love letter to you if you're a pirate or a normal citizen, but even if your part of the revolutionary army, he'll still send you little love letters.

He'll get you gifts and even offer to pay for your drinks if you two ever went out for a drink.

I'm telling you, if you're his darling, you fell in love with him before he started to abuse you.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

When he's upset, yes. Sabo can be pretty unhinged when fighting, but that's about it. When the two of you are just living normally, no fighting or anything, he goes back to the Sabo you fell in love with.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Sabo doesn't actively punish his darling. He actually let's you get away with escaping. But, he does get physical when you piss him off, so that's your punishment.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

You can do everything besides escaping, and telling anyone about his abusive behavior. He'd be so fucking pissed if he found out that you told someone.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Very patient. He had to deal with Luffy and Ace growing up. Luffy's energetic, dumb behavior, and Ace's short tempered, rude behavior made him gain a lot of patience, even if he forgot them for many years.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

If you die, its like Ace all over again. He's blaming himself, even if it wasn't his fault.

If you leave and or, escape, he's looking for you. He's not resting until he does.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

He didn't technically abduct you. If you weren't part of the revolutionary army and a civilian, you moved in with him, and when you tried to leave, that's when you realized you were pretty much a hostage.

If you're a pirate, that's when things get complex because if you're not a captain, that's something he'll have to deal with, but if you are a captain, I can't see you just leaving your crew for your boyfriend. So he'll figure something out.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

I feel like a mixture of trauma and the death of Ace.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

If you scream/cry, he'll try to comfort you the best he can. He wants to see that smile he loves so much.

If you isolate yourself after he was on a mission for weeks on end, he'll be pretty upset. He'll keep asking you what's wrong, and he won't stop bothering you until you tell him.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

He's a controlling, manipulative yandere, but the amount of freedom and how you can pretty much get him to do whatever you want is kind of crazy. But he isn't stupid or blind, he'll know when you're taking advantage of him immediately, and that's when he shuts things down.

He's revolutionary afterall, he enjoys freedom, and even though he can't give you 100% freedom, or at least just yet, he'll give you the most he can, but not too much to where you'll leave him.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

His overprotectiveness. He's not only overprotective you, but his friends as well, especially Luffy.

It'd be hard to manipulate this, but if you play your cards right, you might be able to get him wrapped around your finger.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Yes, but not purposefully.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

He kind of worships you, but also kind of doesn't. It's complicated. But he's willing to go hell and back to keep you safe.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

As long as it takes. Sabo is willing to wait a long time for you to love him blindly once again, even if it takes years.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Yes. It wouldn't be on purpose. It could be a punishment taken too far, or just the mental abuse.

#yandere one piece #one piece x reader #yandere one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece x y/n #sabo x reader #sabo x you #sabo x y/n #Yandere Sabo #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x darling

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senlinyu · 10 months

Text

Since ao3 is down, here is a thing that was supposed to be a twitter drabble but it got too long so I forgot about it for eight months.

Dying Wish

//open ended, pining Draco, theomione, Dramione (vaguely), Tragic Theo.

Almost everyone said that Theodore Nott marrying Hermione Granger was unexpected but not surprising. Theo had always been academically insufferable, and Granger was infamously so. The relationship could have almost been called inevitable.

Everyone had stories about the absurdly saccharine workplace romance that unfolded. Coworkers by coincidence, they both showed up for a cancelled meeting, the waiting led to a shared project, and from there a whirlwind relationship.

They were engaged within a year.

A beautiful couple, a perfect match. Despite Theo possessing the near fatal flaw of having been in Slytherin, he compensated for any suspicion held by Granger’s friends by having a tragic life story practically from the moment of conception. A mother who’d died horribly young, and a monster of a father who’d always considered his son a bitter disappointment.

Theo had never taken the Dark Mark, he’d played no part in the war. He was self-deprecating and funny, and knew how to make people like him because he cared about people liking him. The kind of man who was perfectly happy to become ‘Hermione Granger’s husband,’ unlike the previous boyfriends who always wanted her bright but not ‘too bright’.

Draco was happy for Theo. In a very detached and uninvolved way. He wasn’t such a cunt that he would resent his best friend for finding love, even if it was with a person he habitually went out of his way to avoid.

Granger was, after all, a menace with a vicious protective streak, and a known right hook. Draco, in fact, knew it personally. No one was ever going to hurt Theo again, she would make sure of it.

Theo, for his part, had spent his entire life looking for someone who’d let him love them completely. Someone to give his heart and soul to. His adoration for Granger was nauseating, an ocean of unplumbed depths.

The stars seemed to align for them, every piece falling into place to create a perfect match: Two positively revolting swots joined in matrimonial bliss, happy as could be.

No one asked Draco if he wanted to be in excruciating proximity to the entire affair, and yet he somehow was. He helped Theo plan his proposal, and then had to listen to Theo practise his speech over and over without wincing, and then illuminate over five hundred fairy lights , cue a quartet, and then fling a garden’s worth of rose petals into the air, before apparating silently away.

He was the best man. He planned Theo’s stag night. Slapped him across the face when he started hyperventilating, kept the rings from getting lost, and signed as witness to the union.

When it was done and they were off on their honeymoon, he left the reception, and went to Greece for six months in order to detox from the entire revolting affair.

When he finally forced himself to go back, he coddled himself by ignoring most of their invitations, and only accepted the ones where he could arrive late and leave early and barely speak to the hosts.

Eventually Theo stopped bothering him.

After all, it was bad enough to hear how revoltingly happy they were together without seeing them.

Malfoys were emotionally repressed on principle. His father used to say that falling in love was something only poor people did.

If Draco had to witness Granger making cow eyes at Theo, he would suffer indigestion, and his mother had always said he was constitutionally delicate.

He didn’t particularly like company anyway, and Theo’s friends were mostly Granger’s friends, which was not a circle Draco ever felt comfortable in.

His uninvolvement was going swimmingly until he received a short, informal note in shaky writing.

‘I need to see you. Please come. Theo.’

Draco had always been better at refusing formal invitations than personal ones. What the fuck would Theo suddenly want? After all these years?

He tried to ignore it, but the vagueness ate at him, niggling at his curiosity until he gritted his teeth and apparated to Nott manor.

Instead of an elf, or a butler at least answering the door it was Granger herself who opened it.

“Malfoy, you’ve finally come. Theo will be so relieved.”

He swallowed hard.

It had been a few years since he’d seen her in person. Wasn’t she supposed to be blissfully married? Weren’t happy people supposed to glow or something?

She’d been glowing at the wedding. Draco remembered all clearly the way her face had lit up when all the lights illuminated and music started, and Theo, despite Draco’s repeated warnings, was on his knees reciting a poem he’d written for her.

Draco had nearly died from second hand embarrassment.

The memory of how happy she’d looked while Theo compared her to the moon in iambic pentameter before hundreds of people, had been seared irrevocably into his skull. It would probably still haunt when he was a ghost.

She was not glowing at all now. She looked sad, and tired.

“Granger,” he said, even though he was excruciatingly aware that she was married.

He expected her to correct him out of habit, and then he’d retort that she would always be Granger to him, and then they would exchange empty banter and it would pass as conversation, but instead she just said, “Theo’s upstairs,” and led the way.

Draco expected to be led to a study, or a horrible mad scientist type lab designed for two, but instead it was a dark bedroom.

Draco baulked at the doorway, and Granger went in. He could hear the hushed murmur of voices and then she came back.

“He’s awake and having a good day, call if you need anything.” Then she left him there.

Draco watched her vanish back down the stairs before setting his jaw and entering the room. Theo was pale as a sheet, propped up with pillows, his face lit up at the sight of Draco.

“You did come, you old bastard.”

“Yes,” Draco said awkwardly. “Is Granger finally poisoning you for your family fortune?”

He’d prefer to avoid greetings or comments about how long it had been, or asking what was wrong. It was clear that something was incredibly wrong. Theo was thin and greyish, everything about him faded, not at all the picture of health Draco had assumed he would be.

That he was supposed to be.

