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chaoticabstractism · 1 year

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Reading ✨The cage i call home✨ by @minjoon-love and dropping live comments here :

I’m already through first chep and they both seem in love lol but I’m guessing the angst is coming.

The smut was fabulous. Jiminie’s description is so pretty.

Lol taehyung is sucha tattle mouth.

So he has a limp, sour cunt, drunk brain and great friends! Life is good

They were FwBs before but they act like exes! People who know each others body in great detail and since they don’t talk much really all they’ve got is body language. But they care and long about each other too.

Mimi is sucha goner for yoongi! Sigh. I’m only little worried for him.

Yoongi knows taekook???????? So they’re in this secret business too????? Shit Jiminie shit

Oh okay they don’t. Then is Yoongi cooking something????

His entire body misses Yoongi :’)

The whole selling his soul to devil to monster - part 💀💀💀

Jimins headspace with praise kink and desire to be used and feeling guilty when he thinks he hasn’t deserved it, is really worrying. But really fascinating to read.

Kissing an asshole, literally and metaphorically.

The whole sequence of tracing the scar on Yoongi and silently asking for a scar back like a mating mark or something or something of yoongi to have with him when he isn’t close to the man!!!FUCK

JIMINNNNN oh god you traumatised baby

The choking scene was FUCK I MAY NEVER RECOVER especially with the undertones of their headspace shit

Alright chep 3 :

Oh would you look at that? It’s none other than Jiminie’s suga daddy !!!

Jimin is very good at making him feel needed. Well that’s kinda true for both of them. Sigh

What is yoongi Tryna do here really? See how much Jimin can take ? Break him? Push him so much that he’ll finally bite him back! ?

Hey hey hey hey hey what is happening in that bathroom I’m scared

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK WHY IS THAT SO HOT! stuffing his three holes FUCK FUCK FUCK oh god I’m ruined

Kimchi is their safe word!!! How romantic

For a couple who’s so messy in their sex life with derogatory tones and problematic kinks, they’re to domestic and lovey dovey other than sex.

And we are done with this chep too.

Let’s go chep 4 :

Taehyung fumbling and rambling describing Mimi’s hair and makeup style!!! I GET IT MAN I GET IT! I would too, he is just beautiful ✨

As soon as you admit the existence of happiness you’ve to face the reality that you could lose it - damn ! That hit way too close to the home.

OH GOD THREESOME! Get yourself a man like min yoongi who gets you another man to fill all your holes at once! Amen

Shit I can feel the humiliation seeping into my skin shit ! And I’m so turned on it’s embarrassing!! Fuxk you godddddddddd

Fuck yoongi fuck!!! THIS IS SO PERFECT feel bad for Seokjin tho! Yoongi used him as a literal boy toy to add pleasure into their dynamic.

“He tilts his head, opens his mouth and swirls the cum inside showing him” HE DID WHAAAAAAATTTTTTTTT

Not Seokjin validated him like a baby showing his new cum-gurgling trick! HELPPPPP WHAT 😭😭😭😭

No disgust and no romantic feelings = best outcome in casual sex!!! Couldn’t agree anymore

The bathroom scene ???????? They’re so disgustingly in love and domestic and wild! And i love them so much

Oh my god the threesome was your block??!!!! I’m sorry I wasn’t there before or else I would have drowned you in praises because holy fuck!! That was so! I’ve thought a lot about such scene before but it’s just random dialogues and images and I’ve never been able to put it into words or paper but THIS WAS MINDFUCKING I love you for writing this

Okay chep 5 now whoooosh :

Theyre so cute in bed 😭😭😭😭

🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲whatever happened

“Hurt me” 😩😩😩

I kind of knew yoongi would be the one using safe word the way Jimins masochistic tendencies keep flowing up at the surface but it still didn’t lessen the hurt that that it left :’)

He really left huh :’) I wished he would have stayed and talked and gathered some courage , can’t he see yoongi’s all ready to give him more than he could anyway!

I haven’t read anything else by you so idk if you’re into open endings or just endings where they aren’t together like a fairy tale, or not. Which is okay by me, I just , it’s nice to have had known but there’s no turning back now shit, im so nervous

Plus he’s coming to terms with the depth of his feeling, on top of it he already sorta felt that Jimin had it too. And he was trying to heal from it , in ways he knew. But now he’s ran away again and that would be so confusing. Was it just him? Was it the yesterday nights event ? Does it still feel suffocated ? Poor baby

Oh fuck he came back OH FUCK OH FUCK shit! Okay wow this is anticlimactic because I was ready to bawl my eyes out phewwww (sorry my damaged brain thinks it deserves pain even in stories and it’s too dreamy to hope for happy endings everywhere) shit but he really came back oh my god! Thank god one of them is better at this! Very Ross and Rachel like huh tho

Bye I need to cry

Okay I’m back , they’re at the sauna and having fun waaaaa it soothes my heart, this is nice

are you really yoongi’s partner if you don’t enjoy making him a blushing mess !!!!!

Kinda want Jimin to pull the yoongi marry me act and watch him be a puddle

Okay I’m done ,i thank you so much for leaving me a crying babbling utter mess 😔😔😔 no but really, it’s been a while since I’ve read an intense story like this and I guess slice of life even with mafia tones is something I really like, even more when there’s delicious angst! But I don’t read angst without smut and oh boy oh did you deliver!!! THANK YOU FOR WRITING THIS! I love it! The flow, the pain, the sex, the writing everything about it!

I’ll read more of your stuff now @minjoon-love 🫂

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suna-reversed · 3 years

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Hello :)

Sukuna. fluff. Pretty please.

Could you write something about sukuna falling for itadori's best friend. You can throw some angst in there too because I am a masochist❤️

Sukuna x F! Reader

oh god, this turned purely self indulgent halfway through. low key thinking of turning this into a series to give you the angst you deserve.

A/N: (reader is Itadori’s senior and is 18) (loosely inspired by the song “me and my husband” by mitski)

“And I am the idiot with the painted face

In the corner, taking up space

But when he walks in, I am loved, I am loved”

——-

- You had been one of the few poor senior students who had been victim to what had been Itadori’s “elevator pitch” for more people to join the occult club early back in high school. [the said “elevator pitch” being him jumping out at random people with a white bedsheet over his head saying “boo” as he handed you the club form]

- You didn't end up joining the club. But you somehow did end up getting joined at the hip with the chaotic mess under the white sheet.

- Whether it was you two rushing to the theatre to watch Jennifer Lawrence’s new movie, or going to a revolving sushi place [only to get pocky from a nearby vending machine instead because revolving sushi is apparently expensive], Itadori Yuuji had become a comforting and very important presence in your life.

- So of course when he suddenly dropped out of your life, being the worried friend you were, you decided to poke around a little only to find out that he was...dead?

- Maybe a few months down the line, you would’ve started to slightly recover from the tragic news you had just gotten. Instead, what you got was your supposedly dead best friend popping up days later to tell you that he ate a finger and now he was the vessel for some centuries old curse,,,

- Um yeah...safe to say that Yuji did not expect you to go into the fit of emotions that you did [boy had the audacity to call you dramatic for fainting and then crying while hugging him once you gained consciousness]

- some time passed and Yuji and you didn’t see each other much with him practically training to be the strongest jujutsu sorcerer. Still, simply happy to have him back alive, your brain managed to convinced itself that everything was still the same.

- And it was when he’d sneak out a day or two from his heavy schedule and you’d be back to your normal routine of watching movies, stuffing your face with snacks, getting your face licked by the mouth on Yuji’s hand…

- ,,,wait what

- The first time the curse had made contact with you was simply out of annoyance of why the stupid brat even took the time to see someone as mundane as you so often.

- His plan was to simply scare you into leaving, knowing it would cause the brat pain.

- So he grabbed the opportunity when Yuji moved forward to brush off some popcorn dust on the side of your mouth, not only licking the side of your face but also being successful in slightly grazing his teeth against your tender skin.

- Yuji had mentioned that being a vessel had caused some weird physical “abnormalities” for him. you didn’t understand it back then but at least knowing that had sort of prepared you for such an instance.

- So imagine the curse’s surprise [and an even further growing annoyance] when your eyes barely widened for a second before you burst into laugher,

“Didn’t you train your dog to not bite?”

- by now, Yuji had jumped 5 feet away from you and was still halfway through his string of apologies, but upon hearing your reaction, he mused on your fake calm while letting out a chuckle himself,

- “Guess I’ve got to get a leash for him”

- By this point, the ever so indifferent curse had taken two teenagers talking about him like a mere annoyance as a personal challenge.

- And that’s how it started.

- He’d come out every now and then, licking your fingers as Yuji passed you something or making lewd remarks on anything and everything that you ever started a conversation about.

- But you and Yuji barely paid him attention and it was an understatement to say that it infuriated the living hell out of him.

- Particularly you, who wouldn’t even be annoyed or sarcastic about his tactics anymore. Instead, treating him like a friend who was simply joining you and the brat to hang out.

- He hated it. Hated how bright your laugh was. Hated how you made them stop every time you saw a stray animal just so you could pet it. Hated how your skin was as soft as a cloud and how you sometimes smelled like cherry blossoms. He’d kill you in an instant if he could ugh.

- it was a weekend and Yuji and you had been watching a movie, even though Yuji was barely paying attention. You knew he was tired as his large frame slumped over your shoulder. Pulling the blanket up to his face, you once again felt the wet feeling of the assaults you had grown familiar with on the side of your hand.

- “You could’ve just asked for a pocky if you wanted one, no need to lick it off my fingers you grumpy little thing”, you laughed as you stood up to go to the bathroom

- that snapped the final string.

- Coming back into your living room, you wondered if Yuji had somehow gotten up in his sleep and managed to draw weird black lines over himself all in the span of 5 minutes.

- ‘Yuji, what the fuck?’

- ‘Well well, now who’s acting like a grumpy little thing’

- The deep voice sent rumbles down your spine and you knew in an instant what had happened.

- Even though your breath hitched in your throat and your body begged for you to run as fast away as you can, you held your ground as you simply tilted your head at the curse

- “Well, I’d like my best friend back if you don’t mind.”

- You saw the smirk on Sukuna’s face falter for just a second before he crossed the space between the couch and you.

- Now as strong of a front as you managed to hold up until now, watching something like that stride straight towards you would have had even the strongest of sorcerers shitting bricks.

- Instinctively, you took a few steps backwards, but he simply continued to close the distance between the two of you until you were backed up against the wall.

- You flinched as he slammed a hand right next to your head and he seemed to gain immense satisfaction from that as he looked down at your startled face with a smirk plastered on his tattooed face.

- Sukuna was sure that you’d be begging for his mercy any second now. His smirk widened and he was ready to mock your pleas as he saw you open your mouth to say something,

- “ ...so much for a damn pocky.”

- All those other times you had caught the curse off guard were nothing compared to the “partially-confused partially-baffled” expression that he held on his face now. It almost made him look human. Almost.

- You didn’t realise just how long you were holding his gaze until Yuji took back control and apologized like a million times over, reassuring you that he would’ve never let you get hurt.

- The curse didn’t show up for almost a week after that. And while you were grateful for not having to wash off your hands or face 14 times a day, you somehow felt anxious about its sudden disappearance.

- All those worries were thrown out the window as he once again showed up while Yuji was passed out on the couch after a particularly tough session with Gojo sensei.

- Looking at the curse, you felt anger more than anything, how could he just drop out on you with no warning and then show up in the middle of your living room- ...wait a second, why the hell are you mad at a literal curse for not telling you he was taking a mental health break or whatever it was that he was doing?

- While you sorted out through these conflicting thoughts in your mind, the curse seemed to be going through a similar crisis.

- Having woken up in the brat’s fragile human body with no warning whatsoever, Sukuna wasn’t in the mood to see your face so soon again. He didn’t know why your physical presence unsettled him so much. All he knew was that he hated it. Even more now that he knew what you looked like all scared and small compared to his vessel’s towering build, and how you smelled even sweeter than what he had tasted, and how despite all that you still had the courage to stand up to someone as dangerous as him. Ugh, disgusting.

- “The stupid brat passed out.”

- Such a simple statement caused you to snap your head up at him. But he didn’t wait for your reaction as he somehow managed to plop down on the couch while still looking graceful. Picking up the half eaten box of pocky, he warily pulled one out, eyeing it as if it was a poisoned dagger before breaking off a piece and placing it on his tongue.

- “This is what you would risk your life for, brat?”

- He turned his head slightly to look at you still frozen in place, staring at him with that doe eyed look that made his chest burn a little. Isn’t this what he wanted all along?

- “Are you simply going to stand there and gawk? I don’t bite-...well, not unless you ask me to.”

- He knew that would set you right back to your usual self,

- “...maybe we do need to get a leash after all.”

- Sukuna internally grinned as he saw you move to the other side of the couch, ready to hear whatever more of the snarky comeback that you’d have (not that he was anticipating it, it was just the better alternative to being gaped at. Or so he told himself)

- “You ate the non chocolate covered part of the pocky by the way-”

- “As if a layer of this disgusting brown substance can make the rotten stick taste bette-”

- “Well aren’t sticks all you had to eat in yOuR TiME anyways?”-

—-

- You somehow managed to fall asleep after the bickering, proceeding to sit in silence after you told him to not bother you while you tried to read. You wouldn’t admit it, but you were a little disappointed when he actually didn’t. Instead, he sat on the couch with a slight smirk still plastered on his face, continuing to simply gaze at you. your heart did lunges every time you slyly looked up from your book to take a peak at him. you wondered how many ways he had come up with to kill you so far.

- On the other hand, the curse sat idly, watching you while his thoughts rumbled in his mind. Maybe killing you can be pushed off the agenda for now. There are much better ways to hurt the brat anyways aren't there? Perhaps he could use one of these brownish covered sticks to-...what is he thinking?

- He ultimately deems it stupid brat’s humane emotions and sheer stupidity that must be interfering with his thoughts.

- A loud sneeze snaps him out of his daze as he sees you slumped against a pillow, your book falling off your lap. And then he does something that he immediately decides that he would pretend to have not done for the rest of his existence. Luckily, the brat takes back control right after he does it anyways.

- But that thought slips his mind as he finds himself replaying the serene look on your face as he gently pulled the book out of your hands, and how his hands shook a little as you nuzzled your nose into the fabric of the blanket that he pulled over you. How could you have felt so calm around him?

#jujutsu kaisen #jjkxreader #jujutsukaisenxreader #yujiitadori #sukuna fluff #sukuna x reader #itadori x reader #sukuna #sukuna headcanons #jjk headcanons #sukuna smut #gojo saturo x reader #jujutsu Kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen hcs #sukunafluff

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the-girl-who-flies · 2 years

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To the HoA fandom, I dedicate this ramble.

I’m going to start by saying that I don’t think anyone actually *needs* to read this, it’s more like I’ve been wanting to say it for a while. Now, because it might turn into a wall of text, I’m gonna shamelessly repurpose some of my doodles (some of them you may have seen, others ended up on the editing floor and I’m basically picking them out of the bin to pretend I’ve had some art prepared for Valentine’s. A part of me says I should’ve just save the rope porn for today because what is Valentine’s is about if not porn with bondage).

(I like to call this one, Yes, This Single Bed is Fine)

So, my experience with HoA and Jalim in particular has been an interesting one. Definitely not the first ship that i’ve obsessed with, but perhaps the first in which I’ve been as engaged with an actual *community* (at least to this level - Pacific Rim is a somewhat close second), and part of that was what you’d call a natural development, but part of it was a conscious decision.

Going back to somewhere mid-November, I remember looking at the still fairly barren field of fics, the gifs, the music videos (what are they called now? AMVs? GMVs? I’m too old and can’t be bothered to remember) and feeling somewhat masochistic from the level of angst I was feeding myself. Naturally, I was thinking of everyone’s favorite vampire slayer and his all american himbo and constantly circling back to the conclusion that they probably never see each other again after the hut and live out the rest of their lives in some kind of painful longing. Or maybe at least a few years. There are definitely *those* reunion fics, and I did get a weird sense of pleasure from putting myself through that suffering. The thing is, I thought at one point I would just read ‘the ultimate fic’ that my brain would adopt as canon (and one fic actually came fairly close to being that, or so I thought), and from there on my obsession would just go downhill. If I’m perfectly honest, that’s kind of a scary thought - maybe because losing a hyperfixation is akin to losing a loved one, and it leaves you feeling empty.

Only I had lost things before - and people - and so the mantra I tend to follow when I see that I’m starting to depress the shit out of myself is ‘reach out’. Look for other people, other stories, other points of view. Connect. Don’t get stuck in your own angsty little world. Anyway, i guess that worked, because I’ve watched the fandom develop from what I thought was a sharp little angstfest into a massive horny conga line (credit to @littleaxebad for the term) with its own fucking folklore. Jason has at least one sister, this is something I’ve read so many times I feel it’s basically canon. Zain is a little shit, but generally cool - honestly, the fact that we don’t get to see him in the game seems to create such a creative opportunity that I can’t help but be grateful for that, and for all the other holes HoA has that have spurred this fandom into creative action. In art, I genuinely like the fact that there are different versions of what the characters are - Salim, for example, I’ve seen drawn as skinny, buff, stocky and fucking shredded - and they’re all good, especially because his uniform sits on him like a potato sack and leaves a lot of room for imagination. I love all the different interpretations of what his and Jason’s sex love is like (who’s on top? Are they always on top? Do they switch? Those are not even the best questions), and even more, I love all the different ways people find of bringing them back together (or not separating them at all). My original source of angst, healed.

On that note, I love all those fics where they settle comfortably in London (or the US), but there’s a special place in my heart for the ones that have Jason live a harsh expatriate life in Iraq. The culture clash! It’s a tough subject to tackle, but I’ve seen authors who do it anyway, and I just wanna say, i appreciate it.

