#i hate the feeling of regret and guilt and the feeling ive missed something that couldve helped me grow as a person and made my mental stat

[iznsfw]

Reputation, Or Whatever That Is

IZ Days of Christmas 2023: Day 12 - Jang Wonyoung

IVE's Jang Wonyoung x Male Reader Smut

7,063 words

Categories | daddy kink, brat!Wonyoung, squirting, blowjob, please appreciate Wonyoung's power bottom capabilities

Sorry, Yena is coming out sometime but I wanted to finally write something timely. JANG WONYOUNG WHAT THE FUCKKKKK.

Please bear with the religious metaphors, I have Catholic guilt and Wonyoung reignites it. I'm not sorry for all the other fucked up shit here I'm just ooga boogaing because what the FUCK

It’s a little brighter today than usual. The sun surely knows what's about to happen upon its rising. It has no plans of telling you beforehand, so you’re forced to find out yourself. 

You open Instagram, which is insane because you never bother to look at pictures—much less edited, filtered ones made for meaningless impressions. Your blissful ignorance of online concepts is what would make your fans hate you if they had space in their deluded hearts to. Or maybe that’s your age talking.

But today, clicking on that app is what you do, and that already should have been a sign that something’s not right. The usual run of your universe has gone off course. Who could have made that so?

Coffee. The black stillness that’s pure of sweetness and sugar. That’s supposed to keep everything normal. You sip on it as you scroll through clickbait, fan accounts, edits—

Then you wish you never took that hot gulp at all.

Wonyoung. 

It’s all because of her. 

She stands there from behind your screen, silky hair tangled in those lithe long fingers. She’s looking at the camera like she wants whoever took the time to click on her profile to come over and fuck her right now. Man or woman, poor or rich—it doesn’t matter. What ought to matter though is the fact that she doesn’t have someone’s hands slipped around her waist and pulling her close.

You shouldn’t even be thinking about it.

Usually, she’s dressed in knitted pink coats and miniskirts; looking fashionable but modest, modest but unplain. That’s what everyone loves about Jang Wonyoung: she’s prim, sweet, and the daughter of the nation. 

Now, she’s the ideal girl to take right home and have your wicked way with. Yes, you’d feel guilty since she’s so young, just the little age of nineteen. Still, that doesn’t mean you’d have any regrets. She’s the kind of girl you can’t get away from. You’ll always come back for more.

You’d hate to be so upfront, but there’s no other way to interpret it. 

There’s that fucking denim bra hugging her tiny chest, stitched up so high that her abs are on full display. That little pinch of a waist curves so perfectly right up to her wide hips that invite and invite and invite—

Remember to exhale.

So, yeah. That’s how Wonyoung ruined your day, and you barely had your morning coffee.

A text message from your boss appears. You nearly miss it because of how you’re staring all ogle-eyed at the tempting girl on your screen. Before you even click it, you already know what you ought to do. 

hey, it reads, you need to—

-

—go to Wonyoung, and for such a scandalous photo, she’s chosen a remote but classy hotel only the biggest stars know of to shoot it. 

There’s no going back when you drive like you’re running from the law when you’ll break one if you pull the wrong stunt with her. Your throat’s coiled with an unreleased breath that won’t go away unless you see her. It’s like traveling with the promise of meeting a goddess, and although you’re not religious anymore, you wear very, very close to rediscovering faith.

The hotel is grand—clear marble floors and shining chandeliers—and it’s no surprise. Wonyoung wouldn’t have things any other way. You know that when she’s come to your office to complain about her outfits and brands. 

You go up to the desk with prepared evidence for what you’re going to say. “I’m an associate of your client miss Jang Wonyoung,” you say to the lady tapping away behind her computer, “and I’ve come to visit her.”

Associate? It’s more like mentor. You’re a veteran idol whose efforts inspire the rookies, therefore getting you the responsibility of looking out for Wonyoung. So, father figure, maybe? You wince at that.

She makes a polite sad look, still not removing her eyes from the screen. “I’m sorry, miss Jang doesn’t have—”

Slide your ID card on the counter.

She glances at it, stiffens, then looks up at you. There’s only one of you in the entire South Korea, and although the 1x1 traces back to when you were a bit more youthful, it’s not hard to put two and two together. 

She apologizes quickly and offers you an elevator ride exclusive for VVIPs. Smile. It’s been a while since your last return to music, but everyone knows you here. Everyone knows your power.

Wonyoung’s place is the first room on the twelfth floor, a flinching irony.

Knock. You rap your knuckles three times for good luck and charm, because you’ll need it with her. Jang Wonyoung is everything save an easy girl. You remember the many times she refused to give up a debate on how she’s managed, how she’s styled, how she’s treated. She wants things to go her way only.

“Wonyoung,” you call out. Fidget with the handle of the door that refuses to budge. “It’s me.”

Knock a little more. There’s no eye behind the peekhole or a soft “come in.” You receive only the unlocking of the furnished knob and a welcome that makes you wish this could go the way your morals would want it to go.

The door opens you to a gorgeous suite that’s the supreme of all room tiers. This is the kind that only the richest of the rich are able to attain. Big as a house with a soft carpeted ground, there’s a queen-sized bed before a wide window of the city. Picture frames commissioned by the wealthy hang from the painted walls. All for the fucking aesthetic.

Even you, a star who paved the way for the Korean entertainment industry itself, aren’t used to this type of wealth. 

Find her sitting on the ledge of the window frame. Wonyoung has her hands resting on the sides of the window frame. She doesn’t try at least a stance at nonchalance—no admiring stare at the beautiful view, no worried gaze at her clean fingernails. Her interest is you standing before her like you’re afraid to touch her. She might be right, but it’s not like you’d ever have it in you to admit that.

Even you, a man lusted over by girls and women all over the world, aren’t used to this kind of woman—the kind that eats away at you.

“Wonyoung.” Inside, you feel like the weakest man in the world.

She has this smarmy, confident smile on her perfect lips that tells you that it’s no surprise that you’ve come all the way here for her. No surprise at all. She expected it. Anticipated it, if you will.

Don’t mistake the coquettish float of her lashes for theatrics. No, Jang Wonyoung’s just naturally someone you’d want to fuck, no matter the politics of it. “Yes?”

Her voice is also just that pretty. That’s a large part of why it’s so hard to act professional in front of her when she’s your mentee. Even more so by the fact you’re someone she’s looked up to for the majority of her trainee years, which is already something that would make people’s brows lift.

“Wonyoung.” You let your shoulders rest. “Why are you still dressed like that?”

You know all the dialogue that passes around the general public. Oh, Jang Wonyoung’s so gorgeous! Jang Wonyoung’s even more beautiful in real life! You hate to say you can’t disagree. She’s deadlier in person; her body’s there before the glass like she’s waiting for someone to give in to temptation. That coy simper can ruin careers. It can ruin yours. 

To think it all could be gone because of a nineteen-year-old celebrity with a tiny waist and legs you’d love to have around your head.

“Why are you still dressed like someone from the eighties?” Wonyoung taps her chin, then grins. She’s figured it all out. “Oh wait, you are.”

You’re not taking insults from someone who’s below you in experienced years and power. Unluckily, she’s not taking advice from someone above her or below her.

The step you take towards her, towards the little star seated comfortably waiting for you, feels like a sin. 

“You’re incredibly unprofessional for a girl who’s worked her way up here,” you note. Cross your arms and give her a reprimanding look. 

Wonyoung’s immune to nasty looks, too. She’s been doing this since she was a child. If someone gave her a glare that read all too well of a career assassination, she’d wink the bullet away sweetly. “Hm,” she says contemplatively, “I don’t think you get to say that, honestly.”

Your laugh is blunt and sarcastic. Unbelievable. Wonyoung’s the kindest girl according to the people who work for her, so why is she a rebel in your hands? It doesn’t make sense.

“Look here, we—”

You take three steps closer to her. You’ll keep your little rituals and superstitions to keep yourself grounded. Without them, you’d go insane. 

Then without her having to do anything, she comes nearer, like a doomsday foretold by a ticking clock. Who knows? That clock could be a bomb, and that bomb would set off if you dare to touch her with a trembling fingertip. You’d leave the scene injured. And eventually, you’d die the moment they try to help you, because the deed’s been done.

“Oh, I’m looking, alright,” she chirps. She’s doing what you’ve held yourself back from doing: letting her eyes wander. “And I really, really like what I see.”

You’re someone several awards her senior, and you’re still quite intimidated by her at this moment. She’s so sweet yet so honest—she won’t make up a lie to make you feel better and she won’t hide the truth to make you comfortable. Refuse the truth her eyes locked on your crotch tell. You won’t accept it. It’s not right.

“I’m serious.” Approaching her makes you want to go on your knees and beg the lord for a little saving. Do it anyway. No one will rescue you. That’s what the industry taught you. “You’ve made it all the way up here. All by yourself. There’s gotta be something. What are you throwing it all away for?”

She laughs. Funniest thing she’s ever heard. “I’m not. How am I throwing it all away?” 

“Those posts,” you hiss. Doesn’t she get it?

Before she could ask you what you’re talking about, you whip out your phone. Click on the app icon. It instantly shows you the opened tab containing Wonyoung’s recent Instagram posts. Look at her, wrapped in nothing, not even those curtains—giving the camera bedroom eyes when girls her age shouldn’t be shooting them at anyone or be aware of how to. 

It’s already massed a million likes in under an hour. But you know what people who turn on anyone easily will say, and what they say could blot Wonyoung’s bright future by a lot. A million people around the world have caught sight of the abs she’s worked hard for, her toned back, and just about everything. A loud minority with frisky influences can sabotage her whole reputation.

“These posts,” you continue, shoving the screen into the poor girl’s face, “can take away everything you’ve worked for. All that fame, all that money, you can’t brag about them after this.”

Wonyoung looks on innocently. She stares at the screen with uninterested eyes, then switches them back on you. She looks like such a good girl in that second, with her hands seated beside her and that face so full of sparkling perfection. 

Deception can’t lead you away. 

“So, what’s it gonna be, Wonyoung?” 

Long silence that builds up your frustration. Finally, she clicks her tongue. Gives you a shrug of her thin shoulders.

“You liked it.”

“What?”

She points to your phone. “You liked my post,” she repeats. “It says so right there.”

What the hell is she talking about?

You look at the device you’re brandishing. For a while, you can’t find out what she’s referring to. You can never take a liking to her posts, although if they switch on something you didn’t know you can feel. You’d die before—

The heart. 

Wait.

The heart button below her set of pictures is filled with red.

Your heart pumps faster, a button pushed and played.

Fuck.

You turn to her and open your mouth. No sensible words come out. You swear you didn’t tap twice on her update or take it to a private setting. How did it happen? Worse, even if you say that to her, she’d take it as a pathetic lie.

Wonyoung giggles. It’s a tinkly sound that’s adorable, but you’ve long realized that being cute is not all there is to her. She rises slowly, sets her palms over your blazer-clad arms, and gives you an empathetic face. It’s so condescending that you want to dissolve. 

“I know what men like you are all about,” she tells you. She speaks with a sultriness that makes you feel warm and has bumps appearing in masses across your skin.

She smiles. Her eyes disappear into crescent moons and the dimple appears on her cheek. You’re done for. 

“Come on,” Wonyoung continues, squeezing your forearms. “Here you are, a big old man known for being a good singer or whatever. You’re so popular that the first thing that pops up on Naver is your face. Everything goes right for you, doesn’t it?”

You have no idea where she’s going with this. You’re afraid to even ask. Your teeth grit as her massages grow stronger, harder. 

Something else is, too.

“Then, of course, you see me.” 

Her hand. It’s curling around your wrist and bringing your fingers right around that flawless waist. She closes them there tightly.

It’s so bad that it’s good. You want to keep touching her, maybe slip your gliding fingers down her jeans. Oh, you shouldn’t. You can’t.

“You see me, and you get all hot and bothered. And what’s so funny is I’m not even doing anything. I’m just being myself, you know. Being young and rich… a beautiful girl…” Wonyoung is unbuttoning your shirt and you don’t realize it. “You can’t understand how I’m allowed to be this hot when you can’t even fuck me with a normal conscience.”

It’s all so wrong. You want to shake her by the shoulders and tell her to shut up. But if Medusa has her eyes, Wonyoung has her lips to turn you to stone. They keep opening elegantly to speak the filthiest, most fucked up shit, and you can’t deny anything.

Her eyes are creased with knowing pride. Her youth doesn’t rescue her from being so messed in the head already. Those thoughts don’t go along with such a pretty face.

“That’s why you like to get rough with me. You tell me to watch how I speak, watch how I act. You tell me to stop talking to you like you’re no one. You tell me that I’m such a little brat. But you only do that so you can get to control me. That’s your most fucked up dream, right?”

Her mouth is the tiniest space away from your chin. 

You’re another word away from saving yourself a spot in damnation.

Her finger that scratches a flaw on your blazer beckons you to the fire. “You’re not breaking the law or anything,” says Wonyoung, “so why not break me instead, daddy?”

That’s a deal sealed with a rough kiss.

You grab her cruelly and cover her lips with yours. They’re more amazing than you imagined, soft and competent with how she pushes in deeper, depriving herself of the air she needs the most just to get what she needs just a bit more:

You. 

Your tongues collide and clash, striving to get the most taste. She pulls your blazer off (because fuck professionalism, right?) while she kisses you with a hunger that’s equally mental and physical. It’s not like she’d bruise up if you didn’t get your hands on her yet it’s close to that. 

And, in your case, it’s not like you’re breaking any law. She’s nineteen, not anywhere under the limits you’d kill others and yourself for touching. Nonetheless, you’re much older—by age, she could be your daughter; by career, she’s your junior; by power, you’re much stronger. 

So, it’s still so wrong.

Can’t be when Wonyoung’s fist, firm around your cock, feels so right. 

Can’t be when she lands on the edge of the bed with her lips parted in delight as she watches your dick stiffen under her service. 

“There you go, daddy,” she coos, smirking. “Just get all hard for me, then you can stuff that big thing up in my pussy.”

Her thumb toys with your cockhead. You purse your lips to hold back a groan. Let go of it anyway when her smooth, closed palm rubs your sensitive flesh. She cups your balls lovingly before gliding her teasing fingertips under your length, right up to your tip. The girl knows how to do this; she’s good at more things other than MCing and performing.

Wonyoung hones this skill with firmer pumps, giving you the handjob of a lifetime. Her long fingers are just made to handle dick. Each stroke is perfection that holds and pulls and slides. You’re leaking so much already. 

So you turn into the driver of the hate train, the press that loves getting her bad angles and the articles that slash up her name:

Blame it all on her. 

Because you have here a girl, young and pretty and confident, so of course you have to scrape off your sins and nail them all on her, like a quivering hand to wood.

“You think you’re getting it that easily?” you say. Your moan is squeezed in your throat. “Baby, you’re not even close to it.”

Wonyoung smirks. It’s that self-assured, elegant smile that tells you that won’t work on her. She might be a rookie, but she knows how to play the game. 

She tightens her grip painfully. That’s what you get for trying to one her up. Do that to anyone, just not Jang Wonyoung. Your cry goes unheard as she yanks you rather than jerks you off. Spits on your head for good measure. Wonyoung’s eyes make a connection with your soul and says, Yep, that’s what I’d do if you weren’t my senior. In fact, I’d do it regardless. I’d choke and spit and leave you to die, because a pretty Samaritan is better than a good one.

“You’re really out of touch, daddy.” 

With Wonyoung slathering her drool all over you, you’re forced to teeter on the line between heaven and hell. It burns yet the offer of pleasure leaves you sated.

“You think I’m like the pretty girls out there? Other girls might have broken down and begged you to come back.” 

Your rod is subjected to a brief torrid kiss, then a smile as the wicked girl looks up at you.

She laughs, gives you this smile full of haught and womanly power. “Too bad I’m Jang Wonyoung,” she says, her last words before taking you in.

Yes, it’s too bad she’s Jang Wonyoung. It’s too bad she’s not the other girls who’d kneel for a burning touch of stars like you. She wouldn’t be holding control over you with the power of her lips if she had sanity in that pretty head.

Her plump tiers wrap around you and seize everything, encasing it in softness and wetness. Her tongue, the one she uses as a killer expression for her selfies and Instagram updates, kills you all the same with how it swirls around your skin and tastes you. Trying to pretend the girl wasn’t a pro at this like she is with everything else is useless. She’ll keep proving you wrong and overpowering you.

The whole of your shaft is sucked in, then, when her cute nose is pressed directly to your stomach, she lets out a hummed laugh. You shudder—as much as it makes you feel good, fear grips your muscles and makes them limp. She’s loving how wrong everything is, and you’re not sure if you like it.

Her jaw slacks, and then Wonyoung’s swallowing you like you’re water. Can’t be water when you’re this solid in her throat. You let out a shivering groan. You can picture the bulge in Wonyoung’s neck and it’s the last thing you’d count on turning you on, but they did tell you to expect the unexpected. 

Her saliva becomes excessive, resulting in some dribbles down her chin that help her work her mouth on you. Wonyoung’s drool sheens you entirely and she keeps adding more. On the occasion she pushes her face into your stomach, your cock gets wetter. She does, too. 

“Fuck.” Cussing won’t help deter the onslaught of pleasure. You’re unsalvageable. Say it anyway. You babble meaningless, slurred words and not one gets to Wonyoung. All she can hear is the sound of your quivering moans and her mouth taking you all in.

She becomes less of an idol, less of the elegant princess for the cameras, and instead a fleshlight. However, she reminds you that it isn’t that way with a fierce sneer that stays on at all times. She’s not your girl—she’s Jang Wonyoung, and you’re already incredibly lucky that she chose to go down on you.

All that beautiful hair isn’t of any purpose if you don’t get to touch it, to gather it in a ponytail, to pull on it. Your fingers creep into her brown locks not only to give it a little meaning but also for sanity. 

That isn’t a thing in Wonyoung’s world. She pulls your hand off and slaps it on your side. “No,” she says with a shake of her head. “Daddy can’t touch me, not when he’s pretending that he’s hot shit.”

Her nails bury themselves in your hips. Oh, the manicured talons of a gorgeous monster. Oh, the pain that runs through your sides. Should you run before she devours you? Too late for that.

“Wonyoung,” you breathe, and then ask, genuinely: “What the hell is wrong with you?”

She’s so proper and serene on her shows that not even her most desperate fan would think she’s a terror. They don’t know she’s a girl who likes older, weaker men who’d ruin her if she hasn’t the pretty face and attractively black heart to do them the favor instead. 