Theo gave a wan smile. “I wouldn’t blame her, but no. My mother, you might not remember, it was a maladiction that killed her. Apparently I inherited it. Another thing my father didn’t manage to beat out of me.”

Draco’s chest clenched. “Theo, I’m—”

Theo shook his head. “It’s fine. I’ve—worked through it. Mostly. There are stages to grief apparently. That’s what the books say. I’ve moved through denial, anger, bargaining and depression. It’s not entirely a linear process but I’m mostly at the acceptance point now. Figured we should say goodbye.”

Draco just stared at him. “You can’t be serious. You invited me here for goodbyes? Fuck off. You can’t just give up like that. You’re married. You have a wife, you can’t die and leave—“

“If there was a fucking cure, Hermione would have found it,” Theo cut him off, his usually soft voice hardening in a defensive way that startled Draco. “We’ve looked. We’ve tried everything. You’d know that, if you’d ever come around. She’s been trying for years. Admitting she couldn’t—she tried so hard.”

Draco felt like he’d been struck. “I—I’m sorry. Of course you did. I’ve been away. Busy. I have responsibilities.”

Theo rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “It’s alright, I know now why you didn’t.”

Theo sat up slowly. His body seemed shrunken, like a breath of wind could carry him away. “That’s why I needed to see you. I wanted to apologise. I’m sorry for not realising it sooner. I should have. Looking back—it’s so obvious.”

Draco forced a laugh. He had no idea what Theo was talking about but he was really not enjoying the conversation.

“Realising what? What’s obvious?”

“That you’re in love with Hermione.”

Draco’s entire body went stiff, something inside him crumbled and died as his heart stopped completely. His voice failed him the first several times he tried to speak. He looked away, clearing his throat repeatedly.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. You sound mad.” He fidgeted with the potions on Theo’s bedside table, peering at them. “What kind of potions does Granger have you on?”

Theo slumped back, his eyes fluttering closed, his eyelids looked almost bruised with exhaustion. “I think back a lot. Mostly the years since the war, once my father was gone and things were getting better. I was remembering how much time we used to spend together. You were doing community service for probation, that elves thing Hermione founded. And I was going from one bad relationship to the next like some sad puppy.” He opened his eyes. “I was remembering how whenever I told you about anyone I dated, you always used to sneer and said they weren’t good enough for me, and gave the worst relationship advice ever. You Sabotaged me.”

“You had terrible taste,” Draco retorted, still sorting through the potions and still not liking at all the direction the conversation was going in. “It was a mercy on my part.”

“When I told you about Hermione, that I ran into her, and I asked you what you thought, do you remember what you said?”

“I can’t say I do,” Draco lied.

“You said I’d never be good enough for her. Then the next week, you came around again, and I remember you looked terrible and I assumed you’d had another fight with your parents, and you told me if I was serious, I should get a job at the Ministry, mentioned the rumour she’d had a time-turner at school. She was the only person you gave useful relationship advice about. Looking back, I don’t think it would have happened without you. Any of it.”

“Theo—“ Draco shifted awkwardly, having run out of potions to look at, “—it was just a joke, You can’t assume things like that. Granger? Really? Of anyone I could have feelings for. Your wife?” He exhaled raggedly. “Have you forgotten our history? Unlike you, I was a Death Eater. I was in the war. Even before then, I was awful, and they brought her to the manor and I—“

He’s rambling, he knew he was rambling. He needed to fucking shut up.

“I would never have been able to—“ His voice failed and there was a stone lodged in the bottom of his throat and he just stood there trying to keep from smashing everything within reach.

He needed a drink.

He threw a hand up, suddenly angry and turned on Theo, glaring. “It was just a fucking joke. I don’t even remember it.”

Theo simply nodded. “You were right though. I wasn’t good enough for her.”

Draco scoffed at that, turning away, inspecting the view. “I’m sure you did just fine. I always heard that you two were revoltingly happy. People said you were like some storybook couple. You two were good for each other—that’s really all that—“

He was stammering again.

He cut himself off. “You were happy together. Everyone said you made her happy. And I don’t do happiness, it gives me a rash.”

“Shut up,” Theo’s voice sharpened. “Fuck. I forgot how much you talk when you’re lying.”

He gave a heavy sigh. “You wanted us together, didn’t you? You engineered it.”

Draco gave a long suffering sigh. “Theo, you’re a moron. Just because you claim to be dying doesn’t mean I’m going to put up with a conspiracy theory that I’m in love with your wife.”

“Fuck off. You were my only friend, and you were the only reason I didn’t accidentally sabotage the relationship. All the times I would have rushed things, you stopped me. You were the reason why I managed to pull off all my harebrain romantic schemes. You made it work. And somehow I ended up married with the friends and family I always wanted, that you knew I wanted, and where the fuck did you go? Where have you been since then? Not here, that's for sure.”

Draco glanced out the window. “You wanted a new start, Theo. It was all you talked about once your father was in Azkaban. I was the past. Once you were married, you didn’t need me anymore. I was a hindrance.”

“You manipulated me,” Theo said, looking unreasonably infuriated for someone who’d gotten to marry the love of his life. “You self-loathing fuck. You thought you had it all worked out, had everything puppet-mastered. You nudged me right into her path to love her for you. Pushed us together so you would be alone the way you’ve convinced yourself you deserve to be.” He sounded winded. “Fuck. I’d punch you if I had the strength. And the thing I’m the most pissed off about, is that I was so enamoured, I didn’t notice. I thought it all worked perfectly that time because it was meant to.”

If Theo was expecting a confession he was going to be terribly disappointed.

“Maybe it did. I don’t know what you expect me to say about any of this. Even if any of that were true, what does it matter?”

“It matters,” Theo said.

Draco rolled his eyes.

“It matters because you have to take care of her when I’m gone.”

Draco’s heart stalled for a second time, but he recovered faster. “I’m sure you can get everything arranged in advance so she’ll be fine.”

“That’s what I’m doing right now. I can’t ask her friends to do this. They love her, but they don’t understand how to care for her. She takes care of everyone, but she doesn’t remember to take care of herself. She needs someone to be selfish for her, who will do whatever it takes to put her first. I can’t be your proxy anymore, it has to be you now.”

Draco’s neatly manicured nails were biting into his palm, he didn’t even know when his fists had clenched. “Theo…”

“I have spent so much time worrying about her, feeling like I can’t go because who’d be here to make sure she was alright. I’ve considered everyone, and when I got to you, I brushed you off at first, because you used to talk about how you couldn’t stand her. But eventually I wondered, why did you do so much to bring us together? If you really hated her so much. You always knew what she’d like. You figured things out about her that it took me ages to piece together. And you’re actually a rather shit liar, now that I’ve been thinking about it, if you’d really hated her, you would have been a lot nastier than you were.”

“I still don’t see the point in this conversation,” Draco said in a bored tone. “Granger can take care of herself. Especially with your fortune.”

Theo exhaled, like he was too tired now to fight anymore. “You are missing the point on purpose and we both know it.”

Draco did not know any such thing, still it was difficult to keep looking at Theo and he turned away.

“You did a good job at it. I’ll admit, you are the manipulative person I have ever known, if I weren’t dying, I probably would have never known. But now it’s my turn to be manipulative.”

“Well a good rule of thumb is not to tell the person you’re trying to manipulate that you’re doing it,” Draco said in a dry voice, turning to face him.

Theo was holding up his wand and had a wry smile on his face. “Fair enough. But I do have one final piece of leverage.”

Comprehension slowly dawned on him. “Theo, don’t you—“

“Draco Malfoy, it is my dying wish that you care for my wife when I am gone. Support her in her grief, and help her find joy in her future. Be there for her once I can’t be. Help her find herself again. Do you accept?”

Death Wishes were magic out of old grimoires. The kind that only insufferable people like Theo Nott would know how to perform.

Usually they were curses pronounced as the person died, but a rare iteration was rather like an Unbreakable Vow, if Draco refused, Theo would not pass on after death but instead linger as a ghost, attempting to fulfil the wish himself. If Draco accepted and then broke his word, Theo would come back from the afterlife and haunt him.

