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peachesofteal · 8 months

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Crane your Neck

"And I placed my palm upon your collarbone, and I wished to fall asleep deep in your marrow, as gently as a mouse curled up in a ball, as gently as a mouse until tomorrow" - Lady Lamb

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick/female reader 2.1k words Warnings-tags: 18+ Minors DNI. Violence, blood, gore. Injury. Medical inaccuracies. Hurt/comfort. For @glitterypirateduck's Gazfest One shot/safe house + "I'll take care of you"/"Just like that"

The fire rages.

It burns across the field, flames licking into the sky, smoke blotting out the sun until he’s not sure whether it’s night or day. Until it’s all he can see, all he can feel, the burn of carbon monoxide, carbon dioxide, seeping through his skin to his bones, burning into the whites of his eyes until he has no choice but to blink them closed, over and over.

He ducks in between the row of houses, seeking shelter from the ash that falls from the sky. It’s not much, but enough, and he sticks close to the crumbling brick wall, debris and bodies and chunks of homes cluttering his route.

He holds his weapon steady in front of his body. They come in waves, and he extinguishes each one, step by step, eliminating every single body between him and the last house on the left.

Your last known location.

One gets the drop on him, from behind, to his left. The man is fast, but not fast enough, nor skilled enough, to take him in close combat. A blade twists, there’s a flash of metal, of silver, before a prick of pain against his ribs, and then he’s burying his own knife into the man’s neck, seeking the soft spot beneath his jaw and ear.

His blood spurts like a fountain. Kyle presses on.

His mind is so focused, so dialed in, that the pain in his side is barely a hum. It sings with the throbbing of his knee, the song of the torn ligament in his ankle. They all come together to fade into the darkness, not even a thought.

His brain will carry his body until he cannot walk. Cannot fight. Cannot breathe. It is his most powerful weapon. His sharpest tool.

His radio is gone. The last crackle carrying just the hint of Price’s voice through to him before it chirped a final transmission and went dark.

“- safe house.”

He’ll make it.

But not without you.

"What is it?"

"What's that?"

"You're... staring at me." you motion with the rag you've got in your hand, and he can't fight the smile that pulls at his lips.

"'m not." He lies. He is, and has been, for the last hour. Staring at you, sitting in the bed of the truck, polishing some arbitrary piece of equipment while he sits and counts small pieces of parts. The sun has started to sink below the horizon, and it bathes you in a rainbow of orange and pink and red, dancing across your skin like a kaleidoscope, ever changing, but never less stunning. He's staring, because he's memorizing it, like a photograph he'll never get to take, something to hold close, to hold on to, to see again and again when he closes his eyes. When he's away from you, or across the room. When he's on a different continent, or buried in a shallow grave.

He finds you exactly where you said you’d be. Laid up in the kitchen of the last house on the left, your favorite LMG clutched in one hand, the other pressed to the wound just below your navel. There’s another body with you, an enemy’s, a man’s, facedown near the table.

Your blood fans out beneath you, staining the worn linoleum of the room, a room that once probably, held happiness and sorrow. Family gatherings or quiet meals, tears or moments of joy. Now, all it holds is you and the dead man beside you. One in the grave, and the other, clinging to life that spills from a wound like water.

“D-damn, Gaz. Y’come all this way for me?” You cough, lips splitting wide to showcase a bloody set of teeth. You’re playing with him, as you’re prone to do. Fucking around, like you usually are with him, with Soap. It’s something he looks forward to, most days. The sound of your laughter, the way your voice changes when you’re telling a joke or, even better, the way you giggle when you’re laughing about something he’s said.

“You’re a fucking riot, Garrick.” You’d wipe your eyes, pretty grin stretching across your face while you shook your head. It made him swell with pride, whenever it happened. Whenever he got you to smile like that.

Now, your smile does nothing to hide the glimmer of fear in your eyes. The panic that ebbs and flows in the room with you, riding the tide every second you draw breath.

You’re in bad shape.

“Couldn’t leave without my favorite sparring partner.” He kneels, wrapping strong fingers around your wrist. Your own dig into your jacket, trying to hold onto the wound, trying to keep him from lifting your palm.

“Don’t.” You warn and he shakes his head. “I’ve got it. Let me see.” His words are insistent, but patient. He won’t force you, but he’s got more strength, more energy than you. You both know it.

“It’s bad, Kyle.”

“Can’t be too bad, you’re still giving me shit, yeah?” He smiles, and you heave a sigh.

The exchange is quick. He’s got your hand free in one moment, enough time for blood to slick across your clothes faster than he likes, and then his hand covering it in the next.

You weren’t wrong. It is bad. Bad enough that one look at it is enough to tell him it needs to be cauterized, and he curses himself for not getting here sooner.

“What was it?” You grit your teeth.

“Knife.” You jerk your foot towards the body a meter away, and he tries not think about the struggle that happened.

“Got one of those too.” He motions to his ribs, and your face screws up into something stricken, something worried.

“You should have gone right to the safe house.” You hiss, and he ignores it, switching his hand with yours again to source something from the kitchen.

“Hold pressure.” He instructs, and your head wobbles when you see the glint of the knife in his hand. “It’s too late for that-“ you mumble, but he shakes his head in denial.

“Wait here.”

“Obviously.” A half smile cracks across your face, and he returns it easily before slinking off into the back of the kitchen to find a burner.

It’s the screaming, that he cannot bear. The act itself is not without struggle, but the sound of your voice breaking, again and again, would be too much for anyone to stand. The smell of your flesh searing is rife against his nose, worse than the smell of the ash and blood that permeates the air outside the door. The sounds of your screams are worse than the struggle of your body beneath his strength, the push and pull of your chest against the arm that pins you down, tries to hold you still.

“I know, I know.” He murmurs, trying to comfort you, the blade still pressed to your skin as it finishes. “Breathe.”

The raw scrape of your voice pains him, flickering down into his heart, past everything he’s built to keep you out, everything he’s built to keep his brain focused, to keep himself on point.

“Almost done, love. Almost there.” He promises, letting the forearm that presses against your chest relax slightly as the knife begins to cool, pulling it away to reveal the burn that will undoubtedly scar and most likely get infected unless he gets you to the safehouse.

The screaming has already burrowed itself beneath his skin, scarring him the same as you. Something he’ll carry always, the memory of your agony. The sound of your pain.

He lets you rest, for a few minutes. Sits there in the house against the wall with you, your thigh pressed to his, your lashes sticky with tears. He watches your chest rise and fall, rise and fall, your deft fingers still woven with his. You haven’t let go, even when he repositioned you to rest more comfortably, even when he went to pull away. You kept your grip tight, your eyes trained on the ceiling.

It feels like a good sign. Good enough of a sign that he’s ready to move the two of you.

“Got a radio?”

“Negative.”

“Alright, then. Ready?” He shifts onto his feet, knees flexing as he hoists one of your arms around his shoulder.

“You can’t be serious… I wa-was been bleeding for too long. It’s too far.” He’s a logical man. An intelligent one. He’s very good, too good at calculating the risks, and evaluating opportunities for success. He excels at his work. He strives to ensure his mind is sharp, that his tactical ability, his awareness, is just as on point as it ever was.

You make this a challenge. More than he cares to admit to himself, to his captain, to his team.

“Well, I didn’t come all this way for nothing.” He volleys and you scowl. “Let’s go.” It’s firm, and he’s adamant. He cannot be soft now, even though it’s what he craves. What he dreams about at night, in the room across the hall or the tent across the path from you. He dreams of folding your body into his, of holding you tightly against him, stroking your skin and pressing his lips against yours, plucking delicate sounds from your mouth with fervor.

He wishes, so badly, to be soft but he cannot. Not if he wants to save you.

And he will. He’ll get you there, to the safe house. There is no other option.

Your legs kick out from underneath you while you try to push upwards, and he uses your grip to leverage you against him, leaving you standing but pressed to his hip, his hand still cradling your stomach.

You’re close enough to him now that he can feel your ribs expanding and contracting next to him, their slow and steady draw enough to settle the dark tendrils of fear that have sprouted in the back of his mind, quieting the thump of panic in his heart. “One step at a time.” He encourages, and you glare.

“Easy for you to say.” You protest, but you do it anyway, syncing your movements with his.

“Just like that.” You nod shakily, and he shoves down the urge to press his lips to the side of your head, to breathe you in. “That’s good.”

“It’s too far.” You tell him again, but he rebukes it.

“It’s not. Hardly a click.” The lie doesn’t go unnoticed, but neither of you speak on it.

You collapse after a click and a half. Your weight sinks into his, head lolling back until he’s lowering you to the ground, squeezing your shoulders and shaking your body to jog you into consciousness.

“Wake up, love. Come on.” He barks it, unable to be calm, desperate to get you to focus on him.

Explosions boom from the north. Red streaks across the sky.

They’re moving closer. The risk continues to rise.

“Come on, come on!” You blink at him, a little out of focus but conscious, and he doesn’t bother to fight himself anymore, he strokes a hand across your cheek, rubs your temple with a thumb and the sweeps his palm over your forehead. “There you are.”

“Kyle.” Your color is off now, changing rapidly, and even in the glow of the fire, he can see how your eyes struggle to track him.

You’ve lost too much blood. Even with the cauterization, there’s no reversing what happened before he found you.

“Think you’ve got ‘nother click in ya?”

“Kyle.” It’s a no, it’s a request, a protest. You want him to leave. You want him to run. “You have to-“

“Don’t.” He spits. “Don’ even bother, you hear me?”

“I can’t walk.” You insist and he shrugs.

“I’ll carry you.” Your mouth forms an o, and then closes, before you shake against him. Your fingers tighten in his tac vest, and he pulls your knees and torso towards his body, curving your spine to be carried against his chest. “I’ve got you, alright? We’re almost there.”

When he breaches the door, it’s with a kick. Your breathing is shallow, and you stay curled beneath him, your head tucked under his chin, arm limp.

Soap jumps to his feet with a shout, and then he’s clearing a table, helping Gaz lay you flat.

They’re not medics, none of them have enough field medical training to do more than what’s already been done, but at least they can radio an evac and give you a sedative, some antibiotics.

Your brow creases in pain. He strokes your cheek.

“We made it.” He murmurs, and you nod weakly into his hand.

Soap approaches from the other side with a needle, drawing up a vial while you stare up at Gaz.

“Medevac?” you croak, and he squeezes your hand.

“Yes, love. We’ll get you back, get you into medical. And- I’ll… I’ll take care of you.” You smile, teeth still splattered with blood. Smeared with it. “I’ll be with you, the whole way.”

“Promise?” you slur out. Soap stabs your wound with the needle, but you don’t flinch, don’t even react.

You just keep your eyes on him, until your lashes are fluttering shut with the weight of the sedative.

He smooths his hand over your head, before leaning forward to press his lips to your forehead with a whisper.

“I promise.”

#peaches writes #gazfest #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x you #gaz x reader #gaz cod #gaz mw2 #kyle garrick x reader #cod

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staarri · 23 days

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𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨 — 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡.

c. scaramouche

character(s) are friends with reader, gn!reader, angsty-ish, scaramouche is still in the fatui, this is a work of fiction

fluff , love letter . word count : roughly 0.9k

t. @aventurne @tragedy-of-commons @yvnaology @nyoomiin

Scaramouche is not an easy man to love. He’s busy, constantly busy, awake even during the most ungodly hours of the night and constantly rubbing at his eyes from his exhaustion. It’s no surprise the Fatui are overworking him again. What’s funny is that he’s sitting at his desk, a pile of papers on the right side–all reports from his underlings–were unnoticed; all of it, even the chirping of the birds as the sun rose and showed the start of a new day, Scaramouche was stuck on a piece of paper in front of him with the words that reads, To my dearest.