(and there is maybe an even special-er place in my heart for Nick and Eric, Nick-Eric-Rachel, but mostly really Nick and Eric and Rachel just finally enjoying her beer, but I feel like if I start talking about them, this’ll be way too long. I haven’t forgotten you. As I haven’t forgotten all the rarepairs out there because fuck, there is some amazing art (and fics), and also MERWIN AND JOEY DESERVED BETTER). Anyway, what I mean is that this wild fucking fandom fed me through a very stressful couple months, and I’ve been genuinely motivated to give back (whatever’s that’s worth). I’ve met people I genuinely enjoy talking to - people from whom I’ve learned interesting things and who made me want to travel and learn other languages and history and culture. I’ve developed a somewhat unhealthy obsession with Arabic spoken in Nick Tarabay’s voice (seriously, Cotyar from the Expanse is the actor for Salim and we get 15 minutes of BTS of Ashley fucking Tisdale?!). I’ve defeated my fear of multichapter fics when I realized that, hey, it’s ok if the author takes their time, or even doesn’t update anymore, I’m still grateful for the experience (and have about 15 in my bookmarks I’m trying to catch up on). I’ve joined Discord servers even though I barely understand how to use them. And I’ve just had so many endorphins pumped into my system from all the beautiful content and interaction that I inevitably feel sad at the idea that as all ship do, this one, too, shall pass. The thought is akin to the ones I have about my own mortality, and I hope that someday I’ll be as chill about dying as I am about the fact that someday HoA will be a closed chapter in my life. But that’s okay. At the very least, it will be one full of fond memories, wonderful experiences, great people, and lots of porn.

This is my awkward love letter to you, HoA fandom, I love all of you.

(and just to be clear, I am still very fucking far from being over all of this, it’s not like I’m saying goodbye and sailing off into the sunset. I’d probably sink if I tried to do that. NOT THAT I WANT TO)

a bonus for getting this far into this shit: a little fever dream from me and @thebloodpit where Jason and Salim are visiting Jason’s hometown, and run into Jason’s massive, Mexican, building contractor ex. We named him Andre.

#the dark pictures house of ashes #house of ashes #hoa #jalim #jason kolchek x salim othman #nick kay #jason kolchek #salim othman #rachel king #eric king #harpyart #harpyrambles

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rockingrobin69 · 3 years

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Spoonful of what, now?

CW: illness (nothing serious), a bit of angst, a somewhat sticky situation. Sappy boys being saps. 1k

It wasn’t a complaint, and Draco said this with all the love in his heart, but Harry was the worst patient. He was whiney, and impatient, and stubborn. He wouldn’t take the pain meds because he didn’t like the way they made him feel. He wouldn’t drink Fever-Be-Gone because it was too sour, for crying out loud. It didn’t help that he was a trainee Healer himself and could probably recite proper procedure in his sleep. He was the absolute worst patient, even if Draco did say so himself.

And he kept trying to convince Draco to leave. “Just go to work,” he sniffled weakly, all brave-like and the-boy-hero everyone still expected him to be, for whatever reason. “I’m fine.”

“Don’t be an arse,” was Draco’s tight-lipped response. “Drink your tea.”

“I don’t like it,” Harry whimpered, nose scrunched. It really was disgusting how much Draco loved him.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, don’t be such a baby. Drink the damn tea.”

“You calling it tea doesn’t make it less of a potion,” Harry grunted, but he did as told with all the contempt of a five year old. Draco knew the liquid wouldn’t go down smoothly; he brewed the damned thing himself when Harry point blank refused all other treatments. But it would help him, Draco felt certain. And if not, at least it’d shut him up for a bit.

“Wha-“ Harry tried to say, startled, but Draco shook his head.

“You need to rest your throat now. You won’t be able to speak for the next ten minutes, I’m afraid, while it’s working. And in the meantime, you’re going to listen to me.”

Harry gave him this look, wide-eyed and terrified, and Draco felt a sadistic laughter bubbling in his abdomen. Harry tried to speak again, but all that came out this time was a garbled sort of ‘wrah’.

“That’s right. Now, look. I won’t marry you.” Perhaps it wasn’t sadistic laughter, actually; it might have been purely masochistic, because the look Harry gave him now hurt. “Not yet, anyway. We’re too young, Harry. It’s only been four years since the war, and I’m afraid you’re trying to rush this because you…” gods, even having planned this, it was still the most difficult thing Draco ever did in his life. With some exceptions, perhaps.

“I know you love me, but this fear you have of losing me is – it’s not healthy. What we have is real. I’m not going to run away, I’m not going to leave you. I don’t want you to propose out of sheer panic; I want it to be something you actually – Harry. I do want to marry you, at some point. But not like this. I love you more than anything, you must know that. You do, right?”

Harry’s eyes were pools of green, wet and agonizing, but he held out a hand for Draco to take. It was a little evil, maybe, doing it like this. No, it definitely was. But ever since Harry’s proposal last week Draco was lost. He just didn’t know how to do it in a way that wouldn’t hurt him, in a way that would make Harry understand. This was his best idea. Some genius he was.

“I’m so happy with you, Harry. So happy I often can’t believe it. When we first started dating, I thought it was a dream. Or a hoax, maybe. I kept waiting for the moment you’d go, ha, you actually believed it? and laugh in my face. Or hex me. Or something, I don’t know. But then I got to actually know you and… you’re the most important thing in my life. I can’t imagine myself without you. But we’re twenty two, and broke, and living in your adopting-mum’s attic. We work eighty hours a week and basically only see each other in the hospital. You see why it’s not the best timing, right?”

Harry nodded, curt, blinking away the tears. Draco wanted to hold him, but he kept himself back. “Waiting isn’t necessarily bad. This isn’t the world your parents got married in, or… the war is over. We have the luxury of time now. We have the luxury of waiting. We get to be young, now. You know? Actually be young.”

Damn it, was he crying? Draco turned away quickly, but Harry’s hand caught his chin and turned his face back, very gently. He was nodding. Draco’s heart was busy performing some sort of trick, possibly involving explosives.

“You understand this isn’t rejection, right? I want to be with you. I always want to be with you. But the big, adult things – getting married, having children, all that – I’m not ready for that yet. Is that all right?”

Harry ran a thumb over Draco’s lip, very slowly. “I-“ he tested his voice, and seeing that it worked, he remained silent for another endless minute. “I love you, Draco.”

Gods. Gods. Draco closed his watery eyes and leaned against Harry’s hand. “I love you too,” he sniffled, trying hard to keep the words in but failing miserably. “Gods, Harry, so much.”

“Good,” Harry laughed, though it sounded heavy with sadness. “That’s good.”

“So – you understand?”

Another eternal minute. “I think so.” His voice was awfuly scratchy.

“How… how’s your throat feeling?”

“Yeah, better, I guess. My chest’s a little sore, but I doubt that’s related.” Draco’s eyes widened in alarm, but when he looked, Harry was smiling. “I’m kidding. I’m all right. Will you make me a proper tea, though? The potion leaves a bit of an aftertaste.”

“Of course, yes. Anything.” Draco was frightened by how much he meant it. He hurried to the door, but then stopped, turning back to him. “Harry… you’re not – you got what I meant, right? It’s not a no. Just… not right now.”

He took another godawful moment before responding. “I think I did, yeah. I’ll try again later. In a good few years, maybe.”

Draco’s smile was very tight in his chest. “If I don’t get you first, then.”

The relief in Harry’s eyes hurt more than anything else. “Yeah?”

“Yes. We’re – I’m still in this. Forever.” Gods, he was such a sap, it was horrible.

“Forever.” But it was all right, because Harry was a sap too.

He put extra honey in his tea, partly as an apology, and partly because his fingers were still shaking. Forever. It felt heavy, and uncomfortable, and impossibly right.

#drarry #fic #sick Harry #but it's okay Draco's taking care of him #angst?#fluff.#flangst!#sappy boys #healer draco #healer harry #proposal #not a yes #but not a no #RockingRobin69

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noctumbra · 4 years

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peaches: vi ─ two

summary ─ her voice was low and soft; she was talking to bucky like she would speak with a wild animal. she was expecting him to be mad at her, bucky realized. bucky wanted to laugh at her face while crying.

pairing ─ dadsbestfriend!bucky barnes x reader

warnings ─ mentions of depression, crying, angst, jealousy, smut, +18, wall sex , what comes around goes around aka karma bitch

a/n ─ don’t be mad at me for the ending :))))) i’m just here to post this part, and i’ll be gone again. you guys have waited enough. i finished it just now and didn’t want to make you wait even more. please leave a feedback! thank you <3 i don’t own the gif. (ps: bucky now looks exactly like seb does in the gif)

series masterlist ─ part one

It had been… Bucky didn’t know how long, he stopped counting a while ago. He had been living in his bed for a while. The last time he left home was… the night he got his heart broken cruelly. He haven’t left his house ever since; he was getting the groceries delivered once in a week ─on Wednesdays─, forcing himself to eat at least half a sandwich or a bowl of oatmeal, also forcing himself to take care of his hygiene once in three days.

If he stopped doing even one of them, he knew he would crash very badly. Bucky was trying not to crash. His latest crush had been bad, and he really didn’t want to repeat that.

Bucky sighed as he closed his laptop. He had to go to the company for a meeting that couldn’t be done on Skype, but his delivery was about to come. He stood from his home-office desk and went to his bedroom. He could get ready while waiting the delivery, right?

“Gotta shave first, though,” Bucky murmured to himself as he saw his reflection on the mirror. His hair was longer, fluffier and somewhat curly. He now had a full-grown beard going on; it was dark brown and thick and looked unkempt. He ignored the very dark circles under his eyes. He ran his fingers through the beard. It looked unkempt, yes, but it wasn’t so bad, Bucky thought as his eyes assessed the situation. He could fix the fuzzy look and then have a proper haircut on his way to company.

Yeah, that would make him look decent.

Bucky nodded to himself and threw himself in the shower to wash away the day’s sweat. In ten minutes he was out, with a scissors in his hand, he was fixing his beard. It only took him three minutes and his beard already looked better than it did five minutes ago. Bucky dried his hair and brushed his teeth, finishing up the bathroom. As he stepped back into his bedroom, he heard the doorbell ring. He swore lightly and grabbed his sweatpants that he threw on his bed hastily.

“Coming!” Bucky yelled while trying to find his wallet. Letting out a small sound of triumph, Bucky ran towards the door. “There you go─” He lifted his head as he extended his cash filled hand.

But it wasn’t the delivery guy.

“Hello,” she murmured. Bucky looked at her, frozen. “I, um, wanted to check up on you because, uh, we haven’t heard from you for a while and… Papa got worried because he said that you looked upset while you were leaving, so, um.” She stopped talking.Bucky didn’t say anything but blinked. A part of him couldn’t believe that she was here, worried about him, but the other part of him was suspicious because it wasn’t her, Sam was the real worried one. Bucky knew that she didn’t care about him enough to worry just because she didn’t see him for a month.

“Dad said to leave you alone, said that if you wanted to see or talk to people, you would, but Papa didn’t buy it,” she continued. Her voice was low and soft; she was talking to Bucky like she would speak with a wild animal. She was expecting him to be mad at her, Bucky realized. Bucky wanted to laugh at her face while crying.

“So?” Bucky finally spoke, his voice was cold. “You’ve seen me, checked up on me. You can go back.” He made a move to close the door, but she stopped him before he could close it fully.

“Bucky─”

“I can’t,” Bucky said. “I gotta be at the company in two hours.” He tried to close the door again, but she wasn’t letting him fucking close it. “Step back,” Bucky snarled.

“I wanna talk,” she said, looking at his eyes. Bucky clenched his jaw.

“There isn’t anything to talk, now step back,” Bucky murmured through his clenched teeth. She wasn’t giving up, though, Bucky realized. “Y/N.” He warned.

“No, I wanna talk. Quit being stubborn,” she hissed at him, and Bucky ─ just snapped. With a growl, Bucky opened the door and pulled her inside. Her back slammed against the wall even before the door was closed.

“Stubborn?” He hissed. His face was so close to hers, the tips of their noses were brushing against each other. “I said I don’t want to talk, and you’re calling me stubborn? You got a fucking nerve, kid,” Bucky continued to hiss at her angrily. He was so angry, so sad, he just couldn’t help himself. “You’re tellin’ me that I don’t worth your time, that I’m not good enough for you─” Bucky felt himself choke on the words, but swallowing harshly, he continued.

“I ain’t stubborn, Y/N. I’m just heartbroken. I’m just ─ hurt,” Bucky finished with a snarl and pulled himself off of her. “When I said I don’t want to talk, I said it because I don’t want to be reminded of my heartbreak. I don’t want to recall that time again so that I can be sad after you leave. I’ve been hurt enough in this lifetime, I don’t want to be hurt anymore. Enough.” Bucky’s voice cracked as his eyes filled with tears slowly, he hated how his eyes got teary whenever he was angry. His chest was moving up and down with the adrenaline that was running through his bloodstream. She wasn’t so different: Her eyes were huge, lips parted, and she was panting. Bucky saw tears in his eyes and barely held his scoff back. Bucky turned around and opened the door. “Leave.” She stood on shaky legs and took a couple steps forward.

What Bucky didn’t expect was for her to slam the door shut and wrap her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss.

Bucky let out a shocked little noise and tried to push her away, but he missed this so much. He missed her so much. It was maybe a bit masochist of him, but he wanted this. He wanted her back, wanted her beautiful presence and gorgeous body in his life back.

Fuck the heartbreak, Bucky thought, and he pushed her against the wall again, a growl escaping from his half-parted lips.

Caging her body between his and the wall, Bucky placed his left hand on her jaw. His right hand sneaked into her hair, grabbing a fistful, as he deepened the kiss. He was swallowing every single little moan, or whimper she was letting out.

It was only him who could hear those delicious sounds.

It was only him who could draw out those moans out of her.

It was only him who could treat her right, Bucky knew it goddammit, she was his.

Snarling possessively, both of his hands moved south on her body. Bucky grabbed her thighs in his palms so that he could hike her body higher. She let out a little gasp when Bucky lifted her easily and helped her wrap her legs around his waist. Her hands grabbed his hair and pulled painfully when she felt his mouth latch on the exposed skin of her neck. Bucky groaned at the delicious sting on his skull.

“Bucky, oh!” She moaned, “Please!” Bucky chuckled against the soft skin beneath his lips. Her body was trying to move, grind, between his and the wall. Bucky tsked teasingly.

“You don’t deserve my kindness, Y/N,” Bucky murmured. His eyes were closed. His left hand that was on her jaw was now around her throat, loose. Bucky felt his fingers twitched with the almost unstoppable want of curling around that throat and maybe squeezing just a little. Growling under his breath, Bucky sniffed, filling his lungs with her soft, peach scent. The tears stung in his eyes: He missed smelling peaches on you so much.

“Bucky?” Her voice called out to him softly, worry hiding in that soft tone. “Are you okay?” Bucky knew that if he tried to speak, he’d probably just let out a sob, so he just nodded. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so fucking sorry for hurting you like this. I’m sorry.” Bucky shook her head.

“Shut up,” he grunted, and his lips were onto her again.

She whimpered into his kiss. Her hands were now on both sides of his face rather than pulling his hair. She was holding his face so gently, Bucky’s sobs started to threaten him to let out even more. Bucky ignored them. He tilted his head and let his lips stroke her swollen and slick ones. Her tongue traced an innocent line over his bottom lip, and Bucky groaned gently.

“I need you,” she whispered against his lips. Her hands were trailing south slowly. Her fingertips were dancing on his naked torso, sending hot lick of arousal down Bucky’s spine. “I missed you. Bucky─ Sir, I need you,” she sobbed. “Please…”

Bucky clenched his jaw. “You do not deserve my kindness, Y/N,” Bucky repeated his words, his head hanging low. He should have pulled back and told to go home, but instead of doing that, Bucky let his fingertips graze over her clothed core. He needed her, too. He needed to feel her skin against his.

Taking a hold of her sweatpants, Bucky lowered and let go of her enough to pull them off. Then, she was up against the wall again with Bucky’s sweatpants pooling around his ankles. “He’s not me. He can never be me, you understand, Y/N?” Bucky asked, his voice was cold and demanding. She whimpered.

“Yes, Sir,” she murmured. Her eyes were black, tears were dry on her cheeks, lips were swollen and her hair was a mess. She looked so good and all Bucky’s. Bucky couldn’t help but moan at his own thoughts, and he grabbed her jaw to tilt her head back. He wanted eye contact.

“If you do this to me again, Y/N, I’ll lose it,” he whispered, “You hear me? I’ll fucking lose it. You’re mine, peaches.”

She whimpered, hips grinding against his slowly. “Will always be yours, sir, Bucky. Yes, I hear you, sir.” Bucky smiled darkly, satisfied with the answer he got. His free hand slipped under her t-shirt, his fingers stroking the line of her breast. She came here prepared, he thought. Rumbling deep in his chest, his hand closed over the swell of her breast and he squeezed. She moaned, head tilting back even more. Bucky nosed the line of her jaw and took a deep breath.

Bucky pushed his hips forward and helped her grind right on his cock. Moaning, Bucky pinched her nipple. “The sounds you make…” He murmured. “Mmm.”

“Sir─” She choked over her own moan when the tip of his cock brushed against her clit. Bucky grunted and ground her harder on his cock. It felt too good to feel her juices coating him in the filthiest way possible. It felt too good to have her under him back.

“Fuck,” Bucky moaned and let go of her breast to grab his cock. He squeezed the base for couple seconds before he lined up. “No one will make you feel things that I can, Y/N,” he said, voice hard as steel and cold as ice. “You can’t find me in different men.”

