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rajarasas · 2 days

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Warmth Amidst Dust

Gender-neutral Reader & Jiyan Comfort

Minors DNI - this blog writes dark and sexual content.

Content warnings: Panic/anxiety/ptsd attacks, left vague but reader experiences extreme dissociation and derealization and struggles to breathe due to anxious thoughts. Mentions of minor character death, paranoia on reader’s part. Basically, reader has a panic attack and Jiyan holds you while you breathe. Please be aware of the tags and do not read if these topics may trigger you.

Can be interpreted as romantic or platonic! You are a soldier under General Jiyan who has pushed yourself too hard recently, causing panic attacks. General Jiyan noticed and offered a shoulder to hold while you relearn how to breathe.

Word count: 1.5k - Also read on Ao3

You never once thought you would ever thank the dust of Norfall Barrens. As a rookie soldier you had grimaced through it, determined to protect the city you loved despite the discomforts and hardship of enlisting in the Midnight Rangers.

But now, three years later, it was a welcome respite from the sharp, biting winds. The particles stuck to your sweat-slick skin, a grimy but effective layer that allowed you to fight the abominations with a shield from the bone-chilling wind streams. The icy breeze got to you over time, seeming to attack your skin at every opportunity, leaving your limbs tender and your bones brittle.

Unexpectedly, what relieved the wind chill the most was another gale, one scripted by your trusted general, Jiyan. He moved like a deadly dancer guided by a loong dragon’s spirit. It was clear your sentinel itself chose Jinzhou’s general, his unwavering sense of justice an arrowhead directing the war against the Lament’s effects.

A composed man who overflowed with warmth and care at his core, he warmed every space he ever entered both with his aero resonance and his very spirit. The medic turned leader was almost universally beloved, a man who faught alongside his soldiers, a voice of strength and reason so desperately needed in and out of the battle field. His mere presence strengthened resolve against the Lament’s corruption, igniting and directing soldiers’ will to fight for their home like the strong tendrils of wind that uplift gentle embers into roaring and ferocious wildfires. His guidance inspired you and so many others, and you worked hard to earn your place in a unit directly below him.

The call of your name by one of your companions shook you out of your thoughts. In the relative safety of your camp you were able to let your mind float following your shifts on watch. You tended to do that more often these days. Only in battle was your mind sharp; otherwise you were simply a shell of a human, no different from a golden echo on the field. Warmth graced your hands in the form of a bowl of hot soup, the scent of spices wafted into your nose, a very welcome surprise. Such commodities were rare these days, perking up even your dulled senses.

“Come on, I know you’re tired from your shift but we have a feast prepared today!” a new fellow you fought alongside with today called at you with a smile. You managed to offer one back. A feast in these parts meant warm food and extra proteins, and spices it seemed, this time. A welcome blessing in this hell. While you’re sure you would be glad, truly, your soul never stirred in celebrating any longer. Years of war had stolen your life force, only your determination and spite sustaining you. But it was easy to wear a mask of normalcy, falling into habits to alleviate your mind of a little bit of stress, letting your consciousness float and watch your body acting from above you, a spectator instead of a player.

The warmth of the bowl certainly sang to your body, blood pumping heartily from the sustenance. But your mind was as barren as the lands you camped on, a floating ghost devoid of nearly everything, that only came to life with skill and sharpness gifted to you in battle by adrenaline.

That very familiar chemical rushed through your veins, releasing your body from its cold prison and igniting your muscles to tense, ready for action. A foreign sound had resonated around you, causing the adrenaline to release. The call was loud at first, a deep bellow sounded, followed by quick, breathless exhales of mirth and an echo of the very sound by vaguely familiar voices. It occurred to you then: laughter. The noise was laughter. You shifted your gaze around the camp, finding the young soldier who handed you a bowl howling heartily with some senior officers. How long had it been since you had heard laughter for it to sound so foreign to you?

You truly didn’t know.

It wasn’t unwelcome, but it was a disruption to your routine that allowed the voices in your head to rise louder, your mind waking to make sense of the new occasion.

What was the joke, why was your comrade so happy? asked your mind. Mild annoyance traipsed through your thoughts, uncharacteristic, but an understandable ally. This was not a place for disruptions. Anything could happen here.

What if there were TDs creeping up on the camp right now? What if they had heard the ring of joy and legions of them were gathering to snuff it out, racing here in ground-shaking gallops like horsemen of the apocalypse. You had seen so many of your allies, your friends, fall to those beasts. Resounding memories of their cheers of camaraderie in the early days echo throughout your mind, cruelly juxtaposed with visuals of their brutal deaths. The monsters taunted you, holding your loved ones’ image captive and jeering at you while they poisoned your world, your beloved city, your home.

The world around you seemed to distort at the thought, the sky dropping. You were caged in by some invisible force, and noisy panic bubbled in your chest. Air began to feel denser, a newly elusive substance your lungs had to chase. The very thing you began craving seemed to mock you, seeming to grip your ribs and crush them inwards while refusing to let you draw in a breath. Your chest stuttered and attempted to heave before being yanked back by your achingly empty lungs as you began hiccuping for breath. Only when your airways started to sting and your face began to numb did you realize your situation and manage to gasp for breath.

You didn’t know how long had passed after you wheezed the sound of panic. You felt nothing until the bowl you were clutching was removed from your lap. A large hand came to rest on your shoulder, replacing its warmth. A scent so familiar that it unconsciously calmed you followed its motion: a fresh forest breeze tinged with the sharp sting of metal. The air began to flow in smoothly, enriching your body. A cooperative ally once more.

“Breathe, soldier,” the strong voice rumbled.

General Jiyan. Your general, Jiyan. The air once again blessed your bloodstream, feeding every inch of your body and once again giving you the gift of life. You had begun to breathe slowly and deeply, just as you had learned in training. In for four, hold for four, out for four. The familiar timings of the count served to calm both your body and mind.

The presence of safety, of your general’s strength near you, was a very welcomed gift. You sighed from your chest once the world had returned to clarity and life size in your vision and you once again heard the murmur of celebration around you. Unfortunately, your reaction was not unfamiliar to you. The toll of seemingly endless battle drew on your very soul, leaving your body weak and weary. And yet, after dozens of times, not even a decorated soldier under the great General Jiyan could manage to snap yourself out of the hell on Earth that was your own mind, not on your own, not in a way that left you sane.

“I’m sorry, general. I let my head get the best of me. Thank you for-“

The hand on your shoulder squeezed gently but firmly, a message to stop talking. As you looked up to gaze in the golden eyes of your general, you were met with pure gentle care. His understanding smile reached his eyes.