There's no way he can capture your beauty on a cheap piece of parchment . He should’ve bought something expensive instead, like a new set of clothes he thinks you’ll like. But lately you’ve just seemed so distant. He needs to reach you somehow. You’ve been driven away by the lies his mouth spills and now, he’s suffering with the consequences, and not once will he ever say it to you, but he needs you to stick with him while he tries to better himself.

So here he is: a fountain pen in hand, wasting his time with something so.. childish. Who writes letters anyway, isn't it something you did as a child towards someone you liked?

Call him a child then. Call him old-fashioned, traditional, and in love. Call him whatever you like, because in the end he’s yours, and he’s always been.

He’s let his thoughts linger for too long and suddenly it's 7 am. His eyebags have never been worse and his mind is tired, not from his job, but from this stupid letter he’s made no progress on. To my dearest should be good enough, right? I mean, you were easy to please. He was sure that it would be more than enough for you.

How tiring. He says, mindlessly scribbling on the paper, jet-black ink scattered all throughout and splattering around the words. Was he angry? Not at all. Frustrated, yes, but for a good reason–to think he did this just because you two were friends was infuriating. Shouldn’t you two be something more?

You were pretty, far too pretty for him to describe. Scaramouche thought his vocabulary was wide enough, but this letter alone has him searching for the words he once knew. Your eyes, leaving him feeling small in a never ending forest and your smile–god, your smile was intoxicating. It would give light to the things he’s been hiding from you this entire time. Your laugh–your voice, sweet and soft, loud and oh-so clear. How you’d bring it down to a whisper when you feel embarrassed about admitting something, how your nose scrunches up when you laugh or when your smile lines just seem so fitting for someone like you.

What was so special about you?

You were like the sunset on the beaches, glowing. Absolutely stunning, ethereal, lighting everything in a bright orange, his eyes becoming a mix of brown and a dark blue. He’s different around you, he's a completely different person. From the color of his eyes to the racing of his heart, to the feeling that he wasn’t getting enough air whenever you hold his hand–but you’d do it in a friendly way. You don't squeeze his hand too tight, you let go when necessary and don’t leave any kind of touch lingering for far too long.

Scaramouche is not an easy man to love. He’s bad with words and he can’t tell you the things you want to hear;he can’t provide you with the touch you crave, he can’t make up his mind. One moment he’s thinking about just giving you a whole bag of mora for you to use for your next trip, the other he’s thinking about finishing this damn letter that has plagued his mind ever since you first whispered the fact you appreciate him.

There’s no way he can treat you right. There’s absolutely no way he will be perfect, that he’ll be the partner that’ll leave such a mark on you. But god, ask for the world and he will give it to you. Name one thing and when you wake up it's right at your nightstand. Choose the ring and its design, he’ll get a matching one that you yourself decided on as well. Just say the word because he is a child in love.

So here he is, an envelope in hand. Going to the nearest flower shop to buy something that will still wilt under the sun after a few days. He will not love, and can’t love the same way as you, but he will learn how to.

Call him stupid;call him an idiot for falling for someone he knows is way too out of his league. But that’s all he is, and it's far too late to change that. He might lose you at some point, and that's really what scares him the most.

Suddenly he’s standing at your doorstep, ringing the doorbell and you’d be confused who in the world decided to bring you a sunflower and a piece of envelope in the middle of the day–you don't recall ordering anything.

He didn’t even get to sign it. Maybe next time he can get it right… for his dearest.

characters belong to their respective companies. everything is written by staarri - do not steal, reupload, translate, modify or feed my work to ai.

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grimoireofhayley · 9 months

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Of Friends and Horror

Stu Macher x Fem!Reader x Billy Loomis

WARNINGS: Graphic content, eventual Smut (MINORS DNI), Language, Talks of SA (rape), Cheating, Obsessiveness, Gore, 18+ content, Stalking, Jealousy, Angst, Possessiveness, (let me know if there’s more that needs to be added!)

Word Count: 1.02k

Tag List: @ev3ningrain @nerdytif @m-the-little-witch

A/N: Ah, I hope y’all feel lucky. Two chapters in one day! I hope you enjoy this one as much as I enjoyed writing it. I hope I captured Randy, Billy, and Stu’s personality correctly. Thank you so much for reading! I’m hoping I’d get an update out tomorrow, but if not, it should be up later on this week at some point so keep an eye open. I also wrote this on my iPad, so I apologize if there’s any grammatical errors. I’ll proofread again tomorrow and put out an updated version. Oh, again, if you wanna be added to the tag list, just comment down below. Thank you :)

All chapter links! 👇🏻👇🏻👇🏻

OF&H Masterlist

Chapter 3

“Remember, your principal loves you, and I want you to be safe. All students are encouraged to return to their homes promptly from school grounds…” The principal spoke over the PA, “Avoid strangers, walk in twos and threes—“

You pinched the bridge of your nose, visibly stressed from all the questioning. You haven’t a clue why you were so upset about everything, you weren’t the killer, but for some reason it felt like you were. Maybe you should’ve lied? Twisted the story a bit so you didn’t reveal you were a mistress at some point in your life.

“I am a slut..” You mumbled, dragging your fingers down your face, causing your eyes to droop. “Now Brooke is definitely going to find out, how am I to confront her on that?” You asked no one in particular.

You stared at the vibrant blue sky, squinting when the sun flashed your eyes. “Have mercy on me, please?” You begged the man upstairs, not expecting an answer in return.

“What kind of questions did they ask you, Sid?” You heard Tatum’s voice in the distance.

You blew a raspberry, putting your brave face on and sauntered over to your friend group at the fountain.

“They asked if I knew Casey…” Sidney’s voice soon followed.

“Hi, guys!” You chirped, sitting in front of Stu, Billy, Tatum and Sidney, unintentionally stopping their conversation.

“Hello, Sweetcheeks!” Stu blurted, eyes glazing over you, a small smirk planted on his lips. “What took you so long?” He groaned, “It’s always so boring when you aren’t here!” He frowned, tossing his head back.

“Gee, thanks Stu..” Tatum snipped, causing you to giggle.

You looked over to Billy, seeing Sidney leaning against his legs, your face contorting in disgust as jealousy was creeping up on you. You mentally slapped yourself, looking away and back at Stu.

“Uh, they had me stay longer for questioning…” You admitted, leaning back against your bag, stretching out your legs.

“Huh? Why?” Billy asked, curiously.

“Yeah, why’s that?” Sidney mumbled.

You swallowed the lump that formed in your throat.

“Just reasons, I guess.”

“Speaking of questioning, did they ask if you like to hunt?” Stu looked at Billy and Randy who seemed to have shown up out of nowhere.

“Yeah, they did. Did they ask you?” Billy answered and probed, Randy nodded in agreement.

“Hunt? Why would they ask you if you liked to hunt?” Tatum voiced.

“Because their bodies were gutted.” Randy spoke up, shoving a peanut in his mouth.

“They didn’t ask me if I liked to hunt…” both Sidney and Tatum declared.

Stu looked around, but his eyes always seemed to land on you, which caused you to blush, and chew on your fingernail.

“‘Cause there’s no way a girl could’ve killed ‘em..” Stu laughed.

“That’s bullshit. The killer could easily be female, basic instinct.”

“That was an ice pick. Not exactly the same thing…” Randy butted in.

“Yeah, Casey and Steve were completely hollowed out. And the fact is, it takes a man to do something like that.” Stu grinned, still staring at you without realizing it.

You leaned in, placing your chin on the palm of your hand. “Really now? If that’s so, then why did they ask me if I liked to hunt, Stu?” You smirked, catching all of them off guard. “Like Tatum said, the killer could easily be a girl. Though, with how they were killed it was clearly a man. They’re all the same, messy. They like to play with their prey. A woman on the other hand, knows how to get things done, swiftly and cleanly. Why do you think they don’t get caught as easily?” You finished your statement. Drumming your fingers across your lap in triumph.

“That was— I was not expecting that.” Stu laughed loudly, bewilderment lingering around him like an aroma of some sorts. Billy was just as shocked, but more amused.

However, Sidney wasn’t having it. “How… How do you gut someone?” She asked.

“You take a knife—“ Stu started and Billy looked up from his lunch. “And you slit ‘em from the groin to the sternum..”

“Hey.” Billy cut Stu off, glaring at him. “It’s called tact, you fuckrag.”

You sighed, shaking your head.

“Hey, (Y/n)..” Sidney asked, ignoring Billy and Stu’s former conversation.

Your ears perked and you looked at her confused.

“Didn’t you used to date Steve Orth?”

‘Now how in the fuck could she have possibly known that…’ You thought, your ears turning red from anger and you clenched your fist.

“Yeah, for like a couple of months..”

“Hold up, did I miss a chapter or something? When the hell did you date him?” Billy asked, looking somewhat pissed.

“Uh, yeah, I have to agree with Billy here.. when the hell did that happen?” Tatum’s eyes widened, she felt betrayed.

“Jesus, guys, it was only a couple of months, I don’t even know how Sidney found out.” You started, shooting Sidney a glare.

“Can we change the subject, please?”

“Did you sleep with him?” Stu mumbled, starting to get irritated as well.

“All of you, please just shut up. It is not a big deal.” You demanded.

“Are the police aware that you dated the victim?” Randy asked, ignoring your pleas.

“Hey, what are you saying? That I killed both Casey and Steve?” Your mouth gaped at the accusation.

“It just makes sense, ex-girlfriend not over the relationship, gets jealous seeing her lover with someone else… You know, the scorned ex who kills for revenge!” Randy shouted, earning a few stares in the process from passersby’s.

“(Y/n) was with me last night, okay?” Billy spoke, winking at you from behind Sidney.

“Yeah, I was…” You stated, catching Sidney’s eyes darting your way.

“Was that before or after you sliced them up?”

“Hold on, you went to (Y/n)‘s after you came by my place? You said you were going to Stu’s!” Sidney flared her nostrils, anger bubbling to the surface.

“Oh, brother…” You whispered, face-palming. Seeing Sidney hurriedly packing up her things, she didn’t give neither you or Billy time to explain...

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#fanfiction #billy loomis x female reader #ghostface x female reader #stu matcher x reader #stu macher x female reader #billy x you x stu #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis #stu macher #ghostface #scream x reader #scream franchise #scream 1996

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soxcietyy · 1 month

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Temptation

Chapter 3 -> Chapter 4

Your dad is tired of you bringing home these unworthy men. None of them being fit to take care of you or to be given the family business since you are the only daughter. He decides to find you someone fit to be your husband and receive help from the father of the church. That’s when you meet Yuta, though just because he goes to church doesn’t mean he’s much of a saint

Mafia, murder, violence, mentions of religion, (will contain other things in the next chapters)

"We’re going to get married father." Yuta says as the both of you sat down in front of him. He sat in his chair with his arms crossed and his eyes closed. Clearly not asking him but telling him his plans.

You turned to look at Yuta in shock as the words fell out his mouth. The hairs standing up on your body but you couldn’t tell if it was because the room was a bit chilly. You couldn’t quite grasp the idea of you guys getting married so soon. You guys had just met not even two weeks ago and he’s already attempting to get married?! You look back at the father to see if he had anything to say about this bizarre request. You doubted he would even go through something like this. Marriage was something really serious and something to not be played with. He looked at Yuta before sighing and taking out a really old broken down planner. Using his shaking skinny finger he guided himself through the pages until he found what he was looking for.