She just whined. The words were failing her ever since she stepped inside, so she just whined and continued to grind. Bucky smirked and lined his cock. With one thrust, he was inside of her scorching heat. Her soft walls were clenching down on him, and Bucky thought he could come any second.

“Oh, fuuck─” Bucky choked on his moan. Resting his head on her shoulder, Bucky put his now free hand on the wall. His hips started to thrust: Slow at first, but the pace got faster as his desperation increased. His cock hitting her sweet spot with every single thrust, she cried out. Her nails were digging in and creating angry lines on Bucky’s back, but the physical pain was spurring Bucky faster.

His thrusts got deeper, harder and faster, and soon enough she was crying and screaming with pleasure. “Fuck, sir! Yes, right there, yes please, please!” She whined, sobbed and choked on her moans. Bucky was going delirious with the sounds she was letting out. He growled and brought his hand to grab her breast through her t-shirt.

“God,” he grunted. “Shit, peaches, so fucking good. So tight, wet. You hear that sounds? It’s your slick, baby,” Bucky moaned this time. “You’re so fucking wet, you’re drenching my thighs, honey, fuck.”

She molded her body against his and started to respond his thrusts with her own. Bucky snarled and pulled her off from the wall and shed her from her t-shirt. Now with the easy access to her breasts, Bucky plastered her back against the wall and leaned forward. Bucky took one of her nipples in his mouth and sucked harshly.

“Ah!” She exclaimed with the sudden extra sensation. Her hands found Bucky’s hair and pulled. Bucky just grunted, hips driving even deeper now, he continued to suck on her nipple. Sometimes his teeth would graze the areola, bite down softly, Bucky made her lose it.

She screamed, back arching and pushing her chest to his mouth even more, she clamped down around him and came. Bucky groaned with the tightness around his cock. He forgot how tight her pussy got whenever she came. Bucky felt his balls tighten, too, his stomach was cramping softly. He was close, oh, he was so close.

“Fuck, fuck, ah!” With one last thrust, Bucky came inside of her.

He didn’t know how long they stood like that against the wall, but Bucky blinked and pulled out slowly. He still needed to go to the company. Delivery guy would be here any minute, too, he thought, and pulled on his sweatpants.

Bucky watched her collect herself. She put her panties and sweatpants on and grabbed the t-shirt that Bucky discarded on the floor. When she lifted her head, she got a hopeful look in her eyes. Bucky frowned slightly.

“Bucky…” She started, her lips curled up with a soft smile.

“I don’t forgive you,” he cut her off. “I don’t know when will I do that, or ever to be honest.” Her face fell and she suddenly got angry.

“You─ used me? If you didn’t forgive me, then why did you fuck me, huh?” Bucky looked at her with his eyebrows raised and an amused smirk on his lips. “I can’t fucking believe you!” She hissed at him. Bucky let out a dark laugh.

“This,” Bucky said. “This is how I felt when you said those things to me in your kitchen. That’s what you did to me. You used me and discarded me like I’m trash, Y/N. That’s exactly how I felt that night.” She looked like she had been slapped, and Bucky enjoyed that look a little too much. She needed to understand how she made him feel that night. She had to. “Now you know,” Bucky finished his words and opened the door. “I’ll call your parents and let them know I’m still alive. Thank you for coming by.”

She looked at him like she wanted to say something, but the look on his face made her decide against it. She put her hair into a bun and walked out. “I’m sorry,” she murmured before Bucky closed the door on her face.

I deserved it, she thought. It does hurt like motherfucker. She chuckled to herself bitterly and went back to her house.

She needed to earn his forgiveness, she knew that much, and she was going to do right by him. Whatever it takes, she was going to do it.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagines #dadsbestfriend!bucky #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #dadsbestfriend!bucky barnes x reader #peaches

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siwoline · 3 years

Text

“can we stay like this forever?” — [sjy.]

♫ : spaces by martti franca

word count: 1,901 | angst, masochist

some, if not everyone, surely had a tower moment. a phase when everything seems to go downfall and you had no other choice but to surrender to wherever the universe takes you. some faced everything alone and some found a companion.

in your case, you had jake.

you met each other through a common friend back in high school. it was just a “hey, this is y/n. y/n, this is jake.” type of introduction and you just both went on with your lives separately, not minding each other’s business because you clearly had nothing to do with it. you weren’t interested with him and, on your point of view, he wasn’t too.

but suddenly, you passed by each other’s lives again, when he saw you sitting like a drunk single aunt by the gutter of an abandoned gas station. it was because you told your friends you’ll walk your way home even though your vision was spinning and your head hurt like hell.

you remember, “y/n?” jake mispronounced your name when he saw you then.

and you corrected him even though you’re drunk by saying, “it’s y/n! you stupid!”

“i’m sorry, y/n. do you need something?”

obviously! is this man really stupid? were your thoughts. you were looking at him meaningfully, trying to tell him that he’s unbelievable but he seems to not care about your stares. he just reached for your arms and guided you to wrap them around his broad shoulders.

this man’s caring. what the hell.

as much as you wanted to throw your shoes at jake that time, you just didn’t have the energy to fight and perhaps you wanted to thank him for somehow taking care of you even though you barely know each other.

after that night, you were informed that, apparently, jake studies in the same university and he lives near your pad. and according to your common friend, it’s just a 10-minute ride from yours.

your encounter with him did not stop there because you saw each other again on a party hosted by your friend. the moment you laid eyes at each other, he recognized you right away and walked towards you leaving a girl who’s clearly hitting on him that time.

that night, you two shared stories and even danced with some acquaintances, completely unaware that it was the start of something you didn’t anticipate.

“who’s this?” you said when you picked up the call of someone who’s bugging you at three in the morning, the day after your friend’s party.

that’s when you heard jake mumbling words you cannot decipher because first, it was, again, three in the morning, and second, he was a drunk zombie.

“where are you?” you asked him repetitively and still trying to respond to what he was saying until the bartender took over the phone and told you where he is.

you went to the bar to fetch him. jake looked so wrecked and tired from the world, he’s a complete mess when you saw him lying on the bar’s couch. when you went to him and woke him up, he looked at you and there you saw his stares. his intense eyes looked like he wanted someone to save him or just someone who’s willing to hear his stories.

and so you did.

it was almost everyday, at three in the morning, when you go out to see each other at the gas station where you first met as acquaintances. you’d bring snacks from your stock and he’d bring drinks bought from the convenience store he’ll pass by on his way to you.

you’d talk about everyday, how things went wrong and how things are going. you’d tell him that the only constant thing in the world is life fucking you up and his boisterous laugh would disturb anyone and anything near. he’d tell you how pretty the night sky is and how badly he wanted to travel just to see its end and you’d agree and tell jake you’ll go with him.

no one knew of the times you’re together, not even the friend who introduced you to each other. it was just a moment between you two, and you hate to admit but there are times that by thinking of it, the thought of seeing jake, made you feel things.

and god, as well as jake, knows how badly you hate feeling tickling emotions, those of the positive kind, because you know that there’s definitely an aftermath.

“how’s your brother?” he randomly asked when you were just talking about an online post you shared with each other through chat.

“he’s doing well. you want to see him next weekend?” then he nodded as a response.

it was not just you who grew fond of jake, some of your family members, only those whom he met, did as well. especially your little brother. they’d play games when you and jake would come over to your grandfather’s house where your brother temporarily lives. they would also talk about boy stuff, completely excluding you from the conversation, and you can see the both of them enjoying their time.

and, annoyingly, again, this made you feel more at ease with jake.

“do you still drink?” you asked meaninglessly.

“not anymore,” he shrugged, as if saying he doesn’t know why.

“as i am,” that’s when he looked at you, confused. “i don’t know. maybe i’m healed,” and you laughed with the absurdity of the thought.

but jake smiled with what you said, “that can be true.”

“what about you? you’re finally moved on from the woman you cried for when i first fetched you at the bar?”

he turned his head away, obviously feeling shy. “that was more than a year ago, y/n.” his lips are forming a pout. “plus, i’m being comforted in a much healthier way.”

you were shocked by his response. “you’re seeing someone again?”

he shook his head and said, “i just found comfort in someone’s presence.”

“isn’t that the same?”

he looked at you and said, “i don’t want to intervene in their peace.”

then all of a sudden, that was your last encounter with jake. you didn’t hear any news about him or his whereabouts for a good six months. when you were told that he’ll be attending a seminar, you woke up late which led to not seeing him around the campus ever since. just like that, jake was nowhere to be found.

and you cannot believe why jake’s no-show bothered you so much.

you thought of him almost everyday, thinking whether he’s doing fine or coping from his heartbreak and problems. you thought of how he’s doing in school because you haven’t seen his shadow from anywhere. you were dead worried of him yet no one knows that you still are.

“y/n, later! don’t pretend to forget, you brat,” you laughed and nodded as a response.

your friend is having a party tonight and you prepared for it the moment you arrived home. wearing the simplest attire, almost looking as if you’re not interested to go, you went to the party.

the moment you stepped foot at the bar, you were reminded of several things. and definitely one of them is jake.

weird how the loud bass and taste of beer feels so nostalgic for you. was it the long period of time that passed since you decided to quit drinking? or was it, again, him?

you shook your head, trying to brush off the thought you have in mind. you took your fifth glass of cuervo and looked at your wristwatch only to see that it’s about three in the morning. you stood up, with your head quite heavy, and went to find your friend so you could bid good bye and leave.

only to be stopped at your tracks because a pair of eyes are staring at you intensely. it’s jake.

it was quite a moment when you stared at each other but you decided to pretend as if you didn’t see anything. you’re confused at what you’re feeling at the very moment because, for you, you’re not supposed to feel anger just because he didn’t show up nor feel as if you’re longing for his presence.

“y/n,” you heard him call your name and a cold palm touched your skin when he held your hands to stop you from walking away.

you faced him, trying to show a smile. and there you saw a cleaner look of jake, a more mature one you must say. you looked at his eyes and you were surprised with what you’re seeing. your smile grew wider, more genuine this time, because he definitely looks happier now.

“hey. long time no see,” was all you can utter.

“y/n, i’m sorry—”

“look, i have to go home. the apartment’s gate,” you were cut off by him telling you that, “there’s no curfew and you always have a key with you. you don’t forget that. you’re afraid to get locked out.”

right. of course, jake knows that.

you’re afraid to get locked out, you’re afraid to be left behind. without a word, without any notice. you find it hard to forget, especially the moments dear to you, the moments that kept you warm. he knows that but why did he leave was all over your head.

“i have to go,” you said and let go of his hand but he didn’t budge. you kept moving and telling him to, “let go, jake.”

“y/n, i like you.” was what jake needed to say to make you stop from struggling.

he reached for your right arm and now his intense stares feel as if it can see your soul. and what happens now is the very thing you’re afraid of.

“i like you, i love you, i,” he sighed in frustration. “the last time we saw each other, it was you i was referring to. it was you whom i do not want their peace to be ruined. god, i even wanted to talk to you when you were first introduced to me. i wanted to hear more of your stories, i wanted to be even just a small part of your life, y/n.”

“i was so afraid of telling you because i know you fear this the most. you fear feeling things, you fear giving and risking all that you have, you fear the warmth of what love could give, y/n. i know that and you’ve always reminded me about that.” he continued.

“then why are you telling me this now?” i said, almost shouting because of how frustrated i am with what he’s saying. “why are you telling me you love me after leaving me, jake?”

“because,” he paused, looking both tired and frustrated of what’s happening right now. “because i can never get over you. i tried but i can’t and maybe because i do not even want to, y/n. i hate—”

“i fear commitments, jake.”

he looked at you, stared even, and smiled as if he just got reminded of a detail he forced himself to set aside.

still looking at you, with eyes begging you to let out what you really do feel, he said, “you can take your time. please, just allow me to—”

“i fear commitments, jake,” you repeated what you said. “what’s so hard to understand—”

“then just have me by your side, like old times, please.”

#siwoline #enhypen and heartbreaks #enhypen & heartbreaks #jake #sim jaeyun #jake imagines #enhypen #enhypen jake imagines #enhypen jake #enhypen jake angst #sim jaeyun imagines #enhypen jake au #enhypen au #enhypen imagines #enhypen oneshots #enhypen scenarios #enhypen drabbles

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cuddlesslut · 3 years

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Part FOUR : Chance Encounters

Atsumu x fem reader, Suna x fem reader, Hinata x fem reader

Tags: slight NSFW, Heavy Angst.

A/N: so this will NOT be the last chapter there will be more. Just like there are more choices now lol, don’t be shy to tell me who you route for. Also let me know if y’all want more NSFW I’m chill with writing it . ALSO slight canon divergence the timing on when Hinata comes back from Brazil is different, obviously in the Manga he’s only gone for two years. In this story it is longer. Hinata isn’t on MSBY yet. Also we are only caught up on 5 months since the dreaded birthday.

Part Three: Memories

Part Five: Friends

You spent your birthday in some hotel room. Sitting on the plush bed still in your dress not bothering to change your curl in to a fetal position as sobs raked through you. Your whole world crashed down on you everything you knew was a lie. Your phone lit up with one last birthday message from some distant relative. You see the time it’s now one in the morning you’ve been laying here for hours you can’t understand how you have any liquid in your body left to cry but still tears trail down your cheeks as you look at your lock screen. It’s a photo from three Christmas’s ago. Atsumu held you close from behind as you pose in front of a festive Christmas tree. Your eyes are shut tight from laughter as the setter places a kiss to your cheek bone, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. This was your favorite photo of the two of you, it always showed the realness in this candid shot. You remember laughing so hard from some cheesy joke he had just whispered in your ear. Your heart twists at the photo, a moment of anger slices through you. Was any of it real? You fling your phone at the wall effectively shattering the screen. You scream into the pillow. You wish you could feel numb to all of the emotions. But no ones that lucky. You aren’t sure when you feel asleep but you wake to find the remnants of tears stuck to your face. You move to the bathroom. You look like death. Your face is pale and eyes swollen and red. Your body aches from the fitful sleep you had. You grab a quick shower before putting on your comfiest pajamas and lay back down. All the energy is drained you look for your phone before remembering your fit of rage last night groan. You switch on the TV for some form of distraction but the gods must really hate you as it opens to a sports channel and you see him in all of his intensity standing on the volleyball court. Part of your brain pleads to change the channel but you must be a masochist as you watch him in all his usual glory. He commands the stadium as he goes up to serve. He looks perfectly fine like you hadn’t just walked out of his life. Like he hadn’t just ripped your world to shreds. You're finally turning the television off sitting in the silence thinking of the memories of your home. You ordered some takeout trying to settle the ache in your stomach. The food tasted bland, everything has lost its edge. The bed offers no comfort. The sunlight offers no warmth. It’s not long before you fall into another depression nap.

Waking up late in the evening you can’t stop your mind from making a stupid decision. But you miss him. You just want to see him. That’s how you end up outside of the door that leads to the home you shared with him. Trying to work up the courage to enter. His car was in his usual spot so you know he's here. A bitter thought run through you at the thought that while you were here he couldn’t be bothered to be home before two am at the earliest, yet the first night gone and here he is at home at ten o’clock. Silently you open the door. It was a mistake. You don’t make it even completely through the threshold before you hear the obnoxious moan and grunts, the sound of skin slapping. It makes you sick “OH Miya-San!” You hear some woman bellow out. You feel nauseous. You hurry out the door trying you best not to cause any noise to interrupt the activities in the house. You bend over you feel as though you’ll throw up right there on the spot. After calming yourself you make a way to a convenience store picking up a bottle of wine before heading back to you hotel room. There’s no way you’ll make it through the night sober.

The next morning you clean your self up before heading to the bank and clear out your joint account. Normally you’d feel bad taking the money but this cash was saved for your wedding and that would never happen now. You stopped by the phone store getting your own account not wanting anymore strings attached to the player. You spend the rest of your morning looking for a small affordable apartment. Luckily you were able to find one with in distance of your school and a reasonable price. It’s now the afternoon and you have to rush not wanting to be late for your class. Although it probably wouldn’t have made a difference if you had missed today, you barely pay attention. You find yourself back with the hotel walls.

You feel completely and utterly alone. You want nothing more to call your best friend or stop by Samu’s shop and cry on his shoulder while you eat some comfort food. But there is hesitation Suna was Atsumu's friend before he was yours, and you'll probably break down in tears just looking at Osamu he was his damn twin for heavens sake. What were you to them you wonder. You only got close to them because of the setter. Part of you wanted to believe that they cared about you and all of those friendships would still be there but you couldn’t. How could they want you around. You really question your place in their lives. It’s hard to trust in anything you had also believed Atsumu loved you and would never hurt you, yet that much was proven untrue. It's hard to trust in anything you feel or know. Another reason is your afraid of all of the memories you shared with them Atsumu ever present in those moments. You don’t want to think about him any more. You don’t want any remnants of that man In your life. While you want to believe Suna would be there for you, that he’d choose you. It was not a risk you were ready to take. You don’t think you could survive another heartbreak. It’s better to leave things as is, to cherish the good memories and not risk tainting them with pain.

It’s been two months since your birthday. You’ve moved into a quaint apartment. You got a job working at a little cafe to pay for rent. Between work and studying for your degree you try to keep yourself busy. It’s hard being on your own. You try to distract yourself with the things that brought you joy. Some days are better than others but all in all everything still hurts. Graduation is only a couple of months away so at least there’s something to look forward too. There are moments that come quite often that you miss your friends but you can’t bring yourself to reach out still untrusting. You look back sometimes and wonder where the lies stopped. You avoid everything that has to do his Atsumu Miya. Even the sight of a simple volleyball brings distress.