You caved to your pure exhaustion. Wordlessly, he let you relax into him, your head coming to rest against the front of his shoulder. You sighed once more, lungs filling to capacity and deflating equally in rhythmic undulation as your spirit came back to inhabit your body, bit by bit. Your general was so warm, so caring, so safe. Eyes closing against his form, your breathing slowed even without your measured counting. One steady hand gripped your side while the other came to rest along your shoulder blade, forearm resting comfortingly against your tired back. He rubbed gentle circles firm into your spine, grounding and soothing the ache in your muscles.

“Don’t speak. Ive seen you pick up extra shifts, push yourself hard. It is the most worthy of causes, no one here faults you, least of all me. But your work is done today, soldier. Rest.”

There was no hint of a waver in his voice, no false sympathy or concern. This was General Jiyan. This was safe. You nodded into his chest, accepting the help you so desperately needed. Jiyan hummed his approval as he continued to soothe your back. You could feel him brush away the dusr, replacing its tentative shield with his own unrelenting one. Your very bones seemed to breathe again, and your thoughts wandered not to the chaos and havoc of the war, but to the warmth and comfort of your general’s presence as you were surrounded by a joyful camp, grounding you instead of letting you dissociate. This was safe, and so, you breathed.

#jiyan x reader #jiyan wuwa #wuthering waves #jiyan #comfort #platonic #cw: ptsd #cw: anxiety #cw: panic attack #cw: paranoia #I wrote this following my exhaustion from working myself out of a ptsd attack #jiyan hold me please

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valkyriexo · 2 days

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Hey Val

Can you please write about Chan comforting you during a thunderstorm? I have a fear, and sometimes I think it's really stupid, but I think Chan would be so comforting? thank u!!

You're Scared of Thunderstorms | Bang Chan

ᑉ³pairing; Bang Chan x Reader

ᑉ³genre; Fluff

ᑉ³warnings; Thunderstorms, Anxiety

ᑉ³Authors Note; Hope you all enjoy :) thank you for the request!

It was a quiet, peaceful evening. You were nestled comfortably in your bed, the soft glow of the television casting a warm light across your cozy bedroom. The rain pattered gently against the windows, creating a soothing backdrop to your movie night.

Your bedroom was your sanctuary. The walls were painted a soft, calming color, and your bed was piled high with plush pillows and a thick, fluffy comforter. You had a cup of hot cocoa on your bedside table, its warmth radiating through the mug.

You were watching your favorite feel-good movie, a romantic comedy that never failed to lift your spirits. The lead had just confessed his love for the girl in a beautifully lit park, and you couldn’t help but smile at the screen.

Just as the movie reached a heartwarming climax, the power suddenly went out. The television screen went dark, and the room was plunged into darkness. The comforting hum of the appliances ceased, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt a wave of unease wash over you.

Moments later, a loud crack of thunder split the air, followed by a flash of lightning that illuminated the room for a split second. The storm had arrived in full force, and you hadn't checked the weather. Your pulse quickened, and a wave of panic surged through you. You pulled the comforter up to your chin, trying to calm your racing heart, but the ominous rumbling and flashes of lightning outside only intensified your anxiety.

The house, which moments ago had felt like a safe haven, now seemed oppressive and dark. Each burst of thunder resonated through the walls. You tried to take deep breaths, but each one felt shallow and ineffective. Memories of past storms played in your mind—times when the thunder seemed endless, when you felt helpless and small against the raging elements.

Your fear of thunderstorms had roots deep in your childhood. You remembered one night in particular, when a fierce storm had knocked out the power for hours. You had been alone, hiding under your bed, every thunderclap feeling like it would shatter the world around you. Even now, as an adult, the raw terror of those nights lingered, resurfacing with every storm.

Another crash of thunder jolted you, and you found yourself trembling uncontrollably. The flashes of lightning seemed almost to mock your fear, each one revealing the room in stark, harsh relief before plunging it back into darkness. You felt trapped, as though the storm was pressing in on you from all sides, leaving no escape.

You tried to focus on the small, comforting details of your room—the scent of lavender, the softness of your pillows—but it was no use. The storm was all-consuming. Tears formed at the corners of your eyes, and you fought the urge to cry.

Just then, you noticed a flash of light, but this time it wasn't from the storm—it was from your phone. You picked it up with shaking hands and saw a series of messages from Chan.

You took a deep breath, feeling a small surge of comfort from his concern. With trembling fingers, you typed a response.

You took a deep breath, trying to focus on Chan's words. The memory of that day in the kitchen brought a small smile to your face. You remembered the warmth of his arms around you, the sweet scent of cookies baking, and the sound of your laughter mingling with his. It was a happy, safe memory. But another loud thunderclap quickly snuffed out any relief you felt.

Your heart pounded in your chest, and you felt paralyzed with fear, unable to move or think clearly.

Your phone buzzed again, the screen lighting up with another message from Chan.

You hesitated for a moment, your hands trembling, before finally pressing the call button. The phone rang twice before Chan's voice came through, calm and reassuring.

"Hey, baby, it's okay. I'm right here," he said softly.

"Chan," you whispered, your voice shaking.

"I'm coming over," he said firmly. "I can't leave you alone like this."

"But what about your dinner plans?" you asked, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and guilt.

"They can wait. You're more important," he replied without hesitation.

"No... Please don't cancel your plans because of me," you said, your voice wavering as you tried to sound brave. "It's gonna make me feel worse. It's just raining... It's just rain... I can do this." The words felt hollow, but you forced them out, shaking with fear. "I can be alone... Go with your friends."

Another super loud thunderclap struck, reverberating through the house and shaking the walls. You shrieked in fear, tears streaming down your face as you clutched the phone tighter, your whole body trembling.

"Baby, I know you're scared," Chan's voice was filled with concern. "I promise you're safe. It's just a storm, and you're inside. Nothing's going to happen to you."

"But the house is shaking," you cried, your tears blurring your vision as the fear threatened to overwhelm you.

"I know it's scary, but I swear you're safe. Just hang on a little longer. I'm almost there," he reassured you, his voice steady and comforting. "Just keep talking to me. You're doing great. Remember, it's just a storm. You're safe inside."

Another crash of thunder made you flinch, and you felt tears falling from your eyes. "I can't... I can't do this," you choked out.

"You can, baby. You're so strong, and I'm so proud of you. Just a little longer, okay? Remember when we went to that carnival, and you were so scared to go on the Ferris wheel? But you did it, and we had the best time. This is just like that. You can do this," Chan said, his voice gentle and encouraging.

The minutes stretched on like hours as you waited, every crash of thunder making you jump. You tried to focus on Chan's voice, his calm, steady words keeping you tethered as the storm raged outside.

"I'm going to use the spare key to come in, okay? Don't be scared. It's just me." Finally, you heard the sound of the front door opening and closing. Relief washed over you as you realized Chan was here. You heard his footsteps coming down the hallway, and then he was there, standing in the doorway of your bedroom, his presence instantly calming you.

Without hesitation, Chan sprinted across the room and scooped you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest. "It's okay, baby. I've got you," he murmured.