"Next month Saturday is available."

You stood up abruptly making the both of them look at you. "Father don’t you think it’s too soon? I mean we just agreed on being in a relationship yesterday." Both of the men looked at each other communicating with just a blink. You could see Yuta lift his chin up at the priest signaling for him to say something.

"Listen y/n, I think this would be a beautiful thing. A man and a woman coming together to become one. Then you’ll have kids and have a happy family. Your what in your twenties? Our life expectancy is only sixty-six. It’s better to start off early." He says as he starts writing something down.

Yuta had yet to speak another word. He’d gotten his point across and would like to not waste his breath on meaningless conversation. Clearly you were the only one with a tight state of mind. Though the way they looked at with a look of pity made you feel defeated. You slowly descended back down your seat. What would your dad say about this? He’ll probably be happy and will congratulate you guys on it. Everyone you know is going to be shocked when they find out you’re getting married next month. He’ll probably be upset because you didn’t update him.

The father ended up dismissing the both of you. You tried not looking upset but it was hard. Wrapping your hand around Yutas arm you walk down the pavement. He could tell you were upset but he really didn’t know how to deal with such an issue. Though if he wanted to get married without a problem he would have to learn how to deal with you and your feelings.

Stopping his steps, he grabs you and sits you down on the concrete part of the fountain. Water sprinkled on your hands as the water from the fountain fell.

"What’s wrong sweetheart? Are you upset because I want us to get married?" He asks.

You knew how horrible it would sound if you said yes. You also couldn’t bare to see his upset face at all. But you didn’t want this relationship to be built off of lies. Relationship where about communicating, getting along and understanding each other.

"Yuta, don’t you think this is too Soon? What if we’re not compatible for each other?" You say as he caressed your cheek.

You somehow melt into his hand and enjoy his warmth. The sun shines brightly over you guys making his dark blue eyes seem lighter. His dark and scary mask he wore seemed to have melted off.

"Do you want me to tell you the truth? But you can’t get mad at me okay?" He runs his thumb under your eye.

You nod at him as you put your hair behind your ear.

"Your dad has some thugs after him and well obviously they’re going to be after you too. He wanted us to get married so I could provide protection for you. You know he has a lot on his plate now and I’m just trying to help him out." Yuta study’s your face carefully, trying to read you like a book.

"So you’re just with me because of that?" Your eyes begin to water.

You felt like such an idiot thinking he liked you. Him and your dad had played you like a fool.

"No,no, I fell for you the second I saw you at church. When you shook my hand. I fell harder when we had a proper conversation at the store. When I met your dad I was trying to convince him to let me have a chance with you. He then told me his situation and luck for him because I had all he wanted. Someone he knew that would keep you safe."

He brings you into a hug and pats the top of your head. "If people know you’re married to me then they won’t lay a finger on you or your father." He says soothingly. "I know you wouldn’t want to see him hurt."

"But what if end up divorcing?" You look up at him with a sad look.

"I don’t believe in divorces sweetheart, I’d be an idiot to let you go."

You hug him hard, maybe he wasn’t such a bad person after all. He was looking out for you and your family. Not just any man would take such responsibility. Maybe it was love at first sight. You move your hands down his body and feel something hard on his right side. Backing up you open his coat to see a gun snugged in there.

Yuta looks down at it, "emphasizing on the protection" he smiles and closes his coat back up quickly.

You wernt the biggest fan of weapons. To be honest they scared you. How could something so small create such an impact of someone’s life? Why were they so easy to acquire? Something so deadly should be locked away.

You watch as he grabs something from his pocket and get on one knee. Opening it he reveals a ring inside. "I’m sorry I couldn’t make this as special as any girl would want. I’m not good at things like this." Yuta says. "But will you marry me?"

You couldn’t help but let out a laugh. Not because you thought this was stupid but this was a really poor attempt. A girl would be enraged if they were to get proposed to like this. Thankfully you were that easy to keep happy. You tell him yes as you throw yourself onto him. His breath being halted by your chest that squash the side of his face. It’s been a minute since he’s felt something like this. He slips the ring on you immediately before he could loose it. He stood up immediately and kissed you so passionately that the two of you almost ended up falling in the water fountain.

"You’re going to be quite busy this month with planning our wedding." Yuta says as he starts the car.

"What? are you not going to help?" You ask

"I am but I want to give you the opportunity to make this wedding to your liking." He grabs your hand and kisses it.

When you got back to your new home you ran upstairs leaving Yuta to pick up everything you dropped in the entrance. That being your coat, purse, heels and Bible. You were just so excited to start planning that you went to look for a pen and any empty notebook. When you did find one in his nightstand you took it and sat on the floor that had bedding on it. Last night Yuta had slept on the floor while you slept on his bed.

"You think I’ll be able to join you on the bed tonight? My back is killing me." Yuta said as opened the door.

He put everything where it belonged and sat on the floor with you.

Last night you were getting into bed but quickly hopped right off when you noticed that Yuta was getting in the same bed as you. He had a look of confusion as he tried to figure out what he did wrong.

"We can’t sleep together until we’re married." You say.

Yuta ignores you and proceeded to get comfortable in bed so you took one of the blankets he had. You then walked to the couch and laid down while throwing the blanket on top of yourself. It was important for you to follow gods word. If he had an issue with it that then it was his problem. Before you could fall asleep you felt as two arms picked you up and placed you back on the bed.

"Yuta we cant s-"

"I’ll sleep on the floor." He grumbled.

You chuckle as you looked at his tired face. He did look like he had little to no sleep last night. You couldn’t lie you did feel bad for taking his bed. The poor guy was too tall, he couldn’t even sleep on the couch.

"Marriage yu." You say as you began writing.

You watched as he stopped moving for a second and stared at you eyes wide. "What did you just call me?" He asks.

"Yu! It’s your nickname, or would you prefer honey?" You smile.

You could see his ears turning red as he turned away embarrassed. "I don’t care for such names. Call me whatever, I’ll respond."

"Well Yu, I would appreciate it if you could give me a phone book and a list of contacts we can rely on." You say.

He quickly stood up and went to look for the items.

After five hours of planning you guys decided to take a break. Who knew planning could be so draining. It made you wonder how your mom did it. Yuta fell asleep leaning against the wall and you were drifting off on his lap. Hopefully you didn’t dream about planning the wedding. Closing your eyes completely you began to drift into a peaceful sleep. That was until the phone started ringing next to you. You jolt up, being awaken by the loud ringing. You quickly grab it to answer it so it would not wake up your fiancé. You felt like letting him rest since allegedly he got no sleep because of you.

"Hell-"

"Don, where are you?! We have been ambushed and have lost five men. Hakari is going to kill us if you don’t show up in an hour. He’s furious about the undergroun-"

"Sweetheart you shouldn’t be taking calls that arnt for you." Yuta snatched the phone out of your hand. You gasp at the sudden surprise but you don’t say anything. He gave you an innocent smile as he rubbed your shoulder helping you recover from the scare. You could have sworn he was dead asleep while ago.

"I’ll be there under an hour. Next time when you call me. Make sure you hear my voice before saying anything." Yuta said before slamming the phone down. Any harder and it would have broken into pieces.

He closes his eyes and lets out a loud sigh. Whatever that was about must of been bad. "I’ll be back sweetheart, need anything from the store?" He asks before kissing you.

You shake your head as you watch him grab his things. He looked pretty annoyed but any work call would be annoying. At least that’s what you figured.

"What is going on here, just look at this mess." Yuta said as he walked into a casino with multiple body’s laying on the ground. Thank god for it was an abandoned one. As he walked deeper into the place he could see more and more men on the floor. He didn’t really care for them though since these guys were people who were in depth to him. He would never send his own men to do something like this unless it was urgent.

In this business work you make people who ask you for favors return them. That’s why he had the father wrapped around his finger. He had begged Yuta to get revenge on these men who raped his wife. So he did, but it came with a price. That’s how he ended up with you and how he continues getting whatever he wants.

"Okkotsu! When was the last time we’ve seen each other? Last thing I heard you was when you were about to get married." Hakari’s voice yelled out, the echo following right after.

He was sitting on a chair with his legs wide open. He held a gun on his left hand and a stack of papers on the other. From the looks of it he guessed this had something to do with blackmailing. Not that Yuta cared because it want towards him. Snapping his attention back to the conversation he puts his own gun away.

Hakari was right the last time they saw each other was when he was about to get married. Someone decided to shoot his bride to be a week before the wedding. That was something he had yet to figure out who was behind it but he had to let it go. If he tried investigating it you would be questioning too many things.

"Right, how are you and your lover? Surprised they haven’t had a bullet put in between there eyes. You know, since they’re not actually a girl." Yuta leans on an old counter.

Hakari grits his teeth as he tries to think about something to fire back. "Hey man you promised to keep it hush hush. Listen you can’t keep holding that against me." Hakari throws his hands up.

If people were to see them together in public they would think they were quite close. They wouldn’t be wrong though they had their share of arguments and differences. Sometimes things got too heated and his lover would have to step in to calm him down. If it wasn’t for them there would be a war.

"Nobody told you to have sex in the meeting room five minutes before OUR meeting." Yuta crosses his arms. "Ever heard about bringing professional Don?"

"Obviously I have, anyways sorry for your partners, had to put them out. They tried steeling things that they owe me and well they couldn’t pay it back." Hakari grabbed a wad of hundreds from his pocket and smacks on a dead person face. You could hear the harsh slapping from the impacts.

Yuta had no reason to be here at all. This seemed like a personal issue not his. Hakari throws a bottle of liquor towards Yuta which he easily caught. He turned the bottle to look at it.

"Found it, probably taste immaculate since it’s been aging in here." Hakari grins.

A couple of drinks wouldn’t hurt. He had come all this way for nothing and this whole wedding thing was stressing him. Last time his dead fiancé did all the planning. She was a beautiful young lady with a poor background. She didn’t have much to offer but Yuta didn’t mind as long as he got a kid. Unfortunately he had came home to see her hanging from the ceiling, clothes ripped off and blood smeared everywhere. Her skin pealing off slowly from being skinned. It was truly a horrible sight to see and he regrets not being a better fiancé. Hopefully he could be a better version of himself so he can keep you safe. The last thing he needed was another dead wife to be. Opening the bottle up he waterfalls a good amount before closing it and sliding it back to its owner. His friend couldn’t help but smirk.

"Word on the street is that you’ve been smiling more than you usually do." Hakari laughs as he takes a gulp of the liquor down. "And that your being so nice to everyone including your own employees."

Yuta rolls his eyes. He wasn’t much of a smiler at all actually. He was just doing it to please you and to get on your good side. He was happy to know that you were so easy to please. You talked a bit too much but it doesn’t hurt having someone to have a conversation with.

"Who’s the lucky girl?" Hakari asks.

"You’ll find out at the wedding. Can’t say much about her unless I want her to end up like the other one…" that’s when it hit him. " fuck I need to go." Yuta stood up panicked.

"Already? You just got here! Don’t tell me that woman has you wrapped around her finger." Hakari yells as Yuta walked out.

He was stupid, such a fucking idiot to leave you home alone with nobody guarding the house. Hopefully Hakari would do him a solid and clean up the place unless he wanted to get arrested. The law has been a little to quiet recently. Meaning they were surely planning something.

He speeded back home with his gun’s already loaded. Not quite knowing if he should go with a rifle or a gun that had a silencer. Would he want to be loud and let them know he was here or sneak up on them? He also had to think about all of the places anyone would hide in his house. He had to play his cards right or that was it for him. If Inumaki was here this wouldn’t be as bad but he decided to take a last minute trip to Mexico.