Three and half months later the cosmos played another prank on you. It was just another Friday afternoon and you were working in the cafe. You had just helped a young beautiful woman at the counter. She seemed so familiar but you couldn’t quit place it. You could see a puzzled look on her face. Then it hit you. You knew exactly who this woman was. She was the one with your ex fiancé at the restaurant that fateful night. The realization must have struck her too. Her eyes grew wide with worry. Although you weren’t expecting what she did next.

“I AM SO SORRY,” she basically yelling as she bows in front of you. “ I’m so sorry for the part I played in your pain.” She continues. You can tell she is really distressed. You coworkers and a few costumers look at the spectacle. Hating all of the attention now directed toward the both, you beg her to please stand.

“I need you to understand I had no idea, I would never have gone for a taken man.”

You sighed and sent a look to your coworker that you were going to take a quick break. “Would you like a cup of coffee,” you ask her. You never thought That you’d be sitting having coffee with the mistress of the only man you ever loved yet here you are. There’s an awkward silence for a moment. You don’t rush things you can see she’s also having a hard time trying to figure out where to start. You take a sip of your coffee as she finally speaks.

“My names Yuki,” she states.

“YN ,” you offer back.

“Well, umm YN I just want to say I am so sorry for wh-” you cut her off holding up your hand.

“You said you didn’t know, correct?” You send a glance at her raising your eyebrow. She nods.

“Are you still with him?” She sits up straight.

“Absolutely not,” she states with conviction “after you left I asked him what just happed and he explained who you were and I left.. well not with out dumping my drink in face" she gave a little giggle.

“Ha! Oh I wish I could have seen that,” you laughed picturing him drenched in the restaurant. “In that case you have nothing to apologize for, you are a victim of Atsumu’s selfishness as well. I’m sorry he put you through that.” She gave a sad smile you could see she was hurt too. The two of you spent a few more moments in each other’s comfort discussing the facts of his affair. It hurts to know that he had a legitimate relationship with Yuki but a part of you was glad to know. It was a small piece of closure to know how deep his transgressions ran, knowing it wasn’t just sex hurt even more. But it furthered your stance that he didn’t love you and if he had at one point the love had faded on his part some time ago. You spent the rest of your shift plagued with thoughts of you past.

After your shift you went home to change before heading out to your local bar. In your time alone you had taken solace in drinking with strangers. After dressing in an appealing yet comfortable outfit you headed out. You wanted to feel comfy and relaxed but that didn’t stop you from wanting to look nice. In your past visits it wasn’t uncommon for men to try and talk you up and while you did indulge in the compliments none had succeeded in getting you to return home with them. There had yet to be a guy who fully kept your attention away from your former lover.

You found your favorite spot at the bar, just far enough from the blaring music and smokers. You smiled at the bartender before ordering your usual. You sat there letting the liquor relax you as you listened to what music the DJ was playing tonight. Normally you stick to just drinks but after the day you had you need something to take the edge off. After downing a shot of tequila you notice a presence next to you.

“Is this seat taken,” the man smiled at you. You had never seen him here before and you know damn well you would have noticed him before. Although he wasn’t a giant like most of the men you knew in your life, he wasn’t excessively short either you could tell he’d still stand taller than you. You couldn’t lie the man was extremely defined and muscular, you swear his tanned thighs that you saw peeking from under his khaki shorts were bigger than your face. His skin was tanned you can tell from pleanty of time in the sun. He had strong jaw line but his most prominent feature was this bright mop of orange hair he tried to hide under a ball cap. He had a bright smile that reached his alluring brown eyes. It was safe to say he was very handsome. He tilts his head to the side a little smirk reaching his lips. It then you realized you had never responded and just been sitting here gawking.

“Um no it’s not uhh go ahead,” you stammered out feeling a blush creep on to your cheeks at your response. What is this feeling why are you acting like a school girl.

He takes the seat next to you ordering a beer then turning to you reaching out his hand. “ Shoyo Hinata,” he states.

You accept his hand giving it a light shake. “ YN LN,” you responded. “ I’ve never seen you here before Hinata-San,” you prod wanting to know about the stranger.

“Just Shoyo is fine,”he gives you another dazzling smile. “I actually just moved back to Japan,” he states “this is my first time at this bar , but with customers as beautiful as you I’ll definitely have to come more often.” Ohh hes smooth you think. You let out a light chuckle at his compliment although it’s fairly simple compared to some of lines you’ve heard it definitely has the desired affect on you.

“Well then Shoyo where are you traveling from?” Question not wanting the convo to stop.

“I just got back from Brazil,” he mused that signature smile never far from his face.

“Wow Brazil! That’s so far was it hard to be so far from home?”you questioned.

The conversation with Hinata flowed effortlessly. Pleanty of laughes shared as he told you countless stories of his time in South America. Being in conversation with him is like talking to the sun it’s so bright and happy. He does eventually mention playing beach volleyball and for a moment you mind thinks of your ex but it then you realized it was the first time since Sho made his appearance that you had thought of the setter. It felt nice to finally have your mind clearing from the twin. As of recent at any mention of volleyball you would have ended the convo making an excuse to leave, yet you didn’t want to, plus beach volleyball is completely different than regular volleyball you reason.

Time passes by as well do several drinks. You are by no means drunk just a little tipsy. Over the course of your talking the space between Hinata started to narrow. Right now you were so close you could smell his cologne and the slight minty scent of his breath. His hand caressed your elbow. Your breath hitched when he finally leaned in “do wanna get out of here?,” you can see his iris’s darken ever so slightly. “We can go back to my place,” he continued.

Several thoughts ran threw your mind in that moment. One, you were nervous, you hadnt been with anyone other than Atsumu. Two, you were sure you weren’t ready for a relationship but it was just sex it’s not like he’s asking on a romantic vacation. And three you wanted nothing more than to feel his lips against yours. “Absolutely.”

That’s how you got to where you are now. You barely made it through the threshold before Hinata had you pinned to the door. You were locked in a searing kiss. It was like he was stealing the air from your lungs. His hands roamed your figure before slipping under your blouse. “You are absolutely gorgeous,” he breaths before pressing a kiss under your jaw trailing down you neck. You place you hands on his shoulders trying to ground yourself. You let out a loud moan as he gives a bite to your shoulder while grabbing a hand full of you breast. He smiled into you neck with pleasure from the sounds you made. The two of you stumbled a bit as you started making your way to his room shedding clothes left and right. The door closed to the bedroom and you were ready for a mindblowing night.

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hope-to-hell · 3 years

Note

Ok ok I surrender and am giving in to the Brühl hell. (As much as I can with how busy I've been and the next weeks will still continue to be) So here's a request:

Zemo and voyeurism. Him asking you to put on a show for him, maybe including some pillow grinding

@septicace darling. Welcome to Brühl hell. The Unseen Thread. Helmut Zemo x Reader. Smut, fingering, voyeurism, some angst, blood, wounds, masochistic Zemo, flagrant semicolon abuse. Why don’t you put on a little show to take his mind off things?

Zemo is cold and hard and cruel; he’s horrible and hateful and maybe one or two of those are true— he’s certainly hard and you know how he loves to watch you struggle (loves to hear you whine and whimper, making all those little sounds he takes inside himself and presses into diamonds; he gives them back with his tongue in your mouth, little jewels strung on your spittle thick and needy, and says darling how you spoil me)— but christ if his eyes aren’t nearly glowing. They’re black and red like jaspers, like lava cooling in the air and he will burn you up.

Darling, he says, my precious thing— all the little veins in his sclera bursting, bruises rising and he’s talking thickly through a split lip and a broken nose— distract me. Everything about him hurts; everything will be aches upon aches upon aches in the morning but he’s learned to love this: the adrenaline high bleeding into pain, tying his nerves into knots and setting his blood afire.

Dance for me. It’s meaning under meaning; he means the first dance, the primal dance, the flesh-on-flesh writhing of the ultimate distraction. He means I want to see you come for me. I want to see your fingers disappear inside yourself. Make it pretty enough for me and I might give you my cock. None of this is said out loud; it’s all in the lift of his brow, in the tiny quirk of his lips that sends fresh trails of blood sliding down his chin.

It’s a little awkward finding the rhythm, but that’s not where he passes judgment. He is watchful of your eyes on him, that unseen line between he and you, gossamer-fine and yet unbreakable. When he sees you slipping it’s a correction, a tiny change of course charted by his tsk that’s almost unheard. Eyes on me. Don’t you dare look away. And he gives you the same; he burns holes through your skin to the bone. He can see every vein, every capillary, every bit of fascia and muscle, and the sweet slick blood that pours through you.

Don’t hide. Not from me. Never me. He is the only safe thing here, a little silver shelter from the storm. It’s strange how much he makes you think of fire when the fan shifts air across the room and you can smell him, the real him, the oak and sweet water hidden under the blood and muck of a job gone bad. Echo Scorpion taught him ferocity, then adaptability, then anguish of the worst kind. But prison taught him endurance; it taught him how to bear the deep ache that’s somehow more difficult than the wounds left by bullet or blade. It taught him how to find the weakest parts of himself that could no longer be hidden by his team or a lover, and how to excise them. But darling. There’s always that little soft weak underbelly. Every man has one. And you’re mine.

It’s not the romance of moonlit dances on the terrace, of long walks through endless gardens; it’s not the silence of new snow and the way he’d watch the world disappearing under white. But it’s something, and it’s real. It’s as real as the way he sits in his chair with his scraped knuckles gripping white. It’s as real as the smears he leaves on his cock when he takes it in his bloody hand. And it’s as real as the breathless broken-rib heave of his chest when he just can’t be still, when his body follows the memory of you hot and slick around him. You and all your wonders. How you make me forget.

Forgetting is sweet and yet it hurts with the dull ache of bruises and the sharp bite of breaks; he’ll hole up in this little suite for a while but now— now— it’s all about the filthy wet sounds of your fingers plunging deep. It’s about the way your lips part on a gasp that’s open and honest, the first real true sound he’s heard in days. There’s no artifice, no calculation, only pure unfiltered need, and he knows. He knows because he’s Helmut, because he never would’ve lived this long without the ability to tease someone apart until they’re nothing but their writhing filthy core. He sees, and knows, and christ how he burns.

He watches when pleasure drives you to your knees, when it tips you back and finds your fingers probing at your core. He watches and says open up and show me by the barest shift of bloody fingers. And in that shivering aftermath of jelly-legs and the twitching clench of your core around the memory of a cock you wished you had inside you, he says more. Now more. Give me everything and what can you do except agree? What can you do but gasp and shudder through your sensitivity to give him an unbroken line from his gaze to all your filthy little secrets?

You’ll have to do the work, because I can’t. And so he calls you to him; so he moves his hand to guide you home. And if even this hurts him, this slow rocking against him with your flesh still twitching, even if it hurts— it’s worth it for the way he tips his head to let you lick the lifeblood from his throat. It’s worth it for the tiny sigh he makes when he comes inside, faster than he’d like but oh how you’ll keep him there until he’s hard again— and in the moments after when his mind is blank for once, he smiles his crooked smile.

#daniel brühl #my fic #helmut zemo #helmut zemo smut #helmut zemo fic #baron zemo #baron zemo smut #baron zemo fic #mcu #mcu smut #mcu fic #helmut zemo x you #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo x you #baron zemo x reader

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ephemerlskies · 4 years

Text

constant craving | jjk

⇢ pairing: jungkook x reader

⇢ genre: drabble series, angst, unrequited love, idiot!jungkook, idiot!oc, basically everyone's an idiot

⇢ word count: 1.7k

⇢ warnings: unreciprocated pining, explicit language, themes of hopeless romanticism (!!), (slightly) unedited

⇢ summary: your best friend decided to confide in his best friend on how to win his girlfriend back after a fight. you tell him exactly what to say to her, however he is unaware that what you were saying was a sincere delivery of your once undeclared love.

♪ playlist: constant craving - k.d. lang, bad religion - frank ocean, misunderstood - lucky daye, neu roses - daniel caesar ♪

╰ series index: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 (final)

a/n: hello my little loves!! this was definitely ;) not ;) an impulse write and release ;) ;) sorry for being so inactive lately. i've been focusing on myself (i know how cliche that sounds but it's true). anyway, enjoy this incredibly angsts fic i wrote at 2 am for absolutely no reason at all other than i'm an emotional sadist and a masochist. love u!!!! <3

part one: control

He was coming over for the third time this week. Third time. Three times is two more times than he'd gone over his girlfriend's house, but you did everything in your power to convince your inconvincible heart that it meant nothing. Friends see each other more than their girlfriends, right?

It was making a racket in your chest, that muscle that strained much harder for a man who had his pumping for the girl of his dreams.

But, he was coming over for the third time this week.

The first time he said this visit ranked, in his words, 'out of the question' on the degree of necessary that he come over and show you Star Wars. You played a good game of reluctance when asking if it was the entire series or just one movie, and in your head, you hoped to God it was the entire series. For him, you'd watch the series four times over if it meant you sat through this outrageously nerdy movie next to the even more outrageously nerdy love of your life.

The second time was particularly funny to you. He called while you were cooking dinner, almost as if he was in stride with you in a way that was an ounce too synchronized to be platonic, and asked if you were whipping up a delicious meal that he could mooch off of. Knowing he was a terrible cook, plus the fact that when he begged so politely you felt your posture unbind into to a puddle, you more than happily obliged.

This time, the circumstances made it harder to say yes, but not yet impossible. And it was a second or two before you heard that knock on the front door that had your once pounding heart come to a complete halt. It was still, waiting for you to make a decision.

Since it was Jungkook, of course, you'd say yes. And your heart would continue beating. Beating, as in sending sharp jabs that stained the inside of your chest with bruises. Beating, as in when the time came, the final blow of your constantly craving heart would devastate your entire being.

"Thank you so much, ___. God, I'm such an idiot." He walked in with all the confidence of someone who was a bit too familiar with your company. Jungkook's feet reintroducing themselves to your floors in the same manner as he would the night before, and the night before that, and the countless nights you kept secured in your collection of memories. As if he belonged there; as if he was coming home.

"An idiot with a great friend." That last word nearly withdrew the bile you had been ever so gracefully holding in.

"Yeah yeah." And he was comfortable with that same word, 'friend', that deepened your bruises into scars. He had absolutely no clue. Idiot. "I can't believe I broke up with her. I was so angry and acted on that instead of logic. Fuck, why would I do that to myself? I love her."

"Well, you never know. Maybe..." You hated yourself for not resisting the selfish temptation that was about to fall from your lips. The words you've been internally screaming to him to leave her and fall in love with you instead were diluted to something much more tame when your tongue formed them into sound.

"Maybe it was for the best. Maybe you guys are better off apart? To, um, grow or whatever."

"No." He said that with too much certainty and too little hesitance and just enough conviction to sink another wound in the organ exhausting itself in your chest. "She's the one. I know it"

"Jungkook."

He looked at you with all the earnestness of a man who carved his utmost and unchanging dedication to her. A look that any love-induced sap would kill for. A look he would never direct towards you.

Your eyes weren't under your control as of now. The glue that held them to his eyes, his lips, his hair, and every other part of him you dreamed of was more than a marathoned yearning. It was an adhesive twelve years in the making, not showing the slightest sign of wearing away.

"The way you love is something to die for..." And then he smiled at you, but still not for you.

You were utterly crushed.

"She'll take you back in a heartbeat. I mean, she has a brain, so of course, she will. Anyone would."

I would.

"I hope you're right." The couch was four feet wide at most, but there was an impressively vast space between you and the man who was sitting next to you. "Can you tell me what to say? You know I suck with words."

"Uh... Yeah. Of course. Anything."

If breaking hearts were a crime, then Jungkook would have much to atone for. You'd be convicted as a willing accomplice for holding on this long. Up until this point, you've let every small glance, every shy smile he sent your way, every eyebrow twitch conveying a meaning only you knew well enough to retrieve him from whatever awkward situation he needed rescuing from, every accidentally brush of his hand against yours, every purposeful embrace that lasted so long your tears stained his right shoulder string you into a knot of miserable, unrequited love.

And up until this point, you had hope he would choose you.

Each ring of his phone worked in tandem to reduce your undying devotion to Jungkook into a compressed seed of denial.

I don't love him. He's just my best friend.

Your pulse pronounced itself loudly in your ears, as a not-so-gentle reminder of how much you hated him for loving him. Somehow, your heart beat faster. Then again, anything was possible when it came to him. Anything except the miraculous event of him hanging up, declaring his love for you, and living in the land of happily ever after that only existed in your deluded imagination.

"Hey Irene! I'm so fucking glad you picked up."

He gave you that look. With the arched eyebrow, his widened doe eyes, and the slightly hung jaw, you read each feature better than words and nodded to signal you knew exactly what he needed.

"I'm sorry about what happened." You said, in a whisper, though the deflated volume of your words carried no implication of the unbridled sincerity sealed in them.

"I'm sorry about what happened." He repeated, laying down that same Irene-contrived smile on you that fostered a smile of your own, knowing fully it surfaced as a reflex from hearing her voice.

"It might be crazy to try this, because I don't know how you feel."

If the thing people say about your life flashing before your eyes during encounters with death, then you were sure your heart was about to consume its last pulse of blood. The scenes of you and Jungkook spending your Friday nights when you were a ripe city dweller in your shoebox apartment doing everything and nothing at all had convinced you that you were certainly about to go into cardiac arrest.

"It might be crazy to say this, because I don't know how you feel." Jungkook was so many things, however emotionally perceptive was not one of them.

"But I love you. I have loved you since the moment I met you." Those words tasted sweet despite fermenting in a chamber of your heart you kept preserved since, as you said, the very moment you met him.

"But I love you. I have loved you since the moment I met you."

"No matter what, I'd choose you. It doesn't matter how mad I am or how annoyed I am, I will choose you because if I know anything in this damn, cruel, punishing world, then I know that I'd rather be angry, annoyed, or anything else with you than without you."