You clung to him, burying your face in his chest as the tears flowed freely. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your cheek was grounding, and you felt the storm's hold on you beginning to loosen.

Chan kissed the top of your head and rubbed your back in slow, comforting circles. "I'm here now. You're safe. Nothing can hurt you when I'm with you," he whispered, his breath warm against your hair.

Another clap of thunder rumbled through the house, but this time, it felt distant, less threatening with Chan's arms around you. He rocked you gently, his presence a fortress against the storm.

"Listen to me, baby," Chan said, his voice right by your ear. He tilted your head slightly so his mouth was close to your ear, and you could feel his breath against your skin. "Focus on my voice. Just listen to me." His words were deliberate, each one spoken to cover the sound of the thunder.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice breaking. "I'm sorry, Chan. This fear is so stupid. I shouldn't have pulled you away from your friends."

"Hey, hey," Chan interrupted gently, his voice soft and filled with love. "Don't apologize. This isn't stupid. Your feelings are never stupid."

"But I—" you started to say, but he shushed you softly.

"Shh, listen to me. There’s nothing to be sorry about," he reassured you. "I love everything about you. Your fear of thunderstorms doesn’t change that. It’s part of who you are, and I love every part of you."

Another roll of thunder echoed outside, but Chan’s voice kept you anchored. "I love how you light up when you talk about your favorite books. I love how kind you are to everyone, even strangers. I love your laugh, your smile, the way you make me feel when I’m around you."

His voice was steady, filled with a sincerity that melted your anxiety. "I love how you make me cookies when I've had a long day, how you remember the little things that make me happy. You make my life so much better just by being in it."

"I love how brave you are," he whispered, his lips close to your ear. "Even when you don't feel it, you’re stronger than you know."

You gripped onto his shirt for dear life, your fingers clutching the fabric as if it were a lifeline. You nodded against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

"I’m here, baby," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "And I’ll always be here. You never have to face anything alone. Not thunderstorms, not anything. I love you, exactly as you are."

The storm outside continued, but with Chan’s arms around you and his loving words filling your ear, it felt like a distant worry. You snuggled closer to him, feeling the warmth of his love and the safety of his embrace.

"I'm so lucky to have you," you whispered back, your voice filled with gratitude.

"And I'm lucky to have you," Chan replied, his voice full of warmth. "Now and always."

*·˚ᑉ³ Taglist

@kayleefriedchicken @stellasays45 @beautyandmentalbreakdown @bo-fairykim @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad

@seunghancore @skzruby @Miss-delaneyrose @kimahreummm @user09876512345678

@palindrome969

Red means you are not able to be tagged!

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happy-place-for-sad-people · 19 hours

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something my therapist told me and might help you through difficult times: your brain holds resistance to change. you've been doing something for so long now, to the point that's what you consider normal or routine. you wanting to change that for one reason or the other will be conflicting, and your system will probably make you feel like that's not what you want or need, but remember it's just your brain playing tricks on you. you're on the right path, sweet soul, keep it going. i love you.

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whump-galaxy · 2 days

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Thinking about a whumper that gets gentler and more possessive over time, using far less extreme tactics now that the whumpee knows what they could get. How they might pull the horrified whumpee from a terrifying situation, telling them they could be safe forever so long as they’re obedient. How the whumpee is terrified for the other shoe to drop in this new personality.

#whump #fear #angst #captured #injured #comfort #obedient

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delicatewhumps · 1 day

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"i'm here, and i'm not leaving."

there's something about that... the promise, whether spoken or not, that caretaker will not leave whumpee's side.

"you don't have to be alone again."

"you can hold my hand, it's okay."

"just rest now, i'm here, alright?"

"i'm not gonna let anything happen to you."

"i'm staying right here. i promise you."

"i won't let you die alone."

or if it's all wordless. if caretaker just reaches out and takes whumpee's hand, or holds whumpee. an unspoken vow.

#whump #whumpblr #whumplr #mine #whump prompt #whump trope #whump prompts #comfort

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dk-thrive · 2 days

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What people are craving isn’t perfection. People aren’t longing to be impressed; they’re longing to feel like they’re home. If you create a space full of love and character and creativity and soul, they’ll take off their shoes and curl up with gratitude and rest, no matter how small, no matter how undone, no matter how odd.

— Shauna Niequist, “Bread and Wine: A Love Letter to Life Around the Table with Recipes”. (Zondervan, April 9, 2013) (via See More)

#perfect #safe #comfort #ShaunaNiequest #BreadAndWine #home

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pining-prince · 3 days

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for people with storm anxiety, your f/o will happily stay with you when the weather starts to stress you out. If it’s a situation where you need to pay attention to the news, they’ll help you prepare for any scenario, taking it seriously but staying calm enough to be your support. If the situation is safe but scary, they’ll hold you close and reassure you that you’re safe with them. No matter what, they’ll be your rock in the storm.

#imagines #comfort #mine #f/o imagines #imagine your f/o #romantic f/o #f/o post #fictional other #f/o #f/o x s/i #f/o community #f/o stuff #f/os #self shipping #self ship #storm season has been nasty this yr :(

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ghost-buddies · 20 hours

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ᴛʜɪɴᴋɪɴɢ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴇx!ʙꜰ ɢᴏᴊᴏ ꜱᴀᴛᴏʀᴜ….

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴇᴡ. In which your ex, Gojo Satoru, shows up at your favorite restaurant's front door.

ɢʜᴏsᴛ ɪɴɢʀᴇᴅɪᴇɴᴛs. The tiniest bit of angst (sorry, sorry) :: fluff :: comfort :: self indulgent :: sfw :: cursing

ʟᴏsᴛ sᴘɪʀɪᴛs. Gojo Satoru :: Ieiri Shoko :: mentions of Masamichi Yaga :: a lil Mei Mei moment

ɢʜᴏsᴛ ɴᴏᴛᴇs. Thanks for all the support lovies! Here's the long awaited part 2 to this madness. I feel like after the whole bombshell that is chapter 261 we need some comfort. thanks to everyone who liked, reblogged, and commented for a second part, hope you guys like this! Tagslist is always open too, comment to join!

ᴛᴀɢsʟɪsᴛ. @azure-xvi, @hojoslutoru

Shoko sighs, her energy drained. Not only did she drag the one and only Gojo Satoru halfway across Tokyo, but she had to stop his drunkenness, make sure he wouldn't wake up with hangover, and call Yaga to let him know that no, Gojo wouldn't be able to exorcise any curses later today. All at three in the morning.

She looks in her hospital mirror. Eyes groggy as ever. Purple eyebags even more pronounced. Looking at the time - 2:54 pm - she whips out a fresh cigarette and begins her descent to the hostpital courtyard.

Time for a smoke break, she thought. Hopefully Gojo would leave her alone today---

Her phone buzzes, ringtone seemingly louder than necessary. Rolling her eyes, she looks at the caller. Speak of the devil.