Bullshit all around either way.

Theo’s wand pulsed with magic, waiting for Draco’s answer.

Draco stood glaring at him. “I hate you.”

Theo glared right back. “If you weren’t such a self-sabotaging, self-loathing moron I wouldn’t have to do this. You think I want you hanging around my wife? I don’t. But being your proxy was also a shit realisation, consider this my way of getting even. You will make Hermione happy and you will get over your self-hatred and do it yourself this time or I will haunt you and I will make sure Hermione knows exactly why it is that I’m doing it. Do you accept?”

The magic was humming louder, growing brighter and Theo was beginning to turn translucent as though the magic was draining his life from him.

“Fine. Yes! I accept.”

The magic flared out and flew across the room, striking Draco and fading into him. He clutched at his chest but the light had gone.

He looked up.

“Fuck you, you manipulative bastard,” Draco finally said, his heart was pounding.

Theo just gave another wry smile. “You know, that’s exactly what I wanted to say when you walked in.” He sank back into bed, looking winded. “I’m glad you came to see me. I was starting to worry you wouldn’t and I was going to have to come up with a whole extra scheme. You saved me a lot of trouble. All worth it for Hermione though, right?”

Draco turned without another word and headed toward the door, desperate to be gone, even though he could feel Theo’s wish like a brand inside his soul waiting to come alive.

“You should go see Hermione,” Theo’s voice followed him, already threatening to haunt him. “You know, she admitted once to fancying you a bit back when you were volunteering at the charity. She’d planned to ask you out, but you never came around after your probation was over.”

#Dramione #draco malfoy #theomione

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burning-omen · 7 months

Text

Kinktober day 5: Gun Play + Steven Grant

Steven Grant x SHIELD agent!Male!reader

Kinktober 2023 List | Day 1 | Day 6 | Ao3

Summary: After taking a day off, you finally get to go home to your boyfriend, Steven.

(a/n: I MISSED YESTERDAY AND IT SHATTERED MY SOUL INTO A MILLION PIECES IM SORRY I WAS TIRED AND I FORGOT)

Warning: Guns, mention of reader killing and being shot at, reader is close with Nick Fury kinda, oral, hand job, surprisingly gentle sex, obedient Steven Grant, soft top reader, Steven talks to Marc but that's not really a warning I just wanted yall to know that my bbygrl was mention in this fic

Words: 2k

SHIELD has been sending you all over the world as of recently, you didn't complain, you knew your work was important, and the amount of trust you’d gained from Nick Fury came with a lot of off-the-books missions, mostly investigating SHIELD itself. You'd asked from a break, at least a day or so, to get your gear together after you gun, which has been through many, many mission, jammed on you mid encounter. It was embarrassing, luckily the only other people who saw it happen were either dead or in maximum security prison serving life.

Your boyfriend, Steven, wasn't home when you got there, mostly likely at work, or maybe Marc was out on his a mission. Either way, you waited for him.

In the meantime, you decided to finally take care of your gear, you'd brought all of the supplies from SHEILD headquarters before coming home, setting up at Steven’s desk, and moving the book he had lying on the table and a couple of papers into a neat stack. You started with your boots, scrubbing them, changing the insoles, making sure the outsole wasn't damaged beyond a bit of wear from years of use, then setting them aside.

Moving on to your vest, you picked out the metal fragment from the various bullets that had shattered on impact, replacing the aramid padding that- even though it has yet to show signs of any extreme damage- was starting to wear. The bruise on your stomach was proof of that, the vest stopped the bullet from piercing skin, but didn't lessen the impact as it hit you. You sighed, knowing that Steven was going to fuss over it the second he saw the festering bruise.

You moved on to you knives, still pretty sharp, but not as sharp as they should have been. Using the lanksy puck that you definitely were not supposed to take to sharpen a them. Carefully putting them back in their sheaths and reattatching them to your utility belt, which sat in a duffle bag with both your uniform and you newly repaired vest.

Finally, you moved onto the main event, you gun, which was still jammed, turning the safety on before completely disassembling it, staring at the pieces of your revolver on the table. You didn't worry to much about the the bullets, they'd be gone by your next mission anyway.

You took your time with this one, getting into every nook and cranky, blood, dust, and built up metal from the bullets, just a bunch of little things. Reassembly was purely muscle memory, your gun looked and felt brand new. You took the ammo out and dry-fired the gun, it sounded a hell of a lot better- and the hammer dropped without interruption, jam officially gone, you reloaded the gun and sat it on the desk.

It felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders, letting the tension slip from your shoulders with a sigh, practically melting into the seat, finnaly able to relax.

And as if he somehow knew that you were officially off duty, you heard Steven fumble with the lock, seemingly dropping the key, a small swear leaving him, before he unlocked the door. He walked around silently for a while, setting down his bag and heading to the kitchen, muttering to himself, or more likely Marc, as he was asking questions about the morning, what they ate for breakfast and where Marc had left the book Steven had been reading before bed.

It took him maybe five minutes to walk back there. He walked straight past you, not paying any attention and b-lining to the bed, to be fair, it was late and Steven wasn't exactly the most observant. You loved him though, so you let him lay there for a moment before calling his name.

He practuscally jumped out of his skin, getting caught in the mess of blankets for moment. Steven was on you faster that you thought was possible. Damn near tackling you, the chair surprisingly holding both of your weight and Steven situated himself in your lap, his legs drapped across yours.

“You're back! When did you fly in?” he asked, a wide smile on his face.

“About three hours ago, where’ve you been?”

He groaned, flopping down against you, his head on your shoulder.

“Job hunting, again.”

“What happened to the uh, what was it, the library, right? I thought you were having fun over there?”

“I was, but they cut the budget and I was new so they dropped me.”

“Aww,” you cooed, running your fingers through his hair, “poor thing.”

He sighed, enjoying the contact after nearly a month apart.

“What about you, I thought you weren't supposed to be back for another two weeks?”

“I wasn't, but..” you grabbed you pistol off the table, you finger on the trigger even though the safety was on and you had no immediate target, “My gun jammed and I asked my boss to give me a day off in order to fix it,”

Stevens's eyes were glued to the gun as you spoke, appreciating every little detail and crevice it held.

You knew about Steven’s affinity for guns, well, you and guns, guns alone did nothing for Steven, but when you held them...

He got quiet, glancing at you only to see you staring back at him with a knowing look on your face.

“Im flying back out tomorrow..”you pointed the gun downward, nudging his legs open with the tip, he complyed without any hesitation. “…i was thinking you and I could-”

“Yes!”

You stared at the man for a moment, almost bewildered before remembering that you've been gone for nearly two months and he's probably been thinking about this since the day you left.

You hummed before saying, “Get on the bed, lay on your back, I want to see you.”

He grinned again, practically running to the bed, shrugging off his jacket and leaving it on the floor, laying down in the bed, hardly able to keep himself still.

You sat at the desk for a short moment, completely removing the ammo from the gun, double checking it to avoid any incidence, then walked over to Steve, who was practically vibrating in excitement.

Kneeling between his legs, you commemorated the image of him, so happy to be fully and utterly yours, to memory.

You pointed the gun on his chest, digging the tip into his shirt, watching his reaction intently, he ceased all movement, staring down at it, taking in the weight on his chest.

“Breathe, Steven.” you said when you noticed he wasn't.

He let out a long, shuttered breath.

“You know I would never hurt you? Right Steven.”

“Oh course..”

“Good, “ you slid the gun down, feeling where his ribs ended and sturdy muscle began. Stopping just below his belly button.

“Strip, slowly, I want to see you.”

He complied easily. Hands shaking as he unbuttoned his shirt, slowly, just like you demanded.

“That's it, good boy..”

Shrugging the shirt off his shoulders, then moving down to his pants. Fumbling with the belt, getting it just before you could offer your help, he kicked his jeans down until they pooled on the floor below.

You stared at him, taking in his smooth skin and every sculpted muscle that you had no one but Marc to thank for.