He repeated your words, but dehydrated all of your sentiment from them. You were left with the remnants of the feelings, and none of the words from him you were so desperately starved of. He took them right from your throat, along with the very breath that seemed to keep returning because of Jungkook, molded them into his own, into a sequence of sounds that were meant for Irene. You were left hungry, breathless, and forever wanting.

Irene must have been smiling right about now. Who wouldn't smile hearing those things from someone like Jungkook?

"Because with you, I'm complete. My story can't end if I'm incomplete. Please, choose me back. Complete me. That's all I ask."

Then, you began to ask yourself another question.

If you make me complete, Jungkook, will my story ever end?

You knew the answer to that. You swore your heart beat in a morse code that told you everything you needed to know.

"Because with you, I'm complete. My story can't end if I'm incomplete. Please, choose me back. Complete me. That's all I ask."

Jungkook looked to you, before Irene could form the proper response, and smiled. It was the third time he smiled at you today because of course, you were keeping track. You knew it was his own physically linguistic version of a 'thank you' or a 'you're a life saver' but somehow, to you, it translated to something similar to a 'goodbye'.

Your legs miraculously rose and carried you to the back porch. The sun was just beginning to dip in the horizon, proliferating a warm orange that was about to subside to an indistinguishable and unpredictable dusk. Whatever color came after the sunset, you were ready to accept it, to memorize how it reflected against a world without the possibility of him. And even though the night will always embody undertones of orange, it was time to focus on the colors around it.

It was time to let go.

a/n: i might make this into a drabble series!!! if anyone would be interested in that please let me know :)) thank you for readinggggg <3

#bangtanarmynet #btsgoldnet #ficswithluv #bts fanfic #bts angst #bts writing #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #bts drabble #jungkook drabble #jungkook #constant craving #rubycoast

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pennyserenade · 3 years

Text

tags: nameless oc x javier peña, nameless oc x javier pena, angst rating: e ( explicit ) warnings: smut, language. word count: 3k+ summary: marriage requires sacrifice; theirs takes a little more than most notes: i definitely did steal the title of this chapter from the original scenes from a marriage and you know what? i’d do it again. anyways, thanks for reading and i hope you enjoy this installment! if you want to be tagged in this series, just shoot me a message or fill out my taglist form that’s available on my masterlist (pinned post). original gif by: @javierpcna

the art of sweeping things under the rug

scene two, scenes from a marriage

Wedding bands can vary in weight depending on the sort of week you’re having, she finds. Conveniently light, sometimes--nearly invisible, as if intertwined with oneself--and then, impossibly dense at others. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, she tells herself, but she’s on no throne, and there is no crown. It’s just her and Javi, and the elopement that tied them together.

The ‘70s had faded silently into the ‘80, and it’s easy to feel in love when the future looks promising. Well--maybe promising is too generous of a word for what they had felt then; perhaps uncertain is better. It wasn’t the sort of uncertain that fills one with dread either, the kind that leaves them in the dark with no flashlight. No, it was the uncertainty that felt good; the sort that made them think whatever was offered in the decade they’d not yet painted with plans was going to be great. It was promises of catching Pablo, promises of a promotion, promises of a proper marriage in the country they’d come to love in their own separate and shared ways. It was realists sharing one optimistic view in a world that seemed so void of them, and now, as she sits at the dinner table in her apartment, looking at the thin band on her finger, she wonders if they’d rushed into it

Her mother told her a mal tiempo, buena cara. In bad times, keep a good face. Just grin and bare it, wait for the uneasiness of the life they were living now to trickle into the marriage she anticipated, but she isn’t sure what sort of marriage she was anticipating. She had understood that there were going to be hardships, but she had welcomed them then because she thought they were going to be hardships they would endure together. They weren’t doing a very good job at the together.

It isn’t that she doesn’t love him. She has an unwavering love for him, but the absence of his being in her life has begun to create a festering wound in her heart. She’s torn between asking him to never leave again—to quit it all and stay wrapped in bed with her, pretending the horrors outside of their utopia didn’t exist—and saying nothing at all. Grinning and bearing.

He’s a good man. A great man, actually. He’s gentle, funny. A little too stressed for his own good most of the time, and a bit grumpy until he settles somewhere, but he’s exactly what she needs, and everything that could break her if he so wanted it, too. And she knows he never would want that, but she isn’t sure he knows he can either, because if he did, then he was tiptoeing dangerously close to that line.

Sighing, she shakes her head, dismissing it all.

The afternoon has begun to fade into the evening, and the cool summer wind blows a gentle breeze into her home. Javier said he wouldn’t be working late at the Embassy tonight, and she had told him she’d cook dinner, but the eagerness that had overtaken her then had been worn by the sight of his wedding band on her dresser. It was the thing that made hers seem so heavy. The thing that made her want to cry, really, and it was so silly, but she could not help the angry ball of frustration and confusion that formed at the sigh of it, or the way it had turned into the lump in her throat.

She yearns for the days when it was just fucking—the way they hadn’t exchanged anything personal so nothing could be personal. She misses the way he would call her, flustered, at all hours of the night and the way she’d always open her door for him, and they’d kiss passionately and fuck roughly and explore each other over and over.

But really, she doesn’t want that, either. She doesn’t know what she wants.

She hears the jangle of keys, hears the latch open, but she doesn’t turn to meet him. Instead, she’s lit a cigarette, and she’s staring out the window, looking at how the sun shadows the town. She puffs away at the cigarette and he says nothing when he enters. He just throws his keys on the counter and then moves quietly over to her, hands falling to her tense shoulders. She hates the way she leans into him too; how effortlessly the anger ebbs.

She looks up at him, and he smiles gently. He looks worn, as though he’s fighting something that she won’t learn until the early hours of the morning, when he’s spent from spent from sex and the general excitement that paints all of his days. Javi is interesting in that way—not emotionally stunted, but hesitant.

“You didn’t make dinner?” he asks while pushing her hair away from her neck, pressing his lips there quickly. He nuzzles against her for a beat, taking in her scent, feeling the warmth of her against him in gratitude. He is spent, and he’s wanted nothing more than to come here. Doesn’t even really care that she’s not made him dinner, just said it to hear her.

“I didn’t,” she responds, more softly than she likes. Her heart is tender for him, kind naturally because his being warrants it. She wants to yell, but she can’t because she loves him so goddamn much.

“S’okay,” he mumbles. Javi moves away from her, slipping off his jacket and sitting it on the chair. “We can order something later if you want.”

She nods, putting out the cigarette. “When do you have to go back in?”

“Six tomorrow morning. What about you?”

“I took tomorrow off.”

His eyebrows furrowed, “¿Por qué?”

“Because,” she shrugs. “Only so much depressing material you can write until it starts to wear you down.”

“You know I said—“

She cuts him off. “I don’t want to live off your paycheck. I know what you said but I’m happy doing what I do. Just—“ she pauses, struggling to think. “—not all of us can give our lives over to the cause all the time.”

She meant that, meant that entirely, and knows he feels it by the way his features settle into a look of pure nothingness. Stoned face, giving nothing. She’s sorry for it, but can’t say it. He doesn’t ask for her to.

“Cruelty doesn’t look so good on you, baby,” he tries to tease, but it comes out flat and serious. She bites at her lip, and turns her head to the window, back to the city, trying not to cry.

“Are you angry with me?”

He’s a good detective, isn’t he?

“Javi, I don’t want to fight.”

“You are angry with me.”

She sighs heavily. “No, I’m not.”

“You are, and I wish you’d just say why.”

“It doesn’t even matter, Javi,” she dismisses it with a simple shrug of her shoulders. “You’ve been at work all day and—“

“Is it because I work so much?” he interrupts.

“Goddamnit, Javier, I’m not fucking angry with you!” she shouts. Shouts like she is angry with him. Silence ensues and she wants to crawl in a hole and disappear completely.

“You left your wedding ring,” she admits quietly, half out of remorse, half because she can’t stand the way he’s looked down at the table and not looked back up. Or how he sits like he’s torn between fleeing and staying. “But it really doesn’t matter, and I don’t know why it bothers me so much because I know you...you don’t mean to hurt me.”

“No,” he shakes his head. He still does not look at her, focusing on a line in the table. “I just have a lot on my mind.”

“Javi, I said it didn’t matter.”

“But it does.” He finally looks up. “It matters if it makes you angry with me. I left it because I forgot, that’s all.”

“I said it doesn’t matter.”

“You never fucking fight me.”

“There’s no reason for it,” she replies.

“There is reason for it.”

“Javi, please. I don’t get you for very long and this is not how I want to spend it.”

“Stop doing that.”

“What?” Confusion paints her features.

“Running from it. Fight with me.”

“Why do you want to fight so fucking bad? When you’d turn into such a fucking masochist.”

She feels that lump in her throat again, feels the way it wants to give way and lets it all go the way he’s requesting. Fills the bitterness creep into her system the way she hates.

“I’m not a masochist,” he replies, “You’ve obviously got shit to say, so say it.”

“Fuck you, Javi,” she chokes, blinking back tears now. She definitely did not want this.

She gets up to move, but he grasps onto her wrist.

“Don’t run away,” he repeats. He’s angry too.

“Let me go,” she spits out spitefully. He has such a loose hold on her that she doesn’t even need his permission to escape from it, but it’s the concept more than anything. He does let go, but she doesn’t move.

“I didn’t want to fight with you.”

Her cheeks begin to heat with anger, and it’s the worst sort of anger, the kind that makes her sob because she can’t contain it. It’s an anger that feels unfair, and she can never beat it; the tears begin to fall rapidly.

Sympathy tugs at his heart; his steely resolution falls as quickly as it has come up. “I know,” he acknowledges. “We’ve got to fight, sometimes, though.”

“I know, but I don’t want to. I only see you two days a week and I don’t want to spend one of them yelling at you,” she confesses. “All I want you, Javi. Is that so much to ask?”

It’s his turn for shame to fill him. He knows why that can’t be—knows it’s because there’s things she can’t know and having her in a building full of DEA agents comprises the both of them. She’s in danger just wearing that wedding band on her finger; God forbid any of those fucking narcs ever found out they were married. He shouldn’t have done it, married her, but he could not help it; a sort of selfishness that was not uncharacteristic had pushed the boundaries within him, and he decided the good outweighed the bad. But, maybe it didn’t.

He stands and envelops her frame in a hug. She sighs into his chest and wraps her arms tightly around him. She only wants to make him happy and to be happy with him. Why did it seem so hard? When this all began, it felt so easy, so nice and now it felt hard.

Javier kisses her softly, just a peck and she feels lighter because of it. As he goes to pull away, she pulls him closer again, pressing their lips together. He responds, a hand resting on her hip and the other on the small of her back, holding her against him. She initiates a deeper kiss, swiping her tongue against his lower lip. They stand like this for a few minutes, kissing and basking in the presence of each other the way they’d both desired.

It is Javi who pulls back from their kiss, needing air and wanting to take it further—just not here. In the beginning of their relationship, when it was just fucking, sex felt something they had to do everywhere; on the couch, on the table, on the counter, in the shower, on the ground, even in front of the window. And they still did that, still let spontaneity sway them, but they’d settled into more comfortable routines too. He liked fucking her in their bed, the one thing they always agreed was undeniably both of theirs wherever it resided. It was their bed so as long as they both fell there to sleep.

He doesn’t even have to speak, just nods his head in the general direction, before she’s tugging him along.

She sits down on the bed and peers up at him, eyes still red from the tears. He feels awful about it, but doesn’t have it in him to say it. Can’t, for some reason. It’s lost between his brain and his tongue, but it finds its way out through the gentle way he presses her onto her back and lets his lips kiss her everywhere. He kisses her face, her lips, then her neck, and then he goes further, pushing her shirt up and pressing his plush lips against the newly exposed flesh. Then he then he’s undoing her pants, kissing the spot where her panties usually begin. He offers her a mischievous grin, and she smiles back at him.

“You really didn’t want to fight, did you?”

She shakes her head. “No, you fuck, I didn’t,” she laughs.

He continues his trail down her body, and she lifts her hips so he can remove her pants. Javier presses his lips on her hips, on the flesh directly above the pubic bone. Then, he presses them on the inside of her thighs, teasingly slow when he gets closer to her core, and she whines out of protest when he spots. Her eyes flicker down to see why, and when her eyes met his, he presses his tongue against her clit. A moan escapes her and she grasps onto the bedspread. Javi is encouraged by this, swiping his tongue against her folds, dipping his tongue into her, tasting her—really, truly admiring every part of her—before pressing his tongue back onto her clit. He begins to suck gently, and she writhes without control beneath him. A trained expert at this now, he anchors her down by wrapping an arm around each thigh, holding them in place.

“Javi—“ she manages to say, just as the tension begins to build in her stomach. “Oh Javi, baby, faster.”

He obliges and she is quick to find her release in a matter of seconds. Javi remains in between her thighs, licking up her arousal. He’s gotten good at this, knows the way she likes it, knows how to do it even when she can’t tell him.

She carts a hand through his hair, tugging gently, and he removes his lips from her finally. Despite her worn state, she’s quick to rise and meet him, uncaring about her arousal on his face as she presses their lips together once more. He kisses her back with more need than he previously had, his jeans feel tighter and more constricting than usual.

“I want to ride you,” she whispers against his lips, and he nods eagerly. Her fingers work at his belt, and then the button of his jeans, hardly making it past the zipper before she slides her hand into his pants and palms his already hard member. He winces against her lips and she can’t help but grin; this is her Javi. This is the marriage she wants.

“Te amo,” she says, beginning to tug at his jeans. He assists her, pushing them down all the way.

“Take off your shirt,” he demands, tugging at the fabric. She obeys him, throwing the shirt in the same place his pants fell, before he tugs her closer to him. A gasp falls from her lips as she mounts him, the warmth of his length agonizing so close to her heat. She reaches between them, lining his cock up to her entrance. Eyes connect as she fills herself with him, and his mouth falls open, desperate to moan but too choked by the feeling of her around him. She moves slowly, not wanting to release the warmth of him yet in favor of forming a steady pace to ride him. Javi, however, is growing increasingly aroused beneath her, and can’t help the way he guides her on his cock. “Please,” he begs, brown eyes dark with desire. She nods, and they move together, her hips following his hands instructions.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, watching the way he slides in and out of her. “I’m not going to last much longer, baby.”

Distracted by her own desire, she merely nods his confession, grinding herself on him until she fills the beginnings of another orgasm, the sweet release inches away. He doesn’t lift her from himself now, wanting to savor this feeling for a few moments longer. “Te amo,” he finally responds back, a deep groan releasing at the way she squeezes around him. She grinds against him, and he lets her, allowing his finger to undo the bra they’d both been too eager to take off as she does. It falls slowly down her chest, and as soon as it exposes her nipple, he’s quick to wrap his mouth around it. This earns a throaty moan from her, and she swears her orgasm isn’t ever going to end.

He pulls the fabric down her arms completely before turning them over, never leaving her once. He is desperate now, denied his orgasm too long, and the heat is pooling viciously in his stomach. He thrusts roughly into her, a whine emitting from her lips when he does, but she lifts her hips to meet him the second time he does it.

“Faster, baby,” she encourages, and he presses his fingers into her hips so hard that he’s certain the skin will bruise as he thrusts into her for the last time.

He slides out of her, and with a few more rough tugs on his cock, he’s releasing on her stomach. He wants to lay beside her, flat and lifeless as his lugs play catch up (it’s the fucking cigarettes, but he can’t stop them), but he resists the urge. He leans towards the bed stand and grabs a handful of tissues, wiping himself and her clean of his cum. She lays still, watching him intently, a soft, appreciative smile embedding in her features.

“I miss you a lot, you know,” she says. He throws the tissues away in the bin across the room, and she takes in his frame; admires the way his back looks, the broadness of his shoulders, even his ass. He’s a good looking man, on top of everything, and she’s happy to be his wife. She just wishes it was easier.

“I do know. I miss you too.”

He slides back into bed, uncaring of his nakedness, and she uncaring of hers. He pulls her bare body against him, and she wraps a leg around her hip. She traces his lips with her finger and he takes her hand, kissing the palm of it.

He loves her, loves her so goddamn much that the guilt of the wedding ring on her dresser eats away at him. It bites and bites because the way he’s so casually lied about why he left it, acted as if it wasn’t deliberate. Doesn’t want to tell he’s afraid they’ll find out if he doesn’t, doesn’t want to have to worry about if she’s okay anymore than he does already. He calls her every night, checks in at the same time so he knows nothing is wrong, and she knows he does this, but there’s a thousand things she doesn’t see. A thousand things he doesn’t want her to see, either, like the way he left the wedding band because he’s afraid or the way he drives past her house every night before he goes to his, just to ensure it’s still there, even though he knows it is. Doesn’t want her to see the anxiety that fills him every time he hears about a bombing or the way he can’t sleep when he goes away. He wants their marriage to be perfectly normal, wants it all to be perfectly normal. Colombia deserves to be a country where marriages don’t feel this hard, and that’s all he wants to give her, but he can’t.

As she lays against him, she can feel the tension in his body, knowing by the way he holds her a little too firmly that he’s thinking about something. She wants to ask about what, but she doesn’t want to spoil the moment.

They’ve both become experts at sweeping things under the rug—at sacrificing—and neither of them knows whether it’s good or not, but they’ll continue to do it. Lie causally in order to protect, not address the pain and disorder, just for moments like this, moments that feel entirely like their own. Moments that make them feel married and dedicated to one another.