"Shoko shoko shoko help--" Gojo's garbled voice whines. "I have my date with y/n in a few minutes."

Shoko's silent for a little bit, then laughs. "Then why aren't you getting ready, loverboy? Haven't you just gotten her back--"

"Shooooooooo!! First - don't call me that - but that's not the point, I don't know what to wear! Do I go formal? Informal?" He groans right into the speaker. "Why is it so hard being filthy rich??"

"You know her. Just wear something she'd like." Shoko's finger nears the end call button. She's going to treasure this smoke break, she just needs to end the damn call--

"Shoko don't you dare--"

BEEP. Call ended. Shoko can practically hear the dramatic cry Gojo lets out from the dorms. She smiles wryly.

Meanwhile, you're waiting at your favorite restaurant for your ex - was he even your ex now? - to arrive. But there doesn't seem to be any sign of him near. He wouldn't stand you up, right? Right?

It was a mistake calling to Mei Mei.

"Is Gojo there yet?" her voice drawls. "Pfft. This is cruel. Gojo really does fumble easily." a pause. "Hmm, how sad."

You sigh into your palms. "Mei Mei, you're not helping. He's usually late anyways. I shouldn't have arrived so early."

"A bet could make this interesting."

"I'm listening." Mei Mei and you had been making bets for as long as your friendship. It seems that you're the only person anyone knows who could actually win one against her.

"If he does stand you up, you need to give me... ten thousand yen. If not, I'll give you the money."

"Someone has to have a little faith in him. Fuck it, I'll take that bet."

But even after your phone call ends - fifteen minutes later - there's still no Satoru in sight. You begin getting antsy. The customers around you begin looking at you, pitying. The waitress even gives you a free appetizer, frowning at the empty seat across from you.

The bell at the front door chimes. You don't even bother looking up, scrolling mindlessly on your phone. A shadow falls over you, and you frown, moving your gaze skyward. White hair mussed, Gojo Satoru above you heaving, slightly out of breath. You break into a relieved smile. He offers you a nervous smile. "H-hey. Sorry for being I'm late."

You see the waitress grinning at you.

You're laughing. Head thrown back, giggles interrupting every word you attempt to utter. Satoru's leaning back in his chair, grinning like a fool.

"And I was practically begging for her help! My closet was a mess! And she hung up on me---" Satoru takes a sip of his extra-sugary drink--- "and somehow expected me to not go crazy! I know! Terrible! I told her. 'Shoko, don't you dare!' but she still hung up!"

You almost fall over your chair, clutching your stomach and falling into another peal of laughter. He chuckles too. It's a good thing that he has his blindfold on. If he didn't, everyone in the damn country would see the blatant heart-eyes he held for you.

When your laughter finally subsides, plates cleared and tummies full, you both lean over the small table.

Like moths to a flame, you think. Or magnets. Why did you break up again?

"I missed this," both of you utter at the same time. One still slightly nervous, not wanting to mess things up. The other, a little out of breath, flustered.

He leans over and kisses you, and you melt against him.

Your newly re-official boyfriend Satoru drops you off at your home and heads back to his dorm at Jujutsu High. His smile never leaves his face.

"Dammit! I knew he was too down bad for you to actually stand you up!" Mei Mei's anguished voice crackles through the phone. You giggle.

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whumperer-86 · 3 days

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The Escape of the Seven > Reseruction ep6

#whump #whumper #asian whump #emotional whump #suffering #drama #whumpee #asian whumper #bromance #korean drama #kdrama whump #unconscious #care for him #comfort #kdrama

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everlastingspring143 · 3 days

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Heartbeat

Pairing: Lee Know x reader Genre: angst/comfort A/n: THIS IS SAUR EMBARASSING TO POST WAAHH (>///<) But I hope that if you do decide to read it, you'll enjoy it. I'm trying to improve my writing skills, so feedback would be greatly appreciated hehe~

The cool summer night breeze messes up your hair, playfully teasing you, but you can't find it in yourself to care. You're lost in your thoughts, feet wandering on their own with no destination.

The streets are quiet. It's no surprise - most people are asleep by now. 2AM is not the time to be wandering around the sleeping neighborhood, with dangers lurking at every corner.

But falling asleep seemed impossible - your thoughts were too loud - keeping you tossing and turning, not letting your body to get some much needed rest. Your room became suffocating. So you decided to take a walk outside. Maybe the thoughts will take up a physical form and stay in your house, like a lost ring or key.

But you can't run away from your own mind. As much as you try to calm the chaos happening inside you, it only seems to get worse. You need to cry, but not a single tear forms. It's like you've lost the ability to cry - an action that's so simple, yet seems impossible to do.

It's strange. Babies are born crying, that's the first thing they do when they enter this world. So why can't you? Crying is a part of being human. Does that mean you're broken?

You pull out your phone, taking a picture of the shimmering stars in the sky. Your finger hovers over the send button before you press it. Maybe a distraction will help...

Three dots pop up not even a minute later.

"What are you doing up so late? Where are you?" Not the message you expected.

"I just went out on a walk, I'm near the ice cream shop. But aren't the stars so beautiful tonight? ^ ^" Your fingers type fast. The phone battery shows 3%. You curse under your breath.

"Of course they're beautiful, but you shouldn't be out so late. It's not safe" A sigh leaves your lips.

Your phone dies right when you were typing out a response. A sardonic laugh escapes your lips at the ironic situation. It seems like the world itself wants to make you drown in your own mind.

You walk up to the ice cream shop. It's abandoned now. Three years ago a tragedy happened to it's owner and the shop had to be closed. What was once a place filled with joyful laughter of kids and the heartwarming presence of people is now just an empty building with broken windows.

You sit down on the pavement, pressing your back to the cold exterior wall of the building. Isn't it funny how a building resembles you so much? What once was such a happy child, turned out to be an empty broken adult. Where did it all go wrong?

It's getting cold. Your thin T-shirt does little to warm you up. You close your eyes, giving in to the darkness of your mind.

"Y/N!" A loud voice startles you, but before you can register it's owner, a sudden warmth envelops you. "You idiot! Why didn't you answer my messages?! I was worried!!"

Wrapping his arms around you is none other than Minho. His hair is a mess and he's out of breath.

He stiffens up a bit and pulls away from the embrace to look at you. Something shifts in his gaze. You notice his eyes glisten like the stars.

"Is... Is everything okay?" His voice becomes soft and quiet, a soothing whisper like the warm summer breeze. He treats you like a fragile vase. Unfortunately for him, you are already broken. The tears that spill out at his simple question prove you right.

You clutch onto Minho, his hoodie catching your tears. You feel his hands gently rubbing your back as he lets you cry.

"Shh... Everything's going to be alright. I'm here for you..." His hushed whispering feels like a band aid to your bruised heart.