“What’s wrong with you?” 

You’d respond if you knew the answer.

Wonyoung rubs her thumb under your dick, sending little sparks aflying. “Why’d you kiss me earlier?” Her lipstick decorates it as a kinder girl would to your face. “Why didn’t you grab my hair and tell me to be a good girl? Why didn’t you leave? It’s not my fault you want to fuck me.”

All these words of destruction and your cock remains standing. It’s a staunch reminder to her that you can say whatever you want and the hard evidence remains. You want to fuck Wonyoung. You want to do it to a rookie who’d turn the story around on you if it ever came out. You want to fuck her so bad it’s borderline pitiable.

“I’m just giving you what you want, daddy.” Her fingers caress your sides. “Trust me, I could be a very good girl if I wanted to.”

You almost didn’t believe that until Wonyoung started to suck you off again. 

Her lips stroke you effortlessly as if this were her pastime. That’s your most accurate guess, because this seamless performance—the one of her mouth working on you with the impression that this whole thing is nothing to her—can’t be a natural gift. The combination of dripping saliva and her soft lips is lethal.

It’s unbelievable how she manages to find all your tender spots. She preys on them, licking and licking until you’re very sure you were going to blow all over her. But you can’t give her that satisfaction. 

You’re very close to doing so though. She’s perfectly sloppy and rough. You glare at her when she lightly teases her teeth on your girth. She winks at you in response. She leaves you breathless in so many ways. 

“Wonyoung, Wonyoung, god—” you whine. It’s so hard to adapt to the girl sitting there with that innocent face and wild mouth that doesn’t dare give up on you. 

Her expressions on camera are always poised. Off camera, there’s this one she flashes you as she shoves her face into your stomach that looks downright evil. Although she’s already fucking you with her throat, Wonyoung partners it with strong suction that’s sure to drain you. 

“Yes, daddy?” She doesn’t pant when she goes up for air, replacing her sucking with her long fingers. 

“I’m really close,” you admit. It’s obvious from your shaking legs. 

Sounds of returned wet suction start to increase. Criticism and compliments prod Wonyoung on. How else would she improve in her idol life? In blowing you? In devouring you?

You realize you’re fitting the cliché. There’s you, an idol whose name is uttered on the daily by both young and old fans, igniting a scandal in the making by fucking a girl beneath you in everything. There’s this expensive suite where stars go for a little precious privacy to do what they want. There’s the two of you doing exactly what you desire: fucking each other. There’s the classic maneater trope with how it’s more like Wonyoung fucking you—she fucks you with her face, fucks you in the head, fucks with your righteousness. Well, fuck.

Wonyoung drools so much that you’re invited to a sea the moment your head pushes past her tongue again. It’s slicker, sloppier, and so much sexier because she’s so completely devoted to your cock. Her hypnotizing eyes trap you and so does her body, tight and tiny—that tummy is flatter than a board and only thin panties hide what her long legs lead to from the bottom.

The only time she stops sucking you is when she darts her tongue side to side with an unhinged pace on your sensitive tip. “Good. Cum in my throat.”

“Shit, god, I can’t—”

Wonyoung attacks you again, and there, in her warm orifice, your plentiful orgasm spends itself. Her throat welcomes you tightly every time. Her hot restricted breaths fan your groin and evokes more semen that spills with no care. 

Your hands ball into fists. Although you’re hot and shaking, you can’t touch her. Why are you following her rules when it should be the other way around? It’s a reversal of roles, a Stockholm’s Syndrome of some sorts whose victim is your cock never wanting to leave from the predatory embrace of Wonyoung’s puckered kiss.

Of course, after she gathers all of your cum in the pool of her mouth, she swallows.

She really could be a good girl.

“Awh.” Wonyoung pouts mockingly. “Daddy, are you crying?”

Touch your face. To your horror, she’s right. The electricity and shock of her continuous blowjob results in a few tears on your cheeks. You haven’t done that in years. Wonyoung is the first one to make you cry like this.

You flush. What more to hide your weakness than anger? “Wonyoung,” you start, then you realize you don’t know what to say, “I—you—”

She smiles. You aren’t going anywhere.

She shoves you to the bed. You’ve reached rock bottom in spite of the softness of the quality pillows. You’ll scrape your way out if not for Wonyoung finishing the job by keeping you there assisted by her legs. They close around you with not even a courtesy false promise of an escape. No negotiation, no coaxes. 

Wonyoung is sitting on your crotch but not on your dick, which is a problem. Which is a solution. Her hands are pinned to your chest while you try not to meet her eyes. It’s a losing game when your runaway glances are met by her grinding hips, silky thighs, and the hard, flexing abs of a perfection of a midriff. 

Her fingers tug on the waistband of her panties before slowly slipping them off. Her pink pussy clear of blemish or hair comes in contact with your length. Up and down she goes, her dancing hips always seeking for more friction. You understand their need because you share the same—Wonyoung’s splayed lips on your member feel heavenly. It’s kind of disappointing that she might as well have climbed her way out of hell.

If she did, she’s the prettiest little devil you’ve ever seen.

“Ohhh, don’t you get it?” Wonyoung asks. She moves so smoothly, you nearly forget she’s humping you rather than dancing. Her soft moan brings you back. It’s the first time you’ve heard it, and you’re melting; it sounds so seductive and innocent in the same breath.

You know her. She knows you. So it’s clear: Jang Wonyoung can be anything—supermodel, actress, dancer—but she cannot ever be innocent. 

Her gorgeous voice is silky when it twists into moans and gasps. Looking down at your crotches meeting and swaying is a better show than end-of-the-year performances. The blowjob and commanding you around must have turned her on by a lot—her flesh is hot and wanton with juices as it slides up and down you.

“You’re not going anywhere, daddy!” Wonyoung giggles. She kisses your nose, then your chest until her lipstick marks you. You burn up with feverish lust after each peck. “Daddy is only Wonyoung’s. And I knew your perfect cock would be mine when I posted those pics. I know men like daddy would do anything for me.”

“Wonyoung.” Breathe again, because you’ll need to after this, so why not do it now? “Why are you doing this?”

You thought her flirtatiousness in your office was just her coyness coming out to play. She’d rest her chin on your desk, suck a red lollipop on some days, maybe run her fingertips over your knuckles. Day in and out, she plays the same game. You didn’t know it would reach this level.

“Because I want to mess you up, daddy,” Wonyoung says. Her tongue swipes at the cavern of your mouth right until she nibbles at your lower lip. Her lipstick peppers your face. “I want to fuck my daddy up so bad he’ll never go a day without thinking of me.”

Swallow. The friction of your sexes is driving you crazy and close to the edge. All the same, you don’t want to make a fool of yourself cumming early for Wonyoung. 

What happened to your dynamics? Your relationship? There wasn’t a romantic one, but it was always you holding the reins professionally and her just being an insistent passenger. Now she’s wrapping that rein around your neck and claiming you for her own. Looks like you have control everywhere excluding the bed.

“That’s it?” you ask. Shut your eyes—just seeing her grind on you with her utterly wet cunt can make you bust. “Your career doesn’t matter to you?”

“I could say the same thing to you.” Wonyoung lifts herself up and flashes that wicked smile again. “But I want to feel this in me before you wimp out.”

You and Wonyoung fall down a bottomless hole of consequence and wrongs but Wonyoung makes sure to bottom out the first time she sits on your dick. She engulfs you whole and traps you there with her soaked, grippy walls that slide all the way down. 

You’d say her pussy has a vise grip, holding onto you like all goes wrong if it didn’t, except you think it has the grip of a vice. Need for her juices that coat you replaces the need for alcohol. Even if you get out of this suite alive, (which is a low possibility), you can see yourself always coming back for more. You could be addicted to anything—smoking, eating, cheating—but it just so happened your vice is Wonyoung.

“Daddy!” she yelps, and from there you can’t count the times she slams her cute butt down your thighs. “Oh my god, daddy!”

Her dainty, cute yells make you throb inside her. Perhaps it’s the kittenish quality of it that turns you on so much. She sounds so appealing, so fucking ruinable that it’s surprising to see that she’s doing the ruining here. Her expression in bed is more animated than the ones she makes onstage—her nearly closed eyes look upwards while her mouth falls open. 

The squeeze of her tight, wet cunt renders your knees weak. It’s a good thing you’re lying down. Wonyoung makes sure you stay that way by penetrating herself with you over and over again. Her being barely a weight on you doesn’t stop you from lying there uselessly. You know better by now not to challenge her, not when each time you enter her vagina is better than the last. Her pussy is slippery and tight, proving to be the smallest and the best fit for your shaft simultaneously. Her hole is too tight and too good. 

“Is this all for me, daddy? Huh?” Wonyoung circles her hips, making you moan, then continues her up-and-down movements. “You’re so hard, you naughty daddy. I know you got a b-boner when you looked at my posts. Now I’m giving you another one.”

You always thought of Wonyoung as justifiably confident yet arrogant. She told you once at your desk that she doesn’t deserve a stylist who only has a four-star rating. She lamented about the lack of competence of her staff preparing her comeback stage. All those you turned down to give the topics of her complaints the benefit of the doubt, but you know she’s right. She doesn’t deserve less when she’s better than the best. She doesn’t deserve less when she knows her place: a royal throne. So you can’t deny that she’s too hot to handle, undiscriminating to you whose connections always have impossibly beautiful women somewhere in there.

She’s so hot that her small breasts bouncing from behind that denim bra and tube top looks appealing. She’s so hot that the heat between her legs grows wetter. She’s so hot that when her soft ass crashes down on you again, you don’t find it a repetitive bore. 

She’s so hot that you’d let the slim, tall girl use you until dusk turns to dawn, even if the curtains behind her are drawn apart and the secret cameras get to snap a photo.

“Shit, Wonyoung,” you say, your core squeezing. “You’re so fucking tight.”

“I bet you’ve thought about this, daddy. You thought that one night, I’ll be so bad that you could book us a whole hotel and fuck me in all the rooms, just like this one. I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Yes, fuck yes.”

“You wanted to open my legs and use my little pussy all day long, huh? Until I’m yours to throw around and do whatever?”

“Y-yes.” Nod. Your face twists—she shouldn’t speak when she’s fucking you because all the filth she says makes you want to blow inside her already. It’s the kind of truth that arouses rather than hurts.

Wonyoung’s riding switches to a rapid intensity that makes you yell. She lets you in so deep to the point that her butt cheeks touch your heavy balls. She’ll drain them for sure; the pace she sets is terrifyingly quick. It seems that she becomes tighter after each bounce, and it’s not helping you hold out at all.

Watch the wildness in Wonyoung’s eyes become animalistic. It makes you all the more certain now of one solid fact: there is something seriously wrong with Jang Wonyoung.

She smirks. “Well, you got it wrong. I’m not all yours, daddy.” She leans down, resting her palms on your shoulders. “You are all mine.”

Her hands might as well be a chained collar waiting to close around your neck. Her devilish simper is supposed to scare you, not turn you on. Somehow, it does both. 

She flicks back her hair as she sits up again. Through it all, her riding doesn’t stop. “This cock?” she asks before slamming her pussy down it with a different kind of ferociousness. Cry out but she shuts you up with a furious kiss. “It’s gonna be my dirty secret. I’ll always go to daddy after my schedules so I can make him cum—over and over again.”

To think that a young girl like her has you at her beck and call is laughable, but there’s no laughing now. As you stare at Wonyoung’s fluid body and her hair bouncing beautifully, you realize she actually can have you for herself. It only took one Instagram post to lure you to her. She sees you’re falling deeper and deeper for her.

She didn’t exactly tell you how to escape.

“You gonna cum, daddy? Is my perfect pussy milking you?” 

You can do nothing except nod.

“Of course, I can feel you throbbing, i-it’s making me lose it,” gasps Wonyoung. Her whines are making you lose it yourself. “Let’s cum together, okay? You can only cum when you feel Wonyoung squirt all over your massive cock.”

She squeezes tighter on top of you when she reaches down to rub her clit. She’s in search of any kind of stimulation: the slap of her ass on your thighs, the upward shoves of your erection, the pulse of her clit. Her moans increase in their whiny girlishness. Their tender vulnerability makes you think she should be the one underneath your body though you’re aware that’s never going to happen. Wonyoung belongs on top, just the same with her name in first place in the list of brand reputation rankings, browser searches, followers.

Once upon a time, you took charge over her. You managed her lessons, her videos, her behind-the-scenes duties. Funny how it’s the opposite now, wherein she jounces on you freely with the domineering message of caution: don’t cum until she does.

And god, is she making that hard. Everything about her is so attractive, from the bounce of her hair to her midriff showing your entering cock to her pretty pink pussy clutching you. What gets you, however, is her face—everyone loves looking at that face. Today, you’re under an aphrodisiac for it: you’re in love with the roll of her eyes as she rides you, the pink on her cheeks, the part of her lips. 

“Fuck yes! Ugh, daddy, you feel so good inside me…” Wonyoung’s core clenches and slides your penis along its textured, sensitive walls. Her gasp is straight out of fantasies. “You’re balls deep, see? Look how your meat’s filling me. My pussy’s going to be so sore after this.” She chuckles. “Wait, who says we’re stopping?”

You shudder. You’re getting very close. Your earlier orgasm still has its effects on you. You’re afraid you’re going to do something you shouldn’t under her bedroom law. She’ll imprison you with her thighs and waterboard you with all the girl cum she promised until you confess that she’s the best fuck you ever had. 

“Daddy’s going to cum so hard he’s probably going to breed me. Then I’ll, oh, I’ll feel it inside my tummy and it’s going to be a scandal. Wouldn’t you like that? Getting to knock up Jang Wonyoung? I can hear you moaning. I think you really like that. I think that’s why you’re thrusting up in me. You want to be a real daddy and make your baby girl a mommy. That’s so fucked up, you know that, right? You shouldn’t be having sex with me, let alone breeding me. But you’re a fucking weak old man, so of course you like that.”

You’re burning up. They’re the signs of what’s to come. If her confident words inspire her young fans, her monologues of lust make you feel like you’re the worst person in the world. Of course, the boner is part of the effect. 

You groan. “Wonyoung, baby girl, please—”

“Oh god, daddy, I’m going to cum!” she squeals. Her emotions control her and tell her to go harder, bounce harder, squeeze harder. She’s pushing past her limits. “Agh, agh, you’re cumming, too, right? Cum for me. You’ll be—fuck, my daddy’s going to make me cum! I’m squirting all over his cock!”

She slams herself down roughly and repeatedly till your lower body’s flooded with her cum. You can’t take it anymore. It feels like dying because you swear you can see stars in the ceiling, stars of lust in her eyes. La petite mort. How poetic, since Wonyoung’s screaming still sounds as beautiful as her singing and speaking. 

Her shouts are close to breaking the windows’ glass. Anyone can figure out what’s happening without the destruction of the pane—the curtains are wide open, letting the world see the youngest icon of the new generation pumping herself onto her co-worker. 

You wonder if there’s actually poor watchers out there seeing you cream Wonyoung’s princess pussy, grab her ass to guide her, and kiss her when she leans down.

Wonyoung tastes the best when she’s squirting.

-

Consequences always catch up no matter what. You can hide under a cloak, in another country, underneath the earth in a secluded bunker and all that won’t help. You’ll be stuck dealing with the outcome, thorns from a rose you thought was too pretty to have some. 

That’s the first thing you remember when you wake up, wrapped in the bed sheets and by Wonyoung’s arms. Someone’s calling you. Bad news: it’s your boss—the ringtone itself sounds angry, too. 

“Hello?” you ask. You can’t help the grogginess of your morning voice, try as you may. If your boss didn’t know what happened, he can perfectly guess from the exhaustion riddling your greeting. 

“You dumb little shit.” You can feel the spittle of your boss’ insult from miles away, cities away, screens away. “You’re lucky I’m friends with the fucking CEO.”

“What happened?”

“Don’t give me that. Some janitor saw you from the wing. I needed to hear it from you: did you fuck Jang Wonyoung?”

Unexpectedly, a veiny hand you remember holding something else grabs your phone. Wonyoung leans against your shoulder wearing nothing as she holds the phone to her ear.

“Why?” she quips, loud and clear. “Wouldn’t you?”

#kpop smut #smut #kpop fanfic #fanfic #kpop fanfiction #fanfiction #izone smut #ive smut #jang wonyoung smut #wonyoung smut #izone wonyoung smut #ive wonyoung smut #male reader #x reader #reader insert #idol x reader #idol x male reader #female idol x reader #kpop x reader #kpop x male reader #pov smut #kofimission #commission #iz days of christmas #iz days of christmas day 12 #iz days of christmas 2023

[ssolarcalendarr]

i love focusing on the little stuff, the little details people dont expect others to see, i love peeking into the random stuff they put in as cameos and references, i love focusing on those things so much rather than looking at the big picture because often the big pictyre hurts

#this is mt coping mechanism btw lol /hj #i love looking at the facial expression. the tiniest bit of movement to tell you how a chaareter feels #or how they act in general #how they talk. the little flick of their tongue to establish an accent #the way they dress the little crinkles and folds #i love pausing videos to see the scene theyre in #to read the notes that have the most random mementos on there #the pictrues of memories they had #its so lovely and wonderful #rather than just focusing on my big picture #whats happening in my life #what has happened in my life what ive missed what choices ive made to affect how i am now #and i realize that ive done terrible things that i cannot reclaim #HELL its because of those choices when i was young that made me regret missing out on big things and things i shouldve known at my age #I DONT EVEN HAVE YOUTUBE ANYMORE ! #i dont even have the APP STORE available to me #i live under a rock for all the terrible mistakes ive made in the past when i was young and didnt have good thinking skills #and now ive paid the price for it and i have no one to blame but myself #and its terrible. just really bad. #i hate the feeling of regret and guilt and the feeling ive missed something that couldve helped me grow as a person and made my mental stat #when i was younger better #betterthan it is now #bc for some reaosn im still stuck and left with the feeling of regret #and its just. bad. really bad #i wish i couldve changed that but i cant #and i think thats what my soul wants to change #the fact ive made a decision i cannot redo #maybe thats why im so indecisive #because i know i cant go back after making some choices and it causes me to take every choice very seriously and not know what to do #anyway loss of opprutinies and stuff or whatever

[oneforthemunny]

christmas (baby, please come home) |cowboy!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: it's not the most wonderful time of the year for everyone, including you and eddie.

apart of my munny's merriest that you can read here!

contains: angst. eddie is mean. past parental trauma. grief. holiday grief and sadness. angst really.