Running the tip of your pistol lower and lower, running it over the growing tent in his underwear, he shuttered, a light gasp passing his slightly parted lips.

Dragging it across his waist, then down his thigh, Steven watched the gun just as intensely as you watched him. You let your finger hover the trigger, he swallowed hard.

You moved suddenly, lifting the gun to his head, right between his eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut, breathing hard, he never hid how he felt, not with you, he felt like he didn't have to, or more accurately, he couldn't. You were an agent of SHEILD, you were trained to see through lies.

Moving your hand down ever so slightly, pressing the gun against his lips.

“Open.”

For the forth time tonight, he obeyed. Taking the tip in his mouth, then more, sucking and licking like the gun could feel it.

The effects it had on you were innumerable.

You hummed softly, adjusting your grip. You watched him, he seemingly never got bored, the imagined danger and thrill perpetuating him, eager to please cold steel.

You tugged slightly, and he let it go, lips wet with saliva.

The way he looked at you, his eyes low, cheeks flushed, breathing like he'd just run a hundred miles.

“You're being so good, Steven, so obedient. You must have really missed me..”

He nodded rapidly, “I missed you, I missed you so much-”

You shushed him, “I know, I know. I shouldn't have to leave you here, all on your own, I should be here to protect you at all times..”

He nodded along- you both knew that he didn't need the protection, but fuck it kept you here he’d be your damsel in distress forever.

Rubbing the wet tip down his chest, then right above his cock, tapping the trigger, watching him flinch at every move. He watched so intently, his breath shaky and loud, you were unpredictable, yet he couldn't wait to see what you did next.

Nudging the tip of the gun past the elastic waistband of his underwear, pulling them down.

Steven couldn't stay still, his brain and body running a million miles an hour. Slowly, you sunk down between his legs, your gun pressed right up against the center of his chest. You knew the position would get uncomfortable soon, so you decided to make this as quick as you could.

“Don’t move.” he didn't nod, or talk, just immediately playing along.

Taking your free hand, you guided Steven's hard cock, shiny with pre-cum to your mouth.

He was always sensitive, but your tongue had hardly even pressed the tip of his cock before he was a whimpering, whining mess. Hs adrenaline was spiked, of course he was more susceptible that ever right now. Taking him as deep as you could, feeling him press against the back of your throat. His hands balled into the bedsheets bellow, nearly tearing them in his hands.

Running your tongue on the underside of his cock, then swirling it around the tip, never taking your eyes off of him. His little whines growinh louder and more desperate.

You pulled away when you felt him start bucking into your mouth. Taking a short moment to wipe your mouth of both spit and pre cum.

You lifted slightly, wrapping your hand around his now perfectly lubed cock. Stroking him nice and slow, soft moans falling from his lips.

He whined your name over and over, obedience and his composure, the latter of which was had been already hanging on by a thread before you ever put your mouth or hands on him, waining. He loved nights like these when you were gentle but still so very obviously in control.

“Y/n- y/n, I'm so close, please, Love, please-”

You tightened your grip on the gun, pressing it harder into his chest, he moaned at the feeling.

You never sped up, watching him build up the his orgasm nice and slow, and when his mouth fell open in a long moan and his eyes squeezed so tightly shut you're sure he was seeing stars behind them.

Then- you squeezed the trigger. Nothing came out but Steven gasped hard like he’d been hit. His hips twitched up into your hand, cum pouring out all over your fingers. Even when that stopped, his orgasm still seemed to flow through him, his body drawn tight as he came down.

“Y/n..” he panted, “you're good, so good-”

Dragging the gun down, right into the pool of cum at the base of his stomach, then bringing it up to your mouth, licking it off.

“Come on, Steven, we're not done..”

#x male reader #male reader #male!reader #kinktober #male s/o #x male!reader #kinktober 2023 #steven grant x male reader #steven grant x male!reader

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in-my-feels-probably · 1 year

Note

I just realised I forgot to send a request!! silly sausage hours fr ✌🏻😔

anywho! if it is at all interesting to you, I was wondering if you’d like to write a Protective!Jon x Short!S/O based piece?? can be whatever you want, a blurb, headcannon, imagine - whatever idea comes to you based on this very vague prompt cuz I want to give you all the creative wiggle room to do what you want to do!!

could be something about the Short!S/O getting hurt defending Jon when someone talks shit about him or Jon sees/finds out his S/O was being harassed/had been touched without consent in any way and he sees RED, could be anything at all!! just some real good protective Jon Snow content pretty please 🥺💗

but, all the same, if this idea doesnt grab you then please do not feel at all pressured in writing it, it’s completely up to you!! no hard feelings 🤗

I wish you the most wonderful rest of your day!! ♡

That’s My Girl

Request: if it is at all interesting to you, I was wondering if you’d like to write a Protective!Jon x Short!S/O based piece?? can be whatever you want, a blurb, headcannon, imagine - whatever idea comes to you based on this very vague prompt cuz I want to give you all the creative wiggle room to do what you want to do!! could be something about the Short!S/O getting hurt defending Jon when someone talks shit about him or Jon sees/finds out his S/O was being harassed/had been touched without consent in any way and he sees RED, could be anything at all!! just some real good protective Jon Snow content pretty please

Hi! Thank you for the request, I'm sorry for the long wait. This is my first time writing for Jon! I’m hoping this is what you were looking for, but if not. Just let me know and I'd be able to fix it or write you something else.

I love Jon, I'm happy to write for him. To make sense of the story, the reader is technically a Bolton, and a sister to Ramsey. I set this around season 5-6. I hope you enjoy it!

(Warnings: swearing, violence, a fight, mentions of blood and wounds, slight sexual harassment, gross men, let me know if i missed anything)

—

The Wall was not a good place for a woman. That fact, you knew all too well.

Women weren’t allowed at the wall, regardless of station or reason. This was a fact your family knew, and a fact they ignored.

You were born to a handmaiden, fathered by Roose Bolton. When you entered the early stages of being a woman, Lord Bolton legitimized you, and sent you to Winterfell to learn the ways of being a Lady. He figured you may be useful to him one day, someone he could marry off for an advantage.

Winterfell was where you met Jon Snow. He had always liked you. While you were technically a Bolton, you lived more than half of your life as a Snow. You were no longer legally a bastard, but you felt like one anyway.

Jon knew the feeling, and you became quite close throughout your years, before he left for the Wall and the rest of the Starks left as well.

You lived through the Greyjoy Rebellion, when Theon came and took Winterfell. You received word from your father, and were asked to stay anyways. After Robb’s death, the Bolton’s officially took over the castle.

Despite your father being named Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, he was no family to you. You’d never see him as such. Instead, the Northern folk who had lived in the city since the reign of the Starks took care of you, always there to be a friend if you needed them.

They were your true family. Them, and the Starks, although you hadn’t seen any of them in years. Most of them were dead.

When Lord Bolton died and his position was passed to the newly legitimized Ramsay Bolton, the families that had helped you sent you away for your own safety.

With you being the last legitimate Bolton, other than Ramsey, you challenged the claim to the North, despite being a woman. The North liked you more, and Ramsay was afraid they’d rebel if he allowed you to live.

You went to the Wall, seeking asylum.

You reconnected with Jon, who had recently been named Lord Commander. He allowed you to stay, despite the rules he was meant to follow.

But if he had allowed the Wildlings passage, he could allow you to stay as well.

To appease the men, you worked as a stewardess, making up for being another mouth to feed and for filling a bed in the single room. The only other empty single room, next to the Lord Commander’s suite.

It got easier as the weeks passed, and you slipped into a routine that was comfortable enough.

Sometimes, the men were a little rough with you. It was if they forgot you were a woman, not remembering to be gentler with you.

Others never forgot you were a woman, keeping their eyes on you at all times.

This occurred on opposite ends of the spectrum, one end containing men like Jon, Edd, and Sam, and the other containing men like Ser Allister, who hated you being there, as well as the men who wouldn’t hesitate to do you harm.

You knew those who followed Jon would keep an eye on you, never allowing true harm to come your way, but you still kept your guard up most of the time. In between doing your duties, you trained with the men, learning combat skills.