His heart sank when he arrived at the place. The gates were wide open. He always locks the gates no matter where hes going. Running out the car he barged into the house with his small gun out. His chest would rise up and down heavily as he scanned the room.

"Sweetheart." Yuta calls out to you.

His eyes stayed on the stair case hoping you would appear and greet him with your warm smile. Yet you didn’t and he didn’t get a response out of you either. This couldn’t be happening already, he’d just gotten with you two days ago. Checking every room he slowly made his way upstairs. Making sure to check every door, cabinet, and anything that a person could fit in. He’d then lock each door so nobody would get in the ones that were deemed safe. He finally reached the master bedroom, he didn’t know what to expect but prayed for the best. Opening it slowly he looked inside to find it empty.

For a second he felt relived until he realized the most important thing was missing. Not only that but the room was a disaster. Everything was scattered on the bed and floor. Your heels were still here and even your purse. Did they kidnap you?! He stalked across the room and grabbed the phone. As he started to dial a number he heard shuffling in the bathroom. His eyes slowly moved towards that direction as he put the phone down. Yuta opens the door and is stunned to see you naked.

"Yu!" You shout as you cover yourself.

He turned around feeling sorta embarrassed. "Sweetheart I called your name and you didn’t answer." Yuta says.

"I was taking a bath! Sorry for the mess out there. You haven’t bothered to get my clothes from home nor buy me any."

That’s right he said he was going to do that. He’ll have to send someone with you because there was no way he was going to be caught dead doing such thing for a women. If members saw him they would make fun of him for days and call him soft.

"Can you leave so I can change?"

"Right sorry." As he was heading to the door a thought came to mind. The words Hakari said before he left. Why does she think she can boss you around?

Turning around to look at you he gets a piece of clothes thrown at his face. Grabbing it he drops it on the floor and look back up at you. You were still trying to hide your body using your hand. They didn’t do much for you since he could practically see everything.

"Yuta! Get out!" You tell him with a serious look on your face.

"I don’t quite feel like it, I also need to take a bath actually." He walks towards you until you’re forced to look up at him. "You don’t tell me what to do sweetheart. Your a smart girl, what does the Bible say?"

You bite you lip not wanting to answer but alas you spoke. "Wives, be submissive to your own husbands as unto the Lord"

A smile crept onto Yutas face as he kisses you on the lips. "So let’s take a nice warm bath together." His hands land on your hips as he pulls you closer to him.

"Wives be submissive not fiancé’s." You push him back by using your finger.

"Marriage, everything has to come right after marriage right?." He runs his hand through his hair. Taking a deep breath he exhales heavily trying to keep him composure. One month and he could drop this act. One month and he’ll be living his life like he should.

"I’m going to make a call." He steps outside.

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jesterwriting · 6 months

Note

Hey Jester!! 🫶 hope you’re doing well ^_^ love the way you write Sanji and the op boys, it’s really comforting! :’)

If your requests are open- would it be possible to ask a headcannon list or short fic with the loverboy? A small fun, comfort scenario where reader really likes the idea of wearing suits or styles (like Sanji) in the sort, but doesn’t act on it and simply admires it? Then one day she buys something for herself, and he walks in on her? Eventual Reader hinting out to him “yknow you’re welcome to try my stuff on too..”

“!…”

…? Not sure if it makes any sense-! Feel free to skip it if it’s something a little too weird ^^”

Wishing you a good day- thank you! Stay awesome!!

pairing: sanji x gn!reader

contents: slight language, fluff, nosebleeds because sanji moment, reader buys a suit for the first time but its gender neutral

word count: 1.3k words

note: awwww hi! as always i got carried away because i only ever know how to be long winded oops— this was so cute and fun to write, though :33 thank you for your request <33 i hope you enjoy hehe

playlist: greenpath - christopher larkin

As you passed by the window of a nearby shop, you paused to stare at the mannequin that decorated the usually empty space. With one hand on its hip, it was adorned with a simple black suit. Plain, yes, but you could appreciate fine tailoring when you saw it. You wondered how it would look on you; if it would fit against your body just so, accentuating your finer features. That would be nice, wouldn’t it? You usually wore casual clothing, preferring comfort above all else, but you could appreciate a fancy suit when the mood struck.

Your shoes squeaked as you stood yourself on your tiptoes to align yourself with the mannequin. The reflection of your face hovered over the mannequin's blank features, almost uncanny in its visage. You hummed, studying the window as if it was a mirror. It didn’t look half bad. Before you made any rash decisions that would leave you losing a hefty sum of cash, you should try it on. Approximation was fine sometimes, though you could admit when it came to the finer things in life, it was better to know that you were getting your money’s worth.

You wished Sanji was here to help you. He always took good care of his appearance, preferring dress shirts and slacks to your jeans. If anyone knew how buying a suit should go, it was him. For all you knew, you were walking into this shop to get swindled. Lost in thought, you picked at your cuticles. If you were being honest, a part of you wanted to keep your little shopping spree a secret. Such a drastic change in style was out of character for you, and you would rather not be teased for it.

You hummed, looking left, then looking right. No one you recognized. Your purse was heavy on your hip, more than enough to get you two fancy suits and more. A cloud that had previously been blocking the sun moved out of the way, causing sunlight to spill over your shoulders and make the suit almost glow.

“Fuck it,” You said. “It’s fine.”

With that, you squared your shoulders and strolled into the store, prepared for the hefty price tag that was surely waiting for you. Instead, you were met with the sweetest old lady you had ever met, and a discount for being so patient. Bag in hand, you took off towards the sunny, a grin you couldn’t wipe off on your cheeks.

You couldn’t wait to try it on again in the comfort of your own room. Sometimes, the mirrors in shops lied. If you were truly going to know if you got your money's worth, it would be back home. You giggled to yourself, doing a small spin on your heel. Giddiness welled in your chest like a fountain.

Today was a good day.

—

“Oh, today was a spectacular day,” You muttered as you admired yourself in the mirror. No one had returned from the island so you were alone until everyone’s little shopping spree had ended. That gave you more than enough time to prance around in your new purchase for as long as you wanted.

You were worried it would be hard to move in. Formal wear always looked so stiff, you were sure you would feel trapped if you ever wore anything like it. Now that you were in one, however, it was the opposite. Your new suit fit you like a glove, pulled in at your waist to accentuate your figure. You raised your hands over your head, then bent to touch your toes, relishing in the give the fabric gave. There was no fear or any rips of tears, you felt like you could run a marathon if you wanted. The suit was everything you wanted and more. You couldn’t help but give a little giggle as you posed in front of the mirror.

Damn, you looked good.

A knock at the door shattered your joyful mood, quickly replacing it with anxiety. Your skin buzzed uncomfortably. There was no way you could change fast enough before whoever was at the door got bored if waiting and waltzed in. Privacy was in short supply on the Thousand Sunny. You looked at your reflection, almost laughing at your deer in headlights expression.

“Don’t come in, I’m naked,” You yelled the first thing you could think of, immediately regretting it as soon as it left your mouth.

“That’s alright, my love, I can come back later.” Even worse, it was Sanji at the door, probably off to nurse a nosebleed.

Chewing on your next words, you tried again, “Just kidding!”

Your boyfriend let out a strained laugh, “Okay. Well, I was only wondering what you would like to eat for dinner.”

Softly, you padded over to the door so you could hear him clearer. If anyone caught you like this, you’d want it to be Sanji. He could give you tips you didn’t know previously, and you knew he would never tease you like the others if he found out. Heart pounding in your chest, you turned the knob, poking your head out into the hall. As you guessed, Sanji was covering his nose with a tissue to stifle some of the blood flow, a rosy hue on his cheeks.

He smiled when he saw you, eyes soft. “Hello, sweetheart.”

You kept the rest of your body out of view as you hardened your gaze. “I need your help. And don’t you dare laugh at me.”

“I would never dream of laughing at you. You are my angel, all I know is to sing your praises.” Sanji’s curiosity got the better of him, stepping closer to peer into your quarters. His brows knit in concern when you didn’t move. “Is everything alright?”

With a sigh, you let the door creak open, arms open wide. “How do I look?”

Not wasting a second, Sanji pulled you into a tight hug. “You look marvelous, my love,” He said into your hair. You giggled when he lifted you and spun you around a few times for good measure.

“Are you sure?” You asked, feet now firm on the ground. “It’s not weird I’m wearing this? Suits usually aren’t my thing.”

“Yes, I’m sure. You’d look wonderful wearing rags, my love, let alone a finely tailored suit.” Sanji looked you up and down, admiring you and the suit that adorned your body. “Where did you get this? The stitching is so precise…”

Allowing him to inspect you — a tissue still stuck in his nostril from his earlier nosebleed — you smiled to yourself. “A sweet old lady runs a shop just off main street, I can show you later if you want.”

“I’d love to go.”

A moment of silence passed between you, Sanji admiring while you stood stock still and allowed him to fidget with the hems of your sleeves.

“You know, you can borrow this sometime if you want. Just so it gets more use. You always dress so nice.”

He laughed, blue eyes lit up like the ocean on a sunny day. “I think this would be a little too small for me, angel.” You watched his expression shift, a bit of blood dribbling from his other nostril before it was promptly stifled with another tissue. Sanji cleared his throat. “Although… If you’d like to wear any of my clothes, you’re welcome to whenever you’d like.”

“I think I may take you up on that offer.”

After all, what was better than comfy clothes? Comfy boyfriend clothes that get them all hot and bothered.

And, of course, your brand new suit.

#one piece x reader #sanji x reader #sanji x you #sanji x yn #.jesterwrites #i typo’d suit as shit so many times if you see one i missed you didnt

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kaizynofsickness · 3 months

Text

Itadori x reader

~I miss you more than anything~

Heavy angst, WARNING: self harm, bad habits, underage drinking, alcohol, lots of tears and crying, many flashbacks, Sukuna interfering, Sukuna being a bit soft, neglected themes.

Song(s) that match:

Francis Forever by Mitski

My Love Mine All Mine by Mitski

Dark red by Steve Lacy

Notion by The Rare Occasions

Gilded Lily by Cults

"What if... The world wants me dead?"

"Then I'm fighting the world."You were his everything. Someone who saw pass the fear of him being a vessel to the King of Curses. Not like Megumi and Nobara, you wanted him in a different way. After being afraid and wanting to give everyone a proper death, you came in uninvited and helped him keep everyone alive.

But not you

"You left me, Y/N..." Itadori sulks 8 days after your death and drowns himself in a fountain of his tears. The half drunken alcohol bottle sits in front of him, showing himself how weak he has gotten to drink at 16. The room is dark, only a phone light and the red glow if a clock shining 3:21 A.M.

"Y'know, Yuji..." Your voice rings in his memories. The sun is dimming, ready to set. Under the scene is you and him sitting on the bench in comforting silence you broke with your pretty voice. "I always knew no matter what, you never stopped smiling." Your soft eyes focus on Itadori's. "Smiling?" He smiles harder, his eyes shimmering. "Look who I got next to me!" He playfully tackles you down to the bench. You giggle underneath him. Then the smile he adores sinks to a serious face. He paused his body over you. "Does your cheeks ever hurt from smiling so much?"

The question sounds a little funny to him, but your face tells him to take the seriously. "I... Well-" He sighs. No more lying. "Smiling doesn't only hurt my cheeks..." His eyes look away from your's, which are widen in shock. "Oh... Yuji." You rub love circles on his cheek to get his attention. Your hands are cold.... Cold?