This is scene two from a marriage.

tagged: @filthybookworm

#javier peña x oc #javier peña x reader #javier pena x oc #javier pena x reader #javier pena x nameless oc #narcos fanfic #narcos fic

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animatedrapture · 4 years

Text

RINTOBER: [ Achilles' Heel ]

word count: 2,222

suna rintarō x reader

tags: ambiguous end, implied major character death, angst, implied sexual intercourse, toxic relationship, detailed pain(?)

song: achilles come down - gang of youths

a/n: HALLOWEEN SPECIAL because... death...?

a HUGE thank you, once again, to my wonderful wife, love of my life, bby @toffees-main 🥺 for proofreading the final piece and preventing me from sounding like a dumbass like, twice. also, thank you to @newfriendjen and @kaitycole for beta-reading the initial draft!

"Rin, Rintarō, I love you!" You shouted from the bleachers; a proud smile decorating your features as you cheered for him right after he'd hit the ball to the other side of the net, securing EJP Raijin another point—so close to winning.

His gaze and yours were two opposites of a pole with a pull unparalleled—a pull science can only wish to decipher. He finds you as he rotates through the set up and there's a beam in his eyes, making him break out into a grin you just know he couldn't find it in himself to reserve for later.

That day, that match—Suna Rintarō was named the MVP of the game. He owed it all to you and the swell of his heart with each cheer he heard from you; your voice distinct as if it were the only one that mattered in that whole gymnasium. Perhaps, at least that time, you truly were all that mattered to him.

But not anymore.

The first—the first was the lack of replies, the dryer replies. I love you's met with Love you's and very little effort to hide the lack of sincerity beneath. It began through texts until it was the quick, snipped tone laced with the parsimonious manner he answered you. The act of it was much like an attempt to deprive you of water until you're but withering rose in his grasp that he would rather replace than try to plant again and save.

Just how long were you willing to go without the water you needed to stay alive?

"Rin, love, I'll prepare dinner for us tonight, come home early, okay? I'm cooking your favorite!"

"I'll try," was his reply as you watched each of his hasty movements through your shared bedroom.

"I prepared you a bento, too. It's on the kitchen counter," you continued as he attempted to ignore the way you looked at him similar to the way you look when you're lost and searching for something. He hums in response, and just as he was about to reach for the door, you call out to him, "Rin, where's my goodbye kiss?" in the usual tone you would pull back then when he would forget and pepper you with kisses in retaliation, offering an apology before heading out.

He looks back at you with exasperation, "I'm late, Y/N." He doesn't wait for you to answer before he has the door shut close.

That's how you know he also forgot the food you prepared on the kitchen counter.

Foolishly, the answer to the question was that you were willing to wait until your next life for his love to drown you into bliss again. It's that answer that's disrespectful to the mystery of reincarnation—but you're everything Suna Rintarō wanted you to be; that is, if it was a fool he wanted you to be, you would play the part better than any award winning actor to have ever lived could. Even if it was a miscreant he wanted you to be, some sort of heretic to the laws of the world and the conditions of love. You'd be everything he asked of you. After all, who were you if not his other half?

Who were you if not water to shape into whatever container he put you in, right?

The second—the second was the lies that slipped past such sinful crimson lips. Oh, by the heavens, as if the lack of fondness in the timbre of his voice as he spoke to you wasn't enough to put cracks to the cemented foundation of you and him. Cruel, it's so cruel—you wonder if you're lacking somewhere, have you changed? Are you no longer diamond in the sea of glitter—? Worth not of his time nor the beating of the caged heart you thought you've acquired?

Now when he speaks, even the very sound of his voice reverberates like a sharp spear piercing through your chest without mercy—as if you're Spartan in the Battle of Thermopylae. The lies that come along with them about how training ended late again, or that he's travelling for a match again—Huh? No, you don't have to come, Y/N. I need to focus.

Did he have to lie about who he's with, what he's been doing? It's laughable. As if you wouldn't kiss away the taste of anything that lingered in his lips, if it was blood, alcohol or the lips of another girl. Rintarō, did he not know you enough to know you would surrender to his will no matter what mud followed his footsteps?

Ah, but, what would admitting such things do to his pride? Maybe it's that—or maybe he liked the way the lies were like lemon and salt to a fresh wound. You think, you never thought you could be so masochistic.

Third—the third is the sharpness of his gaze. It's the same gaze, same pair of eyes you've loved for such a long time and you fail not to love to this very moment. You're softer than clouds but now most hollow in comparison to the unacquirable stars among the cosmos—you think they're there but they're just a burst of light, something that has probably died lightyears ago.

It's like chokehold, the fourth—the fourth is like chokehold and he, the assassin. Ruthless—he's ruthless when he looks at you as you're not more than a tedious chore to him and the ring on your finger held no promise of relentless love greater than what a deity could offer.

Foolish—you're foolish. Delusion is a coping mechanism to the ones whose realities have been robbed in front of them—delusion is what you're supposed to call it when you fill your head with all the excuses and all the things you tell yourself have to change. You used to be a masterpiece. A masterpiece to him; as though you're Holy Grail found in a gallery of things that could never begin to hope they would ever amount to you.

Delusion is ignoring the liquor in his lips, the intoxicating smell of his cologne mixed with alcohol and cigarette smoke. You're confused and your reality that seems to have been distorting more often than usual. You question the strings that premeditate fate when it's you feeling the drunkenness and hangover the next day when it should be Suna and the tabloids of "Suna Rintarō spotted in yet another bar." You wonder if each sunset and sunrise you watched with Suna was a mere fever dream when it's you who vomits on the toilet. You, who sobs on the bathroom floor.

"Sfumato," your friend tells you, "The gentle blurring of edges to make rendered objects appear as one with their environment." The edges blur when you call that delusion as love—you only have to wait long enough before both are truly one and the same. The pain disguised as martyr sacrifice to the greatest allegory of love to exist. This is what you're told. They say, "Y/N, you've confused love with delusion," and yet you don't listen.

You don't listen most of all when you're back underneath him but you feel like you're being bloodied all over, stained like wine to a white dress. Yet you allow yourself to indulge in the kisses he's abated you of, you revel in each time you ask him to tell you he loves you and he finally does as he luxuriates you of your desires and of your whines for love—nevermind that he was doing it for himself. After all, it is as the word suggests, a luxury.

Suna Rintarō had become a luxury you couldn't afford, therefore, he did not have any business of giving himself to you. Not unless he wanted to.

Is there such thing as a free reign over the heart of someone? Hand it over as they will but how long would they truly allow you to borrow it—? Borrow it because one never truly surrenders such a vital thing to human functioning. Yes, you are and you have been delusional to believe so.

"You own the entirety of my heart, Y/N," you're unsure whenever it echoes in your head. He brings you enough torture, why must your own brain create such clamor in your head. Was such pain necessary? Is pain to love much like Adam's rib to Eve?

"It's a promise ring, bunny," he said as he tucked your hair behind your ears—his gaze is intense, almost like you would disappear from his sight if he looked at anywhere or anything but you.

You stared at the ring that shone under the light of the restaurant, your vision blurring at the tears welling from your eyes and you try your best to choke in the sob that involuntarily escapes you.

"Hey, Y/N, what are you cryin' for?" He questioned with a chuckle, looking at you with amusement dancing in his eyes while his thumbs reached out to wipe away each tear that betrayed you—falling down your cheeks as he cupped your face.

"I-it's nothing, I—I'm just happy, love," you answer him through your tears.

There's a smile playing across his lips, he tells you, "'m just making a promise that I'll marry you one day, bunny, is all."

You nodded eagerly with a wide smile even as the tears that left you continued to fall, "I'm making a promise to say yes, Rin. No matter what," you answered him through your sobs, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Guess I should start practicing to get on one knee then, yeah?" He laughed as he pulled you closer, his arms around you, you giggled along with him—it felt like you were molded together to form one perfect piece, like the act of staying there for all of eternity, in each other's arms, would turn you into one. Entangled together in all the right ways—as if Rapture has befallen the Earth and that was your final state as did the universe.

The fifth—the fifth is the screaming, the fights. Who would have thought you would break like a mere twig stepped on in the darkest forest on this Earth? It was under his shoe did you break from; each word that left his mouth was scathing—they didn't feel like a stab or pins and needles to the human heart, they felt like burns of acid that slowly ate at your decaying soul, breaking heart, dwindling sanity.

"I don't get it, Rin! Why do you treat me like this?!" You screamed through your tears, your chest heaving as your lungs tried its best to support you, even when it's already been punctured by the shattered pieces of your heart that continued to beat in separate shards, digging further into your lungs, damaging your ribcage, piercing your throat.

"Please, God, just tell me what to do—Rintarō, tell me what I need to do to turn us back to the way we were, please," you begged, falling to your knees and you let the shattered items on the floor puncture your skin. You felt numb yet your whole body was buzzing. The pain from the pieces of glass from under you doesn't register in your brain because all you can feel is the pain that was spreading from your chest and out into your whole body.

Under his mercy had he turned you inside out and greedily taken every part of you—everything you surrendered on your own volition until you were nothing, not even a shell of yourself but more like a ghost floating through the air. It looked like a battlefield—and perhaps it was. Love was never something you come out alive from. Love was greedy, selfish, treacherous. Love is like an assailant you allowed to enter in the safety of your own home.

"Don't you get it? Y/N, I don't love you anymore!"

No. You think, no. No, it repeats in your head, over and over. Denial. You were in denial, at this conjecture, you were aware of even this.

"I stopped loving you long ago, Y/N. You were dumb enough to stay." Has he always been this truculent towards you? You wonder but you can't recall anything else but the echoing of his words. Words he used like a champion of the battlefield, liberating away the life of his enemies.

No. Don't say that. You don't mean it. No.

Suna thought you would be the arrow to his heel—the one to bring him to his knees in the most torturous of ways. In reality, maybe you were more his heel than the arrow. He was both Achilles and his actions, the arrow that brought him to his own demise.

Sixth—the sixth was sickening grief. You're so unfair. You're so selfish. How could you run away from him, only to scream his name and the tormenting shout of "I love you" that haunted him awake or in his slumber. How could you be so cruel? To let him fall to his knees in front you the way you made him to. Ruthless—you're so ruthless. The pain was the excruciating kind, crashing towards him like ocean waves bringing him farther from the shore and near to wherever you were now. How could you leave him like you did?

After all, what was he if there wasn't you?

📞 violet is calling... all content featured belongs to ©️ animatedrapture. do not plagiarize, repost, or modify.

#RINTOBER #suna rintarou #suna x reader #suna rintaro x reader #suna #rintarou suna #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #;cloud #haikyuu angst #suna angst #suna rintaro x you #suna rintaro x y/n #suna rintaro imagine #suna rintarou x reader

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sexy-bee-juice · 3 years

Text

“I love[d] you”

Pairing: Tsukishima x reader

Warnings: angst, mentions of cheating, light mentions of smut??(i am so sorry if its bad but i’ve never written it so-), fighting [karasuno throwin hands-]

Summary: Tsukki cheats on reader, and the team finds out after you break down.

https://youtu.be/50VNCymT-Cs

heres a song to make it worse. Im sorry.

“Kei?”

“Hmm?” He said, looking up from his book.

You were both in bed, cuddling, you looking through your phone, with your boyfriend of only one year beside you. Sure, it’s only been a year, but you��ve been crushing on him since middle school. Feelings ran deep.

You smiled at him.

“I love you.” He stared at you for only a moment, then looked away blushing.

“I love you too.” Then he reached over and kissed you lightly on the forehead. “To the moon and back.”

It had been nearly four months since you had first said those words to Kei, and you were still head over heels for him.

You were the manager for the Karasuno Volleyball Club, and a third year. You were only making your way to the gym where they were practicing, skipping along, happy because the older third years were coming back to see the team.

Kageyama and Hinata were going to be ecstatic, especially Hinata. Suga, Azumane, and Sawamura were already on their way. Then your phone beeped with a message from Kei.

can’t make it to practice today, head hurts tell evryone else

You frowned. When you had left his house earlier he seemed fine... Oh well. Later you just needed to make him some of that tea you had at your house that your mother always made for you when you had a headache.

alrightyyyyy. see you after practice. i’ll tell the alums u cant make it bby! hope you feel better soon! :)

No reply. You brushed it off, as he usually did this to you. Plus his head hurt as well.

You checked the time, and jumped as you saw you were still ten minutes away from the gym, and you were supposed to be there fifteen minutes before everyone else. AHHHHHHH. Gotta rush, gotta rush, gotta rushhhhh. You thought as you ran as fast as you could to where practice was gonna be.

When you finally reached the school, you saw that Shoyo and Tobio were already there, with Shoyo bouncing around, singing whatever song he came up with, probably mere minutes before, and Tobio aggressively yelling at him, trying to pull him down.

“Hey guys! Stop that sorry Im late lets get inside and you two can start warming up before everyone else gets here oh my god I need water-” You said, out of breath and gasping, dripping in sweat.

Shoyo smiled and offered you his hand to the place where you had fallen on the ground.

“Hey! No worries y/n-Chan! I have some water for you here! Well, it was supposed to be for me, but you can have cuz I don't need it and I’m sure I can get someone else to share with me!” You smiled up gratefully at Shoyo, and took his extended hand, pulling yourself up.

An instant sense of cool relief flowed over you as you swallowed down the chilling water. God, you couldn’t have asked to be the manager for a better team.

Soon, the rest of the team began to minnow in, laughing and talking, carefree as usual, until (as expected) Shoyo nearly jumped on Tobio after giving the loudest screech ever.

“Jeez, what happened? GET OFF ME YOU RUNT! SCRUB! IDIOT! I SWEAR I’LL-” The words died in his throat as he saw who has just entered the gym.

“AH! SUGA-SAN! AZUMANE-SENPAI! CAPTAIN! NOYA-SANNNNNN! TANAKA-SENPAI!!!!” You smiled, looking back to the alums of Karasuno.

“AHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA SHOYOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Bellowed Noya as he jumped over to Shoyo, Tanaka at his heels.

“BROOOOOOOO WE MISSED YOU!” said Tanaka, tackling both Tobio and Shoyo in a hug, lifting them both off the floor.

“HEY GERROF!” said Tobio, muffled by his jacket.

You walked up to the older alums, smiling greetings and welcomes.

“So? How’s things with you all?” You asked.

“Ehhh, same old, same old. How you managing...as...manager-? I- wait-” stutters Azumane.

“No, no, its fine. These two still fight and bicker but they’re easy to manage nowadays.”

“oh? Jeez, y/n-Chan, you have it easy.” Said Suga. “When I was still here as a third-year, it was definitely harder to manage them, and the rest of the team...”

You smiled, happy to see them, and continued watching the four freaks reunite.

“I miss my children...” You heard Suga murmur, barely discernable from the now probably-not-human-noises the four were making. Daichi and Azumane were trying their best not to burst out laughing behind Suga, who was wistfully staring at his “children”.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when Daichi-san asked you the one thing you forgot to tell them.

“So...where’s Tsukishima?” He asked, looking around as if your boyfriend were hiding. As if he would do something so childish.

“oh! Yeah, I forgot to tell you all. He said to tell you all. He said he had to skip today because his head was hurting.”

“Ah, yes. The head pain. An unfortunate enemy.” said Tanaka-san, looking up from the place he was wrestling with the team. You giggled.

“Well, when Kiyoko-senpai arrives i think i might leave for a bit to take care of Kei, then i’ll come back, just letting you guys know, so don’t-”

“SHIMIZU-SENPAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII” You heard Noya and Tanaka yell simultaneously.

“And that’s my cue-” You said swiveling to the door, and sprinting back to the Tsukishima residence.

As the door was always open for you, you didn’t even bother knocking, but entered right away. Nobody seemed to be home either.

As you silently made your way to your boyfriends room, you saw that you were pretty much already a significant part of their lives. They had pictures of you with them all, framed. Sticky notes with reminders for you on the fridge. You even had a spot at the table with them, for the nights you stayed for dinner.

Truly, this was your home.

https://youtu.be/Mhj15W23IjA [more pain, you masochist’s]

You smiled softly as you made your way to his bedroom, humming along the way, so any other sound went unnoticed by you.

As you reached his door, you smiled at the little dino sticker he had stuck there at the beginning of your relationship. It was worn, but it still stuck there, serving as a reminder.

“It’s so you don’t get lost when you need to find me in the house. It shouldn’t be hard, but knowing you, you can go out for milk then buy a swimming pool.” You smiled as he smacked it on, and he turned the knob to his door, permitting you to enter.

You turned the knob.

“Tsukki? I know I should have come earlier or something but could you help me with-”

“Idiot. Just get in here. I couldn’t care less anyways, what? Can’t solve a simple question?”

“Tsukiiiiiiii, stop being so meaaaannnn.” he smirked at you.

“Don’t call me that.” you blinked up at him.

“uhhhh...call you what?”

“Tsukki. Don’t call me that.”

“oh. um. ok then.”

“call me Kei.”

you smiled up at him, tears swimming in your eyes.

You cracked open the door.

“Y/n?” He opened the door to his room, the dinosaur sticker still on it, only a couple months old.

“Yuppers.” he tilted your face up to him with his thumb and forefinger. “I-oh.”

Then he leaned down and kissed you ever so softly on your lips, eyes fluttering shut.

“I want you to stay with me forever...” He whispered.

“I will.” He smiled.

“Then I will too”

And you opened the door, smiling to yourself due to all the memories you made in this very spot.

Then your eyes widened.

no.

NO.

NO...

It can’t be real...

Kei would never.

but he.... he did.

And he didn’t even notice you open the door, he didn’t even see you or hear the gasp you let out as you took in what you saw. He only looked up from the girl he was fucking in front of him, sweaty and panting, bites and scratches over his back and on his neck, when you slammed the door.