And then you hear it. The beating of Minho's heart. It's consistent.

You sniffle as his hand gently pats your head.

In the silence that surrounds you, another sound reaches your ears - your own heart's steady rhythm, echoing in sync with Minho's.

Your heart is beating, and a sudden realisation dawns on you.

You're not broken. You may be tired, or bruised, hurt, lost... But you're not broken.

You're alive.

#stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids #stray kids fluff #han jisung x reader #han jisung #skz #han jisung skz #hurt/comfort #skz angst #skz scenarios #skz imagines #stray kids angst #comfort

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aannonn · 2 days

Text

I FINALLY FINISHED ITT LETS GOOO

(to anyone who wanna read it on ao3 instead! ><)

not-actually-so-funfact; my computer started to burn in the middle of the translation :D (im brazilian so i write my fics in brazilian before translating them to english- xd)

anyways!! hope u enjoy the read just as much as I did while writing it! <3

- , "Ruined. All Ruined."

Tags ;

Rated T mainly because of the swears , Angst , Hurt No Comfort , Angst and Feels , Self-Esteem Issues , Self-Hatred , self-depreciation , Self-Destruction , Crying , Green Needs a Hug (Animation vs. Animator) , Neurodivergent Color Gang (Animation vs. Animator) , Hurt/Comfort , Emotional Hurt , Emotional , Hurt/Comfort , Comfort , Minecraft Mechanics , Additional Warnings In Author's Note , Author Is Sleep Deprived , author is projecting , I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping , i am my own beta reader , excuse me for any errors i am not a very good beta reader

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

Ruined.

All ruined.

Green sat on his bed, the tie tied carefully around his neck crumpling from the tightness of his knees being hugged close to his chest. A crumpled tie was certainly not something he would take lightly, and he would quickly fix his posture so he could tidy it up and leave it the way it was before, perfect as it should be. But- honestly? Green felt no motivation to do so right now.

He doesn't understand what he did wrong. Did he prepare too much? Did he create a lot of expectations? Did he let his anger and arrogance get the best of him again?

Everything seemed perfect, everything was perfect, but then that silverfish suddenly emerged and, in the blink of an eye, everything around him seemed to be shattering; All the months of planning and preparation and so, so many songs he wrote and scratched because none of them felt perfect enough felt like they had been stepped on, crushed and thrown into lava, slowly burning right before his eyes.

Is not fair. None of this was fair. He worked so hard to get to this moment, to improve his musical skills and impress an entire audience with his music, his passion. His friends, friendly acquaintances - everyone he knew was there - even Orange was there! They were all there for the concert, for the performance, for him.

He felt like he was on cloud nine, happily boasting about the praise and applause floating around him like birthday confetti, roses being thrown at him as a sign of love and admiration - His friends and family were congratulating him and looking at him with so much admiration and love and affection for his amazing and so well-planned, so well-done, so perfect performance.

He felt so adored, like the celebrities he saw on YouTube, being praised and complimented and talked about by many, many people, with so much admiration and adoration in their voices when talking about them. He felt so envied, as if several people adored him so much that they wanted to have his talents, they wanted to be him. He felt so loved, friends and family being so proud of him that he felt himself laughing happily, smiling so big that his cheeks hurt.

...Then a silverfish rised onto the stage, stepped on his noteblock, and the adoring, gazing eyes of the crowd - of his friends - were on the mob, and suddenly it seemed like it wasn't his concert anymore, but rather a random silverfish who just invaded the stage and stole his place, his audience, his moment.

Green clenched his fists, bringing his knees even closer and crumpling his tie even more; Is not fair. None of this is fucking fair. He worked so hard for this, he worked so long for this, and now it's all ruined. Everything is ruined.

The audience applauded and the show was a success, but the silverfish was the one in the spotlight; It was what was being boasted about, congratulated, adored, happily applauded for its' incredible performances.

Meanwhile, Green was collapsing in pain in the middle of the stage and suffering from a horrible concussion.

He felt humiliated, awfully humiliated. Shame, disappointment, and anger flooded his entire being, and the moment he woke up in his room, in his bed, with an ice pack on his head and a potions kit right on his desk, the only thing he did was have a staring contest with the ceiling with hazy eyes, his mind was a complete fog as he felt himself swinging his leg from side to side, jiggling it repeatedly distractedly.

They cheered, the audience cheered, his friends cheered, but none of the cheers and joyful whistles were directed at him, as if the show had never even belonged to him in the first place.

Green clenched his fists so tightly that he felt the faintest hint of blood coming from his palms, tears stinging his eyes distressingly, falling and spilling and wetting the mattress like rainfalls.

Small bubbles appeared in his throat and made him let out soft sobs while small melodic notes came out of his mouth, making unbearably unpleasant and hostile noises, seeming as if a million instruments were being played at the same time, forming a loud and unpleasant noise for the ears. Fortunately the canorous notes that came out were small and therefore you wouldn't be able to hear them properly if you weren't close enough to his face.

He felt so pathetic, so ridiculous. It wasn't even that bad; Everyone in the audience loved and genuinely enjoyed the show, his friends even formed a band and Orange finally played the electric guitar he had after years of not even touching it! So why was he so sad? Why did he feel like his entire world had just collapsed? Why did he feel so angry at the silverfish that only wanted to play with him?

Because he was so selfish. So selfish and arrogant the little musician.

He wanted to pull his head off, his stupid head with a stupid brain that only knew how to think about itself - He wanted to find that stupid silverfish and sink the tip of the diamond sword at its' stomach, jab it and stab it and all over again until all that was left of the mindless mob were little white clouds signaling its permanent death.

He wanted to punch himself, spank himself - He wanted to be vengeful, he wanted to scream - He was so angry at himself, so angry at the silverfish, so angry at his brain, so angry at his feelings, so angry at his friends who didn't even try to help him get the silverfish off the stage and bring everyone's attention back to him, so angry at the world that was never merciful to him, hurting him again and again and again and again and again and again like a fucking punching bag.

He wanted to isolate himself from everything and everyone to show the world how fucking angry and tired he is right now. He wanted his friends to invade his room to shower him with love and affection, hugs and apologies and promises that they would take better care of him, that they would never try to hurt him again, that they would never let the world hurt him again.

He wants the world to burn, he wants the world to hold him like a baby.

He's so selfish. Selfish and arrogant little adorable musician.

His mind was a fog full of thoughts as his emotions took control, his body swayed slightly from side to side like a mantra, all of this making his brain unable to register the sound of footsteps approaching his position on the bed or even extra weight being added to the green mattress.

Green jumped when he felt a hand holding his arm gently, rocking his body serenely and distracting his mind from thoughts for a few brief moments. He still didn't take his face off his knees, but he didn't take the hand off his arm either.