Heavy boots, covered with slush and snow from the frozen ground below, pounded up the creaking wooden porch. Eddie huffed, his breath clouding around him, a gloved hand reaching for the screen door. The toe of his work boots knocked against the doorway, kicking off the remainder of the snow from the icy, winter wonderland that arrived overnight, just in time for Christmas Eve. With it, came an icy chill that had Eddie working overtime to make sure the horses were warm. 

It was an odd feeling, walking into the mud room, plopping on the bench to pull off his boots. Eddie waited, inhaling in the cold, crisp air, waiting for the warmth to flood back to his system. That cozy heat to thaw out the chill that shocked his system, left his cheeks red and frost bitten from the cold. The euphoric feeling of relief that coated him every time he walked in from the snow. It never came. 

In fact, it felt colder in the house. 

In the house that was decorated, halls decked and every square inch covered with Christmas. The usual homey contentment that came from looking at the decorations was gone, replaced with a miserable, heavy feeling settled deep in the pit of his stomach, feeling him with a sickening guilt. 

Visions of your fight, hateful words piled on with yells and slamming doors, right there in the kitchen. A kitchen that should be filled with Burl Ives’ Christmas album on a loop was missing its merry music; it was missing you. 

“We always spend Christmas with my family.” 

“Yeah, exactly. It’s always about you, what you wanna fuckin’ do!” 

Eddie could see your face as if it was in front of him again. The way your expression fell, crumbling before him, the betrayal in your eyes rimmed with flecks of hurt. It made his stomach turn all over again. 

“You don’t- I thought you liked spending time with my family.” Your voice was small, far too small for your usual tone. “They always love spending time with you, Ed.” 

“Oh, yeah, to you they do.” He scoffed, eyes rolling so hard he gave himself a headache. He could feel it now. “You always leave me with your asshole uncle, who always wants to tell me the same goddamn story about how he used to ride horses growin’ up, like I give a shit-” 

“-Eddie! He’s trying to be nice and talk to you, so you’re not-” 

“-So I’m not miserable? Well, guess what, honey. I’m fuckin’ miserable!” His voice was so loud it shook the wooden cabinets of the kitchen, your tin snowmen rattling on top of the shelves. “I am fuckin’ miserable every Christmas! I would rather be here alone, shovelin’ shit all goddamn night and day than be there!” 

The hitch in your breath rang loud and clear in Eddie’s ear, his own face crumpling this time, a shaky hand rubbing across his eyes to try and keep his composure. But how could he? How could he stop the ache in his chest when he remembered the way you looked at him? The way your eyes filled with tears, lip quivering in fear. You hadn’t cried, not in there, atleast. Instead, you waited until you got to the bedroom, pulling out your own little overnight bag and filling it silently. 

He’d been so furious, so unfathomably filled with weeks of pent up rage, Eddie had to step out. Fury filled steps, a swinging fist to a post that left his knuckles bloody, splintering into the pale skin that was already blooming with bruises. Eddie really regretted it now, sure he’d broken a knuckle at the way it had swelled, doubled in size and kissed with dark purple, welt-like bruises. Oh, what he would do, what he would give, to have you fuss over it, patch it up and huff at him for doing something so immature. 

You didn’t. 

Instead, you stayed silent, save for the heart wrenching, hiccupy sniffle you gave when loading your bag into the trunk. Eddie’s body was still buzzing, electric with every ounce of bitter grief he’d tried to ignore. 

“Where you goin’?” Eddie gritted, tone sharp, it left you shuddering at the unfamiliar sharpness directed at you. 

“You want to shovel shit, since it’s so much better than being with my family.” Your breath stuttered in your chest when you took that breath. One that had Eddie’s heart lurching, nervous system flooding with a damning shock that left his head reeling in fear. 

“Better than being with me.” The crack in your voice matched the crack in Eddie’s own heart, splitting it right down the middle. 

“I don’t want to make you any more miserable than you already are.” You spat, and suddenly, Eddie longed for the sadness in your tone because the bitterness that replaced it was worse. 

Your own boots crunched on the ground, bare with snow and ice, but frozen from the cold. “Have a Merry Christmas by yourself, Eddie.” A hard yank of your car handle, and you were gone. 

Eddie watched you go in a horrified stare, your car disappearing down out of his sight in a red flash, feeling like he was watching a movie- a fucked up movie through his own eyes, but not in his own body. 

Then he was alone. 

Eddie was alone, standing on his family’s land, holding his throbbing hand alone. He was alone then. He was alone later that night, when he crawled into bed, teary eyes and shaking hands grabbing at your pillow, smothering himself with it because it smelled like you- terrified it might be the last time he could smell you. And he was alone now. Sitting in a too still kitchen, in a too quiet house, on Christmas Eve, alone. 

The burning threat of tears choked him, bubbling out of his chest and crept up his throat. Through blurred vision, Eddie could see the time. A little past four. He wondered what you were doing, what your family was doing. If your dad had started a card game yet. The same Rummy game he always made sure to deal Eddie in to- always made sure to include him. 

If your uncle was on his fourth or fifth glass of eggnog, spiking it with an extra pour of Woodford. He’d always offer Eddie some, slurring and spilling a little onto the festive tablecloth. Drunkenly tell him about his childhood, how he grew up riding horses, the same droning story that Eddie would always nod politely at. He was sloshed through the holidays, but never mean- always a jolly drunk, bellowing laughs through shining eyes. No smashing of plates or bruising grips like Eddie’s childhood Christmases always had. 

Or if your mom had got a chance to breathe, pull herself out of the kitchen with your aunts. She’d always hug him so warmly when she’d greet the two of you at the door, fussing over taking your bags and jackets, so happy the two of you were there. She’d even embroidered a stocking for Eddie last year, surprised him with it proudly. He’d nearly cried. 

It was a weird feeling. This feeling that he was becoming a part of your family. That they wanted him to be a part of it. 

He only had Wayne left, the rest of his family was long gone. It filled him with a grimy, gross feeling how much he enjoyed his time with your family. The sickening thought that he was betraying his own, replacing them and filling in their spots with shiny, new replicas. 

Wayne would laugh at him, tell him he should enjoy it, he better enjoy it. “You know Darlene and me go to Florida ev’ry Christmas, boy. You better stick it with ‘er. She’s a good’en.” 

Wayne would be furious at him if he knew. Probably take him ‘round back for the way he spoke to you, about your family. Eddie wouldn’t blame him, he was furious at himself for it. 

Eddie’s eyes found their way to the mantle, your stocking and his lined side by side. His was full, stuffed with small gifts and goodies you’d cheerily slip in, tongue clicking at him when he’d try to peek. Yours was deflated, sans for a small pair of cabin socks Eddie had got in early November. 

The bile in his throat brought him back to his very cruel reality in front of him. He’d been mean to you- he acted like his dad. 

Eddie’s stomach lurched, moving to the sink, a shaking hand pulling his hair back, retching into the sink at the revelation. Parallels of his mom and dad, his childhood, how his mom would decorate the house from top to bottom, make it nice and festive for Eddie. His dad would come in, tear it down, mock her for it in a drunken slur. She’d always buy him a gift, make sure Eddie’s stocking was filled with what she could: penny candies, knitted gloves, dented wacky packs from the discount store. Eddie would make her an ornament, his Mamaw Munson would get her a little gift, but never his dad. Her stocking was always empty. 

A choked sob caught in Eddie’s throat, vomit spewing into the shiny surface under him. Clammy forehead pressed to the cool countertop, he took a deep, shaky sob to try and keep the cry in. The mangled sob that shook his core, rattled his lungs, burned all the way from his stomach to his nose. 

Calloused hands wiped at his wet cheeks, chapped from the cold, giving a fierce sniffle. Eddie felt eight again, noticing for the first time the way his mother’s eyes dimmed, how she tried to hide it when she opened the empty stocking. She had been hopeful that there had been something in there, that this year his dad would remember her, be better. He never was. 

Eddie couldn’t be him, he wouldn’t be. He’d already reflected him in every way, too much for his own comfort lately- screaming at you, that rage that tore through him, bloody knuckles and aching throat that was leaving you in tears. 

As his shaking fingers turned the dial, cradling the phone to his ear, he hoped you would answer- that he could just get to you, talk to you. Your mother’s cheery voice rang over the phone instead, a happy roar of chatter mixed with music playing behind her voice. 

“Oh, Ed?” Your mother’s voice sounded concerned, he could practically see her frown, one you inherited. “Are you feeling better, hon? We miss you. I’m sending your stocking and gifts home- well, not the stocking, I’ll keep that but what’s inside.” 

You’d told them he was sick, covered for him- just like his mom used to do for his dad. The kindness in her tone nearly sent Eddie over the edge, pulling the receiver away to take a breath, to keep the sob from coming out. 

“Ed?” Your mom tried again. “Are you there?” 

“Y-Yeah, I’m sorry. I just… Is s-she around?” Eddie’s voice was tight with emotion, and he knew if he said your name, it would break whatever facade he’s mustered at the moment.

“Uh-huh, one second.” A staticy rustle filled the receiver, your name muffled and falling from your mom’s lips. 

Eddie didn’t realize he was holding his breath, until he released it, a desperate sigh of relief when you took the phone. “Hello?” 

“H-Hi, baby.” Eddie tried, hoping his voice was soft enough, gentler now- than the last time he talked to you. 

“Hi.” You bit, through gritted teeth, dragging the chord of the phone into the hall with you. “What do you want? I’m with my family.” 

His water line brimmed again, overflowing with angry tears. “Yeah, I know, honey. I’m sorry, I just,” Eddie took a deep breath, stuttering in his throat. “I’m sorry.” 

Your own lip wobbled, fresh with tears. You’d pulled into your parents drive the night before, eyes red rimmed from your cry, telling them something about the hay and your allergies. They’d believed you, pulled you in with a warm hug. It was nice, comforting at your home, surrounded by your family until you were asleep. A bed had never felt so cold.

 “I don’t-” You grit, trying to keep your own emotions in. “This is why you called me?” 

Eddie flinched at the venom in your own tone. “I am sorry. I’m so fuckin’ sorry, baby, you don’t even kno-ow.” Eddie’s chest stuttered. “I didn’t mean any of that, I swear. I was- I’m just… I’m not doing great this year, baby.” 

Your heart jumped at the shake in his tone, the rawness of his words. “You really hurt my feelings, Ed.” You admitted, your voice smaller. “I don’t- I don’t know why you don’t like my family. They love you-” 

“-I don’t.” Eddie shook his head, fist balled around the phone. “I didn’t mean any of that. I love your family, I-I love you.” 

“So, you said all of that, why?” You scoffed lowly. 

Eddie’s knee bounced. He hadn’t expected you just to forgive him, but it was still hard- hard when you weren’t here, when you were away and hurt, and he was alone and miserable. 

Miserable, the single word in the world he wished to never say or hear again. 

“I…” Eddie’s hand threaded through his matted locks. “I don’t know. It’s weird. Not- no, no, no, not you or- fuck, that’s not what I meant.” Eddie rambled stupidly. 

“I feel weird about being with your family on Christmas because…I like it.” Eddie’s vision was blurred, watery with tears. “It’s just different from what I grew up with, and… and I don’t know, sometimes it’s just, it’s overwhelming, baby.” 

You stayed silent on the other end, the only sound signaling you were still on the line was the faint yells and mummers of your family, only making Eddie’s heart ache even more. “They’re all so nice, it-it makes me… I didn’t have that. My family didn’t have that, and-and every time I’m there it just makes me wish they did.” 

The both of you fell into a silence, one that was becoming far too common. Eddie’s heart hammered behind his ribcage. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. This- nothing is your fault, you know that? This is on me. I shouldn’t have ever talked to you like that, said that shit. I’d beat the dog walking shit out of anyone who said that shit about you, and then I say it? That’s just-” Eddie let out a humorless, watery laugh, fist pressed to his forehead in an attempt to extinguish that fury burning through his chest again. 

A cleansing breath later, Eddie’s head was in his hands. “I’m sorry.” His voice cracked, wobbly when he told you. “I’m so, so sorry.” 

“It’s… We can talk later, Eddie.” Your voice finally rang through, shaky and unsteady, clutching the phone like it was your life long. “Thank you for calling me. For telling me that.” 

The silence settled again, both of you unsure, scared to make the next move. 

“I, uh, I wish you were here.” You broke the silence this time. “My family keeps asking about you. They miss you, a lot.” 

“I miss you.” Eddie sniveled, wiping his running nose with the back of his hand. “I mean, I miss them too, but I just… I miss you a lot.” 

A pause, the slight clear of your throat. “I have to go.” You whispered, voice tight and Eddie knew you were close to tears. “I have to help my mom set the table, but… I’ll call you tonight.” 

“I love you.” Eddie blurted, sacred he might forget to say it with how his head was swimming. “I love you so fuckin’ much.” 

“I know.” Your voice was soft. It made Eddie’s stomach lurch all over again. 

The line droned in a steady beep after your receiver clicked. Eddie held the phone there, eyes shining dully with unshed tears in the lights of the strung decorations. A defeated slump in his shoulders. He didn’t feel any better, worse if anything. 

Eddie was surrounded by a deafening silence, the house too quiet. Too quiet to be Christmas. Too quiet without you. 

The soft glow from the barn pulled Eddie’s attention, the doors pulled to keep the heat in for the horses. He twisted the phone in his palms, turning it over in his hands gently before jabbing his fingers back into the dial. 

The line rang once, twice, nearly a third before it was answered. 

“Gare, hey, I’ve got a big ask…” 

“Honey,” Your mom’s eyes squinted, yellow rubber gloves dunked into the soapy warm water in front of her. “I thought you said Ed wasn’t coming.” 

You nearly dropped the plate you were drying, breath caught in your throat. “What?” You hissed, leaning to look out the small window over the sink. Sure enough, there in the dark, snow covered driveway was Eddie’s truck. 

“I-I didn’t think he was.” You shook your head, setting the plate down gently. “He said he wasn’t feeling well. I’m just- I’ll be right back.” Slipping on your boots, not bothering to lace them, you stepped outside into the frigid cold of the night. 

Eddie didn’t see you, back turned, grabbing armfulls of bags out of the back seat. “What are you doing here?” 

He jumped, nearly dropping your aunt’s present, eyes wide when he turned. “Shit, I-I…” Eddie’s tongue tied, jumbled and thick in his mouth. He didn’t expect to see you, standing there, in your little Christmas sweater that had his heart swelling. He wanted to kiss you, coo at you for being so cute, get you all blushy and giggle at his compliments. 

Your lifted brow, arms crossed over your chest protectively stopped him. “I wanted to give your family their gifts. I-I was just going to leave them on the porch and tell you when I called tonight.” 

Your foot twisted into the snow, eyes cast downward. “You didn’t have to do that.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I did.” Eddie nodded firmly. “They’re not- It’s not great. The mall was closing early so I had to kinda rush, but, uh, I wanted to get them something.” He looked at you, eyes shining with emotion. “Wanted to get you something too.” 

Your stocking was hooked onto his left pointer finger, a crooked bend of the knitted fabric, hanging heavy and filled with tiny trinkets and things that ruffled. You looked at it carefully, face quipping just barely, but Eddie caught it. “I didn’t want you to think I forgot about you.” Eddie muttered lowly, breath showing under the glow of the lights. 

“Thank you.” You nodded, swallowing thickly around your words. “I can help you take them in.” 

“No,” Eddie shook his head. “I don’t want to… I know you don’t want to be with me right now, baby, and I get it. I’ll just drop them off-” 

“-Come inside.” You sighed, arms still tight around his chest. “My mom already saw you. It’s just easier for you to come in.” 

Eddie tried to hide the hurt he felt with a simple nod. “I don’t want to ruin your Christmas.” He muttered softly. “More than I already have.” 

“Eddie,” You sounded tired, words heavy with emotion, exhaustion maybe. “Come inside.” Your eyes lifted to his, so sweet, nearly pleading he was sure he might sob. “There’s still leftovers. I’ll heat them up for you.” 

So Eddie followed you inside, gifts under his arms, letting your family greet him warmly, chocking his red eyes and matching nose up to the hay fever he’d been having. Your mom fixed him a plate, poured you both a glass of mulled wine. 

In the tiny bed of your childhood room, the two of you talked in hushed voices, silent apologies traded over soft touches. 

“I didn’t mean it.” Eddie whispered, nose pushing into your neck. “I’m sorry.” 

“I know.” You nodded, and you did. Even if it still hurt, still wounded from the words, you knew that was true. 

Eddie’s cheek pressed against your shoulder, hands grabbing at you, pulling you closer and closer like at any moment you might disappear from his clutches. “My mom,” His voice cracked, eyes pinching shut. “She used to love Christmas.” 

“Really?” You hum, tone as even as it could be with the shock. Eddie never spoke about his mother. 

“Yeah,” Eddie nodded. “She, uh, she used to decorate every Thanksgiving. Pull out the tree after dinner, put it up. My dad,” Eddie swallowed around the bitter title. “He was always passed out by then, so she could do it pretty quickly. Get it up and ready before he’d wake up and bitch. It wasn’t a lot, a tree and some other stuff, but I’d always help her. She-She always let me put the angel on top.” 

You weren’t sure what to say, what you were supposed to say. Eddie’s mom was a sensitive spot. One he didn’t talk about much, at all, really. 

“She would really like your family.” Eddie’s voice was small, a rarity. Always the loud, rough and tough cowboy, commanding wild bucks all day. Small wasn’t in his vocabulary. 

“They would have really liked her.” You said slowly, vibrations from your voice tickling Eddie’s ear. 

Eddie knew it was true. He felt stupid, really, waves of horrible guilt crashing over him again as he clung tighter to you. Your family wasn’t the enemy, wasn’t one to try and replace his own family, just an extension. 

He meant what he said, that his Mama would like your family. He already knew she’d love you, simply because he did. He hoped it was true, that your family would’ve loved her. He knew deep down they would have, that they would welcome her with the same warmth that they gave him. 

That they’d always make sure her stocking was full on Christmas morning, because they always made sure his was. 