"No..." Itadori snaps out his memory. "That's not how it went!" He slams his hand down on his desk and is quick to chug a few more gulps of the alcohol. "Her... Her hands were warm!" Useless tears storm out his eyes.

All he can picture is your beaten body beneath him in that same scene, a deep gash in your side, blood rivering out like a waterfall. "Oh... Yuji." Your voice turns on again at the same scene. The memory is wrong... "Sometimes it hurts to be happy."

He can see it clearly.

He is fucked. He is drunk. So drunk that his memories are fuzzy.

"You lied to me!" He starts to ball his eyes out like a child having a temper tantrum. It hurted to be happy, yes, it did. But being sad, depressed? Broken? He wanted to take his own life as if the scratches on his skin didn't prove that. He wants to see you again. Through his snot and blurry vision, he grabs another bottle, smashed the top off, and starts to swallow down the drink. "Please... I miss you more than anything..." His tears run into his mouth, the salt flavor mixing with the alcohol. The uncomfortable feeling of the make under his eye opening and the tear of his cheek for a mouth. Sukuna groans. "Stop drinking, brat. This taste disgusting."

"Great." The last person he wants to see or even hear. He ignores and sniffles up his tears, continuing to guzzle the alcohol. Sukuna snarls knowing he can't do anything to take over his body since Itadori basically mastered keeping him in. "Fine. Get a fucking hangover. I hope it makes you throw up blood." He curses him. Itadori finally parts the bottle from his lips. With a satisfied 'ah', he sets the drink down and goes back to staring at nothing. "I... Don't need the world to know I've been all I could be..." He throws his head back in his chair and sees his dark ceiling. "I think of her so much I think I'm going insane... I hate that she left me." He subconsciously starts to vent to Sukuna. He stops spitting his emotions and cries again. His unhealthy amount of tears stain his face and choked him up in his nose... His eyes and nose are puffy and red, his lips quivering and bitten from him biting back words so often. What would you think if you seen him now? That momentary beam of light you loved in him so much... Now crying like a bitch about you, more broken than a porcelain doll that has been played with by a three year old. Sukuna pauses a for a few. He listens to the young man's cries and his choking to gulping down something he should have never even thought about, to his cuts he gave himself on his arms, the scratches on his chest he done, his messy hair as he has neglected himself like his peers have. "Itad- punk ass..." Sukuna corrects himself from saying his name. "Be a damn man! If Y/N saw this, do you think she would have been attracted?! She liked that hyper mess you always are so suck his cry baby shit up... And... Toss that bottle. Now." He speaks harsh and coldly towards Itadori. Yet there is a warm feeling in his voice. A warm echo after it... "Y/N..." Itadori leans up and sniffles. "Y/N." He repeats and enjoys the feeling of your name rolling of his tongue. Itadori puts the bottle aside and slumps to his bed. All the way he walks--to him feels like a mile-- he sees the scene of your lifeless body.

"Stop crying. I like the color red. I always liked it in me." You put your hand on his cheek and let his tears fall on it. "N-no! That's not funny... Please, stop being a joker! N-not now..!" He squeezes your hand, which soon looses feeling like your legs. "Aw... I hate that I made you cry." Your smile fades. "It's nice seeing you letting your emotions out. Finally not smiling to please people?" Your eyes start to break and the shine goes away. "Y-Y/N..." Your hand goes cold and your eyes weaken. "I love you, Yuji Itadori. I'll see you soon. Years later. And not earlier." That... Was your last words. A warning to him that you don't want to see him in heaven no earlier than his natural death.

Finally to his bed, he weakly plops down on the soft mattress and imagines it as your body, his head safely secured in your cleavage of your breasts with your hand brushing his matted hair. "Sleepy, baby?" You speak softly. "Y-yeah..." His eyes grow heavy. His breath steadies and a smile creeps in his face. "I love you..." he mutters like second nature. You chuckle and rub down his back. "I know. I love you too."

His hands move to feel yours on his head, only to realize you're not really even there. His smile leave. You won't ever be back. Tears come back again and stain his sheets wet. He simply lays there and silently crys.

Sukuna watches the sad scene. He has to admit, it is extremely pitiful to see how broken he has become over you. How bad he needs you here with him. "We should've died old. I was stupidly focused on giving others proper deaths with her... I didn't give her one." His fist tear the sheets and his knuckles white. "I... Ugh, fuck!" Itadori gives up and lets his mind relax and tries to sleep. Sukuna scoffs and his eye and mouth disappears. "Sleep, you idiot."

With that, he is off to dream of you and wake up like shit. He'll never see you again, and the realization hasn't fully hit him yet. How long will he continue to bitch and moan? How long... Until you come back?

The morning hits like a bullet train. As soon as Itadori rises, his face wet and sticky, his head pounds and makes him dizzy. He folds forwards with a loud groan. His head burns and gives him severe pain. He yelps as he makes it to the bathroom to pee...

"Holy hell..." His eyes are so dry. The bathroom light almost makes him fall from its brightness. He unzips his pants and finally goes to the restroom... while washing his hands and going to grab his toothbrush, he looks at his shit reflection. "Tch... Fucking monstrous." He ignores and goes to wet the toothbrush.

"I think monsters like you are look cute."

He quickly snaps his head. He heard your voice and he's not drunk right now. "Y/N?!" He starts to panic, his emotions stirring wild. No, of course your not here. He watched the people burn you... But he smiles anyways. He turns back to the mirror and looks at himself with the smile. "You don't like monsters.... You just like me." Maybe... He can move on. Just not with another girl because you're always here.✨Ze end✨

#itadori x reader #angst fic #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #itadori yuji x reader #jjk x you #yuji itadori #x reader

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fairy-eclipse · 2 years

Note

AHHHHHHHHH invisible string was so good! Your writing is absolutely divine *chefs kiss*. Would you ever try to make a part two for "Devil's Sweet Demise"? IDK I love the grumpy/sunshine trope. It's completely fine if you don't want to!

Devil’s Sweet Demise II

Pairing: Tom Riddle x Reader

A/N: due to my inability to shut up this thing is LONG and it’s not even finished yet :’] editing was so painful you don’t understand i’m sobbing on the floor ahhdshaj. what do you mean it’s been three months 😒😒

anyway here’s 5k words of tom being a total jerk in denial, thank you anon and thank you to @sociomoon for the original idea !!

Part 1

Disdain on their faces. Cold creeping up his skin.

The day Tom had known happiness was off the table was the day they shunned him, left him standing there in his oversized, threadbare shirt—he’d watched in silent resentment as their game of Hopscotch played out on the concrete. It had hurt only a little to realize that despite his best efforts to acclimate to their mob mentality, the place would never be home. And company would come in the form of twisted thoughts and talking snakes until hell froze over.

Even when the memories have been blotted out, buried in the depths of his mind and left to stew over in the hush of night, every now and then Tom can't help but remember. Remember that unlike the anger and hatred that runs through his veins forevermore, happiness will never be a familiar feeling.

Until in comes the most frustrating little badger he’s ever met, lugging rainbows and sunshine and unwelcome feelings by the boatload.

And Tom, with his knack for persuasion, can proudly say he can elude blame for most things. It’s not his fault everyone falls for his carefully-crafted smiles and well-woven lies, or intimidation works wonders on the student body. Or that fountain pens are more convenient than quills.

But as much as he wishes he could, he just can't find any rhyme or reason to the fact that your presence is…an antidote.

A strange remedy for the jagged pieces of his heart.

"You know,” your gentle voice carries from above, and Tom is pulled from his reverie to the sound of lush grass rustling under your feet. “You really have a thing for secluded places."

In a vast courtyard teeming with dense crowds and lone studiers, of course it’s you who finds him.

Tom raises a derisive brow. “Perhaps it’s to get away from you.”

He sees to it that you don’t miss the way he shifts in some semblance of an invitation.

Laughing, you step out of the June sun to plop down beside him against the trunk of an old elm tree. Going on a few thousand years, if Tom has to guess. Its winding, leaf-coated branches cast dancing shadows across the ground.

“Classes drained the soul out of me.” You let out a muffled yawn.

Like a kitten.

Tom frowns.

He’s no stranger to intrusive thoughts, but lately they’ve been odd. Unpredictable. Not to mention it’s only when you’re near that they seem to materialize, and, well, he isn’t so sure what that could spell. To analyze a yawn, for Merlin’s sake…

But you’ve always been a bit of a distraction, haven’t you?

The rhythmic drumming of your fingers on your lap can attest to that.

He watches as a faint smile pushes at the corners of your lips and a dreamlike quality glazes over your irises—both tell-tale signs that you’ve come bearing good news.

Not that he cares or anything. It’s none of his business, none at all because honestly what does it matter if you—

"You’ll never guess what happened today.” You declare, triumphant when you meet his eyes.

Tom’s breath catches in his throat. “Hm?”

Maybe the earth can swallow him whole.

You beam. “Professor read over the report from my tutor this morning. He told me that at the rate I’m going I’ll be caught up in no time!” You clasp your hands together. “On top of that, I passed my practical exam with soaring colors, so things are going swimmingly."

Tom had forgotten about your struggles in Charms—arguably the easiest subject Hogwarts has to offer. He can sympathize with needing a little assistance in Arithmancy, maybe even Runes to some extent. That is where the average student has their pitfalls, after all. Charms, though?

It certainly isn’t common, to say the least.

But he really wishes you’d quit looking at him like that. He wishes the radiant twinkle in your eyes wasn't so adorable and you’d stop grinning expectantly like his acknowledgment would make your entire month.

Yes, nobody should be behind in Charms. Tom decides he doesn’t particularly care.

"That's a decent amount of progress in just a few weeks.”

There’s a moment of peace, a second of placidity before Tom’s brain turns into turmoil.

Why did he say it?

To make you happy? For the sake of something so trivial as your feelings, with nothing to gain for himself? Impossible. He’d never stoop to such—

“Thank you!”

Your infectious smile boasts only sweetness and light, but to Tom’s absolute horror it’s in that instant that you decided to inch closer—he has no time to prepare himself before he’s falling into a heaven comprised of the fragrant smell of your shampoo and the softness of your gaze, an erratic tha-thump reverberating throughout his chest all the while.

Distantly, he sees your mouth moving, knows you have to be talking, but God has breathing always been such a laborious task?

Well, the world can burn for all he cares because nothing else matters save for the heat radiating off your shoulder. Nothing else compares to the bliss.

“—om?” Concern seeps into your tone.

No, no, no. It has to be wrong, all of it.

He fights desperately at the haze for his bearings, wills his focus to trickle back in and reins to be found again. All too slowly the stupor relinquishes control and the feeling of repulsion emerges from the fog, shame not far behind. Tom closes his fist around a tuft of grass.

He sees it now, in all its foul glory. He has it muddled up—the point where wanting ends and doing begins—and if there ever is a master of self control it’s him. The patient, composed, self-restrained student extraordinaire. It’s degrading that a mind of his caliber could simply stop functioning. Frozen, reduced to nothing, like a used parchment purged of its contents.

Could he be possessed? Insane?

Tom knows he’s insane, has to be for the plans he’ll carry out and unspeakable things he’ll do in the coming years. But this is a different kind of insane. It’s the kind that challenges all he’s taken to be set-in-stone, that threatens his beautiful, tragic world of black and white and red.

It's the kind that could sever the rope between mere life and immortality.

And yet Tom can’t decide whether it’s a curse or a blessing when you cast your eyes away in lieu of foraging through your satchel.