Faint sobs and small musical notes echoed through the spacious house, the fog of dark thoughts in his mind gradually fading until all that was left were just faint sobs and dry tears gracing his face, a few tears still running down his chin towards the bed, small drops of water, some already old, wetting the mattress.

He didn't register and didn't want to register how long it had been since he and the familiar but currently unknown stickfigure had been sitting on the bed. The stickfigure just rocked him calmly and slowly, distracting him from his thoughts that only got darker and darker, while also giving him time to calm down at his own pace, which Green deeply appreciates.

Eventually, his breathing seemed to have finally eased and he opened his eyes, raising his head slowly and groggily, somewhat destabilized after the horrible mental breakdown he had just had.

Yellow's composed and slightly worried face greeted him, the gentle movement of his head cooled off the nervous spasms he felt in his body after his brain had correctly registered the pathetic and disappointing scene he had just made, right in front of one of the last people he wanted for to see him in this state.

Yellow remained quiet, his hand still on Green's arm as he continued to rock him gently, his movements filled with nothing but pure affection and concern for him. For Green.

Green raised his head groggily, feeling light bubbles rising in his throat again and a new spiral of crying emerging before he pushed it back by force, several carefully chosen words in his head ready to start a conversation and break the suffocating silence, even though none of them had any actual desire to actually produce real sounds.

He coughed, a hoarse, noisy wet cough, taking a deep breath - with some difficulty - before merely forcing a sound out of his throat, words in his mind all jumbled together - he just wanted to break the silence, a silence so quiet and still and suffocating.

- W.. what." His voice was hoarse from crying and small musical notes were muddled with the words, making the words that came out of his mouth a confusing cacophony of sounds and verbs without a correct direction.

Yellow patted his free hand on his knee nervously, whispering softly; - I just wanted to check up on you."

Green no longer felt any motivation to actually form words and say them out loud, so he just shook his head sharply and pushed Yellow's hand away from his arm, a small musical note faintly leaving his mouth; a twisted, angry, broken sound.

Go away.

Yellow quickly understood the message the older one wanted to convey and tapped his hand on his knee nervously again, a slight, almost imperceptible movement of his shoulders lowering in defeat before he stood up and walked to the door, his steps light, but steady, echoing in the now empty space; where a single green stickfigure sat on his own bed of the same color, hugging and consoling himself from the world that only knew how to hurt. The only sounds that could be heard were his own whimpers and small melodic notes that the form curled up like a ball of the arrogant little musician emanated.

It's so quiet. The world seemed so much lonelier and more dangerous when it was quiet.

It's just him, and the world that hates him.

At some point in his breakdown; round two(2), Green fell asleep; spilled tears still dripping onto the mattress while light, dry remnants clung to his cheeks. Honestly, Green isn't sure if he actually fell asleep, all he remembers is that his perception of his surroundings was momentarily desensitized and he found himself lying in his bed, a pair of hands on his shoulder shaking him with enthusiasm to side to side, presumably being the reason why his brain seemed to have regained awareness of his surroundings when he felt a sudden and unexpected physical contact stirring him impatiently.

Red's excited and unbearably happy face was what greeted him this time, determination and enthusiasm adorning his movements as he continued to shake him the way he normally would when he had done something cool and desperately wanted to show to someone.

Noticing the slight movement of Green's head moving towards him, Red let go of the shorter stick's right shoulder and jumped back, his arms bobbing up and down happily before grabbing Green's hands and pulling him in a way so that he was now sitting on the bed, relinquishing him and quickly rushing to the door, giving him one last look (still jumping up and down and waving his arms happily) before jumping out of the house, his steps happy and hurried resonating even outside the household.

Green just stared at the door now open to him, not moving a single inch to follow Red to wherever the latter wanted to show him, an internal debate in his head with the decisions he could make.

Getting out of bed, let alone walking to the door, seemed like a challenge. His body had little to no motivation to exercise and his head was still a fog that momentarily distracted him from his surroundings. He really didn't want to get up.

But there would be no more silence if he did. The world would no longer seem so dangerous and immense for him if he went outside.

. . .

Green sighed, staring at the floor for several long moments before merely forcing his body to stand, stumbling a bit in disorientation after sitting for so long, before practically dragging himself to the door, his slow, sloppy steps echoing through the silent residence.

The entire time he walked towards the open door, Green stared at the ground, absentmindedly counting the pixel particles of the blocks he passed in his mind.

He really had no desire to do anything... But the silence he was in was too suffocating and oppressive for him to bear.

As he walked, Green quickly noticed that the light gradually dimmed with each new block, getting darker and darker until he couldn't even see the color of the staircase.

Green took his eyes off the floor and raised his head, noticing how the computer's lighting seemed to have suddenly faded, enveloping both him and the programs and the PC's characteristic background in immense darkness - Much like when he himself removed the brightness of the computer to blast his latest music at that time.

Green straightened up, feeling goosebumps all over his body as he took his cell phone out of his pocket and turned on the flashlight, quickly taking out his diamond sword from his inventory and holding it tightly, keeping his guard up for any possible mobs or whatever it was that could suddenly jump on him.

He slowly descended the steps, his steps light and careful as he illuminated the darkness around him and kept his ears open for any sign of movement or noise.

He wonders where his friends are...

Suddenly, red and orange and yellow and green and blue lights illuminated the computer and momentarily blinded him, causing him to stagger back in fright and throw his sword and cell phone into the air before quickly grabbing the sword in alarm, pointing the tip. sharp towards the light source as he vaguely registered the sound of his cell phone falling to the ground with the flashlight still on.

A stage - his stage - his concert stage - greeted him back, colorful lights enthusiastically illuminating the center of the stage, where stood his dearest friends that he had known for as long as he could remember.

Friends who also just watched as his concert was ruined by a fucking silverfish.

Green shook his head sharply to dispel that thought, slowly lowering his sword as he quickly settled down, no longer feeling the impending danger scratching the back of his neck, though that also didn't mean his irritation had disappeared.

He simply stared at the four(4) stickfigures on the stage, irritation was obvious in his movements as he gave them the silent treatment.

Blue clasped his hands together nervously, Red dragged his feet on the floor without looking at him while Orange shifted uncomfortably; The only one who seemed more balanced and stressless of all was Yellow, although Green could detect a slight touch of nervousness in the movement of his shoulders.

None of them said or made any movement as an indication that they were going to break the silence, Green just stared at them demanding an explanation while the others just moved and looked at each other nervously.

Blue turned to Red, grabbing his shoulder before pushing him forward. Red stumbled before immediately shaking his head roughly and pushing Blue forward, to which Blue grabbing Orange's hand and pulling the shortest one in front of him, pushing him nervously to be in Green's gaze. Orange looked back and forth between Blue, Red and then Green, staring at the ground while rubbing his arms nervously, before finally taking a single step forward before Yellow suddenly stopped him by grabbing his shoulder and pointing at himself, to which the youngest nodded in thanks and quickly went to Red's side.