No tears ran down your face, like most people. You just ran back to the gym, not even really getting tired just...numb.

he promised. He promised to be yours forever.

but he must have crossed his fingers. done something stupid. because he lied. he wasn’t ever soley yours. he wasn’t, he couldn’t be.

But still. You couldn’t cry.

1) You don’t cry. You never cried.

2)You couldn’t let anyone see you weren’t ok.

Fake it ‘till you make it.

“WAIT. Y/N! WAIT, WAIT WAIT, DON’T GO!” But why would you listen?

Everything went by in a blur. you were minutes away from the gym.

Minutes away from safety.

Then you could hide behind a mask and never let anyone see.

“Oh, hey y/n-Chan! That was kinda quick.” Said Daichi. You inhaled, pushing everything away.

You giggled.

“Uh, yeah. Kei had his mom there so I left it up to her, plus he told me to get back to practice.” He smiled.

“Glad to hear he’s doing alright.” You smiled back.

“Yeah. Anyways. Anything happen while I was gone?” He shook his hed.

“Just the usual. Noya and Tanaka with the freak twins are in a two-on-two, trying to kill each other, and Suga and Asahi are kinda trying to stop the death part.”

“Ah. I see. The norm then.”

“Y/n!” You froze.

NO. nononono not now.

Why would he do this if he never really cared?

“Oh, hey look! Its Tsukishima!” Said Daichi, a smile still on his face.

But rather than running towards him, like you usually would, you ran away. Right into the gym, and...

Right into Suga’s arms.

“Hey, slow down a bit or you might be worse than Noya and knock me over!” He smiled at you. But he was just too intuitive for his own good, damn it, and his smile fell immediately.

“Is something the matter?” You composed your expression, smacking a smile back onto your face, and as you opened your mouth to say all was fine, you were cut off.

“Y/n! no no no I can explain!” You looked at Suga. Fear in your eyes. Did he figure it out? But you didn’t want to look at Kei right now. You couldn’t.

“y/n? What happened?” You looked back up at him.

“...Nothing. I’m fine.”

“No! Y/n! You don’t understand! I love you! And only you!”

Oh, he shouldn’t have said that.

Because that’s what broke you.

And soon you had squirmed out from Suga’s grasp and fallen onto the floor, sobbing. You never cried. But if you didn’t just this once, you might have exploded.

“Y/n?! What-?”

Then suddenly the whole team was surrounding. You, some of them kneeeling down to your height.

“...y/n? W-what happened?” Asked Yamaguchi. You looked up at him, tears still streaking down your face.

“I-It was...I don’t-”

“Y/n! Y/n, please listen! Please, please, please I’m begging you!” Called Kei as he finally reached the doors to the gym, panting and gasping.

“Why would I listen to you? H-How am I supposed to believe anything you say anymore?”

At this, he reeled back, your words finally hitting him.

But before anyone moved, Daichi looked between both of you, and crouched down beside you. And so softly, he whispered:

“Did he...Please don’t tell me he did...? He cheated...?” You nodded and started to sob harder, and soon you were wrapped up in his embrace, while he petted the back of your head, whispering consoltations into your ear.

Unfortunately for Kei, the whole team heard.

“He did what to you?” Asked Noya, staring right at you, a stone cold expression on his face.

“He cheated on her.” Said Daichi, looking between you and Tsukki. “Tsukishima cheated on y/n.”

“And in the next moment, before anyone could react, Suga was standing right in front of Tsukki, glaring at him with the most terrifying expression on his face anyone has ever seen.

“You did what?”

“I- I c-cheat-” But before Tsukki could finish sentence, Suga had punched him right in the face.

“HOW COULD YOU?!?! WHY WOULD YOU EVER DO THAT TO ANYONE?!?” He screamed, tears now streaming down his face. “SHE LOVED YOU WITH ALL HER HEART AND LOOK WHAT YOU DID TO HER!” He pointed to you and Daichi.

“I-I didn’t m-mean to-” Stuttered Tsukki, eyes blown wide in fear, tears prickling in the corner, so close to spilling over.

“I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU! LOOK WHAT YOU DID TO HER! LOOK WHAT YOU DID!” It looked like he was ready to land another punch across his face before Noya and Tanaka were there holding him back, and began to bring him back to where you were, still screaming at Tsukishima, tears likewise streaming down his face.

“Hold her.” Ordered Daichi, looking at Suga, who nodded and cradled you, still shaking.

“Hey, hey, calm down, I’m here, i’m here...”

This time Noya and Hinata were standing right in front of the boy who so towered over them.

“I don’t want you to come near her for a while. I don’t want to look at you anymore.” Said Noya, serious as ever. Tsukishima nodded.

As he looked to Hinata, he realized that tears were pricking the corners of his eyes, and he looked mad. Really mad. Then suddenly, he was on the ground, a sharp pain in his back.

Hinata had pushed him. He looked down at him, and shook his head, as if saying no.

But he didn’t say anything, and just walked away.

But, why? Why didn’t he yell? Why didn’t he scream? Why was he so... SO DAMN QUIET?!

Before Noya could do anything, as he was expected to do, Tanaka was there, herding them both away, and completely ignoring Tsukishima. Whatever they were doing, it made it worse.

Azumane couldn’t even go near Tsukishima.

Not only because he didn’t want to be near him, but because he was afraid. Not afraid of Tsukishima, no.

He was afraid because he might lose control. He might hurt him.

Then Daichi was there.

“I don’t want you to even come near her until she’s ready to talk to you. Do you understand me?” He nodded. Daichi glared at him for a minute that could have been an hour, a moment completely suspended in time.

“Then get out of here.” And Tsukishima scrabbled to his feet, not once looking away from Daichi until he was completely up on his feet. Only then did he let the tears fall.

You were gone now. And look what he did.

As he ran away from the Gym, you thought it was laughter you heard coming from Tsukishima, when really, he was sobbing.

You kept listening even as his cries echoed through the clearing, and even when they were gone.

“I loved you, Tsukishima.” You whispered.

a/n: Makin myself cry here

#tsukishima x reader #yamaguchi x reader #karasuno #karasuno x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyū!!#haikyu x reader #Kei Tsukishima #haikyuu tsukishima #tsukishima oneshot #tsukishima scenarios #tsukishima kei

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omg-im-such-a-masochist · 3 years

Text

⛽️ 🔥 FIRE AND GASOLINE 🔥⛽️ (PART 1?)

Prompt: Y/N’s life has changed drastically, precisely 10 years ago and all because of an adorable lunatic and two little maniacs. But what will happen when a divergency of thoughts leads Y/N and her lunatic to say some pretty harsh words, that they know they will regret it later?

Word count: Maybe too long?

Pairing: Jon Moxley (or even Dean Ambrose if that’s your liking) x Reader

Warnings: For now, just some cursing and angst

Notes: His time has finally arrived and I couldn’t be more nervous about it! This goes out to my sincerely unhealthy love for Jon Moxley and my mixed feelings about having kids (sounds like a good match right?). Y’all know the drill loves,sorry for misspellings,english isn’t my first language (bla bla bla),check out my other stories if you’d like to(it would make your girl here very happy 😊) and if you’re comfortable with it,please let me know what you think? Some feedback is always welcomed and appreciated ❤️You can check out my other stories typing ‘masochist writes’ on the search bar on my page and my newest story as a fixed post.Okay,now let’s get to the fun part,shall we? Hope you’ll enjoy 😉

A light smile formed on my lips as I watched through the kitchen sink window Atticus and Rosie play in the backyard as I did the dishes. I never thought that my life could change for the better with a 6 and 4 years old..and to think that I never thought of myself as the maternal type.

The plate I was rinsing off almost broke on the sink as my body jumped from fright, when a pair of hands embraced my hips

“Oh God, you almost gave me a heart attack! Are you crazy?”

“Not really, just a little lunatic..” He laughed “I’m sorry it wasn’t my intention to frighten you, but once I saw that ass kitten I lost my fucking mind! Just like I did 10 years ago...” His hands roamed on my hips until they reached my ass that he lightly slapped. “Did you miss me, cherry?” His lips glued on the nape of my neck

‘Cherry’ that lame ass nickname he gave me 10 years ago...and all because my cheeks go incredibly red when I blush or whenever the weather gets cold making a huge contrast against my pale skin.

“Of course I missed you! This house gets too boring without you in it” I lightly chuckled

“Is that the only reason why you missed me?” He grinds his bulge on my ass, as an insinuation to what he actually meant by that question

“Jon, the kids are outside...”

“I’m not doing anything, I’m just asking an innocent question kitten” He nibs my neck

I turn around to face him, placing my arms around his neck leaning in for a kiss. It started innocently, but Jon Moxley wouldn’t be Jon Moxley if things were kept innocent.

His hands reached the hem of my tank top, sliding in to meet my bare skin, he roams up til he finally founds what he was looking for.

“Fuck baby, I missed these” He whispers as he softly but firmly squeezes my breasts. As much as I would like to have some fun time with my husband it’s not ‘adult time’ yet, which meant the kids were still up. So no ‘dirty deeds’ for us just yet.

I took the little bit of sanity I still had and broke the kiss

“Jon, that’ll have to wait babe”

He sighs “C’mon Y/N is just a quickie kitten, the kids won’t even notice you’re not here..just a few pumps in, I swear!”

“The last time you wanted to give it just ‘a few pumps in’ I was birthing Rosie 9 months later” I reminded him

“So? We love each other, we’re an adult couple with a beautiful family and a lot of love to give” He nibs my bottom lip “What’s wrong with having another little maniac? I wouldn’t mind! We make some pretty fucking good looking kids, we should start practicing another one now” He vaguely said

Oh God not this again... This has been a pretty heated topic between Jon and I, he was always crazy about kids but I wasn’t very fondly of them. When I found out I was pregnant with Atticus I lost my mind! I wasn’t sure about the whole ‘mommy’ commitment for life thing, I didn’t even knew if I had one single bone of motherhood in me. That soon changed though when I first held Atticus on my arms, at that moment I knew my heart was sold to some stinky bum that would call me ‘mom’ for the rest of my life. Rosie was a surprise too, we haven’t even talked about the possibility of having another kid and I was already pregnant with her.

Right after that the baby factory was officially closed to me but not for Jon, he wanted at least two more kids and I didn’t, he had a bit of a trouble understanding that back then I didn’t even wanted my first one! I love my kids, I would die for them in a blink but that doesn’t mean that I eagerly look forward being pregnant every goddamn year.

Jon’s job doesn’t help either, with him constantly being on the road I do most of the raising when it comes to the kids. Of course he still is an amazing father in the short amount of time he is home but still, I’m the one who has to do the working, cooking, cleaning, give baths, put to bed, take to swimming classes, brazilian jiu-jitsu classes, dentist appointments, running to the emergency at 3am because one of them is suddenly sick while the other one sleeps at the emergency’s waiting room chair, wiping off their tears whenever daddy has to leave again..

“Jon, not this topic again, please” I beg

“What is wrong with me wanting to discuss having another baby with the woman that I love?”

“It’s not that simple Jon, I wish it was but is not” I said slightly angry

“Yes it is that simple Y/N! You’re the one who’s always trying to complicate things” He let go of my hips

Great! Now he’s angry too. That’s just what I needed!

“Jon look, I don’t want us to fight ok? You just got home and we all miss each other so why don’t we drop it for now huh?”

I tried to wave the white flag, but I should’ve known it wouldn’t work with Jon ‘The Stubborn’ Moxley

“Of course you want to drop it, it’s not of your interest is it? No it isn’t! You always do this! Whenever a subject doesn’t matter to you, you don’t wanna talk about it, you’re always so selfish! Always thinking about yourself, never once caring about me or what I want! Selfish as fuck!” He raised his voice

When people say that words can hurt more than actions they were right. If he had punched me in the face it wouldn’t hurt as much as the harshness of his words. To say that I am selfish? After everything I left behind just to be with him? That hurt! And instead of doing the adult thing and keep my mouth shut before I said something I knew I would regret it, I did the Y/N thing where I run my mouth with harsher words than he’s previous ones just so I could hurt him as much as he hurt me

“I’m selfish? Me? Oh you better place the mirror in front of your own face to find the definition for that word Jonathan! You are the one who gets to make your ‘wrestler life’ on the road, living like a single man with not even one worry on your mind while I get behind with two kids and all the shit that comes with the package! It’s easy for you to say it with your 15 minutes FaceTime parenting that you do! In the mean time I have to be the bad guy who has to always say no because glorious dad is on the road chasing his dream for when he gets home he will do all of his kids luxuries so he can try to compensate his absence with Barbie dolls and hot wheels cars! So yeah I’m the selfish one Jonathan, good thing you notice that” I regretted those words as soon as they fell from my lips.

Jon’s eyes briefly showed the hurt caused by them but he soon replaced that with rage and pride before lifting his head up to say

“And is thanks to glorious dad that you have this comfortable house, a nice car and a shit ton of food on your table sweetheart. Let’s be honest here Y/N, how are you supposed to support yourself and the kids with your shitty excuse for a salary? I wipe my ass with the pitiful money that you make” He huffed

I’ve never felt so humiliated in my life. Yes my paycheck was mere cents compared to his, but I worked hard for my money, I was proud to have my own money, to share the bills with him and was proud for not taking the easy path of relying on a rich man to support myself (like my dear old mother proudly did). So the fact that he took something that was so prideful to me and used to humiliate me, made me for once rethink all of our 10 years together and if it was worth it at all.

Tears threaten to fall from my eyes and Jon seemed to have realized what he just said as for he reached his hand to cup my cheek

“Kitten, I-“

“Don’t! Don’t touch me, I don’t want you anywhere near me” I said in between sobs

“Y/N please I-“

“Mommy, why are you crying?” I saw Rosie’s smile die on her lips once she saw me crying.

I heard Atticus’ fast footsteps coming by the french doors to stop by Rosie

“Yay, daddy’s home- Mommy are you ok? Why are you crying? Did you get hurt?” His small but smart baby blue eyes roamed my face and my body for any signs of physical hurt

“Yes stinker, mommy got hurt” I said trying to hold back my sobs

“Where? I can’t see anything” Those clever blue orbs that were a faithful copy of Jon’s roamed through me once more trying to find the injury

“Why don’t you guys come here and tell daddy how much you’ve missed him while mommy goes upstairs to clean up the scratch?”

They just nodded and ran towards Jon, who took them both in his arms

“Y/N” He started but I gave him a look that made him go silent.

I reached the safety of my bedroom, feeling the urgent need to run away. Run away from him, from this house, from this country. Taking with me only the clothes on my body and my two little beasties...the immature part of me yelled ‘do it, do it’ but the grownup in me knows I can’t do this. It’s not fair to the kids, they barely get to see their father whom they love and miss so much. It’s not fair to Jon either, he loves those kids more than he’s own life.

But right now I needed my safe place (or better, person), I needed to breath so I called her and when I received the ok on spending 3 days at her house I packed a small little bag with enough close for just those days, as I was zipping up the bag a faint knock came from the bedroom door soon after being followed by it opening.

“Kitten, can we talk- What are you doing?” He asked in urgency as he bursts into the bedroom approaching me.

“I’m gonna go to Nancy’s” I vaguely said looking at anywhere but him

“Nance? Your sister?”

“She’s the only Nancy I know, so yeah..”

“But why? I just got home, I wanna be together Y/N”

“It’s just for 3 days Jon..you’ll be with the kids, they need you and they miss you” My voice is a faint whisper

“But I need and miss you too! I want you here! How am I supposed to enjoy my family if it’s not complete? I’m sure we can figure it out whatever it is that happened earlier” He grabbed my shoulders turning me to face him and cupped my cheeks, tilting my head up to look me in the eyes.

“Y/N, kitten, I know that I’ve said some pretty harsh things to you earlier. I’ve been stressed out. It’s all my fault, I’m so sorry cherry. Please forgive me baby” He pressed his forehead with mine

That was typical Jon, always pulling the guilt towards himself, he has a hard time understanding that he was not always the only cause of a disagreement.

“Jon, we both said some stupid things ok? This is not all on you, love” I released myself from him, if he continued this close I wouldn’t resist, and right now I need to think.

“Yes it is Y/N. Me and my stupid fucking mouth, not you. You’re perfect kitten”

I scoffed “Trust me, I am not”

“Yes you are! Look at who I am now because of you, I stopped doing drugs, I’m not a drinking mess anymore, I eagerly look forward coming come because I know that the three pieces of my heart are waiting for me, look at what I’ve achieved, what you gave me, how you gave up everything and everybody to be with me”

Oh yeah,that.. my ‘high society family’ was not happy at all when they met Jon, they said that we were a very dangerous combination of fire and gasoline, that we would never be happy. I had two options they said, either them or him. I hated my family and loved Jon so it was a simple math. I left my house and all of the luxury behind to live with him in his ridiculously small one bedroom old apartment. The only person that I still talked to was Nancy my older and just as rebel sister, who gave everybody the middle finger and left the not so humble abode of my family never speaking with them again. So it made sense that the two rebellious black sheeps would become their own family, mine was Nancy and I was hers.

“Jon I need some time to think, we need it ok? Please, we both need to digest what we’ve said to each other. It wasn’t just a simple ‘fuck off’ we’ve said some pretty bad stuff so let’s just process this ok?” I beg

“Are you gonna leave me forever? Please don’t tell me you’ll want divorce because of this...I won’t handle it kitten” His voice was strangled by tears

“Jon-” I was thankfully interrupted by Rosie’s and Atticus’ screams of joy on the hallway as they ran towards our bedroom

“Mommy, daddy the movie is about to start c’mon” Atticus says as he jumps from excitement. They have been wanting to watch Moana for a while now, but only when daddy got home so he could watch it too.