It reminded you of the times in Winterfell as children, when Jon would sneak you out of lessons with the Septa to train with him.

You were quite short, compared to the women of your age. Jon was on the shorter side too, in comparison to other men, but he could hold his own well enough. He wanted you to be able to do the same, so he wouldn’t have to worry as much about your safety.

You had gotten quite good at it, especially with the refresher at the Wall, and you were confident enough that you could handle yourself.

That didn’t mean you necessarily wanted to. If you could avoid it, you’d try and keep to yourself for most of the day, ignoring the men you didn’t like. But some of them made it quite hard on you.

“Lady Snow,” Ser Alliser taunted, coming into the kitchen where you were scrubbing pots. “Where’s your Commander? Figured he would’ve sent one of his watchdogs to come guard you, considering he isn’t here to do it himself.”

“He’s just as much your Commander as he is mine,” you replied, not looking up to dignify him with a reaction.

“That may be,” he said, taking a step towards you. He stopped in his tracks when he heard a growl coming from behind you, and saw a white beast stepping out from behind your legs.

“You’re right, My Lord,” you said, leaning over to scratch behind Ghost’s ears. “Jon did leave me unattended. Although, I expect a direwolf is as good of a watchdog as any man here. Would you like to test that theory? Come closer, then.”

Ghost snarled at Ser Alliser, making him take a step back. He glared at you, retreating to the door.

“You don’t belong here, Snow. You’ll come to see that soon.”

“Thank you for that,” you called, returning back to your work. “You can piss off now.”

—

Later that day, much to your annoyance, another group of some of the men tried your patience again.

It was before dinner, when you had just finished up with your duties for the day. You had just brought Ghost his dinner, and were returning to the hall to eat, when three men cornered you in the courtyard.

“What do you want?” You asked, unimpressed.

“We want you to go,” one replied, making you roll your eyes.

The one closest to you nodded in agreement. “We didn’t vote for Jon to be the Commander.”

“You’re lucky you have him—“

He cut you off, his tone more aggressive. “Are we? So far, in the weeks he’s been Commander, he let the Wildlings through our gates. Now, he’s let a girl in.”

“That’s your problem? Ser Alliser almost let the Wall fall because of his own pride,” you spat, growing angry. “He should have listened to Jon when he had the chance. It cost us lives.”

“Us? There’s no us, you’re not one of us,” the man on the right finally spoke. His voice was significantly higher than he looked like he would sound, making you chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” The middle man asked.

“All of you,” you replied. “You’re very amusing to watch. Pathetic, really.”

“Watch your tone, bitch,” the man closest to you said. “Nobody wants to hear your mouth. As far I’m concerned, a woman has two purposes. Popping out kids, and warming my bed. Would you be interested in either?

You raised a brow, clenching your fists at your sides. He smirked, taking a step closer to you.

“What? Cat got your tongue, bitch? Not brave enough to say something without your useless Lord Commander there to save you?”

You couldn’t contain yourself any longer, swinging and cracking your knuckles across his jaw. You swung again before he could recover, smashing your fist into the bridge of his nose. He faltered back this time, landing on his ass.

“What?” You smirked, flexing your hand. “Cat got your tongue?”

He snarled, standing up. The other two tried to hold him back, afraid of what would happen if they actually hurt the Lord Commander’s girl, but they weren’t strong enough. He broke through, shaking them off.

Before you could take a step back, you felt a palm strike across your cheek, stinging the flesh. His ring caught on your cheekbone, cutting a small slit.

You brought a hand up to your face in shock, balling your hand into a fist, but he caught your wrist in the air, squeezing it tight. You gasped in pain, whimpering.

“What are you gonna do now?” He asked, wiping the blood from his nose.

“Let me go,” you said, trying to pull away. “Let me go, or you’ll regret it.”

“Yeah? Why’s that? What are—“

“Hey!”

You turned your heads across the yard to see Edd standing near the kennel door, Ghost standing next to his side. Ghost snarled, looking ready to pounce.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Let her go!” He said, bounding towards you.

You felt the man let go of your wrist, and heard their footsteps retreating as Edd approached you. You rubbed your wrist, reaching down to run a hand through Ghost’s fur when he got to your side.

“Hey, boy,” you muttered, then turning to Edd. “What are you doing? Why’d you let Ghost out?”

“He was pawing at the door, whining, I heard him all the way from the watchtower. He wouldn’t stop till I let him out. He ran out here, and I followed him. What happened, what did they do to you?”

You shook your head. “It’s alright, I’m fine.”

“Your cheek is red and scratched, and your wrist is already bruising. You’re not fine. Jon is gonna raise hell when he sees it. Not that you couldn’t handle your own, but what were you thinking? Three against one isn’t good odds to start throwing punches.”

You groaned, casting your eyes on the ground. Edd sighed, placing his hand on your shoulder.

“Come on, then. He’s still in his office, and everyone else is in the dining hall. I’ll take you halfway, and keep everyone occupied till you’re ready to come back.”

“But—“

“No buts. Jon would have my head if I didn’t take you to him straight away. You’re going.”

You relented, giving him a grateful nod as he led the way. He left you halfway, as promised. You walked the rest of the way yourself, only hesitating when you found yourself outside of Jon’s office.

Sighing, you went in.

He was at his desk, his head down. He shuffled through papers, sorting through everything on his desk. You slowly approached, wringing your hands together.

“Jon,” you said softly.

“I’m almost done, love, give me a minute.”

You internally groaned, preparing yourself for the painful conversation you were about to have. You spoke again.

“Jon.”

“What?” He sighed, looking up, only to drop his things at the sight of you. “Y/N?”

He hurriedly stood, pushing his chair back and bounding around his desk to stand in front of you, cupping your jaw in his hands. You grimaced as he turned your head, inspecting your cheek more closely. He was absolutely fuming, practically shaking with rage.

His voice was eerily calm. “Who?”

“Jon—“ You started, but he cut you off.

“Y/N…who?”

“I don’t even know their names, you’ll have to ask Edd,” you relented. “It was three men. He stopped them.”

“What happened?”

“The same as usual. They don’t like that I’m here, they don’t like that you’re Lord Commander, and they think I’m making it worse for everyone being with you.”

“That’s not true—“

“I know,” you immediately said, sighing. “I know. And normally, I ignore them, or stay calm till they get bored and eventually leave me alone. But this time, I just got too angry. It wasn’t just me they were insulting, it was you, too.”

Jon seethed as he listened to you talk, moving from your cheek to inspect your wrist. The bruise had settled to a garish green.

“He threatened me, and I swung. I don’t know why I did it, but he went down. Obviously, he didn’t take very kindly to being hit by a girl, as you can see.”

“You don’t hit a woman,” Jon said, cradling your face in his palms, gently wiping away the dry blood on your cheek. “I’ll find them. I’ll find them, and they’ll wish they’d never laid eyes on you. The noose is too good for them.”

You leaned your forehead against his, trying to calm him down.

“I’m alright, Jon. I’m alright. That’s enough, for now.”

He took a deep breath as he rested his forehead against yours, closing his eyes. You ran a comforting hand over his, drawing circles with your thumb over the back of it.

“You can’t fight my battles for me, darling. You can’t get yourself hurt because of me.”

You shook your head, almost grinning. “Why not? You do it for me.”

“You’re too pretty for scars,” he mused, caressing your cheeks.

“So are you,” you agreed, tracing your finger across the one that had faded to a thin white line, just over his brow. “And yet you fight for me. It’s only fair that I do the same for you.”

Jon sighed, looking down at you with soft and loving eyes. “So, what did he look like?”

“What?” You asked, shaking your head in confusion.

“The other guy. What did he look like?”

“Worse,” you grinned proudly. “Much worse. I think I broke his nose. And his jaw is sure to be hurting for the next few days.”

Jon smiled, holding you by the waist and pulling you into him. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, breathing you in.

“That’s my girl.”

—

A/N - Hi! Sorry that this is on the shorter side, I hope you still like it. I enjoyed writing it. Let me know what you think!