#oneforthemunny #munny’s merriest #munnysholidays #munnysmerriest #cowboy!eddie munson #cowboy!eddie munson x reader #cowboy!eddie munson angst #cowboy!eddie #eddie munson x fem!reader angst #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader angst #wayne munson #eddie stranger things #eddie my love <3 #eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson au #eddie munson au #cowboy!eddie munson x reader angst #oneforthemunny blurbs #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fic #eddie munson christmas

[one-abuse-survivor]

hi, sorry for the impending wall of text but i need to vent a little bit

this year i escaped my abusive mother. three months later my abusive father, who i'd cut ties with in my teen years, called me out of the blue for reasons unrelated to my mother. i told him I'd left her and he was stunned. and in the past few weeks, I've been reconnecting with him and his side of the family, and. it feels really weird

he's the reason for a large majority of my childhood trauma, i hated him so viscerally, and i still hate him for what he did, but im still reconnecting because i feel like im better equipped to deal with him now as an adult + ive had the time to process trauma related to him. but at the same time, i feel like the other shoe's going to drop anytime now, and that something's gonna go horribly wrong and make me regret reconnecting with him

thankfully he lives in another country, but he's visiting me next week with my aunt (his sister) and i don't know how to feel about it. he's bought me clothes and a pair of shoes and bedsheets, because since escaping my mother with only a suitcase and backpack's worth of stuff, i havent had much to my name. i want to feel fully like this is Good because he owes me that much after traumatising me my whole childhood, but also it makes me feel strange

it doesnt help that my mother's demonised him my whole life, sometimes even making stuff up to make him seem worse, but at the same time she pushed me to forgive him out of that classic catholic urge

I'm not forgetting Or forgiving what he did to me. because i dont want to, and because it would feel like a Major disservice to myself and my younger self who was put through so much because of him. but i feel so strange and a little bit on edge about beginning to rebuild a relationship after everything. but also i miss my aunt and uncle (his siblings who i havent seen in over ten years) and my cousins. and my younger half-sibling adores me, even more so given the fact that we're both trans

bottom line is I'm super conflicted about it all and i dont know what to do about it. thanks for reading and thank you for what you do on this blog <3

Hey there, nonnie.

It's no wonder you feel conflicted about your dad. This situation sounds really difficult to process, and it's only natural for you to feel on edge around him and constantly waiting for him to abuse you again. At the same time, it sounds like, at least at the time you sent this ask, having him back in your life felt like a positive experience overall, what with being able to (re)connect with family members and feeling like he was making up for the abuse a little bit.

I'm proud of you for not forgetting or forgiving what he did to you, and also for giving him this chance on your terms and not out of guilt. You handled a really complicated situation in such a healthy way. Just the fact you came to this blog so you could give your fear a place to exist and be expressed is such an important part of a process like this one. Kudos to you!

I hope the visit went well! Feel free to let me know how things are going with him now, if you want. Also, that's such a lovely coincidence that both you and your half-sibling are trans. I'm glad you got to know one another!

Sending a virtual hug ❤️

#Ask #Vent #Abuse #Abuse tw #Abusive mother #Abusive mother tw #Abusive father #Abusive father tw #Abusive parents #traumatic childhood #childhood trauma

[raincamp]

08 18 2023

endings take forever sometimes.

i used to think of ending as one event. it happens and then its over. the end of a movie, the last minute before credits roll. the end of a relationship, the goodbye before never seeing each other again. the end of a life, the last breath before organs fail.

what i've learned recently is that endings creep up a long, long time before they make their move.

i've experienced several recently, what with me moving away from everything i've built here in the past 19 years. it seems to be a theme in my life right now.

i had my last session with Olivia, my favorite person, my therapist, yesterday. i needed some time to process it (and also sleep for like 11 hours) before i could journal about it. i still havent cried, but i want to so, so badly.

i think part of the issue is that i have already cried about it, i grieved it before it even happened. i felt it coming months before it did. and i cried believing everything was over. and i had to sit and wait for it to finally end, knowing that it was happening, and it was torturous.

i regret not preparing for the session more, though. there's so many things i wish i could've told her. sentiments like "you're so fucking good at your job and i want you to know that" and "you were the best thing that happened to me when i was sitting with the worst" and "i love you".

i had so many questions i wish i could've had time to ask her, about how she sees me, how she thinks i improved, what she hopes i work on in the future, whether or not she enjoyed working with me, whether or not she'll miss me.

and most of all i wanted to apologize. i just feel so much guilt and i have to carry it with me without getting to resolve it now. i did hurt her, i mean, i have BPD and i didn't hold anything back. i would manipulate situations to get desired outcomes, i would play games with her, say things so she would react how i wanted her to.

sure, its her job as my therapist to take it and not take it personally and turn it into a way to help me, but still, we had a relationship— a professional one albeit— but shit can still hurt. she has feelings.

she said i could email her once in a while, if something big happens in my life that i want to celebrate with her. so, at least she won't be completely dead to me.

i want to finish the therapy fic i was writing based on her so i can send it to her.

on another note, i also attended IFS therapy yesterday too, which is why i was so exhausted. it was my first time trying to communicate with my parts, and it was a really new experience. i found it immensely interesting though!

i predict its going to be difficult though. i as my self, dont trust this therapist fully yet so i know that there's going to be a lot of resistance from protectors. what am i saying? there already has been.

i discovered 3 parts today, i dont think im ready to talk about all of them here but one of them is a dissociating part that is essentially gatekeeping me from accessing anything, and refuses to step away once it shows up or explain its reasoning in any way.

its gonna be really challenging to work with it, since its entire job is to stop me from talking to other parts, and also since it wont talk to me, and also since ive spent all of my time pushing it away/exiling it (especially in therapy) because i fucking hate dissociating.

i hate endings but im going to have to end this now anyway. at least you've been prepared at least 5 paragraphs since. im still deciding.

- andrew

#actually bpd #bpd #im not mentally stable #actually mentally ill #borderline #bpd struggles #bpd stuff #mental illness #borderline personality disorder #tumblr diary

[yukisnowywriting]

Punishment To The Loved

ModernAU

Diluc x fem!Reader

genre : angst

warning : mentions of death, suicide, sad shit, and angst, ofc the most natural part; cursing.

Masterlist - Pt.2

a/n : gonna get me some hate but- i just love making diluc suffer in angst for some reason... and agan gender is actually neutral but my fingers kept typing female pronous out of habit, so please do change the gender to your own comfort(?)

summary : As the days gets busier, so does Diluc. Youve appreciate his hardworking manner and understand the work he has. He want to make you happy by giving you anything you want... but cant you have a little of is attention? does he not need you anymore? what if he loses you? will that be better? does he not like you anymore? will it fix it if you part ways in your deathbed with your last to be "i hate you"?

-----

"Just how many times do we have to get over this?!?! I SAID IM BUSY. im busy. what you want proof? look at my desk, its full of paper. And of course you know the conditions of the sudden dying people, injured, hurt because of some organization. Im protecting the land, and that includes you. Do you have any complaints? i will not accept those either way." he says as he walks out of the door, towards the his car. And for you, you stand there with tears in your eyes, you just wanted a hug anyways.

Its been like this since a few weeks ago. People goes missing for a few days, coming back not remembering anything. Injured people reporting that theyve witnessed a dangerous organization. And people dead with the clues of some mysterious organization that the security forces cant even figure out. And due to those cases, Diluc joins the investigation with the forces, while still keeping up on work as a CEO of his fathers company. He walks home each night to receive a hug, that was at first, yes you do hug him still. But, As a withering flower loses its beauty, so does you relationship loses its love as time walks by. fewer interactions become none, and none became arguments.

The lack of comunication is the main issue, a thin yet hard paper to rip.

As Diluc continues his research on the accidents, You try your best not to feel the pain in your chest, that lonely pain as you sleep alone once again. But these days you felt as if something or someone was watching, a murderers gaze waiting its time to strike. Youve tried to inform Diluc of this incident, but get cut out with 'later' 'gtg' 'just your imaginations'

----

One night...

"I told you before. this is embarassing that you cant help but make excuses, and more excuses until youve nothing left but try to guilt trip me and the people around y/n. Ive said to you again and again, you know im busy for the sake of both of us-"

"OKAY BUT THEN WHAT IF THE ONLY THING THAT I WANT IS YOUR FCKIN ATTENTION???"

youve done it, raised your voice at him in the most terrible moment. but you did not regret.

you see his pissed off face, the face full of irritation. as he raised his voice.

"do you really think that im supposed to believe someone who started this argument by saying shes being stalked by a possible murderer, and then the next debate, she says that she just wanted my attention?!?!!? guess what? you have all of my attention now. Now speak. continue your lie-"

"I SAID ITS NO LIE! IM SERIOUS! I- i could feel it even at this moment...!" you cut him off again and you werent even lying.

"ah... so you think your a special person, the female lead of a story, the person that could predict the future, to feel some weird aura, the one that gets killed just because of that feeling and at the end gets a kiss from the prince as she wakes up from her death bed? dont expect any of that bullshit from me. By how terribly bad your attitude is these days, i dont even know if i still need you. im leaving, and ill probably leave until tommorow. now go to bed before i actually kick you out of my appartment." he says as he walks away, again to the vast dark night.

tears running down your face, as you feel the aura of murder bigger than before. You shake in fear as the appartment is filled with silence. Your alone.

---

"I get it Charles, ive said some wrong stuff to y/n so i should say sorry before its too late. but you know how busy we are right? ill do that tonight"

"hey you should really visit her now, no one knows when late is"

"were busy. get back to work"

the next day, another busy day in his office. And Charles, his assitant, giving diluc some relationship advices that gets a direct negative response.

Charles of course kept trying to persuade Diluc to no end.

they were typing no end, that was until Miss Jean came in and called for Dilucs time, signing that its about the incident.

Diluc gets to the balcony, a more reserved area.

"how is it?" Diluc asks.

"you see, were at a dead end. they always end up attacking someone, killing someone, and when we tried to dig into the connections of the victim, their family or people their close with always ends up dead by suicide the next day. "

"ridicolous"

"but knowing your the one that has been figuring out most of the tracks, and encountering most of their moves in real time, you should also be careful."

"i get it"

and there their disscussion ends.

---

Works as painful as usual, a meeting was held to discuss the strategies, and outcomes of the organization. But the only thing that was revealed is that the forces decides to stick to the guess that the organization has been targeting people with a relation to the national forces. After theyre targeted, the person that will be a victim is the targets family, bestfriend, or lover. And at the end, they will have the outcome of eliminating a member of the force without many difficulties.

To Diluc, just like how it sounds, it sounds ridiculous. If the organization really does that, he bets that theyre already caught by now. That guess is just like a fantasy novel.

As he gives no shit on the disscussion about that strategy, he only pays attention to the stuff about victims since he himself guessed that the organizations victims has some sort of relationship with the organization. He does not believe that someone could die just because of someone else dying first.

but why does he feels like hes already dying now?

ring* his phone shows that y/n is calling

"tch, excuse me for a while, someones calling."

he stands up from his seat and went put of the room with soundproof walls and a glass door.

---

"you know very well that im in-"

"please... im sorry- hic- im sorry- please come home.... i-"

"tf do you mean?? your saying im supposed to go home while an important meeting is going on?? this could risk lives-"

"w-why are you like this..? please come home? right now PLEASE ITS REALLY IMPORTANT" your cries over the phone as you wail to him.

"this is getting annoying, i said this is more important-"

"it hurts.... it hurts too much... there too much blood, i cant... breathe" you say with the last energy you have.

Diluc freezes as a wave of anxiety washes over him.

"y-y/n where are you? whos there other than you? im heading there- just- your doing good- continue talking- anything- how was your day? what did you cook today-" Diluc says in a panic as he starts taking fast steps to his car, too scared to forget your voice.

"I- lets go to that cafe you said you wanted to go to-"

"why?" you cut him off with a lifeless voice

"y/n how was your day? did you go somewhere? meet with friends maybe-"

"tch" you click your tongue

"y/n....?" he says with fear of whats gonna come up.

"why are you always like this?" "i-" "you always do this" "please-" "you always say everyones wrong and when your wrong you could only say sorry and act like nothing happened" "thats not-" "thats not true? sure hah..." "y/n im right infront- wait for awhile- youll be just fine." he parks his car with his phone still on speaker, as he pays attention to every noise and painful words coming from your side.

"hey remember i love you so-" he tries to say how much he loves you, he tries to say how much he loves you, but your reply cuts him off and the ring of a call ending following your words as he turns off his car and runs to the door.

"i hate you "

wouldve it been different if he trusted you? would it be better f he didnt walk out that night? would it be better if he went home and made up to you just like what charles said?

"t-this is too painful of a punishment... y/n"

he kneels down next to your body, his suit pants getting stained with your blood that was flooding the floor. His whole body shaking like a cat drenched in rain. His hand reaching for yours, bringing your crushed hands that mustve been stepped on to his face, kissing it gently and bringing it back down, putting it on your chest.

"im sorry... please dont hate me..."

and ambulance sirens fill in the silence.

----

hehheheh, part 2 maybe?

#genshin impact #fanfic #genshin fanfic #genshin #angst #genshin imagines #genshin impact angst #genshin angst #genshin diluc #diluc ragnvindr #diluc angst #diluc x y/n #diluc #gi diluc

[justauthoring]

You’re Stuck With Me Now

Prompt: He’d never leave you again.

A/N: is my return to writing (after a short break) oikawa? yes it is. honestly, i just love this boy so much and ive been rewatching haikyu and i can't... my heart.

ALSO HAPPY BIRTHDAY OIKAWA TOORU <3

Warnings: past implied abuse

Pairing: Oikawa Tooru x F!Reader Please don’t plagiarize my work!

“Come on, Y/N-Chan, it’ll be fun.”

With a quirked brow and look of disbelief up at your boyfriend, you roll your eyes. “You know I don’t really like parties, Tooru,” you mumble, taking a bite out of your lunch just as Oikawa lets out a whine of disappointment.

He’d already spent a majority of your lunch break, which the two of you were lucky to have together, begging you to come out tonight with him to Mattsun’s party. He’d spent the entire weeks’ lunches trying to convince you to come with him, to no avail everyday, and now, the day of; he was even more desperate for a yes.

“But it won’t be any fun without you.”

And his pout is almost convincing enough, eyes droopy at the edges with a certain puppy-dog look. The corner of his lips are flipped downwards, but he looks positively adorable (as he usually does - his group of fangirls aren’t for nothing). But, you’ve held restraint all week to this point, and by now, this really isn’t anything new.

“You say that every time, babe,” you counter, pointing your chopsticks at him with a quirked brow. “And every time I come with you, you end up leaving me to mingle off with Hajime.”

His shoulders slump.

“Is Hajime coming tonight?”

“...Yes.”

“Then,” you nod, satisfied, “you won’t be alone.”

“Bu-But!” He all but whines, and before you know it he’s suddenly sidled up behind you, arms curling around your waist firmly to press you flush against his chest. You let out a squeak in response, whining yourself when your delicious lunch is suddenly before you and tauntingly not within arms reach. 

Oikawa is fast to pull your attention on him.

“He won’t be there till later!”

“So I’m just entertainment until he gets there?”

“Of course not!”

Oikawa looks positively betrayed at your assumption, and the look on his face is enough to have you giggling. Shifting in his grasp, you move so you’re facing him, brushing back a few strands of his unruly hair that no matter how hard you try is never ever neat, before meeting his eyes with a soft smile. “Honestly, Tooru,” you whisper gently, “why do you want me to go so bad? You usually don’t care this much.”

“Because,” he shrugs, “I like having you with me.”

And that, unfortunately, is the zinger.

His words all but melt your heart and with a heavy sigh, you realize there’s no possible way that you can say no when he goes ahead saying something so sweet like that.

“I’ll go.”

The way his eyes practically glow is enough to make you smile though.

“Really? Yes!”

However, now that you’re here, cramped in a house of drunk, loud teenagers, you’re suddenly wishing you’d had a bit more self restraint when it came to your boyfriend. As per usual, an hour into the party, Iwaizumi arrived and now even further convinced your boyfriend is more in love with his best friend then you -- you’re completely alone.

“’I’ll be right back’ my ass,” you mutter to yourself, taking a drink from the cup in your hands, instantly regretting it at the bitter taste that goes down your throat.

It wasn’t that you didn’t have any friends, you just weren’t entirely comfortable in social situations. It’s a wonder how you got along with Oikawa so well, but the two of you seemed to just mesh really well together. And of course, he’d been there for you in a time no one else had, and had helped fix you from the person who made you so nervous and skittish around others in the first place. It’s because of him that you’re even able to stand in a room so crowded, even if you’re not really socializing. 

It would’ve been nice to have him to talk with, though. Iwaizumi too.

Pulling out your phone, you send a quick text to Oikawa, hoping that he’ll see it and at least drag you along for whatever Iwaizumi and him got up to in parties like these. It’s because of this that you don’t notice the shadow that falls next to you, not until a hand swipes your phone right out of your own and a voice you’d hoped you’d never hear again speaks;

“Oikawa Tooru, huh?”

Your heart practically drops.

“Figures you’d find someone in volleyball again, you did always love it.”

“H-Haru...”

He smirks down at you, and your lips part when he pockets your phone without a care in the world, his grip moving to your wrist where he tugs you towards himself. “Never thought I’d be able to find you again, Y/N, after you so abruptly moved schools. In your third year no less.”

You pull back on the grip he has on you, trying, to no avail, to get away. “What are you even doing here?”

“I play volleyball, remember?” He quirks a brow, speaking to you like you’re a child. “I know some of the boys here.”

How unlucky can I get...

Digging the heels of your feet down, you use all your strength to fight back the pull Haru tugs on your wrist. It’s clear he’s trying to get you to go somewhere with him, maybe even leave and that's the absolute last thing you can let happen. Haru still has such a pull over you, as much as you hate to admit it, and if you’re alone with him, there’s no telling what would happen.

And you’re terrified to find out.

“Let me go,” you hiss, “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“It seems you’ve forgotten your place, Y/N,” he growls down at you, grip turning bruising as you let out a cry in response, unable to stop yourself. “I’ll give you credit, it was brave of you to think you could get away from me, and finding you was hard. But now that I have you, I plan to remind you just exactly why you’re with me.”

Eyes widening, it suddenly feels like you can’t breathe.

“I mean, after all,” and his eyes gleam, turning dark, “you can’t live without me, remember?”

Your frozen state allows him to gain the control. Before you know it, you’re being dragged through the familiar halls of Mattsun’s house that feel like a blur and unfamiliar in your panic. You don’t even notice where you are, and barely hear when Haru suddenly announces “this’ll do” and then you’re being shoved into a room and the door is slammed behind you.

You fall to the ground with a loud cry, Haru shoving you.

When you turn to face him, staring up at him, he’s blocking the door, staring down at you expectedly. 

“What are you waiting for?” He huffs, “take off your shirt.”

Hands shaking, you push yourself up into a sitting position with shaky muscles, not trusting yourself to stand in that moment as you stare up at him. Everything had moved so fast, and your heart feels as if it’ll break when you realize despite how much better you thought you’d been getting -- none of it meant a damn thing when faced with Haru himself.