He’ll have to…look more into this matter. He’ll tear up the library in his wrath; he’ll search all over, high and low and in every nook and cranny until the thirst is satiated—

“Tom, Tom, Tom. Tomato. Tomfoolery. Oh, there you are!” You find his eyes once more, completely oblivious to the pathetic feeling closing in on him. “This is for you.”

A book flaunting loose threads sits on your lap, worn and flimsy.

Tom knows it’s one of those muggle stories you like to read, ones with the plotlines he can never understand and messages he can never grasp. It isn’t that he doesn’t want to—he’s tried at one point, and he does indulge in muggle literature on occasion (it’s not his fault they’re informative)—it’s just…well, he doesn’t think he can.

"I wouldn't have picked it for you if I didn't think you'd enjoy it," you assure him matter-of-factly.

He blinks. By no means are you adept at reading him, but it is strangely pleasant that someone should see past the anger and ire into his quieter, rarer emotions.

"A little broken, I know." An amused chuckle escapes him at that. You grin sheepishly. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t love it.”

Sincerity on your face. Warmth hugging his skin.

Your fingers brush against his as you press it into his hands.

But how can he dare dream of anything more when darkness is a constant in his life? He has never wished to see the rainbow, has never found any appeal in a kaleidoscopic world until you stumbled into his life. You ebbed away at the corners of his concrete barriers until little by little the light shone through the cracks.

And Salazar. He wants to do something to you right then. Something way out of line, something that goes beyond his protective urges and against everything he believes in.

Regardless, he can always break away, can't he? When the time comes, he’d toss you into the pile of people who served their use and then he'd never have to deal with that stupid fluttery feeling in his chest again.

Yes. That is what he'd do.

So things are good, wonderful even; they’ve never been better and Tom has never been happier, at least he thinks that’s what it has to be. For once it’s not the promise of power or the vow of eradication that get him up in the wee hours of the morning.

And things are good.

Right up until they aren’t.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

“My Lord.” Mulciber fidgets nervously in the gold candlelight. Clears his throat. Once. Twice. “Do you think...will there be enough time to find the chamber before vacation commences?” He grips the rim of the table with ring-clad fingers until his knuckles turn a pasty white.

Tom bites back a sneer. Coward.

"You fret for nothing. While you incompetent fools were lazing around, I was scouring every inch of this castle. I'm quite certain I've found the very place Salazar Slytherin built his foundation on."

Tom bathes in the outbreak of gasps and elated cries before silencing them with a hand.

"I will not be disclosing the location; I alone will find a way to open it, though I doubt any of you would have proven to be of help anyway."

Tom watches them deflate, like he’s pierced their spirit with a needle. Perhaps this way they’ll learn that with him, making an impression takes more than a feeble attempt or two. Besides, he has yet to discern the loyal from the fainthearted and with so many things that can go wrong, there is no room for mistakes.

He holds everyone’s gaze for a few tense seconds (most of which end in rather pitiful quivering on their part) before continuing on.

“As I have discussed previously, our years at Hogwarts are drawing to a close. We have time, of course, some of us more than others, but we must plan every move meticulously.” Tom allows himself a satisfied smile. He’s been so painstakingly careful, so thorough in drawing up the plans and in due time every ounce of his hard work will be recognized. "The infiltration of the Ministry plays a pivotal role in my—our success, thus each of you must ensure your positions are secured—”

"You're infatuated with that Hufflepuff."

A sharp intake of breath, and then silence befalls the room. All eyes flick to Avery; some with disbelief, some with poorly concealed excitement, but he pays them no mind.

"That's what's taking you so long, isn't it?” The boy hisses vehemently. “Ever since you met that poor excuse of a student, you've been putting off the purge. You’ve known about the Chamber’s whereabouts, haven’t you? Why is it that you haven’t acted by now?”

He pauses to feign contemplation, a slender finger tapping at his chin. “I’ll take a wild guess; it’s because that little mudblood is sufficient enough for you.”

And just like that the stillness is back, though this time it is an illusion; it can’t exist, not when the unmistakable buzz of fear and apprehension crackles in the air.

No one rushes to Avery’s defense, but Tom doesn’t need legilimency to know—he can see it clear as day—that it’s a unanimous agreement.

Red swirls in his vision.

An audacious Avery leans back in his seat as if accepting a major victory, boastful smirk intact. He lets his accusation sink in before he adds, like salt to injury, like an arrow piercing right through Tom's heart:

"You know what I think? I think you've gone soft."

Jaws drop and eyes widen, but Tom only smirks back, nauseating and sickly sweet.

He could torture him right now. He could turn his skin inside out and make him feel pain in all the worst places. He could reanimate the darkest stages of his trauma and dangle him by the ankles like a marionette until he begs for death's cold embrace.

And what’s stopping him? It’s nothing he hasn’t thought about before. Nothing he hasn’t come close to doing.

Would you be afraid of him if you found out?

Tom sputters.

Who are you to come up in his thoughts at a time like this? How dare you traipse over every line he’s ever created and exist there as if you’ve always belonged?

He suppresses his flaring, burning rage and tries, unsuccessfully, to even his breathing. No, it's hardly worth getting his hands bloody over. Besides, he'd rather not have to clean up the mess.

"Leave. All of you. Now." He manages to choke out.

It’s a scramble for the door.

Good. Fear is good.

His last follower has barely bolted before he’s pointing his wand at the long teakwood table and thundering out an Incendio. With each careless flick of his wrist, searing flames consume the conference space and it’s not until dark, ashy smoke obscures his vision that he takes his leave.

The door to the secret room clicks shut behind him, but the release has done little to assuage his fury.

He paces the length of the hallway outside.

The nerve. How could he suggest something so preposterous?

Everyone involved in his cause knows to never bite the hand that feeds them. And Avery has been feeding out of his palm ever since he took him in and gave purpose to his otherwise meaningless life.

Tom should tail him right now, really. Find him. Curse some sense into him. Who does that dull, privileged snob think he is? That daft, good for nothing—

But he's right.

Avery is right. Dead on, nail-on-the-head right.

He’s fallen for you; hook, line, and sinker.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

Tom isn't at the library the next afternoon.

You tell yourself he's busy, that he probably has a million duties to carry out and the world isn’t going to cave if he doesn’t show for one day—still, the little tug on your heart speaks for itself. Call it sentimental, but the study sessions have become something of a tradition.

And Tom’s usually a stickler for tradition.

“Looks like it's just you and me,” you tell the waiting pile of homework on the table.

You can practically hear his exasperated whisper in your ear. For Pete’s sake, stop conversing with inanimate objects as if they’ll miraculously bestow upon you the solutions or so help me. You grin.

It appears you’ve come to rely quite a bit on his forceful encouragement, because twenty minutes later your parchment is emptier than the porcelain flatware in the Great Hall after dessert, and only one thought reigns supreme on your mind.

“So much for productivity,” you mutter sullenly.

It hits you right then that Tom Riddle is taking up all your headspace.

When you had met him in this exact spot on that fateful night, you never would’ve guessed that he’d be so drawn to you. So adamant on getting to know you. You share no common ground with his other friends—egotistical, haughty, you’re-so-beneath-me blood purists who command the open-mindedness of jellyfish.

But despite what your confidantes claim, you truly think you’ve seen a side of him no one else has. Because when he’s with you, he sheds the rigid golden boy demeanor for something relaxed and content and dare you say it, warm.

Of course you had plummeted headfirst into your emotions. How could you not? Your affections for him have been growing by the day, and you doubt this is some silly old crush that’ll peter out with the last of summer.

No, the feeling extends way past friendship, you’re afraid.

You entertain the idea, play around with it and roll it over the edges of your brain, let it circle through before reluctantly storing it away for next time.

For the guilt, it’s always there; overbearing and unshakable and clawing at you. Surely it’s immoral to think of a good friend in such a way, especially when it seems good friends are all you’ll ever be—you’re no fool to neglect his detachment towards the whole topic of romance.

You groan. You’ll have time to dwell on it later, but for now there are more pressing matters to at hand. For starters, the conference with your D.A.D.A professor that starts in approximately…fifteen minutes.

You bid the librarian goodbye and wave to the old, regal portraits on your way down the long marble staircase, unceremoniously scouting for vanishing steps.

“Safe and sound,” you sigh when your feet reach hard ground.

Sunlight spills through arched windows into the ever-majestic halls, which are empty save for the occasional wandering student. With the early summer weather, everyone must be congregating outdoors again.

Tap tap tap!

Rushed footsteps and a sudden blur of motion at the end of the corridor bring an abrupt end to your solitude. You halt in your step, just managing to catch the barest glimpse of an outline before it rounds the corner in one swift turn.

Curiosity killed the cat.

A grin breaks over your face. But satisfaction brought it back.

And quick as a fox you’re trailing after the shadow, only a little ashamed that the promise of a distraction outweighs any sense of responsibility you might have. An instant later, a pair of spotless dress shoes accompanied by pristine, ironed robes come into view.

Why, you’d recognize that statuesque figure anywhere.

"Tom!" The prefect freezes mid-step, tension written in every line of his body as he reaches into his pocket and shuffles to his side ever so slightly and right ahead of him stands...

The girl's lavatory?

He swivels around as you approach, wand in hand. "Tom! There you are—"

Except he doesn't look very much like Tom.

There's something manic in his eyes, a ferocity in the way he peers down at you that sets your fight or flight instincts ablaze. His fingers curl restlessly at his sides and you have the horrible impression that you’ve just interrupted something very important.

Tom scowls, regarding you with a coldness so foreign, so unfamiliar you almost recoil under the scrutiny.

But everything your body tells you pales in comparison to the concern that overtakes you.

“Are you alright?” You place a tender hand on his arm, your initial excitement dimming at his state. “You seem ill. Should I escort you to the nurse?”

Tom stares at you, unblinking with those glacial eyes.

Ouch. You tear your gaze away and push down the fears that threaten to surface. There are a million different possibilities, but it'd do you no good to ruminate over any of them right now.

“Come on.” You tighten your grip and steer him toward the stairwell, mindful to take slow steps—you know it’s a fragile peace when eggshells are what you’re treading on.

Still, you’re thoroughly unprepared for the force that wrenches the arm out of your grasp.

The shock registers slowly. It’s a colossal punch to the gut, but all the same you try to keep the woundedness off your face.

“I am not in need of your assistance.”

His voice is low, devoid of its usual silkiness. Chills form a serpentine path up your arms and down your back, raising goosebumps all over your skin until you’re shivering.

Indignance claws its way past the alarm. “Is that why you didn’t show up?” You retort. “You’re normally awfully insistent on cramming as much studying as you can. Vital lucubration, or whatever you call it. I figured you might’ve needed to—”

Tom cuts you off with a scoff, all scorn and vitriol.

“That,” he enunciates slowly, “is none of your concern. I am not quite certain when such brazenness entered the picture, but it is not appreciated."

You blink owlishly before taking a much needed breath. “I don’t understand. Could you start from the beginning? I’m certain we can figure this out, it’s just the story is a little convoluted right now and—well, actually, I don’t even know what the story is.”

“This is a waste of time,” Tom chides. “I’ll make one thing clear: we are not friends.” The crazed stare has vanished, replaced by something eerily vacant. You’ve always wondered how he does that so quickly. “And I believe you’ve helped enough as it is, so if you’ll excuse me I’ll be seeing to my duties now.”

But he doesn’t leave, just crosses his arms and waits expectantly for you to turn away. To go.

You’ve helped enough as it is.

You have the sinking feeling that if you walk away now, you’ll be walking out of his life forever.

We are not friends.