#game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones imagine #jon snow #jon snow imagine #jon snow x reader

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its-a-me-mango · 26 days

Note

MANGOOO!! hello, been shy to slide into asks but i got very curious looking at your SMG4 posts.. do you have any headcanons you think are cool ? Would be a blast to see them! :D

OH HAI!!!! Oh my god I love headcanons so much I promise, but I'm one of those people who immediately forgets them all when I'm asked about them. Also I forgot which ones are mine and which ones are someone elses, thought tbh if someone HC is good enough for me to think I made it then like, that would be a huge compliment to me haha! X3

I have a few that I can think of off the top of my head right now, there's a few that need a whole post to explain but I'll do that when I feel like it, gonna leave out any LGBT headcanons because I already agree with everyone else, they are all gay and trans except the ones that aren't and that's so awesome.

Again forgive me if I repeat someone else's HC, or if anything I say is proven to not be possible, I fucking forgorrrrr;

SMG3 has tattoos, I know I've shown that one already but listen. He has 3, one is a half sleeve on his left forearm that's got a skull and a bunch of bombs and explosions around it, another one is on his right mid thigh which is a memorial tattoo for Terence, and one very small one on his back right shoulder blade that's just a little skull (it's very blown out and old). He'd like to get more at some point, none of the others have any tattoos but he's trying to convince them to get one.

All the SMG's have the little arrow thing that was on their guardian pod as a marking somewhere on their body, SMG1 has his on his chest under his scarf, SMG2 has his under his hat, SMG3 has his on his lower back, and SMG4 has his on the back of his neck, they're all pretty hidden and not too visible, but anytime they use their meme guardian powers they glow.

Tari is just a bird fan in general, for someone who stays inside gaming she sure knows every single bird ever. She's not a bird watcher but she can identify any bird you show her easily, and she's always happy and excited to see bird when she does go out. Obviously though ducks are her favourite, but she like all waterfowl in general.

Karen is divorced, she just gives me divorced girl energy. She has full custody of her kids because her ex was a piece of shit and didn't want them anyway, her kids were all too young to know about him thankfully. She probably got married right out of highschool or something, those relationships never seem to work out. I keep thinking of those "day in the life of a divorced 23 year old" videos like, that's her lol.

Bob's secret hobby is fabric work, you will catch him dead before you catch him admitting or even showing anything he makes, but he makes garments and furniture for fun. Sometimes he'll throw them into the black market and lie about their value for a quick buck and to clear out space, he doesn't care much once they're completed he just likes making them.

I think this one's just semi canon, but SMG4 Mario is secretly really good at reading people, yeah he's kinda dumb but he can pick up what people are feeling in depth, he just doesn't always get why. He's also just a good guy to go to for comfort, not advised though don't listen to him, he's just really good to ramble/vent too (mainly because he won't remember what you said lol).

I'm sure I'll think of more as soon as I post this, but come back and ask again at some point and I'll try and remember them lol

#mangos mystery ask box #I love headcanons I love them so much aaaRGFHHGH #Smg4

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soursvgar · 1 year

Note

Happy new years eve! Could you perhaps write something small about celebrating new years w the bros for the first time? What would they like to do on occasion? Eat fondue? Try making resolutions? Stay up to watch the first sunrise?

Maybe they don't even celebrate it because its kinda meaningless when your lifespan is so long lol

New Year's Eve with the brothers ♡

A/N: Hi anon, thank you for this prompt! This is really tiny, but i wanted to post it today to make it relevant so i hope you still like it!! ;v; ( i also just realized you said new year but i made it more new year's eve themed so i hope that's okay >< ) happy new year everyone!

Demon brothers x gender neutral mc

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

ෆ Lucifer will get drunk and make a heartfelt confession.

"Maybe you should hold back on the demonus a bit-" You try to release the bottle from Lucifer's grip, but the latter was squeezing it a bit too tight for you to peel it off his fingers. You knew he was stressed, but didn't realize he was that stressed to finish an entire bottle of the intoxicating drink. Diavolo decided to throw a new year's eve party for you, and you recently found out he had put Lucifer in charge of organizing it. With his plate already full, you couldn't help feeling apologetic, despite you not being directly involved.

"Lucifer, I'm really sorry. If I knew of the party beforehand, I would've helped you with it." You decide to sit by him, hoping the light stroking of his arm will help convey your feelings. However, Lucifer only grins as he gazes at you, eyes shining with adoration. "Nonsense, you have nothing to be sorry for. I would do that all over again, for you." He puts down the bottle, now taking your hands in his. "You're the best thing that happened to me, to us. You've made this year worth more than all of my years in this realm combined, and I hope you'll stay by my side to make my next year just as happy."

ෆ Mammon will kiss you at the countdown.

"Ten, nine, ei-" Your counting is paused by a pair of lips pressing against yours, and doesn't resume for what seems to be longer than ten seconds. "Happy new year." Mammon smiles as he pulls away from you. "You know you're supposed to kiss me after the countdown, right?" You snicker, though, you have no complaints regarding his actions.

"I know, but I heard humans believe that if ya kiss your loved one at midnight, you'll be together for the rest of the year, so I was thinking- if I kiss ya before, during, and after, you would love me forever! Pretty smart, ain't it?"

ෆ Leviathan will create a vision board with you.

You had been intending to assemble a vision board for the new year for a while, but it slipped your mind with your busy schedule, only to return on the last day of the year. You came to Levi for help, partly because you knew you wouldn't be able to finish it in time alone, but mostly because you wanted to spend the night with him doing something fun together, and wasn't sure how to bring it up. The two of you were almost done carefully placing the pieces on the board when Levi lets out a sudden gasp.

"Wait, we forgot the most important part of the vision board!" Levi rummages through the scattered papers, pulling a picture of the two of you from the pile of photographs on the floor before he glues it right in the middle. "You have to have this on as well, so we can experience all those great moments next year together."

ෆ Satan will learn about different traditions for you.

"What color is the underwear you are wearing?" Satan asks, completely unaware of how his question comes off, at least until he catches a glimpse of your reddened cheeks. "O-Oh, I mean, I just read that some cultures in the human world believe that wearing different colors of underwear on new year's eve will bless you with luck in different aspects of life." He pauses to make sure you follow. "And... well, I wanted to see if you're wearing red- wait, I didn't mean see-" You chuckle as he clears his throat, his face is now the one turning pink. "Anyway, not like you need any more luck in that department when you have me."

ෆ Asmodeus will take you out to see fireworks.

"Where are we going? I told you I'm not joining one of your parties." You had already changed to a comfortable attire, planning to spend the last day of the year relaxing at home, but Asmo has other plans, insisting for you to come outside with him. "Pretty please? With a cherry on top? I promise you won't regret it!" He whines, grabbing the sleeve of your sweatshirt and pretending to be pulling you off the bed.

At last, you surrender, following Asmo to an open meadow with a remarkable view of the city. "Happy new year!" He beams when the clock strikes twelve; colorful lights illuminate the night skies as the sounds of explosions echo through them. "There are fireworks in the devildom?" You query. Captivated by the enthralling sight, you barely detect Asmo's arm wrapping around your shoulder to bring you closer. "There are now, for you, love."

ෆ Beelzebub will have a feast with all kinds of traditional food.

"Here, here! Try this!" Beel chimes, happily holding the chopsticks to your mouth. "Beel, I really can't eat anymore- I think you'll have to finish the rest on your own." You sigh. Truth is, you've been full after the seventh dish he had you sampling, but his enthusiasm was just too adorable to not cooperate with. "But these soba noodles are amazing, and you haven't even tried the lentils- it would bring you good fortune! Although, maybe you should hide that from Mammon." Beel shrugs as he continues stuffing his face.

"You know you could've just asked what food I eat during this time in the human world, right? You didn't have to cater food from every single country on earth." You laugh, finally stepping down from the tasting fest as you officially call quits.

"Hm? But where's the fun in that?"

ෆ Belphegor will fall asleep before the clock strikes twelve.