You were scared, terrified, and it felt like back then all again. You had no control. You had no strength.

A harsh kick in the stomach has you doubling over, and clutching your sides, Haru crouches down before. “No one’s coming to save you, Y/N. Not even your boyfriend,” he taunts, smirking at you. “I’m pretty sure I saw the infamous Captain shoving his tongue down another girls throat.”

Eyes widening, you stare at your lap. “No,” you mumble, voice breathless, croaky. “Tooru wouldn’t--”

“It’s true. He’s not here, is he?”

Swallowing thickly, you meet Haru’s gaze.

“So, see, at the end of it all, all you have is me, right?”

And you hate the way his hand against your cheek feels like comfort compared to all the pain.

Shaky fingers reach for the hem of your shirt, just as the door slams open.

It’s Iwaizumi.

His eyes widen at the sight of you, flickering to Haru before focusing back on you. “Oikawa!” He calls, voice booming, tone dark, and it’s then you see how angry he looks. “I found her!”

In the next second, Oikawa is bursting pass Iwaizumi. He stills at the sight of you, tear-stricken, face pale, eyes wide with fear, and then Haru, crouched before you, look positively smug about the entire situation. And there’s a moment of pause where nothing happens, and Haru moves to stand, lips parting; “sorry, but it looks like Y/N--”

But he never gets to finish before Oikawa’s punching him straight across the cheek so hard he falls to the ground with a loud thud. 

In the next second, he’s in front of you.

“Shit, Y/N. I’m so sorry,” and you don’t miss the way your name lacks ‘chan’, meaning Oikawa’s serious. “I didn’t mean to leave that long. Fuck. Are you okay? Where did he hurt you? Show me, and I’ll--”

But your hand is grabbing his own frantic ones and when Oikawa meets your gaze, he’s shocked at the soft smile on your lips.

“Y/N-Chan?”

“You came,” you whisper, voice soft with astonishment and adoration. “You came for me.”

And, shoulders easing, Oikawa nods. 

“Of course I did.”

Squeezing his hand, to the point Oikawa is blinking in response, lips parting in worry. You stare into his eyes, imploring; “please don’t leave me like that again.”

And guilt settles deep within his chest, hating himself for what happened, blaming himself for it as well. But he knows that’s not what you mean, nor what you think; you just want a guarantee he’s there for you. And if there’s one thing Oikawa can promise, it’s that.

“You’re stuck with me now, yeah?” 

He grins, trying to make you smile, make you laugh and everything ease when he succeeds, that giggle of yours he loves filling the silence of the room.

“I’m good with that.”

#Haikyuu #Haikyuu imagine #Haikyuu x reader #Haikyu #Haikyu imagine #Oikawa Tooru #Oikawa Tooru imagine #Oikawa Tooru x reader #Oikawa Tooru angst #Oikawa imagine #Oikawa x reader #imagine #imagines #my fics

[rattyoakenbitch]

❝𝐢𝐟 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝❞ ─ 𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐢 𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧

i don't want your sympathy, i guess ive had it rough but you don't really care

❥ content ; gn reader, eventual fluff, angst, pining, happy ending

❥ warnings ; injury, swearing, mentions of death

❥ synopsis ; when you get badly injured during a mission, only then does levi realize the depths of his feelings for you. now the question is, is it too late?

❥ a/n ; i don't have a taglist yet so feel free to ask to get added!

You glided through the trees alongside your team, adrenaline running through your veins.

Kicking yourself off a tree, you landed your body with ease onto a lone Titan spotted in the forest below you. With a swift swing of the blade, the Titan was on the ground.

Finished, you zipped yourself back into the air, joining your team member's formation as you all flew together.

"Y/N!" Captain Levi shouted, resent dripping off of his words. Here we go again. "Do not deviate from original course! We are here to scout, not to thrill seek."

The team came to a slow. They stood on the branches, overlooking the land beneath them.

"I was not thrill seeking, sir, I was doing my job," you defended, turning to Captain Levi. Though he was shorter than you were, his cold stare and unwavering demeanor intimidated you.

"Your job is to follow my orders, brat, not go off wandering like an idiot!"

"I didn't wander, I was quick to regroup! You're just finding a reason to take your anger out on me," you retorted. "Then again, I wouldn't be surprised. Considering your height, it's no wonder you can barely contain your anger in such a small body."

As much as he wanted to push you off the tree, Levi kept his poise.

By now the team could hear you and Levi's bickering, but considering they were used to it, they decided to butt out and focus on planning the route.

"Stable duty when we get back."

And then he walked away, leaving you fuming.

As you continued with the scouting mission, you encountered too many Titans that you couldn't just brush them off. Angry and left with no choice, Levi shouted orders to forget the original plan and fight back.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted two Titans approaching Jean and Armin with intent. You narrowed your eyes. This was your chance. You bolted off the tree, flying fast towards the two Titans. You got your gear out, ready to slice their napes, when one of the Titans looked your way, a sick smile on its face.

"Y/N!" Armin called out in a panic as the Titan extended its arm, swiping at you like a fly. Before its hand could collide with you, you were pushed out of the way by none other than Levi.

He wrapped his arms around you securely, one underneath your bottom and his other around your back. You heard him whisper a profanity, his hot breath fanning your neck as he spoke. Though it wasn't the time or the place, you couldn't help but let your mind wander.

You were brought back to reality when Levi glided deeper into the forest, setting you down onto the ground harsher than necessary.

Totally caught off guard, your back was shoved against a tree. Levi was quick to block your exits, predicting you would try to resist.

His arms caged you between him and the tree, leaving little to no distance between your bodies. You could feel your face get hot, either out of embarrassment or his body heat mixing with yours.

"What the hell is wrong with you, brat?!" Yelled Levi, eyes wild with rage. However, something felt different about this compared to when he scolded you for separating from the group. But you couldn't quite put your finger on it.

"Me?" You scoffed. "You're the crazy psycho who stole me away and cornered me in this forest!" You pushed at his chest, successfully shoving him off of you. "I had everything under control."

"You were almost killed! I can't have reckless people on my team. I'm a captain, not a babysitter, so get your shit together or get the hell off my team."

You stood against the tree quietly, Levi's venomous words stunning you into silence. Levi continued to stare deep into your eyes, his expression never changing. However, as the seconds passed, you saw a sliver of regret in his eyes, lasting only for a mere second.

You took a deep breath, trying to choose your words carefully. "I- Just.. Why do you hate me so much?"

Levi raised a brow while you continued to speak.

"I know I'm not the best fighter. Not compared to Misaka or Eren. But what did I do to deserve so much hatred from you? Even when I'm not doing anything wrong, you look at me like I'm the most disgusting person you've seen."

Despite feeling a sting of guilt at your words, Levi put on a dismissive act. "Tch, you're being dramatic. I'm not about to discuss this with you."

Why the fuck did he say that?

"Maybe if you listened to me for two damn seconds you wouldn't get such an earful."

Why is he being such an asshole? Gods, just tell them already. Stop this bullshit.

No longer finding it in you to care, you began to raise your voice, angry tears spilling down your face. "I try my best to make you like me. I try to show you that I'm capable and strong, but you still treat me as if I'm inferior. Like my skills are nothing. Like I'm nothing."

Emotionless, Levi replied, "Because you are. Look at you. You're a crybaby. You should've stayed back." Lies. All lies.

"Ugh- well maybe you should've just let me get killed since you despise me so much!"

With that, you grab your gear and zip away as far from Levi as possible, tears blowing out of your face and into the wind.

"Hey, where are you going?!"

You ignored him as you continued to speed through the trees, searching for your team. Your friends. Anybody.

"Y/N! Look out!"

You heard Eren shout, making you spin around frantically to search for the danger.

There it was.

An Abnormal ran your way, crawling like a dog on its hands and feet.

It had been chasing the team for a while now, evident in its animalistic, hungry look.

Steadily hanging off a branch, you watch the Titan from afar, then look back at the team.

"I'll distract it! You guys go!"

They looked at you as if you had grown two extra heads.

"You'll die!" Mikasa argued. "We can take it!"

"Just go!"

The Titan started to get closer. The team looked behind you, then back at you. Though they looked ready and determined to take it down, you knew they felt as terrified as you were. Fighting Titans was just something you don't think you'll ever get used to.

"Please be careful. We're gonna find Captain Levi!"

You nodded, then turned around, watching as the Titan ran towards you, totally disregarding the rest of the team.

"You want me? Come get me."

When you decided it was close enough, you darted into the forest and soared through the trees, only narrowly missing them. The Abnormal followed you, but hit itself on the trees and destroyed many in the process.

While the Abnormal continued to run through the forest, leaves and trees blocking its direct vision of you, you took a chance and turned back, flying past the Abnormal.

You did a quick u-turn and hopped onto its back.

You got it now.

As it chased after nothing, completely unaware, you slashed the nape of its neck.

With you still on its back, the Titan went limp mid-jump, falling onto the ground hard enough to create an earthquake. Unprepared for the collision, you went flying off its body.

Instead of bracing yourself for the fall, you frantically reached for your gear in an attempt to glide back up to the trees.

Before you got the chance, your body met with the ground, a loud thud echoing from the impact.

In the distance, the rest of the team continued to fight until they got to the very last Titan. Levi, though he was the last to regroup, helped effectively take down the Titans.

It wasn't evident in his stoic expression, but he searched among his surroundings and the faces of his team for you, afraid the worst had happened. Dammit, why did he have to be such an asshole? What Levi said to you, he meant none of it. But he feared he wouldn't get the chance to tell you that. Idiot.

"Is everybody here?!" Levi shouted as his team gathered around him.

"Yeah, we're alive-"

"Wait, where's Y/N?"

The team began to search among themselves, now becoming anxious as well.

"Well, where are they? Did you not see them at all?" Levi asked in a calm tone, despite his heart beat pounding in his ears. No. He wasn't going to slip up. Not here, not now. He needed to remain strong.

Mikasa spoke up. "We last saw them when we were being chased by an Abnormal! They offered to distract it and take care of it themselves."

Levi shouted, a crack in his voice, "And you let them?!"

"Y/N is strong! One of the best fighters we have here," Eld said. "They've probably already taken it down by now."

"Then where are they?!" Levi growled, becoming more frustrated by the second.

"Hey, look!" Armin yelled, shaking his finger towards the steam in the distance. "Eld was right! Y/N did kill it after all!"

Wasting no more time, Levi commanded the team to follow him. Soon again, they were up in the trees, running your direction. They stopped as soon as they came across a clearing in the forest where the Abnormal laid lifelessly.

"Everyone! Find Y/N!"

The team split, searching the area for any sign of you.

Levi dreaded the thought of finding you like they found the Titan. No. You killed it. You had to be alive.

Levi repeated that in his head. You had to be alive.

Because if you weren't, he wouldn't know what he would do.

Your eyes shot open at the sound of panicked screams echoing around you. You pushed yourself off of the ground in a rush, only to stumble back with an agonizing scream, pain shooting up the lower half of your body.

"Fucking hell! Oh shit," you fell back on the grass defeatedly, hot tears welling in your eyes at the intense pain and aches across your whole body. "Dammit!"

You didn't know which bones were broken, where you were, if you were bleeding out. So you just laid there alone, helpless and numb. Waiting.

Just when the team was beginning to lose hope, a blood curdling scream echoed throughout the forest, easily catching the team's attention. They headed towards the source of the sound, but Levi was the first on it, already sprinting through the forest to find you.

When he did, he felt his heart drop down to his stomach. You laid in a small clearing behind some old trees and bushes, a puddle of blood beneath your body. Your uniform was torn and your 3DMG was rendered useless at this point. If not for the scream, or the fast rise and fall of your chest, he would've mistaken you for being dead.

Levi rushed to your side and got onto his knees, lifting up your body into his arms.

"Y/N? Can you hear me? Y/N?"

You coughed, wheezing and struggling to make a coherent sound. Blood dripped down the corner of your mouth as you spoke, "You were right, Captain. I never stood a chance, did I?Shoulda just stayed." You laughed pitifully.

Now Levi was angry, but not at you. "Shut up! Don't say stupid shit like that! You're going to be okay."

The team found you, stopping short at the sight of Levi holding you carefully, like a porcelain doll, ready to break.

He didn't care anymore. He didn't bother to put up a front. Not when you were like this, half dead in his arms. He pressed his forehead to yours, whispering in your ear so only you could hear.

"I can't lose you too.."

Everyone else only continued to watch the intimate scene unfold before them.

When you fell unconcious, Levi squeezed his eyes shut, trying his best to keep his composure. Why was he acting like this? Usually he would be quick to solve problems without letting his feelings get in the way. Why was he so helpless now?

He turned around, scowling at the group who just stood by idly.

"Get over here and help them, you fools!"

You hated it. You hated having to be looked after or saved like a princess in a children's storybook. You didn't want to run away anymore, or simply stand in waiting, hoping for someone to rescue you. You were done being hunted. So you joined the Scouts after years of hard work and training. If you had only thought more carefully or put your parent's advice in consideration, you wouldn't be in your current situation, regretting ever joining Levi's team. You wouldn't have ended up in the infirmary.

You passed out in Levi's arms after suffering from injuries during your fight with the Abnormal Titan, according to your friends. They came by to visit you when the medic alerted them that you had woken up from your coma.

"How long was I out for?" You winced as you massaged your still pounding head. "When did I even get here?"

"You've been unconcious for two days. We retreated to the city as Captain Levi instructed and you've been under their care since," Eren answered. He noticed your demeanor as you looked around the room and picked at your skin, a nervous habit you recently formed. "Everybody's alive, so don't you worry."

"Where are they?"

"Well, they did have to receive medical attention since they got hurt, but they're okay! They miss you, ya know?" Armin said excitedly. "We'll make sure to fill you in on everything when you're out of here."

You pursed your lips. "Speaking of which, when will I be discharged?"

"You can't exactly walk right now, but.. you should be up and ready to go within a week! Then we can go on another mission and-"

"Eren. Armin. Mikasa." Your attention was torn away from Eren, your eyes darting towards the source of the voice.

"Captain Levi!" They all exclaimed in unison.

"I would like to speak with Y/N in private." He glanced at trio, his eyes narrowing. "Out."

The three walked out, heads bowed like sad little puppies. You waved at them as they went before turning to Levi who now stood by your bed.

"What do you want?" You asked bitterly, nose scrunching up in a sneer.

"Commander Erwin informed me of your decision," he spoke softly, differing from his usual cold tone.

You huffed. "Yeah, took your advice and resigned. You won't have to worry about babysitting me anymore."

A pang of guilt shot through Levi's heart, causing him to flinch. He hoped you didn't catch that.

He remembered his own regretful words as it replayed in his head. Just like your cries and pained expression, which he was unable to simply brush off, he couldn't forget how he mistreated you. And he would never forgive himself, either. The sight of your injured body laying there, all alone. He couldn't shake the scene off his mind, no matter how hard he tried. Even in his dreams.

Evident in his eyebags that seemed to have darkened in shade, he wasn't able to get much sleep the past couple days because of it.

"I take it you hate me, then," Levi suggested, prompting you to laugh mockingly.

"Oh, no, I could never," you said, sarcasm dripping off your voice as you fake fawned over Levi. "Levi Ackerman, Humanity's Strongest.. I just adore you."

Levi hid his offended expression and ignored your antics as he continued. "I was afraid I couldn't get the chance to apologize to you. When I found you there, I.." He squeezed his eyes shut and furrowed his brows together, forcing his tears not to fall. Why now?

"Yeah, well, you fucked up. About time you feel a little heartache," you mumbled, looking around the room, anywhere but Levi.

"A little?! Look, I'm trying to apologize here!" He shouted. "Do you have no idea how fucking terrified I've been for you, you brat?!"

"No, Captain Levi, so why don't you enlighten me on how much you care?!" You huffed, crossing your arms. "Because if you did, then maybe I wouldn't be bed ridden!"

Levi's face softened at the sight of a single tear escaping your eye. He took a seat on the bed beside you and reached out to brush away your tear.

With your quick reflexes, you caught his hand and pushed it back towards him.

"Don't you dare touch me. You've done enough damage, Levi. Just go and stop wasting my time."

Just like you, he was stubborn. He stood his ground.

"I-I'm sorry."

You let out an exasperated sigh. "You must think I'm stupid. No way I'm buying that bullshit."

"You need to stop pushing me away, Y/N!"

"What is that, an order?" You taunted. "You don't get to be sorry, Levi. It's too late for that. You waited for me to almost die just to tell me that? Is that what it takes? What if I hadn't survived? What then?"

"You don't think I haven't thought about that?! That's why I'm here!"

"Yeah, and who's fault is that?"

"You should've listened to me! I was trying to protect you!"

"Well thanks a lot. Now both my kneecaps are broken and I won't be able to walk for weeks!" You shake your head. "You think just because we shared a moment while I was dying that I'm okay now? Trust me, if I had the strength, I would have slapped you then and there."

"Then why don't you now?"

"At this point, you're not even worth getting angry over. So stop giving me that pitiful look. I really prefer you shouting at me instead. At least I'm used to it." You mumble the last part, but Levi catches it easily.

"That's it then, you leave me no choice." You look at Levi curiously. "You infuriate me, brat, you really do. You're so careless and oblivious all the time, you forget to look after yourself. And I'm not ready to watch you throw away your life so irrationally from the sidelines."

"So what are you trying to tell me, Levi?"

"Tch, you're just gonna make me say it, aren't you?" He takes a deep breath. "I'm not good at this, and I hate to admit it, to you of all people. It makes me mad to see you risk your life because I care about you.. and I can't lose you. I've dealt with too much death. I'll do whatever it takes to keep you alive, even if it means dying.." Levi trails off, then scoffs and crosses his arms like a petty little child. "I said it, all right? I like you-- A lot, you stupid brat!"

You searched Levi's eyes for any trace of dishonesty. You hoped he was lying, like he had some sort of script prepared before he came to see you. But you found no lies in his eyes.

You felt your heart break. All this time when you thought Levi just really hated you, he was looking out for you.

"I.. Why didn't you just tell me?" Your voice fell apart as you spoke. "I tried so hard to make you like me back.. And it hurt because I thought you just hated my guts. I had no idea."

"I know, I was being stupid too- It shouldn't have come to this," Levi admitted. "I.. I'll let you rest now."