Your pulse races. How can he say all those joy-filled hours you so often look back on amount to nothing? How can he brush you off like you’re just another speck of dirt on his clothes?

Maybe, when it all comes down to it, he’s no different from the rest of them.

“What part of your duties, pray tell, consists of going into the girl’s washroom?” You demand incredulously, voice shaking and mind reeling because Merlin there is no way this was all a ruse and you fell right into it like a blindsided, delusional moron in lo—

Tom stiffens, and you watch, mystified, as the mask of calm falls off. His nostrils flare in anger and he takes a step closer to you, only this time it doesn’t feel anything like the afternoon under the tree. Only this time it’s threatening.

“Fine. I’ll spare you, is that what you want?” He laughs mirthlessly, long fingers running through raven curls. “Since you’re so insistent on pretending to care for me? Fine. It won’t touch you. You have my word.”

Your vision blurs, though from the exasperation or tears you can’t be sure.

“Spare me what?” Your books drop to the floor with a resounding thud. “My concern for you has never been a pretense. That’s ludicrous! You’ll never begin to comprehend how much I care for you. As a matter of fact, I...”

You can’t say it.

His eyes are on you, curious and searching and scathing, but all you can do is helplessly stare back at him. You dig half crescents into your palms.

This time when he speaks, you’re prepared for the flames that come with it.

“I don’t know what you’ve done to me,” Tom all but spits, and you’re wishing for the quiet to blanket you once again. He pauses, if only for a second, tone turning subdued. “The lightness in my chest, the nerves spiraling out of control, the…the…” He gestures wildly. “Floating feeling whenever you’re near.”

“I was satisfied with my perception of the world, so sure and unwavering in my decisions until you came along. You’ve turned all I’ve known upside down.”

Your blood freezes inside your veins.

Tom frowns at his hands. “I’m suffering the consequences, even when you’re not near. Every waking moment is you running through my thoughts and I am not dramatizing when I say it is driving. Me. Insane. I’ve had enough. This ends now.”

Your despair falters just enough for a sliver of hope to take hold. “It doesn't have to end.”

“It must.”

It pains you, it does, but you say it anyway.

“If that’s what you really want.”

The rigidity on Tom’s face lets up slightly, though you could’ve sworn you caught a flicker of something akin to regret.

You squeeze your eyes shut and inhale. “Just...about what you said. I know feelings are daunting, but I promise whatever you’re experiencing is perfectly reasonable.” You think back to the memories you share, as if that’ll make saying the next part any easier. “In fact, Tom I think I—”

“Stop,” he whispers, dangerously calm, yet somehow you know the fury has returned tenfold.

Your heart plummets.

“Get out of my way.”

And is it bad that you sense the undercurrent of something dark in his words? His intentions?

It doesn’t feel of your own accord when you rush to block his way back.

Tom levels you with a death glare, and you have only a second to ponder over whether you should be six feet under before his eyes are flashing a horrifying crimson. You give ground for every stride he takes towards you until a thump indicates that you’ve backpedaled to the lavatory entrance.

You watch in dread as Tom turns his attention to the inside, yearning written all over his features and for one harrowing second, you think he’s going to hurt you to get there.

But then he’s stepping away, away, and in the blink of an eye he’s gone.

And for the first time, you think there's more merit to your friends' warnings than you gave credit for.

You slump onto the floor. You wish you were in any condition to make sense of what transpired, but all you know is that it feels like your spirit has been zapped away. The strain on your chest persists even as you push it down, and then you feel a crushing snap before it all comes undone—caged sobs wrangle free from your throat and salty tears rain down upon where your smile had held just moments ago.

Has it really only been a week since you and Tom had that conversation in the courtyard? Since you lent him that book?

You wish you could retrace your footsteps, find where it all went astray.

“Waaah!”

You almost jump out of your skin.

“Waaaaah!” The sound, high-pitched and lamenting, can only be coming from inside.

You rise to your feet.

“Hello?” You venture from the doorway. Your voice ricochets off the stone walls. The place is well-kept, complete with four shiny sinks situated below a mirror and a row of wooden stall doors left fairly unchipped.

“GO AWAY!”

You may or may not be one stone’s leap away from hysterics (who’s to say?), but you think you’ve had enough scares in a day for the whole of Hogwarts. Besides, no one should be howling like their life is ending, and smiles make the world go round.

“Would you like to talk?” You goad gently, taking note of the leather shoes peeking out from under the far stall. "You can say the word again and I’ll leave you be.”

You cross your fingers behind your back, pray with all your being that this one won’t end in a full-blown lash-out session.

To your relief, the wooden door swings open a few moments later and a pale girl with long brown pigtails, round glasses and a blue tie steps out to face you. No older than fourteen, from the looks of it.

“Olive Hornby made fun of my glasseeeees,” she wails, and the noise grates against your ear. You wince.

“I’m sorry.” You place a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I, for one, am of the opinion that your glasses look just fine.” She flushes at that. “Although if this is a recurring thing, I’d like to talk to her for you—only if you assent, of course, but it’d give me peace of mind.”

Her puffy, bloodshot eyes light up and suddenly it’s as if she were five years younger, a hopeful child with stars in her eyes. “R-Really?”

You nod. “Really.”

Her sobs subside to sniffles and the pout on her face morphs into something bashful. “Thanks…”

“What’s your name?”

“Myrtle. Myrtle Warren.” She takes off her glasses and wipes at the fogged-over lenses with the fabric of her clothes.

“He comes in here often, you know.” She peeks at you from under her lashes. “Taps on surfaces and makes these strange hissing noises, like it’s a language he’s fluent in." Her tone turns wistful. "I stay silent and listen because it’s all so mesmerizing…”

“Who does?” You frown.

“You know who.”

“Wait. Don’t tell me...”

But Myrtle only giggles, brows lifting in amusement. “Good luck on your boy problems.”

Then she’s off.

You stare after her in shock.

You catalog the new information, an onslaught of burning questions and what-ifs invading your mind in a trice.

One sticks out in particular. It’s afflicting and unnerving and you don’t want to consider it, but it prods and pushes at you until you’re forced to cave.

What exactly would’ve happened if Tom had gone in there today?

Nothing good, that’s for sure.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

The note comes a week—dense with radio silence and carefully averted glances—later, tied by a silken ribbon (high-end, no doubt about it) to the leg of a beautiful owl with raven feathers.

Now it rests, protrusive and unbidden in your lap as the root of your apprehension for the past half hour.

You pick it up and set it down again. Fidgeting in your beanbag chair has only fueled your restlessness, but now that the adrenaline’s gone you’re really out of options.

And if you’re being completely honest, not knowing is killing you more than anything.

You slouch in resignation and raise the letter to your face.

“Helga help me,” you whisper to the portrait above the mantelpiece.

It reads something about how he’s been awfully occupied with responsibilities and how he’d like to have a chance to make up for lost time and would you be so inclined as to accompany him to Hogsmeade tomorrow afternoon.

There’s a palpable, gaping hole in the place where an apology or explanation should be—or an acknowledgement of anything that went down, for that matter. You don’t know what you were expecting.

A week ago, you would’ve been delighted at the prospect of going on a date with the Tom Riddle. Squealing in ecstasy and bouncing on the balls of your feet. Now all that’s running through your head is maybe the rose-colored glasses you see with have only made you blind in the end.

Crackling orange embers engulf the parchment with a satisfying hiss.

You’ve never been one to hold a grudge, but If he wants your forgiveness—he’ll have to try much harder than that.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

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deathbxnny · 5 months

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A last dance before doom. (Furina x GN!Reader)

Summary: You knew she was hiding something from you. Something that will change your lives forever and yet, she was unable to even reveal her deepest secret to you, her lover. And so she selfishly asks for a last dance, before her lies finally catch up to her. Content: Angst, hurt/no comfort, betrayal, spoiler for the last Archon quest in Fountaine, heartbreak, deception, Furina and reader are mentioned to be married, sfw Reader has no set pronouns! ((Not proofread!!!))

"Why do you keep lying to me?"

It was a simple question.

One that could be easily answered under any other circumstance, except the one Furina found herself in at the moment. The world was slowly crashing down on her head. The weight on her shoulders too heavy for her to carry. The lies she couldn't even keep track of anymore having finally come back to punish her for her own sins.

Perhaps she had become a little too arrogant, too secure. She thought she could do it alone, that no one would ever catch onto her deception. And she knew, that having you as her lover would be the ultimate risk to take. The burden and guilt were killing her. You were with someone, who didn't even really exist. You were married to a lie.

Why did Furina ever dare and think this could last forever? Was it because she wanted it to? Or ws she perhaps too selfish? She didn't know anymore. but you standing there, fustrated tears in your eyes made her wonder why she even bothered to hide everything anymore. it was over. Any moment now Neuvillette and the traveler with their flying companion would storm in and demand answers themselves. Any moment now, she will absolutely lose everything she had build over the past few centuries. And for what?

Was it ultimately worth carrying this burden? This impossible mission she knew she could never finish on her own? Was it worth losing you over? You were the only thing that made her human again. Being able to love you and cherish you was the one thing keeping her sane until the very end. You weren't apart of her life in the shadow of an archon, but instead you were only hers. Furina's. It was cruel to know that the last of her humanity will be gone any minute now with you. This entire situation was cruel.

"I can't tell you why."

That wasn't a lie for once.

She hung her head, her elbows digging into her legs, as she hunched over in the lavish couch she sat in. She couldn't look at you anymore. But she knew what she had to do next. She needed to save you at least. "But... I can't be with you anymoe either." "And why? I don't understand! You never tell me anything and I-" You moved your hands erratically, trying to collect your scrambled thoughts of panic and fear. "I don't want to lose you! There has to be a way for me to help at least." "You have to leave. that's the only way I can do what I have to do." Furina's voice sounded distant and defeated, her heart shattering with every word. From the corner of ehr eye she saw the evening sun glinting from your ring finger, where her devotion to you was once slipped on by her own hands.

She was truly selfish for doing this to you, for leading you on when she knew better.

She shook her head at the sob that left you, There was no going back from this. This was the true end. Anything after this is just the afterlife punishing her for what she had done. She deserved it for the tears you had to shed over her. But in an last desperate act of selfishness, she stood up and approached you. There was no grand bravado in her movements anymore, no excitement or dramatics. It was slow and careful, her hand reaching out to idly press play on a nearby phonogram as she passed it. A song played you often danced to together, but the joy of it has long disappeared.

And you understood exactly what she wanted. "Why tell me to leave and then do this? At least make this less painful-" "-Just one more dance." She watched the pained expression on your face, before your eyes seemed to dull in defeat and you allowed her to pull you close and take the lead like she always did. The warmth between you had diminished a while ago. Probably when the lies were beginning to become too much for her too bare and everyone began to catch on. You began to catch on. Just how much did you know? Just how long have you been in denial overher deception? So many questions that are better left to be unanswered.

She knew you were angry and fustrated, so terribly heartbroken, so was it really that surprising when you slapped her across the face once the song ended? Her face whipped away to the side and she stayed like that, even if you shoved past her and towards the grand doors of her office. In that same moment Neuvillette and the Traveler with their companion arrived, only watching you storm out with a knowing glance. Furina hummed weakly, her hand reaching up to press against her stinging cheek, the other one wrapped tightly around the ring you had shoved into her palm beforehand.

TAking a deep breath and pushing the ring into her pocket, she turned to the expected guests with her usual dramatic smile, trying to feign confidence and innocence so desperately, it was pathetic.

But alas... the show had to go on until the bitter end. She had nothing to really lose anymore anyways.