Belphegor really did try his best to fight the fatigue for a couple long hours while the two of you celebrated, but at the end, he succumbs to fatigue as his head falls perfectly on your shoulder- right before it hits midnight.

"Happy new y- oh, why are you looking at me like that?" Puzzled, Belphegor yawns, eyes glancing over to the clock after confronting your glare. "I missed it huh... I'm really sorry." He grins sheepishly, leaning in to place a peck to your pouting lips. "Well, are you still mad or can I get my new year's kiss now?"

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me scenarios #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me mc

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inlovewithquestionablecharacters · 1 year

Text

Matt Murdock X Reader: Safe and Sound

Summary: Matt loses his hearing and you come to the rescue.

Warning: None(i think) this is just fluff

Matt Murdock did not easily get despaired. Being a lawyer meant he needed to keep his mind in a state of constant stability in order to do his job the best he could. His night job also required a steady mind because any slip up could cause the loss of a life. Despite all of this Matt couldn't manage to calm himself when his hearing stopped working. He had already lost his sight years ago which meant the only thing he could rely on to survive was the rest of his senses, his hearing being one of the most important ones. So it's safe to say that when he stopped being able to hear the noise of Hellfire's kitchen and the clinking of glass crashing onto the floor he panicked. Out of a sudden Matt's world had gone completely dark. The silence suffocated him and no matter how loud he screamed he couldn't seem to make it stop.

He was all alone.

Alone and vulnerable.

You strolled down the streets a shopping bag in one hand and the keys to Matt's apartment grasped in the other. You walked up the stairs calmly, stopping to give Matt's neighbours a cheery good morning as you went. Completely unaware of what was happening to your favorite brunette. You’d made it to Matt's apartment without any issues, your hands fiddled with the keys as you tried to find the correct one to open the door. Then you heard the most blood curdling scream coming from inside the apartment. Your head snapped up at the sound, the hand holding the grocery bag instinctively releasing the item as you desperately tried to pry the door open. You knew about Matt's double life so you shouldn’t be worried about a scream. What made the hairs on your arms stand up was the fact that Matt was the one screaming.

Desperately screaming.

And if there was one thing you knew Matt Murdock never was was desperate.

You managed to get the door open, your shoes clanged loudly against the wood flooring as you raced into the living room. Your eyes searched the room quickly, trying to find some intruder or any sense of a break in but everything seemed to be in the right place, except for the pieces of glass that littered the floor near the kitchen. You moved towards the broken cup, kneeling down to get a better look at the contents. It is possible Matt had been poisoned? You were just about to reach out to grab a piece off the floor when another scream broke out through the silent room. Your eyes snapped to the place where the noise had come from, your gaze falling on Matt's frame. You rushed over to him, your hands reaching out to touch his body.

“Matt, what's wrong? Why are you-”

The moment your hand touched his arm Matt snapped into action, his hand wrapped around your throat with a strength you often forgot he had. Your own hands made their way to Matt's forearm trying with all your might to stop him from choking you.

“Matt…”

Your voice barely came out, not that it mattered anyway Matt couldnt hear you. You looked around, searching for something to get him to realize that he wasn't in danger. Your eyes fell onto Matt's other hand, the one that had remained at his side. You used your little amount of strength, the lack of air was making you lightheaded, to grab his other arm and drag his hand towards your face. For some reason Matt didn't resist, he let you guide his hand to your cheek. The moment his hand made contact with your features his eyes lit up in recognition. He immediately let go of your throat causing you to gasp for air. Your hands went to the floor, trying to steady yourself as you breathed in some much needed oxygen. Matt's hands went to try and grab onto you but you flinched away, the survival instinct still kicked into your system. And he felt it. Matt felt the way your muscles contracted away from him. He couldn't see or hear you but an image of your face formed inside his brain, your eyes wide with fear as you looked at him. Like he was some sort of rabid animal. In a way he believed he was.

You stared at the floor trying to get your bearings together. Matt called out your name, making you look at him. Your eyes found his brown ones, watching as his eyebrows furrowed with worry. He called out your name again a little louder this time and you realized that he couldn't hear anything at all. You crawled towards him. Matt felt the floorboards creak underneath him as you moved. Your hand went to his face but this time instead of snapping at you Matt closed his eyes, nuzzling into your palm. You felt Matt's tears on your palm as you caressed him.

“I’m sorry.”

He sounded so broken.

You moved your body in between his legs, your arms wrapping around his neck to pull him into your embrace. Matt nuzzled into your neck, the smell of your perfume invading his nose and making him feel safe. Your body was warm around him, a big contrast to the coolness of the wall behind him. He couldn’t hear but he wasn't scared anymore because he wasn't alone now. Now he had you and you would never let anything happen to him. Ever. Just like he would never let anyone hurt you.

You managed to guide Matt to the couch so that way he could be comfortable as you tried to figure out what to do about his hearing. You would have to take him to a doctor. That was the only thing you could think of. But how the hell were you supposed to guide him through the streets of new york without either of you getting put into risk. You reached into one of the kitchen drawers searching for the kettle you knew would be there. Tea would help you think and maybe it would calm Matt down enough to get him to sleep. Perhaps once he had gotten the rest he needed his hearing would come back to him.

Matts lay on the couch, his hands pulling at the blanket you’d placed on top of him. He wondered what you were doing. He knew you hadn’t left because he could still smell you. He wondered how he hadn't noticed the scent when you had walked in but then again he was in such a panicked state he hadn’t been paying enough attention to things. A new scent filled his nose. It was a slightly citric smell but not strong enough to be some kind of juice. Matt moved his head in the direction of the smell. Tea. You were making him orange tea. If it had been another time he would have laughed but it seemed silly to laugh given the circumstances.

A low melody entered Matt's ears. At first he thought he had imagined it but then he heard a clink of metal and the sound of shoes on the wood floor. You were humming as you walked around the kitchen and Matt could hear you.

He could hear you.

You were about to take the mugs filled with tea over to the couch when two arms grabbed you and turned you around. You looked up at Matt, your heart beating quickly. When had he gotten up from the couch? You hadn't even heard the floor creak behind you but then again that was kind of Matt's thing. Being quiet was a must when you fought bad guys in the night.

“Matt can you-”

“I’m so sorry. I would never hurt you on purpose.”

Matt pulled you into his chest, his body molding itself around your fame. You froze for a moment before wrapping your arms around his neck.

“It’s okay Matty. You were scared and you reacted. I know you’d never hurt me intentionally.”

Matt let out a small sob as he held you.

“Everything was dark. I couldn't… i didn't know what-”

“Shhh, It's alright you’re okay. I'm here now.”

Your hands wrapped themselves in Matt's hair as the two of you hugged.

“If you hadn’t done something… if i had…i’d never forgive myself.”

“Matthew, stop it. It was a mistake and I'm okay. You would have noticed. I know you would have.”

It was futile to argue with you. Matt knew you would never believe he could harm you. And that's what worried him because when his hands had been around your throat he wasn't thinking of anything else. He wondered if you were right, perhaps he would have noticed in time and stopped. But a small part of him thought that he only would know when it was too late. Tears welled in his eyes for the second time that day. His body slacked in your arms the emotions he’s held in for so long taking a toll on him. You sunk to the floor due to Matt's weight, one of your hands grabbing onto the counter for support. Once you two were sitting on the floor Matt buried his head into your chest, his strong arms gripping onto you for dear life. You felt Matt's tears soak through your shirt, causing some to well up in your own eyes. You hated seeing him this way but you were glad he trusted you enough to show this side of himself. You stayed like this for a while. Matt clinging onto you as he cried, you caressing him as he did so. Then Matt's head snapped up from its position, his face facing yours. One of his hands found their way to your cheek, his fingers tracing your features slowly. His thumb found your lips and he heard your heartbeat fasten slightly at the action. You had closed your eyes the moment he had placed his hand on your face, the thought of looking at him making you nervous. Matt called out your name. It came out as a whisper. So low that maybe if he hadn't been so close you wouldn’t have heard him.

“Yes?”