Yellow took a deep breath, only taking three steps forward before finally breaking the silence, his voice a soft whisper with varying degrees of guilt and apologetic tone emanating from it.

- We're sorry."

Green bounced in surprise, confusion adorning his movements.

At the sound of Yellow's voice, the other three(3) seemed to find courage and quickly echoed their own apologies with equal degrees of guilt and apologetic tones, a cacophony of voices over one another as they made several sudden and clumsy movements.

- We had fun but you didn't have fun and that wasn't- It wasn't what- It was not cool. Nothing cool."

- We're really, really sorry- The show was horrible- It was horrible to you- It was scary, wasn't it? It was terrifying... We laughed but- And- We didn't even think how hurt would you be..."

- We didn't try to help you when you needed it most, and we completely understand if you- How angry you might- How angry you are and we won't force you to forgive us or anything-"

Sincere. Genuine. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Don't forgive us. You don't need to forgive us. We are really sorry. We will take better care of you.

Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry-

- So we thought about- Ah. To repair. Give you the concert you truly deserve."

The firm tone emanating from Yellow's voice quickly interrupted the fog that was beginning to form in Green's head, turning his head towards him to realize that the taller one had raised his hand and stopped everyone from continuing with the cacophony of voices. Of I'm sorrys. Of apologies-

Oh wait.

Oh. Oh.

The stage was for him?

- I know nothing will fix the damage that silverfish caused- The damage we didn't even try to cease- But." Yellow paused, clasping his hands and fidgeting nervously in his seat before taking a deep breath and continuing; - That's- The concert really mattered to you, so. We wanted to- Give you a chance to- A second chance to. Show to the world-

- The world being us."

Yellow elbowed Red. - Your performance. And just your performance only. No silverfish to take your place."

The stage was practically the same as the show, although it was significantly reduced to fit the computer and not cover the entire space to the point of being almost claustrophobic.

The instruments from before - from the villagers who agreed to help him with the concert - were not there, just the blocks and noteblocks that had been used previously in the concert. On his concert.

It was his show. It is his show.

The stage is his. The performance is his. The audience is his.

Green just stared at the stage, then at the instruments, then at his friends.

Millions of emotions flowed like musical notes, the fog in his head forming like fluffy, adorable clouds, and suddenly he felt an immense urge to jump and bounce and play and scream and stim and-

A single musical note, so small and confused and twisted and broken - yet joyful and hopeful and excited and free - floated from his mouth, the harp-like sound echoing so low that Green is sure none of them would have heard it if the room was not in a complete silent.

For me?

Yellow tilted his head gently, Blue touched his hands like he always does when he's excited, while Orange nodded and Red happily waved his arms up and down, encouragingly signaling the older one to come on stage.

For you.

Green timidly walked to the stage, Blue and Red quickly helped him by grabbing his hands and pulling him up, Orange walked towards him and gently pushed him to the center where the noteblocks were carefully placed in a way that formed a piano, patting his back in encouragement before going to join Red and Blue on the chairs in front of the stage, sitting right next to Red who was resting his parrots on his shoulders.

Yellow had the staff in hand, placing his hands on his hips in a sign of lighthearted annoyance, confusing Green momentarily before realizing that the taller stick was looking at the crumpled tie with small traces of dried tears.

Oh.

Green looked down at his shabby tie, dismay filling him at how careless he had been with his beautiful tie, before perking up when yellow hands suddenly grabbed his tie by the ends and stretched it, trying to straighten it back to the way it was before. Finishing, Yellow walked away and placed his hands on his hips as a sign of pride, while Green just stared at his tie, now even more messy and shabby than before.

Such a mistake like that would freak him out, reprimand the causer and quickly fix the damage done.

Now, somehow, he found no reason to care.

It was perfect. It is perfect.

Green took the staff extended to him with such delicacy and care, as if the staff would break with a single sloppy touch, holding it close to his chest like a plush.

Yellow patted his head, touching his forehead to Green's in a tender and gentle manner, before retreating and getting off the stage, sitting right next to Blue and putting all his attention on Green, on the show. On Green. On the performance. On Green.

All eyes and heads were on him, all attention was on him and him alone.

Playing his slightly altered melody as he now played solo, he felt on cloud nine. Gloatingly boasting of the enthusiastic applause and whistles of his beloved audience, who adored every performance he performed no matter how imperfect they seemed to him. Of his friends, who would always be there welcoming him with open arms and would help him in any way they could. Of his family, who adore him and love him so, so much.

It was perfect. It is perfect.

He is adored. He is accepted. He is loved.

He always was. And he always will be.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

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bootleg-parable · 18 hours

Text

"Say, User?" called Teller from overhead, and User responded only by moving his face closer into his friend's sweater. "Has anybody ever called you 'clingy' before?"

User groaned.

"Or shall I be the first?"

The younger man reeled his head around to look at Teller properly, and if one had to guess, he was wholly unamused. Teller laughed, shutting his book with a finger between the pages to keep his place.

"What? Am I wrong?"

He tapped Teller's glasses with a firm "Yes." before putting his head back down.

"You haven't moved in two hours."

User had an excuse: exhaustion. He found it rather plausible, given all of his up-and-aboutness as of recent in his searches. However, he couldn't say that Teller was completely wrong. He could have fallen asleep anywhere else. But he was comfortable here, and he knew that his friend was always close by. What was Teller on about, anyway? He didn't have work today. He'd be fine sticking around for a few hours, no harm done.

"Mmh," User didn't bother to spare him a proper reply, for he was already falling back into slumber.

"Oh, I'm only kidding," Teller reopened his book and scanned the collection of sentences for where he left off. "You know I don't mind."

#the stanley parable #tspud #tsp stanley #bootleguser #tsp narrator #bootlegstoryteller #wholesome #comfort

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acozysoulwrites · 1 day

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Druid!Tav x Astarion | Cat cuddles

Description: How the kitty cuddles began between Tav and Astarion!

Tav had always been anxious. From the moment they met, Astarion could see right through her exaggerated kindness and fumbled words.

As a druid, Tav found comfort in knowing that at any given moment, she could wildshape into a form other than herself.

When she felt intimidated, the wolf was her choice. When she felt insecure or sad, a cat was preferred.

Astarion noticed this early on in their journey. After returning to camp from a stressful battle, she’d check on everyone and then disappear.

He once caught a glimpse of a tail slinking onto the forest behind camp. Curious, and well, rather hungry and bored, he followed it.

Upon finding the creature, he was quickly disappointed to discover that it was simply Tav, not a quick ‘after-battle snack’.

A grin crawled across his face and he revealed himself from behind the tree. “Hunting mice, are we?” he cooed.

Tav’s tail shot up, rearing around in fright. Her eyes calmed after a moment. Her head tilted in confusion, almost as if to ask how’d you know?