“We’re going buddy” Jon fastly said

“Actually” I begin “Only daddy will watch the movie with you” It crushed my heart to see the disappointment on their faces

“Why?” Rosie asks

“Because auntie Nancy called and mommy’s gonna need to go and help her”

“Is auntie Nana in trouble?” Now it was Atticus turn to ask

“No stinker, she just need momma’s help with something, it’s nothing bad I promise”

“Can you go to Nancy’s after the movie?” Jon hopefully asks, he knows that the longer I stay the less likely it will be for me to leave.

The kids gasped at their daddy’s amazingly smart idea.

“Please mommy, please!” The kids started to beg as they kneeled down to make their begging really serious.

Jon kneeled down too, by my side. I looked at him confused and he just said

“Yeah mommy, please stay” He placed his hands on my hips “Please kitten, don’t leave me” He whispered

And now I have 3 pairs of incredibly beautiful and pleading baby blue eyes staring at me waiting for my answer.

What am I supposed to do?...

To be continued (?)

What do you think? Should this story continue? Would you like to see what will Y/N do? What would you do? Please let me know your thoughts, they are so very important to me and help me with my writing 💕🥰

#jon moxley #jon moxley one shot #jon moxley fanfiction #jon moxley x reader #aew one shot #aew fanfiction #dean ambrose #dean ambrose one shot #dean ambrose fanfiction #dean ambrose x reader #dean ambrose x oc #wwe imagine #wwe one shot #wwe fanfiction #jon moxley imagine #dean ambrose imagine #masochist writes

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clockworkgraystairs · 4 years

Text

Letting Go

Rating: M

Warnings: Major character death. Angst. Mentions of sex. Angst. Accidents. Did I mention angst?

Summary:

Cardan thought he and his family were meant to live happily ever after.

He was wrong.

Extra comments: I’m sorry. Please don’t hate me.

Extra comments 2: If you’re masochist as me and wish to read this listening to some music, I’ll leave my spotify playlist “Don’t touch me, I’m angsty”

Thank you to the incredible @sweetlyvillainous for holding my hand while I cried because of this, for betaing later and for giving the extra boost to the angst. YES YOU DID, AND YOU’RE AS GUILTY AS ME. I love u.

Masterlist • AO3

As dawn went on, Cardan looked through the window with hooded eyes. It snowed outside. How typical, he thought.

Not long ago he would’ve been excited about it. The perspective of spending the day building snow castles and angels. Never a snowman, since his daughter had always claimed that was too cliché. He would mock her for it and build tiny figures around her castle. ‘The invasion of the fae snowmen’ he’d called it, despite the insistence of his wife about that being pure nonsense.

He laid on his bed, staring at nothing in particular. From that position he would normally be able to look at her, snoring softly in the opposite pillow. That used to be his favorite moment of the day. Few minutes that he could spend watching how she slept, calm and unbothered. At least until he couldn’t help it anymore and woke her up, trailing her neck with soft and playful kisses.

Cold sheets coiled around him now. A reminder of the empty space next to him that haunted Cardan at the beginning and end of each day. Screaming into the silence she’s gone.

The morning it happened, Ivy wanted pancakes an old store sold a couple of blocks away. Cardan was reluctant to get up. All groggy because he and Jude had spent the night before rolling on the sheets, barely moaning in each other’s mouths trying not to wake their 7 year old. He didn’t want to get up. But his daughter was as stubborn as his wife. So Jude gave him a long sweet kiss and told him to go back to sleep while she fetched breakfast.

He did.

He shouldn’t have.

He should’ve gone with her. He should’ve gone instead. Or better yet, he should’ve convinced her to stay and make the bloody pancakes himself. Anything.

Anything except letting Jude go out alone. She was supposed to be back in a matter of minutes, but she didn’t. And he didn’t notice it because he fell asleep again.

He missed the first phone call. And the second.

It wasn’t until a tiny hand woke him up and handed him the cellphone. Frowning with dizziness at Jude’s two missed calls he was about to dial back when it rang again.

“Hey babe, sorry. What’s up?” He mumbled, ruffling Ivy’s hair.

The voice that answered was not Jude’s, instantly startling him awake.

“Yes, he’s speaking.” Loud voices and sirens muffled the voice, making it hard to hear. “I’m- I’m sorry I’m not understanding, where is my wife? Give her the phone so I can speak to her plea-”

He didn’t record the moment when he put on the first clothes he found, nor calling his old college friends that lived two doors away to come and watch little Ivy.

He didn’t watch for the red lights or cared if he’d parked the right way in the hospital’s parking lot. The world seemed to spiral around him, an unending parade of walls, doors, people in white or blue suits. Voices filled him with details but he could only partially hear them. Something about a kid crossing the street unsupervised and Jude running after him. His heartbeat roared in his ears.

“We’re glad we could reach you Mr. Greenbriar. It’s always better when the patient doesn’t have to go through it alone.”

“Through it? What are you-”

“I’m really sorry. The internal damage is too much...”

The doctor’s voice faded away as they entered the room. Fighting to bite back a sob he approached the resting figure on the bed. She looked like his wife, but something was deeply wrong. Her face was awfully pale and her lips dry and bruised. Wires rested along her body. The monitor connected to them matched the aching slowness in her breathing. There was no trace of the playful Jude that teased him mercilessly day after day, stealing kisses from his mouth and knowing he’d let her do whatever she wanted to him.

He found himself still standing centimeters away from her, paralyzed.

The doctor leaned to touch her shoulder and whispered something to her ear. Her eyelids fluttered a moment before opening, not with the fierceness they carried everyday but tired, wandering.

Pulling out of his frozen state he reached for her hand, covered in bandages and stroke it softly. “Jude.”

Her eyes found him and a weak smile curved her lips. “You made it.” She said with a raspy voice. He kneeled, fully taking her hand in his. The door knob clicked as they were left alone.

“Of course I did.” He choked out, trying to match her smile. It felt as if a thin string was keeping him together. “I’m here to take you home.”

Jude looked at him the way she did every time he promised to bring the stars down for her. She squeezed his hand with a nonexistent force that physically hurt in his chest. “You were always a terrible liar.”

Cardan opened his mouth to joke back but wasn’t able to make more than a suffocated sound. That’s when the first tear rolled down his cheek. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, opening them as he felt her thumb wiping away the wetness under them. “It’s ok.”

The string snapped.

“No, it’s not Jude, gods I’m- I’m...” He sobbed, incapable of stopping himself anymore. “I’m so sorry, it was all my fault. If I’d gone with you, If I’d…”

“Hey, no. It’s ok.” She cooed, holding him as he buried his face in her neck apologizing over and over. “Cardan, this was not your fault. Please.”

He let her hold him as his body trembled with broken weeps. Cardan shut his eyes close, hoping he would open them and be back home. Not here. Not in this nightmare. They had so much to do, so much to live. He was meant to be with her through everything. He was meant to protect her. And he had neglected everything for five more sleeping minutes instead. If Ivy hadn’t woken him up… If he’d missed another phone call…

If he’d answered the first damn time he might have had more time. There was an ache in his chest making it harder to breathe, to think.

They laid together for several minutes, hearing nothing more than their breathings and the beeping machine.

“Stay, my love.” He begged, the knot in his throat making it harder to speak. “Fight. I can’t do it without you, I’m not strong enough. I need you, we need you… Ivy...”

Something wet landed on his cheek. Only then he realized she’d started crying too. “You’ll take care of her. You can, you’re the strongest man I’ve ever known.”

He felt her breathing falter and he backed up a little, afraid he’d harm her but Jude didn’t let him go. “I love you. I always have, even when you used to make my life a living hell all those years ago. I love you and our daughter so much.” She said. Cardan sobbed again. Don’t, he wanted to answer, don’t say goodbye. Not yet. “And know that even when you can’t see me, I will be with you always.”

“I know,” He whispered back, now wiping her tears away and leaning to kiss her. “I love you, Jude Duarte. You are the best gift life could give me. You saw the best in me when nobody else could and for that and everything else, I’ll be eternally grateful. I’ll... watch out for Ivy, and she will know her mom is a hero, I promise.”

She breathed a laugh and asked him to hold her again. He did, he clung to her as tightly as he could without hurting her, breathing ‘I love you’ on her hair until her hand lost strength around him.

Until the monitor gave out one long final beep and took his heart with it.

He’d kept his vow. He’d continued with his life, dedicating every second of it to take care of their little girl. To make sure she was happy and wasn’t that affected from her mother’s passing.

Ivy was strong, and most of the time more mature than her age suggested. She tried to carry on as well. Even if sometimes Cardan caught her staring longingly at that spot on the living room where Jude used to sit and read his old books.

But even now, months later, it was hard for him to get up from bed sometimes. To wake up from a bad dream only to realize it was real, he was alone. Jude wasn’t coming back.

Some nights nightmares got worse, not because his mind created new scenarios. Quite the opposite, it revived his worst memory.

Hands touched his shoulders, probably seeking to comfort him. But he barely felt them. He barely heard the nurses enter the room after Jude’s pulse stopped.

He was aware of the uncontrollable way his chest shook between sobs. Pleading her to stay, to open her eyes just one minute more.

Of how he clutched her hand as if it would squeeze life back into her. He felt the softness of her hair as he caressed it, clinging to her the moment the doctors tried to pull him away. The nurse started to remove the wires.

He dreamed of his throat tearing apart as he roared them to let go of his wife. Later begging to allow him to hug her for a moment more. Just a second. Just a lifetime. Please.

Just a moment.

Cardan always woke between gasps those nights. Sometimes leading him to stay awake until morning, afraid to fall asleep again.

It was on days like that that he closed his eyes and let time rewind.

He returned to the year before, to the mornings when they decided who prepared breakfast with rock, paper, scissors games.

To years before that, when still half asleep he reached for her and curled his arms around Jude’s swollen belly. Barely weeks away from welcoming their baby.

To the day when he’d held his girlfriend in his arms and waited for her to open her eyes to finally ask her to marry him.

He knew he shouldn’t. In fact he was sure Jude would beat his ass for doing it. But sometimes he just wanted to feel her close only for a couple of minutes more. Some days he refused to accept she was not there anymore.

A loud crash startled him, bringing Cardan back from his daydreaming. He sat up to look at the clock and frowned. It was still early for Ivy to be awake.

He got up and walked to the kitchen, only to find the floor covered in white flour and his daughter on the opposite side with the face of someone that just got caught with a hand in the jar of cookies.

“Ivy, what are you doing?” He asked. Gods, there was a mess. His mental energy didn’t want to deal with it at the moment.

“I...” She darted her gaze to the right, the same thing Jude did whenever Cardan found her doing something she wasn’t supposed to.

He crossed the space, to crouch next to her and started picking things up with an exasperated sigh.

She let out a breath in defeat and murmured. “I was trying to make the muffins.”

“The muffins?”

“The muffins mom cooked for us every Christmas.” Ivy said as if he’d missed the most obvious thing.

Fuck. He looked at the calendar hanging on the wall behind him. December 24th. Fuck, fuck. How had he overlooked the date? They’d received an invitation to celebrate Christmas with their friends and another one from Jude’s family. He had intended to answer back.

“Oh honey…you needn’t.” Cardan turned back to her and took her little hand between his.

“I know. But I wanted to cheer you up.” Ivy’s voice was low. “You’re sad all the time, dad… I thought... maybe mommy’s muffins would help.”

A pang of guilt stung in his chest. Fuck, he tried so hard to keep his emotions at bay around her. Washing his face with frozen water hoping it would take away the redness around his eyes. He swallowed the lump in his throat and opened his mouth but no words came out so he just pulled his child into a tight hug.

“I’m so sorry, I-”

“Don’t be,” She interrupted him, clinging to his neck. “I miss her too.”

Blinking back the tears, he pulled back to cup her cheeks. “There is nothing that cheers me up more than you, sweetie. You know that right?”

Ivy’s chocolate eyes shimmered as she nodded.

Cardan took a deep breath and pulled her up so she was sitting on top of the counter. “Now, you know I suck at cooking those infamous muffins,” He grimaced. Ivy chuckled and bit her lip, totally not denying his statement. “So how about if instead of those, I prepare you my ultra special pancakes?”

Her gaze widened. “With whipped cream and fruit??”

He nodded. The excited squeal of his daughter warmed his heart in that unique way only she could achieve.

With Ivy’s help, the pancakes were made in little time. Even if all she did was jump around the kitchen singing Christmas carols.

Just as he was about to serve the table, she stopped him. “Dad, can we go eat breakfast with mommy?”

Cardan paused, not sure if he’d listened correctly. “With mommy?”

“Yeah, you know, like those days when we went out on picnics.” She said. Excitement floored from every single one of her pores. “She loved Christmas, I’m sure she’ll be glad to see us too!”

He wanted to say no, not knowing if he would make it. It’s too soon, the words hug there in the tip of his tongue. But looking at Ivy and her puppy eyes, he couldn’t.

Covered in scarves and warm coats they arrived at the cemetery. It was a beautiful place, if he was honest. Tall trees and some flowers grew along, giving it the appearance of a valley despite the cold weather. It looked so peaceful. Even if snow covered some parts of it.

Cardan carried a bag filled with the food and a blanket to use as tablecloth. Ivy played with the snow as they walked, and gasped at the sight of her mother’s tombstone. Letting go of Cardan’s hand, she ran towards it. A big smile shining on her face.

He stopped meters away from it, unsure of his decision. His heart hammered on his chest and he could see the steam formed by his shaky breathing.

Ivy turned and motioned him to come closer.

As he approached, he heard the cheerful chatter of his daughter, making him frown.

“...so I tried to be as quiet as possible, but then the flour fell!” She laughed and darted her gaze to him again. “That’s why daddy caught me, right dad?”

Cardan hesitated. “Uh, yeah… that’s when I found you covered in powder.”

He peered at the marble figure, intentionally avoiding the picture under the letters forming her name.

After setting the food they ate. Ivy barely chewed her food between words, since she was deeply invested in whatever conversation she was having with her mother. Cardan just listened. She spoke about her school, her exams with almost perfect grades. About aunt Liliver announcing she and uncle Van were expecting a baby, a thing Ivy wasn’t so sure to like since that would probably remove her from ‘the favorite’ position. She talked about the blanket forts Cardan taught her to build and the new books he’d read to her. Occasionally, she would laugh as if she’d listened to something incredibly funny.

They built a snow castle with the few snow that was gathered around, at least before Ivy accidentally threw a snowball to his chest. The snowball war that unleashed after had them growling and squealing for several minutes. It ended up with both of them lying down on the blanket, tired and giggling.

He sat up to ruffle her hair and sighed. “It’s time to go, little one.”

Ivy whined. “So soon?”

“We can return some other day…” That lit her face back up. “But your aunt Lil invited us to a party today. Do you want to go?”

She yelped. “With Christmas gifts?”

“Yeah.” Cardan winked.

Once everything was back in the bag Cardan started walking, but a tug on his sleeve stopped him.

“Aren’t you going to say goodbye to mommy?”

He didn’t answer.

“C’mon dad, go. I’ll wait for you over there.” She signaled a big space where rocks made an odd figure. That said, she was gone.

Haltingly, Cardan turned back to face the tombstone.

Air seemed to have flown out of his lungs. What was he supposed to say? He looked down and shuffled his foot in the snow. His grip tightened around the bag’s handle.

He used to spend the nights thinking of all the things he would’ve liked to say to her. But as it was, all of them apparently had vanished into the air. Should he say he loved her? That everything was okay?

“I hate you.” Was what came out. Cardan scoffed and swallowed. That was definitely not what he was thinking. “That is a lie. But I guess you already know it, don’t you?”

“Sometimes I wish I could hate you though... Maybe it would make it easier. Because sure as hell it’s not.” His voice was hoarse. “I’m trying. I promised you I would but… I miss you all the fucking time, Jude. I can’t go to bed at night without thinking you’re not there by my side anymore.”

He paused and rubbed his eyes. Cardan flashed quick glances to Ivy, trying to find the strength. But once he faced Jude’s picture again, the pressure on his chest was nearly unbearable.

“Everyday something happens that I would like to tell you. When Ivy or any of our friends do something I find hilarious I turn to make sure you saw it too just to find an empty space and I… I hate it.”

“I hate not being able to hug you, I hate not feeling your hands playing with my hair in the morning. I hate not being able to tell you everyday how much I still love you. I hate that Ivy notices how much I struggle with it. I hate not being as strong as you were.”

He spilled the words so fast they were probably intelligible, but he didn’t care anymore.

“Ivy… she’s an amazing little girl, you know? Everyday she does something new that is clever, or brave… and she reminds me so much of you.” A sob broke through him. He turned to look at her, auburn curls bouncing everywhere. Taking a steadying breath he brought back his gaze to the tomb.

“I just hope she’s not as good with lies or I will be totally screwed.” He let out a low chuckle. “You should be proud of her.”

Before he could say something else something warm spread down his shoulders to his arms and chest. If he was drunk he would say it resembled the feeling of a hug. The pressure on his chest slowly disappeared as tears rolled down his cheeks.

Not knowing exactly how or why, a weight on his shoulders he hadn’t realized he had, was gone from a moment to another.

“I love you, Jude Duarte.” He breathed. “You will have my heart always, and when this life ends I’ll find you again to give it to you once more.”

Giving a final look to the picture he’d been avoiding since they arrived, he gave a weak smile, wiped the tears away and turned to go find his daughter.

“Goodbye, my sweet villain.”

A Christmas party with his family (because that’s how he considered his friends), awaited. He found Ivy marching on top of the rocks, claiming it was a conquered fae castle and she, the new Queen. He chuckled and motioned her to return.

As they walked back to the car, she grabbed his hand and gave him a knowing look. Even when you can’t see me, I will be with you always.

The next morning when he opened his eyes the empty spot was still there. But for the first time in months, he welcomed the memories of his Jude with a longing smile.

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