Levi stood up to leave, but you were quick to pull him back onto the bed with you. Without letting him react, you grabbed his face and interlocked your lips with his. All the tension in his body disappeared and he melted into the kiss, throwing his arms around you tightly like he'd lose you if he ever let go. It wasn't a soft, romantic, movie perfect kiss. It was desperate, tongue and teeth, hands wandering, disheveling the other's hair. You released all of your built up anger and resent, letting it fuel you while you aggresively fought your tongue with his, a faint taste a hint of alcohol now on your own mouth. Occasionally you'd both break the kiss for short intakes of breath and small whispers like 'don't scare me like that again' and 'I've needed this for a while now'. You couldn't help but moan, earning a grin from Levi as he continued to hungrily devour your lips. Just as things escalated, you remembered you were still in the infirmary, and anyone could walk in any minute now. You slowly pulled away, your chest heaving as you panted for breath.

Levi couldn't help but twist his lips up into a little smirk. That was new.

"Well at least you're not a bad first kisser," he spoke nonchalantly, still gasping for air. You playfully punched him in the chest.

"Quite the romantic, aren't you?" You rolled your eyes but couldn't stop yourself from smiling like an idiot. "You're not bad either, old man."

Blush spread across his cheeks.

He took your hand in his, bringing it to his swollen and raw lips and placed a small kiss on your knuckles.

"Promise me you won't leave me again?"

"Promise," you sighed blissfully. "And I guess I'll have to tell Commander Erwin about my change of plans."

"Actually," a deep voice spoke. At the door, there stood none other than Commander Erwin. "I think I already know."

#levi ackerman #levi ackerman angst #levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x gn reader #levi ackerman oneshot #levi ackerman imagine #tsundere prompts #beabadoobee #lyric prompts #angsty #aot #levi aot #no spoilers #snk fanfiction #snk levi #attack on titan #rattyoakenbitch

[hoodieofholland]

Okay, what Im requesting really angst so I get if you don’t want write,

boyfriend!Tom starting to feel things to his co-star while y/n is waiting for him to come back to her and when he coms back he tells her the turth. She runs pf with tears and have a serious car crash and Tom regrets what he did and blames himself for her injures.

(Oh god I love jerk Tom so much)

(love your writings <3)

a/n: took a little while to write this, but it's done, finally! Hahah. Feels like ive been writing a lot of angst lately lol, what you guys think? Thanks anon for requesting, hope you like it!

Warnings: angst, mentions of cheating, heartbreak, mentions of blood, car accident, language.

Broken. That’s how you felt, staring into those brown chocolate eyes, full of regret, guilt and fear. Your heart clenches inside of your chest, desperately trying to find some sort of comfort while your heartbeat only seems to increase each second you pass looking at him.

“What?”, your voice is cracked. Your eyes are glistening with the threatening tears.

You still can hear the reverberation of his words inside of your head: I think I’m having feelings for someone else. Someone else. His co-star. Tom had just admitted to you he was having feelings for his co-star.

You and Tom have been in a relationship long enough to know this would inevitably break your heart into pieces. Those words didn’t even make sense to you. Though both of you were feeling a little off lately, like your relationship wasn’t the same anymore, you were sure this was just a phase, you were willing to bring you two back on track. But right now you could see you were the only one with hope and this made you feel ashamed of just standing in front of Tom, feeling extremely exposed and weak.

He sniffles, averting his gaze to the ground. “I- I’m so sorry, y/n. I didn’t mean to blurt it like that, it’s just-“

You blink your tears away, your whole body shaking slightly, not under your control anymore. Your hands close into fists as you try to control your emotions and the unbearable pressure on your chest. “What is it, Tom? What is happening? I- I can’t understand, I thought-“, you didn’t even know what to say. You bite your lips to prevent you from crying. “Since... since when, Tom?”

He breathed out, cheeks buffing as he runs his hands through his curls. “I don’t know. Honestly”, his voice was full of sadness, “I just- I realized it today”.

You feel your knees getting weaker. “Did you-“, you gulp, too afraid to ask, “Did you cheat on me, Tom? Did you do something with her? Did she touch you? Did you touch her?”

Though you knew pretty well none of that was important anymore, that betraying your feeling while still together was equally as bad as kissing or sleeping with someone else, you couldn’t ignore the feeling that physical contact would make the whole thing worse. You couldn’t stand the thought of being there, waiting for Tom to come home and maybe have a nice dinner so you could enjoy time together and make things work out again, while he was out there fucking another girl.

But he shook his head no, and you released a sigh in relief. He had a frown between his brows, genuinely hurt by the path of that conversation. “I’d never, y/n”, he rubbed his eyes. “I know this doesn’t make me a better of a man, but I- I swear to God I just realized it now. It was today, when we were filming and... and I couldn’t go another minute without telling you this. This is so fucked up and I am so fucking sorry, but I thought that it would be better for both of us if I just told you this and-“

A sob coming from your parted lips breaks his attempt to explain, watching you fall apart for something he has done. Tom didn't stop loving you. It felt different, but he still cared about your feelings and how you'd deal with the fact that your relationship wasn't working anymore. He felt guilty and even disgusted at himself for breaking your heart. But that didn't stop him neither.

"Can we talk about this, darling?", he mumbles, trying to reach your hand, but you step back, body trembling as you fight back the need of giving in to his embrace.

"Don't. Don't call that", you cry out, letting the tears fall freely on your cheeks now. "Fuck, Tom, what did I do? I didn't deserve this. I- I was by your side, I never left. I knew this day would come, but I was trying my best..."

"It's not like that, y/n", he mutters, feeling defeated. He didn't intend to take it this way. He never wanted to make you cry. He promised he would never make you cry. "I've tried. And I love you, I love you so fucking much, but I... I don't know what happened".

You wipes the tears away furiously, too frustrated to care about the look on your face right now. You just didn't want to look fragile, or broken, or weak - all of the things you actually were feeling like.

You look at him clearer, the man you so desperately love, the man you most felt affection to. Tom was everything you always dreamt of. If there was a man you could say you trusted in, it was Tom. And he betrayed your feelings.

It wasn't his fault and you had to admit that. He fell for another woman. He just didn't feel the same about you anymore, and though you were suffering, you couldn't blame it on him. It was just human nature. Life itself, playing tricks on you, when you so certainly believed to have found the love of your life.

"I know", you say through hoarse voice. "I can't blame it on you. It's not your fault. I just- I thought we could work this out, y'know? Thought you wanted this with me". You give him a sad smile and couldn't help but let more tears roll down your face. You felt pathetic and you were sure you looked just like that.

Tom swallows the thick knot on his throat, chest aching at the sign of you. He wanted to say something, but couldn't think about anything good enough.

Ashamed of your position, you nod a couple of times for nothing in special and make your way to the front door.

"Wait! Y/n, what are you- where are you going?", Tom shouted, eyes wide as he tried to take your arm. You pulled it from his reach and raised your hand to prevent him from coming any closer.

"I'm leaving. What else do you expect me to do, Tom?" With bloodshot eyes, you stare at him, lips pressed tightly in a thin line, holding everything in you to not make even more a fool of yourself.

"I don't know", he almost whispers.

You can't seem to contain the growing anger inside of you for his words, sobbing a little more as you try to come up with the right thing to say. Why does he have to do this to you?

"Guess what? I don't know neither. All of a sudden, my long-term boyfriend told me he is falling for another girl. Do you know how much it costs me to look at you right now, Tom? I can't even- I fucking hate you right now and I know it's not even your fucking fault, but I can't help it!" You scream, hand covering your mouth as you try to regain some composure. "Just leave me fucking alone, Tom!"

Without another word, you run to the front door, yanking it open and slamming it shut, letting your whines finally scape through your gritted teeth.

---

Tom checked his phone one more time before slipping into the covers and lay down on his empty bed, facing the ceiling for a long enough time to get sick of it.

His mind was running wild, thinking about the things he said to you, and the thing you said to him. It was hard to face the fact that he made you cry and feel miserable. Tom never intended that. He knew both of you were slipping apart, gradually giving your relationship an end, but that was a whole different level.

He closed his eyes, thinking about the moment you stormed out the door, thinking about the feeling he had previously in the morning, while working with his co-star. It wasn't the strongest thing he felt in his life, it wasn't even near to the things he felt when meeting you, but he knew he should be honest with you from the moment he realized there was something going on.

But even know, he felt like he messed it up real bad.

Tom has been calling you since you stepped out of the house, but you never answered, or called back. He left a message in your voicemail, asking you to come back home so you could talk. Aware of the fact that this had no coming back, Tom just needed to look at you one more time and apologise for being a dick. He couldn't afford to have you out of his life.

And then his phone rang.

He was quick to pick it up and press to his ear, waiting to hear your voice, but what he heard was something much more unexpected.

"Hello, can I please speak with Thomas Stanley?", an unrecognizable voice came to the phone and Tom sat on his bed.

"Uh, yes, it's me. What's the matter?"

"I'm calling because you're at Miss y/n y/l/n's emergency contact. She was brought to the hospital after an accident, a car crash. Miss y/n is passing through an emergency surgery right now and I need to inform someone in the family..."

The woman kept talking, voice too steady for something so breath-taking. Tom was surely out of breath. For a few seconds, he felt like he had gone blind, not able to see anything besides a black spot in the darkness of his room.

He couldn't believe he was hearing that. It couldn't be real. He tried to come up with any excuse, with some explanation, but everything that ever crossed his mind at the moment was the sign of you laying flat on some ciment busy street, blood coming out of the corner of your mouth and eyes wide open with no brightness on them.

"Sir?", the woman spook again and Tom was snapped out of his thoughts.

"Can you give me the address?", he jumped out of bed and started to look for his keys frantically. The woman gave him instructions and he quickly made his way to the living room.

"Fuck... where 'my fucking keys!" He yelled desperately, throwing the pillows on the sofa go the ground to look better. "Fuck!"

Tom sat on the couch, heavy breathing making his whole body shake. His hands holds his head and his eyes go wide. He felt a heat rise in every part of his body, but mainly on his chest.

It was his fault, he knew it. You were supposed to be at home, you were supposed to stay with him. You were going to have dinner together, and you wouldn't be driving before having a car crash.

Why did he mess up? Why did he say those things to you? He shouldn't have let you go outside in that state. He shouldn't

Tom heard the front door crack open, and he raised his head with silly hopes of you stepping inside and all of this being a fucking cruel joke, but instead, it was Harrison passing by.

"Tom, I was just going to- Dude, what happened?" Harrison puts a worried face when he saw the bloodshot eyes, trembling lips and shaking hands, all parts of Tom's nervousness.

He almost couldn't put his voice to work, and if it wasn't for the fact that he needed to reach out the hospital in no time, to make sure you were fine, maybe he wouldn't be able to say a single word.

"You gotta drive me. I can't- I can't find my keys. And she needs me. I need her. I need to find her, Haz. She- fuck, she needs me and I can't find my fucking keys", he said in desperation, letting himself become a sobbing mess in front of his friend.

---

There was no small talk between the two of them whilst the drive to the hospital. It seemed like you have done a long way from home; the distance was killing the eye browned boy.

All that was on his mind now was the thought of you - moments you've spent together, days of happiness and things that he loved about you. He remembered the first time you met, the day he asked you out and the first time he heard you say you loved him. He questioned himself when was the last time you said that, when he heard his name coming out of your lips with an "I love you" next. He couldn't remember and he felt disgusting for that too.

Because Tom realized in the way to the hospital that he couldn't live without you. If you were gone, there would be nothing. He never thought about this day, never thought that one day he'd be losing you, but the bare possibility of this happening made him realize he wouldn't stand it. He needed you, in more ways than just one.

"She'll be fine, Tom", Harrison told him for the third time, when they were sitting in a corridor, waiting for a doctor to call for Tom when you were brought to the room.

"'S all my fault. Shouldn't have fought her. Shouldn't have let her think I didn't love her", Tom muttered more to himself, voice hoarse.

Tom was bouncing his leg rapidly, eyes closed tightly an heart aching for every second he spent without any medic information.

"Mr. Holland?" A voice came next to him, a doctor, a comphreensive smile on his face, which eased Tom a little bit. "Miss y/n is in her room now, you can check on her".

Tom got up immediately, rubbing his sweaty hands on his jeans while walking down the aisle with the doctor to your room. When he reached the place with white walls, white sheets and an audible beep from the machine that was monitoring your heartbeat.

"She's asleep right now, might wake up in about an hour or so. Then a nurse should come check on her", the doctor says, reading through some papers on his clipboard. He sighs lightly and look at Tom, whose eyes are glue on you. "I might say she was lucky, Mr. Holland. It was a serious accident, and others victims didn't have as much luck as Miss y/n", he friendly pats Tom's shoulder. "Don't know what you believe in, but I think you should be thankful. She's a strong girl, she'll be fine", he smiled and after a few seconds, left Tom and you alone in the room, closing the door behind him.

Tom was hesitant, taking small steps towards your bed as he looked cautiously every part of you body. You had some big injuries on your face. There was a bandage on your nose, which was broken when you entered the emergency. Your lips had cuts and there was a purple spot on your forehead and around one of your eyes.

Tom felt sick to his stomach thinking about how much pain you had gone through the last hours. He stood beside your bed, taking your fragile looking hands on his. It was bruised too, and Tom pressed a very light kiss to your palm, letting a silent tear roll down his face till reach his chin.

"I'm so sorry, my love", he whispered with a croaky voice. "You'll be fine, it's gonna be alright", he reassured, more to himself than to you, who was drifted on sleep now, too far from the chaos that was going on outside.

Tom sniffles, rubbing a hand on his wet nose, and blinks a couple of times to get rid of his tears. "I didn't mean for this to happen. I know it's my fault. And I was wrong".

He breathed out, looking at the ceiling as he remembered your conversation that evening. "There's no one I love more than you, y/n. It was dumb of me thinking that there's anyone I might be in love with besides you. It's only you, love, you're the person I can't live without".

Tom felt like a kid, crying over your hand, squeezing it ever so lightly and praying that you might hear his apologies and his pleas.

"And it was unfair of me not putting as much effort as you in this relationship. This is my fault too. But I love you, and I don't care about anything else, your love is the only thing I'm going to focus on when you wake up".

Tom realized that nothing was more important than your relationship to him now. Not even work, which has taken so much of his time that he was slowly slipping apart from you. Not even whatever feeling he fooled himself to believe in. It wasn't true. It was his fear of not being in love with you anymore, of being too far to bring you two together again. But by that moment, Tom knew he couldn't be afraid of nothing else than losing you. And now he just prayed that you could forgive him and the things he said, while he left himself fall in tears and regret.

********

Taglist:

@dreamy-clousds @pinkrockstar19 @onyourgoddamnleft

@spideyspeaches @miraclesoflove @heavenlyholland

@zspideyy @marlenetough @nsxvision

@xoxohollands @siriuslyslyslytherin @mathletemadison

#tom holland #tom holland blurbs #tom holland imagines #tom holland fic #tom x reader #boyfriend!tom #actor!tom #tom angst #angst #hoodieofholland fic

[plsimsuchasimp]

i’m sorry (ft: sugawara).

by request: “Hi!!!! Okay im so glad your requests are open - could I please request some angst with Sugawara? Where the reader is his best friend and secretly loves him but he doesn’t know? Then maybe the reader and Suga fight and then reader gets hurt or something (maybe a car accident) and when the Karasuno team finds out, Suga is devastated and goes to the hospital and tell the reader that he loves them?? Thank you!! ❤️” -anon

yes anon i’m happy to do this- i kinda changed up the prompt a lil bit so i’m sorry about that but i hope this measures up to your standards! (i’m ridiculously soft for suga so this makes sense)

genre: sadness (literal tears were shed in the process of making this)

ft: sugawara koushi x reader

warnings: car crash, fighting, cursing, hospitalization, death

wc: 2k

“Y/n, why are you so upset? I get that you’re concerned, and I’m grateful for that, but she’s genuinely a good person and I’m serious about her!” Suga walks away from you, his back turned, shoulders raised slightly in his sweater. You can sense his frustration, his confusion, but you don’t care. His face is pouty, lip sticking out ever so slightly, and you know you can’t look at him or you won’t be able to keep yourself from kissing him right then and there.

The thing is, you know she’s a good person. And that’s what hurts. See, you’ve been in love with Sugawara Koushi since the day you met him at the bus stop five years ago, on a hot summer day with a butterfly in his hair.

You can’t stop him from getting a new girlfriend, and you know it’s selfish of you to hope he likes you the way you like him, to hold on to him for all these years.

Sometimes when it’s late, you let yourself drift into your memories. The spring days when he would take you hiking, out into the mountains to show you his favorite spots, the times when your stomachs hurt from laughing at the dirty jokes he found off of random places on the internet, the rainy moments and baking cookies when it just seemed calm. With Suga, you felt at home like nowhere else. 

Now, your eyes sting unfairly, and you turn away from him as he glares towards you, brow furrowed. Struggling to keep your voice even, you say, “I know, okay Kou? I just- I don’t know, she gives me bad vibes.”

You know he doesn’t mean to be rude, but when he scoffs, your heart squeezes just a bit and tears prick your eyes. “You’re telling me to call off a whole relationship because she gives you bad vibes? You did this with all of my exes, too!” Suga sighs, hands on his hips. “You know you’re my best friend, but honestly, y/n, this has to stop. You can’t control my life!” 

He’s right. You know he’s right, and that’s the harsh thing about it. You want him all to yourself- everything about him is entrancing, intoxicating, familiar. Jealousy is a bitch.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

At this point, his jaw drops open at the sheer audacity of your remark. “I can’t do this with you today.” He throws up his hands and sits on the bed, making it clear he doesn’t really want to talk anymore.

Suga never really fights with you. He teases endlessly, but he always stops himself before he really hurts you, and the fights between the two of you are always calmer on his side. He’s usually the first to apologize, but it seems this is a sticking point for the two of you.

“Well? Go!” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he regrets it. You flinch backwards at his words, and he doesn’t miss the unmistakable glint of tears in your eyes as you walk out of the room.

“Fine, I guess I will!” As soon as you’re outside, you cover your mouth with your hand, your vision blurred from large drops threatening to spill from your eyelashes. You muffle your sobs with the sleeve of a sweatshirt Suga lent you, and it just makes you cry harder when you breathe in his slight cologne. 

He wasn’t going to let her go this time. You missed your chance.

You’re running, but where to? As soon as your thoughts stop spinning, your feet freeze, and you glance around you. Shaky breaths escape you as you duck your head and attempt to cross the street, questioning looks from passerby making your cheeks heat up. 