Astarion simply chuckled. “You may be able to change your appearance, but your eyes are still as emerald as ever.” He sighed. “Too pretty for a feline, don’t you agree?”

Tav simply meowed in response, making her way toward the elf, paws gently pressing against the forest floor, crunching leaves below.

Astarion watched as she made her way closer. He always had a soft spot for cats, for whatever reason that may be… and this wasn’t helping him with his plan to use her for protection.

He sighed, kneeling down and rolling his eyes. “There there” He glanced around before sitting against the tree.

Tav hesitates, but takes this as a sign to proceed. She places a paw onto his leg.

“Come for a cuddle?” He whispers, weakly attempting to hide the growing warmth in his chest, he brings a hand up and hesitantly lays it on her head.

Tav purrs.

Astarion recalls a time not so long ago where she had wildshaped into this form mid battle by accident. The enemy learned one thing that day; never underestimate even the cuddliest of creatures.

“Well, at least you purr for me” He says now.

Tav scoffs the best way a cat can.

After these events, it becomes a regular thing. Through the months they travel together the two grow closer and often share nights of peaceful quiet, Tav purring in the vampires lap, and him sparing her comforting scratches and pats.

#fluff #comfort #headcanon #astarion #bg3 druid #druid #dnd #soft astarion #x tav #astarion x druid tav #astarion x tav #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate 3

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deuxcherise · 16 hours

Text

Weasel In

C/w: Unhealthy behavior, yandere OC, yandere male, whiny yandere, gender neutral reader, comfort (?), fluff (?), mentions violent action, cute image of stoat for reference

A/n: So I watched a video about a stoat, a type of weasel, and oml it's adorable as heck. And vicious. And we can’t deny a cute yandere, can we? Enjoy~

The stoat is a very lovely creature. Quite small, halfway tamable, and very weasel-like. A long-shaped living doll of a creature. However, it is… less cute in its mannerisms. You've seen it, with its tiny form, take down a rabbit twice its size and thickness. You were a child back then when you witnessed this shocking event, and have long since accepted that not all cute things are gentle and innocent.

Perhaps that is why you haven't called the police yet, though you definitely keep your phone on hand. Just in case…

(Y-Y/n)... I… This is not what it looks like!”

Really? Then what the heck are you looking at?

The very large trash bag he is dragging away in the alleyway next to your apartment has a very suspiciously human shape, with the head, the armed-bound torso, and bound legs. Sure, an idiot could chalk it up to Eris's strange tying technique, but you are no idiot.

Not to mention, the bag is starting to squirm and makes a muffled noise.

“Quiet,” Eris spit before he stomps on the bag so hard you could hear a crack. The bag immediately stills. He then turns to you with a bashful smile, like the kind of smile you’d find on a person who accidentally made a mess in the kitchen because they were trying to make a cake for you.

…..

Yeah, that’s the same exact smile he had when the one time you found him in your kitchen at 3AM, in the middle of baking a cake for your birthday. Sweet as the gesture was, you have never given him a key to your apartment.

You sigh. “Listen, could you please be more…” You gesture to this whole scene with circular motions of both of your hands. “Inconspicuous about your crimes?”

Eris's eyes sparkle. “Of course, my love! I made sure there aren't any cameras or witnesses here to catch me!”

There were many cameras set up by your landlord just a few days ago, as a result of an uptick of crimes in the area recently. Knowing Eris… that landlord wasted quite a sum.

“Actually, the area here is pretty dangerous,” he adds. “You should come live with me!”

“I've said this before, and I'll say it again. No, thank you.”

His pleasant expression falls for a second before he pipes up, “Mm, okay! Then let me install some cameras!”

“No. No, thank you.”

“But (Y/n)! How else am I going to wat–protect you?” he whines, his arms flailing the trash bag like a child throwing a tantrum.

You sigh as you turn around and start walking into your apartment. You ignore his cries for your name, unwilling to deal with people in general after finishing your 9-to-5 customer service job. That's how you found him actually, or rather how he found you. Funny, isn’t it? You don't understand why he's so… obsessed over you to this point.

Why you haven’t taken any real action so far is because he’s been pretty harmless overall–aside from a few kisses on the cheek and head and hand. He really likes planting kisses on you, doesn't he? At least he doesn't kiss you on the lips… as far as you're aware…

Still in your work uniform, you collapse on your couch and take a nap for at least an hour. When you wake up again, you find Eris on top of you, staring intensely at your face with a very blank, doll-like expression. Realizing you're awake, his doll-like face breaks into a smile.

“(Y/n)~” he sweetly calls out to you, like a puppy greeting his owner. It would’ve been cute, but his history of creepy antics pollutes his image.

You don't question how he gets into your apartment without a key anymore. “Get off,” you command.

“Noooo… Don't wannaaaa.”

You sigh. He's being difficult again. You take a hand and push against his shoulder, expecting to push him off your bed as usual. This time, however, he's too solid and stable. Drowziness is keeping you weak.

“Eris…”

“Yes, love?”

“Please get off… you're crushing me.”

“Eh?? No, I'm not!”

He really isn't, bearing his weight on his elbows and knees and not at all on your body. How long has he kept this pose?

Seeing his face about to whine again, you say, “Ugh, fine.” You roll over onto your stomach and close your eyes again.

“(Y/n)? Are you going back to sleep? You haven't had dinner yeeet.”

“.....”

“(Y/nnn).”

“Don't feel like eating.”

“Uh… But (Y/n), you have to take care of your health. Or let me take care of your health.”

“Don't need you to. Leave me alone.”

“Hmphhhhh.”

“.....”

You hear him lower himself down onto your body to wrap his arms around you. His lips trace the back of your neck, much to your discomfort.

“(Y/n),” he whispers.

“.....”

“You're lonely, right?”

“.....”

“I am too, so I know. You don't have to tell me.”

“.....”

“Since we're both alone… I was thinking… we should become a family together… Isn't that a good idea?”

“.....”

“I can wait for you at home… cook for you… do the laundry… take out the trash… take care of our children…”

“I don't want any children,” you murmur.

He gently kisses the back of your head. “Of course, of course. I’m okay if it’s just you and me. Would you like a summer wedding or a winter wedding? Personally, I prefer winter-”

“I'm not… marrying you.”

“Mm… That's okay too! We can… elope, if that's what you want. As long as we're together.”

“I don't… like you that way.”

“Oh… does that mean you like me in other ways?”

What part of–you sigh. “Shut up… trying to sleep…”

You hear him giggle as he hugs you tighter and plants some more kisses on the back of your head. “Okay, okay, my love. I'm just… so happy. Being with you. I really am. I'll make you fall in love with me… some day, (Y/n).”

“Mm hm… Sure…”

“Just need to… get rid of some more… pests… so we can be together… always…”

And the both of you head off to dreamland together on the couch~

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