A/N: Alright, this is just a little angsty brainrot of mine, whilst I get the blog running again! I hope you guys like it and thank you again for your support!<33

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin furina #focalors #furina de fontaine #furina genshin impact #fontaine #genshin furina x reader #genshin furina x you #genshin imagines #genshin impact fanfic #genshin impact fanfics #genshin

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dredsina · 2 months

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Initial Thoughts: Point Defiance – Tahlequah Ferry

Walk-on non-disabled round-trip adult fare: $6.50

Appeal of Destination 1 – Point Defiance

9/10 – Point Defiance is an amazing park with lots of other stellar attractions nearby. It’s mildly walkable.

Appeal of Destination 2 – Tahlequah

7/10 – Vashon Island might be my favorite Puget Sound Island, but there is less appeal close to this ferry terminal. The destinations are a short drive, and it’s not walkable.

Route Length – 15 minutes

2/10 – This ferry was so short, and I was really disappointed. I think a 20-min ferry ride is the absolute minimum I’d be happy with. I kept saying, “This should have been a bridge!!” I only had enough time to walk up to the sun deck, go to the bathroom, and take some pictures before I had to rush back down to get back in my car. I think it’s a very convenient ride, however, for people who commute.

Ease of ticketing and boarding

5/10 – Tickets are only needed from Point Defiance, and boarding here was super smooth. The ticket agent was able to help answer any questions, too! However, I was incredibly confused and stressed lining up in the car line from Tahlequah. There’s limited visibility, and you have to park on road shoulder to queue for the ferry instead of in a nicely separated ferry waiting lane or lot. I’m not sure if there’s a nice, enclosed waiting area for walk-on passengers, either. I didn’t see one.

Route Scenery

7/10 – Very pretty, but kind of standard views for a Puget Sound Ferry.

Vessel Design and Amenities

3/10 – They have a water fountain, a coffee vending machine, and some puzzles. The design of the vessel incorporates a cafeteria/galley, but it’s permanently closed as the route is too short to provide these amenities.

Vessel Cleanliness

8/10 – Like a well-maintained bathroom at a public park. Clean as it can get under the circumstances.

The view from Point Defiance

DON'T BELIEVE HIS LIES

Our destination in Vashon Island (technically this is Maury Island)

#ferry adventures #ferry ratings

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konigs-whore · 2 months

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𝚃𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚊 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖-Soap Mactavish

‼️MW3 spoilers, Mentions of death, depressive themes, mentions of loss. ‼️

A/N: I’m trying to improve my writing but no matter how many times I re-write it, I still hate it.

Also, this is inspired by my random sadness.

NOT proofread, so excuse the spelling mistakes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

numbness fills me as I gaze upon the scene before me. My mind remains frozen, unable to comprehend the reality of it all. Emotions wash over me in waves - detachment, anger, sorrow, and guilt.

As I tentatively approach, outstretching my hand, I am struck with the realization that this is not a dream. Before me lies everything - my entire world and heart - motionless on a bed. A white sheet conceals all but your precious face, the same face I would spend hours admiring.

As I stand next to your bed, my hand trembling as it reaches for the sheet and then yours. A lump forms in my throat as our hands make contact, and a choked sob escapes my lips. Your once warm hands, now cold and lifeless, remain firm in my grasp. The comforting warmth that I cherished is now absent, lost in a place that I cannot reach.

"My love, what have you done?" I whisper. Crouching down beside your bed, placing my head on our connected hands.

Why'd you leave me behind? what happened to growing old with me.

"Forever you said-" my voice cracks, Throat burning with emotion. " I thought we had the time, had our lives.".

Waves of anguish wrack my body, releasing uncontrollable sobs. My tears cascade upon my wedding ring, tracing a path down our interlocked fingers.

The recollections of our moments together gently stream through the path of my tears. From our initial encounter, to the moment you presented the ring, how you stumbled into the fountain while kneeling down on one knee. How we swam through the water to retrieve the ring, laughing together. All the beautiful smiles exchanged and the dreams we shared of starting a family.

I really wish, we could've had one together.

Despite my best efforts, I cannot hide my sadness as it seeps out in a bitter smile. With a heavy heart, I release our clasped hands and plant a final kiss upon your cold knuckles.

“It’s difficult for me to imagine the rest of my life without you. But I suppose I don’t have to imagine it... I just have to live it”

As I gently tuck the sheet back over your hand, I run my fingers through your hair, cherishing the last moments I have with you. A melancholy smile graces my lips as I trace the rough stubble on your face, lost in bittersweet memories.

With a devilish grin, you drop onto the sofa beside me. "I believe I'll keep this look. It adds an air of sophistication and fatherhood," you announce, holding yourself proudly. I chuckle and tousle your hair. "Whatever pleases you, my dear. You are handsome either way."

A deep pain tears through my heart, as I come to terms with the fact that you will never get to experience the joys of fatherhood. Our hopes and aspirations were extinguished the day you departed from this world, taking a piece of my heart along with you.

I just want to hear you say, baby let’s go home.

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

It has been several months since your funeral. A number of individuals have come by to inquire about my well-being. Your former team make frequent visits, particularly Simon. He often stays the night, staying up late with me and reminiscing about our experiences with you, ensuring that your memory remains alive in our hearts.

As I lay awake, my mind wanders to memories of our wedding day. The sun was shining, casting a warm glow over the serene outdoor setting. You looked dashing in your tuxedo, and I couldn't help but feel like the luckiest woman in the world. Becoming Mrs. Mactavish.

I wish I could turn back time and hold you tight, tell you how much you meant to me. But life doesn't work that way, and all I have now are memories.

“Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night. I miss you like hell.”

#call of duty #call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod modern warfare #soap mactavish x reader #soap fanfic #soap mactavish #soap call of duty #soap mw2 #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap cod #this man needs to exist for me #need him like air and my daily bread #johnny mactavish #john mactavish x you #cod fanfic #cod angst #soap angst

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unknownfrom34 · 3 months

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Days Long Gone

This is another one for @muzzleroars and this time with God and Lucifer. This story takes place after the Prelude and before the Birth of the Special Cherubs known as Archangels. And yes, Lucifer will raise the sun (literally) in this one. This story will time skip so often until we will each the day before tomorrow (Spoiler alert: tomorrow being the day that the Archangels deriving from our burning boy here. 🤫)

Enjoy!

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

He will admit.

He was expected to be called "Creator" by His very first being of life He created. He truly was expecting that word to come from the one He named Lucifer.

But the word "Father" from his lips...?

That is even better.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Wings beat. Flames burning brightly as the Fourth Sphere itself; the Sun. The big ball of fire that is born by the Father's hands compared to its siblings that still shined brightly since the universe's creation. All from His hands.

Now Lucifer is shouldered with the responsibility with raising it all on his own and you know what? He did not mind one bit. He took it all with stride as his wings carried him up the darken skies after the volcanos have all but silenced their anger, oceans stilled but still shifted constantly with leftover insanity, winds blowing gently but still strong across the lifeless world named Earth. This sphere in itself was another project of the Father as of late but he still needs some time to figure out what to do with it. A third planet from the sun and the first sphere to accompany it in its first days of an endless march of time in a vast dimension. He extends his arm upwards and with it raising up from his hand was the Forth sphere shinning brightly as his love and adoration he had for not only the Father but for all.

If Lucifer had a mouth, he would've smiled at his first days of handiwork. Like an artist at work had finished.

The Father will be pleased.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Lucifer was quite a son He could ever created with his powers of His people. But the flames he was born with has proven to be quite a challenge that He was not prepared to deal with.

Yet, he was more surprised that if Lucifer was on Earth after its molding into reality as the Tenth sphere, he was able to raise the sun with such a magnificent feat. No strings, nor robotic. Just able to lift it in the skies with his wings alone.

So the morning time will be Lucifer's not only role but he is deemed to be called as the Prince of their own personal Heavens.

It was at first when he was creating newer angels after putting more or less fire-power into them was that He will provide them helmets but to make new angels to wear new helmets. The helmets themselves will have to be also created by His own Light.

But thankfully, He had already came up with a solution that helps Him to not rip out another piece of his Light to create a helm for His Angels.

When the new angels are born? The fountains of His Light will provide.

A fountain will provide small creatures that will go on His angels' true face and the "helm" itself will shape and mold into a symbol of what His children would be based on something like talent, personality, and the list would go on from there.

Yet, He wished the same for Lucifer. Each time He and Lucifer tried for the first few weeks after the fountains' creation but there was the persistent problem that He does not count on when the Bugs emerged from its shining waters.

If they tried to latch onto him, they will burn into nothing but ashes remaining. This infuriated Him and distraught Lucifer.

On the Lord's side, this wasn't what He thought could happen. But on Lucifer's side, He did not realize that His love and Adoration he gave onto the Brightest Angel had extended to anything else He had created as well.

Something that He does feel sorry for Lucifer.

He eventually gave up giving Lucifer a helm as he knows that it will sadden him after the past weeks of trying. He will continue focusing on creating a kingdom of divinity and light in a dark but still building universe.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Lucifer did not seen this coming.

Of course, Angels after being born were sent to learn to write, mold, teach, and others will become jobs as he teaches every last one.

Of course, Angels had created weapons and the Father trains them in combat as His reasoning that the thought of "What if there was a war coming one day?" that worried them both.

But THIS.

This that he did not taken to an account or a thought that the Father's angels have taken His Light and made it into some form of use after getting more and more intelligent after the first two years.

They have scooped up the Divine water from the Fountains somehow with pottery and poured them into lanterns to provide light in the never-ending nighttime where the Light has yet to bathe in the Spheres' skies and its warmth to Angels to provade.

Nine choirs of the angels are crafty and smart ones those ones.

He did express his concern about this but the Father had simply wrote it off. The Light he gave are endless, long enough to go well past after one eternality to another so He does not worry. And so should the Brightest Angel of Morning Star. Lucifer had thought about this for a day or two but then decided that he should not worry as well. The Father has known better and wiser than himself, He knows what he is doing.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

He had gotten weaker.

He had just realized this.

And just when He decided to create another life too.

He wanted to make at least a few more angels but the Light within Himself is well spent and if he made four or five more, it will most likely kill Him by the time he separated the pieces of His Light. And the times he done so already after he created Lucifer had hurt more too! He needs to rest, rest until good five days to seven months past by and by that time, He will be strong enough to create again once more.

But there was an more concerning thought in mind; Himself as the Father, Lucifer and the Spheres. Who or what will care for it all if He or Lucifer or both of them are gone?

What will happen to the ten Spheres if He or Lucifer or both of them were to disappear suddenly?

But then... But then...

He had created Lucifer with his Light, He recalled in thought. He used a piece of his Light on him. Lucifer is a piece of His Light.

Love, Adoration, and Light he used to created a lifeform in his own desperation for approval besides His own people.

... ... ... ... ... ...

He has decided. He calls to an Seraphim, another Angel of six wings to him with the tongues he taught and lets it land in the palm of His hand.

"Fetch Lucifer." he ordered the Seraphim with steady eyes. "I need help in creating four new angels. Do not worry about I waiting, it will give me time to come up new names now." The Seraphim nodded understandingly.

"Now go." He lifted up His hand into the air of His Chamber, the place his most beautiful Angel named Lucifer was born, the place all over Angels that came after him were brought into this room and soon He blows a gust of wind, the breeze carrying the angel of six wings across the slowly glowing-up cosmos.

He knows what to do.

#ultrakill #not my ocs #lucifer #God #ultrakill lucifer #ultrakill god #Fanfic #Prequel after a prequel #We all knows how that went out! ^^

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