All of a sudden, you hear a car horn and freeze to see a car speeding towards you, out of control. The last thing you see before everything goes black is a child pointing at you, and you almost laugh at the incredulity of the situation. Then you black out on impact.

Back at Suga’s home, he sits in his bed, running his fingers through his silky hair. He curses under his breath, already hating the feeling. 

He hates when the only person he’s ever truly loved is mad at him. 

Honestly, Koushi can’t fathom why he keeps getting other people to date him, momentary distractions from his everlasting affection for you. You, the only person who’s there for him when he’s hurting, the only real friend to stay near him through everything, the only person he fell in love with on first sight. He wanted to be with you, but he didn’t want to ruin this was. 

Better to be certain friends with you and never get what he truly wanted than to try and lose you completely.

Suga picks up the phone to text you when he receives a call from an unfamiliar number, marked as the hospital of your district.

“Hello?"

“Is this Sugawara Koushi?” The female voice on the other end of the line asks.

“Yes, is everything okay?” He responds, curious as to why the hospital is calling him in the middle of the day.

“Well, we have Y/N L/N here, and you’re listed as one of their emergency contacts. Would you mind coming to the hospital to fill out some paperwork?”

Immediately, his world freezes. “W-what did you say?”

“I said, Y/N L/N is in the hospital and we need you to come in and see them.” She’s patient with him, voice even and calm, clearly used to people in shock from news of their loved ones. “They were involved in a car accident.”

He nods, momentarily forgetting she can’t see him. “Yeah, I’m on my way.” 

The line clicks, and he sits there for only a minute before hurrying down to his car, grabbing the keys and starting the car. He seems to forget basic movements, mind consumed only with thoughts of you. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” he muttered, edging above the speed limit on the road. He was tempted to honk at someone, but refrains from it, knowing it won’t help with the turmoil of emotions he was feeling.

Then, it hit him. This was his fault. He almost stopped the car in the middle of the road, throat closing as guilt washed over him. Koushi didn’t know you’d take it so hard, didn’t mean for it to come off that harshly.

He arrived at the hospital, and as he walked in, the receptionist looked up at him.

“Sugawara Koushi?” 

“Yes,” he said, and watched the smile slowly fade from her face. He noticed she tried to hide it, ducking her head, but it was too late. “Are they- are they going to be okay?” he gulped as she didn’t respond.

“Room 208,” she said curtly, “You should probably go in.”

The lights seemed to blur into each other as Suga practically ran to your room. Every footstep seemed to take forever, travel only a few centimeters forward. He couldn’t get there fast enough, accidentally bumping into the wall and muttering a hushed “sorry” to it.

He arrived. The door was almost too heavy, or maybe it was just the fear making his limbs heavy as lead.

There you lay, and it was worse than he thought.  Tubes of all sorts trailed from your body to things around the bed, crowding and seeming to close you in. Scratches ran down your cheek and there was dried blood on your hairline, streaking down your face. The breath fell from his throat and he stood in the doorway, paralyzed. 

This could not be happening. 

One look and he could tell you weren’t going to be okay. An IV drip led into your left arm, and you were unconscious, so fragile, so angelic. It looked as if you were only sleeping, like the countless times you’d snuggled into Suga’s shoulder in the warm summer nights, staring at the blanket of glittering stars far above. The ones in your eyes, though, outshone them all. 

When you slept, you always seemed so peaceful, so comforted, but now your brow was slightly furrowed, your lips drained of color and slightly parted. Even in this state, you were still the most beautiful person he’d ever seen.

Shakily, he made his way to the chair and sat down in it. He tried to swallow, but his throat was dry, and tears were dripping down his face before he could wipe them away. A choked sob escaped him as he reached out his hand, hovering over your limp one. 

He took your hand, and he hunched over to feel how cold it was. Your hands were always colder than his, which made him a perfect match for you. Never before, though, had he felt this ice. 

Suga’s shoulders began to shake, and he clutched your hand, silently begging you not to leave, please please please don’t leave me, i don’t know if i can survive without you. Of course, there was no response but the steady beep of the heart monitor, the only thing reassuring him that you were still there. 

Shaking, he brought your hand to his lips, barely brushing them against your knuckles. 

“Y/n, I’m so sorry.” Whispered words fell gently from his lips, trying to stay composed for you. “Please stay with me. Please don’t leave.” His tone rises, voice breaking in desperation. “P-please.” 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He rocked back and forth, holding your hand as if it was the only thing tying him down. “I-I love you.”

There. He said it, those three words he’d wanted to say since the day he saw you smile for the first time. Hopelessly, madly, endlessly in love with you, only you. 

When you didn’t respond, he let himself sob, let the pain overtake him. Hot, salty tears spilled onto your hand, and he silently wished for a sign, a movement, anything to show that you weren’t gone just yet.

In that moment, he whispered everything he wanted to say to you, a thousand words choking him and clogging his throat to the point where he couldn’t breathe anymore.

The doctor came in, shutting the door silently behind him. “Sugawara-”

“Call me Suga.” His voice was quiet, reserved, threatening to break.

“I’m afraid y/n isn’t going to make it.” The doctor sighed, mercifully pretending not to notice Suga’s muffled cry. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“You’re joking, right?” Suga raised his head, puffy, red eyes desperate. “Please- tell me you’re joking.” The silence from the doctor told him otherwise, and Suga felt his heart shatter in that instant.

He squeezed your hand, and just as he did, the heart monitor stopped beeping, a flat tone emitting from it. He couldn’t stop the heartbroken cry from spilling from his mouth, his breath stolen by the endless constriction of guilt and grief in his chest. 

He stayed there for another two hours, crying over your hand limp in his grasp. When Daichi arrived at the hospital to drive him home, he didn’t want to leave. 

Suga stared out of the car window, numb. It was impossible- the world couldn’t be this cruel. 

It’s your fault, your fault, your fault, the voice in his head whispered. The broken sobs that spilled out of him hurt, stabbed at his breathing, but he didn’t care. It was his fault that you were gone, forever. 

The rest of the day passed in a haze, the sun setting with flared colors that you would have loved. The stars were brilliant, but Suga couldn’t look at them. His pillow smelled like you, and everywhere he looked had some imprint, some memory of you. You were the only person he’d ever love, and you had been stolen from the world in an instant.

In the months afterwards, nothing was the same. He saw you everywhere, expecting to see your texts pop up on his phone, accidentally ordered your drink at the boba place you would always go to. 

At the funeral, his stiff black suit seemed awkward, but you always said he looked handsome in one. That was the last time he got to see your face besides pictures, the fading memory of the person who loved him for who he was.

the person who he would love for the rest of his life.

you’re an angel in my eyes.

a/n: tbh this is probably one of the most painful things i’ve written so far suga im so sorry also THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH FOR 50 FOLLOWERS ITS CRAZY i finished this at 2am i’m going to be so sad if it flops <\3

#sugawara koushi #suga x reader #sugawara x y/n #koushi sugawara #sugawara angst #sugawara sadness #i'm literally so sorry this is very sad #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! #haikyuu angst #haikyuu sad #suga x y/n #suga x you #sugawara x reader

[floatinginwords]

Saved by the Devil (8/?) - Tommy Shelby

Summary: you go missing and a lot of people get worried

Paring: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader (Not romantic..yet)

A/n: I actually wasn't gonna post today but this chapter fell out of me. Its funny how some days are tougher to write and others its like riding a wave. I hope everyone has a wonderful day :)

The man with the busy eyebrows and mustache called himself Inspector Campbell. A fucking police officer. When you came too you found yourself tied to a chair, ropes around your wrist and legs, tight against the skin cutting off blood circulation. He didn’t ask questions first. No first, was the punching against your ribs and stomach. Then your face. He didn’t give you no breaks, not like he would give you any.

 “I think me and you have gotten fairly acquainted with.” The inspector say his foul breath reaching up your nostrils. Blood dribbled down your chin and nose. It was you could taste.

His men have left the room, on his orders of course. He leans on his cane as he stares at you from above. A evil smirk on his face as if he was some god looking down at his pitiful creations. You spit blood at his shoe.

 He grabs your face harshly, you face scrunching up like a fish. “Tell me what you were doing with Thomas Shelby. Or I can make this night a whole lot painful for you.”  He throws you back and all you do is glare at the man. Not saying a word. Not even huffing a sound.

 The inspector laughs. And walks out the door. You see him point to you with his cane as he talks to the other men that were abusing you moments ago.  You brace yourself for the inevitable. The torture last for hours.

 ******************************************************************************************

 No ones seen you for three days. Ada, the first night you didn’t comeback, called Trinity. but she hadn’t seen you since the morning. The next day Ada and James went out looking through the streets at your usual spots. You didn’t have any Ada just wanted to feel as though she was doing something. You didn’t have any family or any other friends. Except one other person who may know your whereabouts. So on the third day of no trace of you, with a little nagging and encouragement from James and Trinity, Ada decided to make a call.

 *******************************************************************************************

 Over at May Careltons mansion, Thomas Shelby listens half heartedly to the woman discussing the progress on his horse. He could care less at the moment. He’s just thinking of ways that he could stay the night. He wasn’t a fool, he knew of Mays attraction to him. It benefited him in more ways than one.

 “Excuse me, Mr. Shelby,” A maid interrupts May in the middle of whatever it was that she was saying, “You have a phone call.”

 “I’m sure they can leave a message.” His eyes not leaving Mays

 “Its your sister, she sounds urgent.” The maid says.

 With that thought in mind, Tommy excuses himself from May.

 “Ada this better be important.”

 “Where the fuck are you,” Ada screeches over the phone, “Ive been trying to contact you everywhere and Polly tells me your-“

 “What is it-“

 “(Y/n) is missing.”

 Tommy swallows hard. “I’m sure she’s around somewhere ada. How long its been?”

 “Three days. No ones seen her. Tommy please, Im worried.”

 Three days ago was when he last saw you. When you agreed to go to dinner with Alfie and Arthur You had left the car without another word. He wanted to follow you but decided against it. He was regretting it now.

 “Ada, just calm down. Ill ask some boys to go look for her okay?” He reassures his sister over the phone promising to find you.

He hangs up.

 “Is everything alright?” May asks from behind him. Her eyes were hopeful looking at him. She too was hoping he would stay though that was something she would never admit out loud.

“I have to go, family emergency.” He says. Turning his back on her without another thought.

***************************************************************

He didn’t have to leave. He knew that. He could have stayed with May have her fill that hole within his heart that Grace had left about a year ago. He owed nothing to you. He kept telling himself this over and over as he drove back, pushing the speed way past its limit. He begins to reminisce about your first meeting. You were nothing but a chess piece to him at the time but you surprised him a lot in that first meeting. Especially when you didn’t take that money he offered. He was confused to say the least. Everyone took free money. You didn’t. He remembers seeing you again at the Eden club. He though he would never see again. But there you were. He couldn’t not talk to you. He just had to. He knew he hurt you with his words. He didn’t apologize. He never apologizes. He remembers finding out Ada had a roommate. Imagine the surprise on his face when he realized it was you. Of course Thomas Shelby was always in control of his emotions so it never really showed. He was distrustful of you as he always is with people. But you showed something since your first introduction that most people didn’t show their entire lives; Honesty. And he liked that about you. He believed you when you said you didn’t work for Sabini anymore. (Of course he had his people look into it after to be 100% sure) He trusted you to go to meet his brothers, be in the same car as them, come to an auction. He remembers seeing you bloody and a mess. Guilt and rage had filled him up. He couldn’t hold himself back from shooting the guy. When he stitched you up, he liked that you tried to make conversation. You knew when to back up, you never pried. He didn’t know if that was fear of him or if that was just you. He hoped the latter. He liked the way you said Mr. Shelby, though he often wondered how his first name would sound falling off your lips. Thomas Shelby pushes these feeling aside as he drives. He tells himself he just doing this as favor to his sister and because you can be very valuable. But as he drives into the city, a piece of his mind whispers that that just might not be the only case.

 *****************************************************************************************

 Three fucking days. You couldn’t believe that that’s how long it lasted. The torture, the beatings. They released you on the thought that you really didn’t know anything. You never said a word. They drove you out to the fucking country side and dropped you off like you were trash. You were never more humiliated in your life. You walked, each step bring you pain and anguish. But you kept going.

 ‘Its Friday’ You think to yourself. You never got to call to confirm if you were going on that dinner. You laugh at yourself. Out of all things to worry about.

 You find a little pond as you were walking and attempt to wash your face off all the dirt and blood. You looked half decent.

 It took you till sundown to get back into London. People in the streets gawked at your face. You knew you were bruised pretty bad. Worse than before thanks to the inspector. The stitches on the right side of your body were now leaking. You can see the blood drip slowly through your hand. You sigh. Its always one problem after the next.

Once in front of the house, you see all the lights on. Something you knew Ada hated. You see multiple people moving about and you curse underneath your breath. The last thing you wanted was to interact with people. Someone looks through the window, a young boy you didn’t recognize.

 “Is that her Ada?” You hear the boy loudly say not keeping his eyes off of you.

 As soon as the boy says that, a multitude of people rush out to the window to look out followed by a rushing to the door. Ada being the first to run into you, bear hugging you.

 “Where the hell have you been?” She cries out.

 You stay silent, your arms limp across your sides. No energy left to pick them up or say anything. You wished at that moment to escape into eternal darkness forever. You see a bunch of people behind her mostly men. All in black caps and coats.

 ‘Peaky blinders.” You think. You step back from Adas hug and move up the stairs toward the house. The men spread apart not wanting you to push through them. You walk up the rest of the stairs to your room slowly. You can feel all their eyes burn into your back.

 Once you reach your bedroom, you sit on your bed and stare at the empty wall. You couldn’t get the inspector eyes out of your head. It was like he enjoyed watching the life get beaten out of you. He talked a lot.  You replay the last three days in your head trying to piece together what that crazy old man was talking about as he was ‘interrogating’ you

 ***************************************************************************************

 As tommy walks through Adas door the first thing he realizes is that it seems that everyone is fucking here instead of doing their jobs. He watches them lounge about, eating and drinking away his sister’s stuff. He’s about to yell at them when Ada puts a hand on his shoulder.

 “Tommy She came home.” She says, he notices a lack of smile on her face.

 He raises an eyebrow.

 “She looks like she’s been beaten all over. I mean I only saw her face but the way she was walking…” Ada trails off biting her lip.

 “Im gonna talk to her.”

 “Tommy I don’t think-“

 Hes already at the top of the stairs before she finishes her sentence. Its not hard to figure out which room is yours. For reason being your room is the only one open. He sees your figure sitting up just staring at nothing in the dark. He clears his throat, not wanting to scare you with his unknown presence. You don’t turn around. He takes slow steps around to sit next to you on the bed. You both face the wall.

 “Its Friday,” you break the silence, “I apologize for not calling about dinner.”

 Right, he almost forgot that Alfie and Arthur were meeting right now.

 “Never mind that,” You suddenly get up as he talking, limping around the room, “what are you doing?”

 You light a candle on the other side of the room. He sees how bad your bruised face is in the light. And the blood trail your leaving with your freshly open hand.

 “(y/n), you should go see a doctor.” Thomas says standing up.

 “I’ve been through worse, Mr.Shelby.”

 “Who did this to you?” You notice the look of controlled anger on his face.

“Inspector campbell. Know him,” You ask sarcastically,” cause he really doesn’t like you.”

 You laugh and wince, the action hurting your ribs immensely, ”oh and he sure talked a lot. Kept mentioning a general, if I knew him, if I seen him, if you told me his name,” you pause, “what are you planning to do with a general?”

 He doesn’t answer you. The clocks in your brain keep turning. “Cause there’s only one thought that comes to my head.”

 “Why did he question you?”

 “Cause you took me to the fuckers house. And your being followed by the way.” A pain strikes through your head the more frustrated you become.

 “You should lie down.”

 “What did you get yourself into?”

 “it doesn’t concern you.”

 “Look at me, how does it not?”

He stares at you and though to you he looks emotionless, inside the feeling of guilt and fear are swirling. You on the other hand cant decipher anything that going on behind those eyes.

‘maybe this what he looks like when he is lost.’ You think. You know you could lend a hand through this, whatever it is. You assume an assassination. One the police are having a hand in themselves. When inspector Campbell was ‘questioning’ you, you noticed how it didn’t seem like he cared for the generals life but feared of who got a whiff of the info. It seemed that Mr. Shelby was getting something from it, maybe with you helping so can you. A ticket out of here perhaps.

 “what do you want?” He says shrugging.

  “I want to help.”

read pt.9

Tags

@captivatedbycillianmurphy @evelyn-4034 @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat

#tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders #Fanfic

[snesdudes]

FIST FIGHTING WITH FIRE

chapter I

Pairing: Mason x Detective (Alice Santos)

Warnings: Book 3 demo SPOILERS!!! Cursing, some angst, mentions of sex, Mason being Mason, I guess. Sorry if there are any mistakes!

Word count: ~2k

Summary: A week after that scene on Haley’s Bakery, Mason deals with the aftermath of his words... Or has he been dealing with it since the very moment he said them?

Read on ao3

chapter II ⭐ chapter III  ⭐ chapter IV ⭐ chapter V

                                         ☾ 一一一一一一一一一 ☽

"Are you gonna put that down?" Nate's voice sounded gentle even when his eyes looked at him in concern. As a response, Mason took another drag of the cigarette before letting it fall to the floor and stumping it with his boot. 

"We gonna go inside or what?" He pretended he wasn't worried.

A week had gone by since his last encounter with the detective. Since he last heard her voice, tasted her lips, looked into her eyes. 

And it was goddamned near killing him.

It hadn't been the last time he had seen her -thank God- since he had checked on her more times than he would admit willingly. The sight of her running down the street, away from his words, away from him, made him ache in a way he wasn't used to. The strange pull on his chest, tightening, constricting, had nothing to do with the kind of aching she used to inflict on him. When that tightening sensation was on the pit on his stomach, a heat surging on his lower belly and expanding. 

When she teased him relentlessly, her usually shy persona changing dramatically the moment they were alone in her bedroom - and her hallway, and her kitchen, and her couch. That aching, he could get used to.

This one, nonetheless… was awful.

He had been inside the SUV the next morning, a cloud of smoke surrounding him when she exited her apartment to leave towards the station. Her bright red hair was pulled up in a ponytail, half her face hidden behind a pair of large sunglasses.

"Come on, sweetheart, let me see your face." He muttered to himself as he watched her advance to her beat up car, long fingers drumming on the steering wheel nervously. But she didn't comply. Instead he saw her get in the driver's seat and take a shuddering breath while she checked her phone, apparently not finding in its screen what she hoped for. 