There was silence for a moment as Matt contemplated if this was a good moment. Every thought of doubt left his mind when he remembered the feeling that had invaded his chest when he realized you’d come to help him. The immediate peace that had consumed him when you pulled him into your body. Matt placed his hand underneath your chin, guiding you to look up at him. He could hear your heart berating, he could feel you breathe on his lip and he could smell your perfume, a scent he was sure he would never tire of.

“Matt?”

God he loved the way his name sounded on your lips.

“You alright?”

That's when he kissed you. Your hands tensed before reaching up to hold Matt's cheeks. He pulled you onto his lap, his arms wrapping around you once again. You wondered if this was all just a really realistic dream. It seemed almost impossible that after all these years you were in Matt's kitchen kissing him with everything you had. The years of bottled feelings had come to an end. Your heart felt as light as a feather and even though you didn't know it Matt had never felt happier. Matt placed his forehead against yours as he tried to catch his breath.

“I am now.”

You let out a laugh making him smirk.

“You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn't want to hurt you.”

“You could never hurt me Matt.”

“Yeah but my life isn't exactly safe. The people I love end up getting hurt. I didn't want to put a target on your back.”

“Hey, I think I should be the one who decides whether I want to be a target or not. Plus I'm in this. I have been in it since that day I stitched you up. So if anyone put a target on my back it was me. Not you.”

“You’re one tough cookie.”

“Yeah I know. It’s why you love me.”

Your eyes widened at your words realizing what you had said. You worried you had assumed too much, after all Matt had never officially said he loved you.

“You bet it is.”

With that Matt pulled you into another kiss. You melted into his body, feeling like the happiest person alive. The floor was cold and the position was starting to hurt Matt's back so you both got up. You went to look at the tea you had placed on the counter.

“Teas gone cold.”

“Leave it.”

You listened to Matt, letting him guide you to the couch. You watched as he climbed onto the sofa before opening his arms to you. You understood the message climbing onto the couch and laying on his chest. Matt's hands went to your hair, massaging your scalp tenderly. You let out a hum of approval as you snuggled more into his frame.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being here. For sticking around, even though it’s dangerous.”

“Well, we do all kinds of crazy things for people we love.”

Matt smiled at your words. Love had always been something he had wanted. At the same time he always feared for those he loved. However right now he couldn’t care less. You loved him, he loved you and neither of you would let anyone get in the way of that. Matt listened to the sound of your breathing as you began to fall asleep. For the first time in a long time the world around him seemed to go quiet. He drifted into sleep, your warmth luring him into peaceful slumber. For once Matt wasn’t plagued with nightmares instead his dreams were filled with images of you. He was safe. Completely safe because he had you and nothing was going to change that. Not if he had anything to say about it.

#matt murdock #matthew murdock #daredevil #daredevil fanfiction #matt #matt murdock x gender neutral reader #daredevil x you #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock one shot #matt murdock fanfic #marvel fanfiction #charlie cox #mcu daredevil #charlie cox daredevil #charlie cox x reader

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gregorovitch-adler · 8 months

Text

Sock

"John this is ridiculous."

"I know! But it's fun, so let's go for it."

"Aren't we supposed to put the notes in some Christmas stockings?"

"Forgot to buy them," said John, closing his eyes momentarily. "Let's just use a pair of socks instead. They're perfectly clean."

"D'you think Father Christmas is real?" asked Sherlock, picking up a fresh, lone sock from the coffee table. "You think he'd fulfill my wish if I just wrote it on a paper and placed it in this stupid sock?"

"I don't! I realised long ago during my childhood that he isn't real. But Harry and I used to do it anyway. It just became a habitual thing," said John as he tore off a piece of paper from a small notebook and scribbled something on it. He folded that paper and placed it in the other sock - which was of the same pair as Sherlock's.

He looked up at Sherlock with expectation, who was just sitting there on his armchair, looking at the floor with his lips pressed together.

"Go on," said John and passed another piece of paper and a pen to Sherlock across the coffee table.

"If you know your wish isn't going to come true, this whole thing is a waste of time," Sherlock said and picked up the pen paper to write something anyway.

"It's not! Think of it as a type of manifestation." John stretched his legs and yawned.

They didn't have elaborate Christmas celebrations in 221 B, but John was still happy about tomorrow. Any special occasion spent at home - with Sherlock - was a day well spent.

"I don't believe in all that. Whatever's going to happen will happen. No matter how much you manifest."

John shook his head and sighed. "All right. Suit yourself then. I'm off to bed."

John got up from his armchair with the sock in his hand. He walked across the room to the fireplace and hung the sock over it.

His note inside it was short and simple: My Current Life.

He knew it was not a wish, technically, but he did not want any external factors to take Sherlock and his life at 221 B away from him. Again.

He'd had a deep and long talk with Sherlock about the staged suicide, and why Sherlock had to do it. John had finally started to see that incident from Sherlock's perspective too, and he really wished to keep his current life forever.

Besides, John knew that his feelings for Sherlock were unrequited, and things between them were going to be that way. It was not as though he could ask for Sherlock as his partner. He would rather keep his manifestations realistic.

With these thoughts, John went to the staircase leading to his room and started to climb up.

He entered his bedroom, closed the door behind him, and hopped onto the bed immediately. It didn't take him long to doze off.

John's eyes fluttered open in the middle of the night. He was thirsty. He got up and dropped his feet on the floor. After stretching his limbs, he got off the bed and stepped out of the bedroom to go downstairs.

John stopped in the middle of the staircase to take in the whole sitting room. They had decorated the Christmas tree a day before, and despite Sherlock's complaining now and then, it had been a pleasant time.

John noticed a pair of socks hanging above the fireplace - not just his own. He smiled. Sherlock had participated in something just because John had asked him to.

John went to the kitchen to grab a glass from one of the cabinets. He took it to the sink and opened the tap to fill it.

As he began to drink, leaning against the counter, John stared at the socks in the sitting room again.

He and Sherlock were not too dissimilar from a pair of socks, were they? Each completed the other; both were useless on their own.

He did not know about Sherlock, but John knew he was pretty much useless without him.

John closed his eyes and shook his head to get these thoughts out of his head again. He sighed. If only Sherlock felt the same.

Finishing the glass of water, he put it in the sink and wondered: What had Sherlock written in the note inside his sock?

John went to the sitting room and walked to the fireplace to reach for the other sock. He knew he shouldn't be looking into someone else's note - it was prying, and it defeated the purpose - but for some reason, he could not stop himself from doing it that night.

After all, what was it that Sherlock wanted in his life so much that he ended up hanging the sock with the note - when he didn't even believe in things like that? John felt like he needed to know.

John ran his fingers over the fabric of that sock, feeling the piece of paper from the outside.

John looked over his shoulder before finally taking out the paper. He swallowed as his heart began to race. He opened the paper carefully with his fingers, and his jaw dropped when he saw what the note said.

John.

Was he dreaming? Had Sherlock written that to mess with John? But no... he wouldn't have expected John to read the note. No, it was real!

Sherlock had wished for John this Christmas. It sounded unrealistic, so John turned around the note this way and that to see if there was more to it.

Nothing. Sherlock had actually wanted John, and that was it. Nothing else.

John couldn't control the huge grin forming on his face. But that grin quickly turned into a rueful smile. If only he had known about it sooner. Then again, John had not done a great job communicating about his feelings to Sherlock either.

Anyway, as he folded the paper to place it back in the sock, John made a decision.

The moment he faced Sherlock again in the morning, he was going to discuss this with him finally. No more misunderstandings. John was going to put an end to this pining tomorrow.

But tonight, he was going to sleep fine - cherishing the memory of Sherlock's note in that sock.

Tagging: @helloliriels @topsyturvy-turtely @gaylilsherlock @lisbeth-kk @keirgreeneyes @missdeliadili @lookingforlifeoutthere @peanitbear @a-victorian-girl @calaisreno @kettykika78

#johnlock #bbc sherlock #john watson #sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes/john watson #sherlock x john #ficlet #new ficlet #fic writing #30 days of sherlock september 2023 #prompt: sock #fluff #Christmas theme #pining john watson #sherlockian #sherlock headcanon

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