Did she wipe her cheeks with her sleeve?

He waited two days before he tried to check on her again. This time at night. He stood among the shadows at the edge of the street, his hearing searching for her heartbeat to know if she was home. The sound let him know she was there indeed, though by the force of it probably not asleep… and quickly knew she wasn't alone.

The cigarette burned his fingers for a few seconds before he reacted and threw it. He couldn't just barge in, could he? Even less after what he told her - after making her cry.

Shit. Shit shit shit.

He stood there for two more hours until he saw Tina leaving Alice's apartment. The sigh he exhaled surprised him in new ways. 

It was late at night before her heartbeat let him know she had finally fallen asleep. He had lost the count of the times he had almost crossed the street to bang on her door. 

The mood had dropped lower and lower on the Unit as days passed by. He wasn't sure if it was because he was feeling like shit, because he hadn't told them anything about it even when they had asked repeatedly or because - and that's what he feared - they all missed her. She had kept her distance, only updating Adam on work-related stuff and occasionally texting Felix back, but it wasn't enough. They needed her - they, because Mason had to believe it was all of them and not just himself. Her cheery, strong presence, her incessant chatting and her patience… 

Mason was starting to understand she was irreplaceable. And no one should be. 

That was why they had reluctantly agreed to go to the local bar that night, after Felix pestered them about it for two days. And he didn't know if he wished she was there or the complete opposite. 

The vampire was usually ruthless with his words, but always honest. He told the crude, ugly truth, and if someone didn't like it, they could go to hell for all he cared. It didn't matter if he hurt them or angered them. He didn't give a shit.

But the guilt growing and gnawing at his insides for a week told him otherwise this time. Which could mean two things: or he didn't really mean what he said or he just hated to hurt her. In the worst case scenario, both statements were right.

His brain had replayed the moment over and over. The soft smile she was giving him when their lips parted, hers looking plumper after he moved away, thinking he wasn't nearly done with those lips. Her bright eyes seemed to sparkle with the sunlight that filtered through the windows, and for a few seconds, everything was perfect. They were on their own bubble, sharing breaths and body heat, and the sound of her fluttering heartbeat was the only thing he could hear. Her sweet coconut perfume was the only thing he could smell. He could still feel the tingling in his lips because of her own. And the way she looked at him…

She looked at him in a way that made his breath catch and his pulse kick up. The way his heart nearly seemed to burst threatened to consume him, and he had to look away. He had to look away because he didn't know what he would do if he looked at her for a moment longer. 

Still reeling, confused and scared and anxious, he tried to figure out what was happening. And it all was too much and he heard what the waitress said and had to draw the line that had become blurred between them. So he said those words. And when her smile faltered, his heart seemed to contract and become smaller, and again he looked away. 

He only caught a second of her tear filled eyes, threatening to spill down her cheeks, as Alice got up from her chair, almost knocking it over. He almost expected her to snap at him. 

But what she did was so much worse.

Her voice broke and she ran away. He could still hear her heart when he got up to follow her, beating so rapidly it made his own speed up to match it. She took a shuddering breath, so close to a sob he stopped in his tracks. 

He was paralyzed, watching her go. Knowing her pain was his fault.

Felix pulled him away from his thoughts when he stepped forwards and opened the door of the small bar, his demeanor joyful and excited. Nate smiled and followed him, Adam joining as if he was trying not to ruin the night for them. Mason took a deep sigh and followed. 

Alice knew he was there even before Verda's eyes widened and he elbowed Tina, making her drink dangerously shake in her hand. The redhead took a deep breath. The way the back of her neck heated up and her skin exploded into goosebumps was the telltale sign of his grey eyes on her. 

Maybe the worst of it all was that she had no right to be upset. He had been clear even before the first kiss - just sex, no complications. Had she been reading too much into it? In the way he seemed to orbitate towards her whenever they were in the same room? How he seemed to relax and want to actually talk to her? Was all of it her heart guiding her brain and not the other way around?

Alice didn't know how she would react when she saw him again, therefore she had avoided the Unit altogether, but this moment had to come. She was still hurt and trying to figure out her feelings for the infuriating vampire, but still the Unit were her friends. Her family, the closest thing she ever had.

She had to pretend. For herself, for him and for the Unit.

So she turned around with a smile, hopefully convincing enough.

"There she is!" Felix chanted happily before he strode towards Alice through the tables. Her smile seemed to freeze on her face the moment their gazes locked. 

Fuck, she looks stunning. Her hair was wavy and bright as the fucking sun and she wore a lipstick to match. His breath caught on his throat the same way it seemed to happen to her. His fingers twitched, as if wanting to reach out for her without his permission. He almost took a step forward, missing her closeness and the peace she brought with her. Her own peace and storm, all mixed up inside him.

Black looks good on this man. The black henley shirt wrapped around all the right places, and when he ran a hand through his long hair she almost passed out with the urge to feel those biceps around her. He was looking at her and there was no hostility in his gaze. A flash of something passed through his eyes, but she was too far to read it. Regret? Longing? Maybe he just felt awkward after her outburst at Haley's Bakery. She wished she could go back in time, before she felt her heart aching at the sight of him. To the last time she had been tangled with him on her bed, feeling his heartbeat against her skin, his breath on her neck just above her scar.

Could she? Could she keep on having sex with him knowing he would never be truly hers? Not all of him? Why did she ever agree? She had known he would consume her. She had known she was doomed. She had known she was going to fall from him since the morning she woke up with his scent on her sheets. 

Her attention snapped to the brightest smile she had ever seen and she couldn't help but genuinely grin at Felix. Who would have known a vampire would actually be the personification of a ray of fucking sunshine?

"Allie!" He wrapped her in a bear hug while she was half getting up and raised her the rest of the way, until her feet didn't touch the ground, and the detective squealed in delight as she returned the hug, before laughing. 

Had her laugh always been so goddamn beautiful or had Mason just missed it like crazy?

The rest of them sauntered towards the table and Mason didn't miss the glare Tina was throwing his way. Girls talk, man. He ignored her completely, letting himself fall into a chair with Adam taking the seat next to him. 

Nate was the next to hug Alice, although softer, and Mason watched as she closed her eyes, as if she had missed them just as much.  She spoke over Nate's shoulder. "I'm so glad to see you. I was just going to get another round, this one's on me!" 

"Actually, this was enough for me." Verda spoke while getting up, throwing a meaningful gaze to Tina.

"Y-yeah, same. Early morning tomorrow." 

"Oh. Okay." Alice said, suddenly a little shy, finally letting go of Nate, who sat at the other side of Mason. 

"I'll go with you to get the drinks!" Felix offered enthusiastically, asking all of them what they wanted while Verda and Tina said their goodbyes and left. 

Like a magnet, their gazes found each other again. She was trapped in his just as much as he was in hers, but she broke it first, turning her eyes to the ground. She hadn't looked so insecure around them since the day they met. Her shoulders were slumped and she had her own arms around her frame, hugging herself, as if trying to become smaller. He could see the movement of her eyelashes as she blinked rapidly, her heart beating a mile a minute inside her chest, teeth chewing on her red lower lip. She looked shy and fragile, but Mason knew she was the strongest woman he had ever encountered. 

Mason made a decision in that exact moment. 

He would be the one biting that lip before the night ended. And he would not let so many days go by without touching her ever again. 

He didn't even realize the magnitude of his thoughts, too caught up in the moment. He would deal with them later if they resurfaced. 

For Alice, it was absurd how difficult it was not to look at him. To pretend the floor of the bar was far more interesting than those deep pools that seemed to see right through her every single time. But then he spoke.

"Sweetheart."

                                        ☾ 一一一一一一一一一一 ☽

A/N: Ahhhh!! My first time writing Mason!! I’ve been obsessed with TWC since I read it and after the demo I just couldn’t help myself. Next chapter coming soon!! Let me know what you thought and if you’d like to be added to the taglist.

Taglist: @agentnatesewell​

#guuuys i'm excited about this #my first twc fic #she's hurt but still like: damn he's hot #twc #twc m #twc mason #agent mason #mason x detective #mason x mc #mason x alice #detective alice santos #the wayhaven chronicles

[treasureswordsgirl55]

Sacrifice

Character: Armitage Hux

Pairing: Armitage Hux x RebelFem!Reader

Inspired by: Hurt - Christina Aguilera

Warnings: Little Fluff. Mentions of Death. Torture. Mentions of blood. Angst. All Angst. 

Author’s Note: Hi!! This fanfic is special ‘cause I wrote this a moment later than I saw a conceptual art of The Rise Of Skywalker.

I felt that Hux deserves more. And the idea that he could handle a lightsaber was… Whoa. Why not?

Thanks you again for all your replies. That means so much. XOXO

                                                 -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do, to have just one more chance to look into your eyes and see you looking back…”

Kira tried to get rid off those stormtroopers but to no avail. She tried to escape them through the wide and busy streets of Kijimi but they always seemed to be one step ahead. She walked trying to lose herself among the people and a few meters before reaching the desired entrance that would take her away from the ghost with green eyes that would not stop chasing her even in her dreams, that trooper with the red badge on her shoulder called her "garbage" before hit her on the head. The brown-haired young woman fell to the ground with a delicacy worthy of a dancer, as if she knew she would be watching her.

The darkness took over her brain and she imagined in a place where she did not have to escape and could have him by her side.

The group of men surrounded her as Kylo Ren yelled that they must hurry back to the destroyer.

Kira was on a mission outside the Resistance: Her own mission

She had joined her a few years ago when he decided to stop hanging around and start doing something for the galaxy.

And if there was something she regretted in all this, it was having seen him walk among the enormous number of bodies in that small town that she had to suffer at the hands of the empire, as if it were a parade. His expression was one of contempt and hatred, but Kira could tell that there was some guilt in those disinterested features, as if nothing mattered in the least.

As if life was worth nothing.

She regretted not being strong enough to hate him, remembering the whole scene of her but he had highlighted his presence in such a way that she was etched on her head.

That was her mission.

She wanted to rescue the little humanity that she sensed that he was left inside him.

The first thing she heard when she was conscious was the muffled voice from Ren's helmet screaming for someone to warn her as soon as her scavenger was found.

The footsteps moving away, the sound of the destroyer's security doors closing rapidly, and her complete silence caused her to open her eyes. She found herself in that "torture room" that she had told him so much about and that she could feel the panic with her voice at the idea of ​​her ending up there inside her.

Still, Kira was not afraid.

She knew it was a matter of time before that dark knight came to save her. Or at least to let go of her so that she could escape.

She didn't have to wait long, after a few minutes that seemed endless, the door opened again and she closed her eyes. General Hux looked to the sides, not raising suspicions among his troopers and hoping that the shot the rebel had given him was enough to make his alibi work. Otherwise that would be in vain.

- You have to go. Now - The fit of her hands disappeared and Kira automatically jumped into Hux's arms, who responded by holding her against his as if living depended on it. She breathed in that sweet vanilla scent that he always remembered and tried to memorize it in his head. If all this went well, he could see her again. But something inside him told her that it would be the last time he would hold her in his arms. The last time they had seen each other they had almost been discovered, but that had been a long time ago - Listen to me, you must go.

- Only if you come with me.

Hux turned away from her and wished he could run, escape from that nightmare he had been living in and start from scratch. I brush a lock of black hair from the face of the woman he had learned to love from a distance and gently tuck it behind her ear. Kira leaned her face against his hand and enjoyed the contact. She felt so full with him there that she believed it to be an illusion that in minutes she would vanish.

- I can not. They must see me here.

- They'll kill you if you stay here.

- They don't even suspect that it happens with me - He moved away to look at her back and see that there was still no one. He took Kira's face in her hands and kissed her without regret. He cared very little to be seen, even more so knowing that the Empire was falling. I enjoy that contact at the same time that Kira wrapped her arms around her neck and deepened that kiss. She had missed him so much that she believed him inhuman. They separated for lack of air and she raised her hand to run her hand through that red hair that she loved so much, just to ruffle it a bit - Let me do my job. I'll get this over with and I promise I'll meet you.

- I do not want to lose you.

- Me too, darling. Me too - He hugged her again and concentrated on them, on the few memories he had of her: That first meeting on Yavin IV where he grumbled something about Ren's damn stubbornness and had seen her playing with children of different species . The children laughed and hugged her, and by that moment, Hux had realized that he had forgotten what he was supposed to do there. She had managed to captivate him. - We will go to that place you love so much when this is over. And I'll take care of you for the rest of my life.

- Come with me - Kira extended his hand towards him and Armitage took a step away, feeling how the tear-filled gaze of his little warrior pierced him as if it were a lightsaber that burned him without even touching him - Please ...

- I always knew there was something wrong with you, Hux - The two of them parted just as Kylo Ren's voice filled the hall and Kira tried to pull Hux towards her ship. It was useless - Here's the damn spy.

It was not a question and Armitage knew it very well. If they wanted to get out of there at least he had to knock it out to give the Resistance time. Give Kira time to leave.

- Fuck you, Ren.

Hux moved to stand in front of Kira, protecting her from whatever Ren wanted to do to her. And what worried him most was that she hadn't done anything yet.

- Did you realize that you were on the wrong side and decided to try to do something? - The irony in the supreme leader's voice made Hux's blood boil.

- I hate you.

- No more than I hate you. Thanks for giving me a reason to kill you - Ren looked back at Kira and raised her hand, pointing at her, but he decided to wait. - And then I'll take care of her.

- Over my dead body.

- It will be my pleasure, then.

Hux took advantage of the moment to turn to Kira and push her away from where they were, destroying with a shot the control that operated the glass doors, which closed automatically leaving them separated from each other.

- Go away! - Poe, who had seen part of the scene in the distance, turned quickly to try to get his partner away from the place. For some reason unknown to him, Ren was waiting to make his final move, because he considered that another time, the two of them would already be dead - Now!

- Would you dare to challenge your supreme leader just to defend a damn rebel?

- You have no idea - Kira, who was dragged by Poe, could see in the distance how Hux's arm disappeared under her cloak, at her waist and when she took it out she was holding what seemed to be a saber To be. The rebels stopped when they saw that red light fill the room and Finn's curses filled the corridor full of dead stormtroopers. Chewie's growl alerted them that they should go, but Kira slipped out of Poe's grasp and ran into the corridor where Hux was standing.

She would do anything in her power to bring him to safety, even if it meant losing her life trying.

The intense red light illuminated the room and for a second, Kylo Ren was silent, surprised at the image of his "mad dog" holding a lightsaber. If he had not expected something in all that, it is that someone of all the inept around him, he had the ability to do something like that.

He nodded silently, in the end perhaps he would have a rival equal to him, apart from Rey.

Not knowing where he had gotten that strength, Armitage thought of Kira and prepared to face Ren until he left his last breath. In a second he turned to the corridor and could see how the Wookiee was carrying his warrior, from which he could hear his screams accompanied by tears that made his heart clench even more.

It took him a couple of blows against Ren's saber to know that he would not have a chance to knock him down, much less get out of there, so he decided to make the most drastic decision of his life.

At the cost of the suffering of both.

- You won't be able to do anything to help her.

- I can, I'll give her time.

"Forgive me, my little girl"

Armitage gave his last thought to the warrior before activating the saber that was aimed at his body. Pain ripped through him with the force of an earthquake and he looked into Ren's eyes for the last time, who could only think of his former general's cowardice in dying at his own hands committing suicide. Although inside he admired the ability he had to let himself be carried away by his feelings.

At the other end of the galaxy, General Organa felt a fluctuation in force and it did not come from her son or any of her young women that she was aware of were force sensitive. But at the same time, he felt a romantic connection coming from Kira, which was connected to that fluctuation.

He felt the sadness that the young woman felt at the same time that that fluctuation disappeared, in the same way that had happened with Han.

He walked away from him at the same time that he waited for the transmission of the small team from him, hoping to have good news.

——————————–

- I know ... there are no words that will make that little heart of yours heal, darling - Leia's warm voice made the excruciating pain that Kira felt fade a bit. She sucked the tears out of her and didn't dare turn to her. He felt that he had betrayed her and yet, she was there to comfort him. She dropped her head to hers, crying uncontrollably as the ships prepared to enter hyperspace. It was enough for her only to listen carefully the story of your favorite pilot to know what had happened and try to understand it. The spy of the empire ended up being a general who had fallen in love with a young woman from his ranks. And that he had sacrificed his life for the good of the galaxy - but he lead us here.

- I couldn't save him.

- That is not true. You saved him, Kira - Leia approached the young woman and took her by the hands, but Kira couldn't meet her eyes. The general took her by the chin and made her look at her, reflected in those bright eyes that only showed the sincere pain that she was suffering. She could feel her heart breaking with each passing minute, just as she could feel the light of the Force illuminate Hux's soul through Kira. She had saved him long before she knew it - he decided to sacrifice his life to keep you alive, because he loved you.

- His sacrifice gave us time. He gave us hope ...

Leia knew that she was about to break, she knew that it was a matter of minutes before that young woman with the unbreakable frame fell and let the pain take over her.

- Armitage died helping the Resistance, Kira, and that will always be remembered by all of us here.

To her surprise, the young woman nodded, releasing one of her hands and wiping away her tears.

Kira felt that her body ached too much, but hearing Leia's words made her feel a little better amid that tide of pain. She saw her General remove something from her robe and she handed him a lightsaber. She instantly identified him.

It was his lightsaber.

I doubt whether to take it, even knowing what that meant to both of them - I sent Finn to look for it as soon as I knew the destroyer was abandoned. I knew it would mean a lot to you to have it if Ben didn't have it.

- I don't know if I'm capable of having this.

- The force run through you, Kira. Don't let it fall asleep. Make his name remembered and make a difference.

- Thanks. And I'm sorry.

- You don't have to feel it. You don't choose who you fall in love with. Personal experience.

- General?

Leia turned around and before Kira even asked the question that was hovering in her head, she gave him a sad smile.

- Time takes away the pain but it will never go away. You learn to live with him. And in the end, that's what we live for. Never forget it.

#star wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction #armitage hux x oc #armitage hux x reader #armitage hux #armitage hux x you #star wars #star wars tros #the rise of skywalker

[salexectrian-heir]

ragged edges and sharp teeth

Pairing: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist

Fandom: Persona 5, Persona 5 Royal

Rating: M

Word Count: 3,305

Tags: Hurt/No Comfort, Canon Universe, Implied Sexual Content, Non-Consensual Platonic Affection, References to Underage Drinking, Referenced/Implied Suicide (Goro’s Mother), References to Depression, The six times someone kisses Goro Akechi, and the one time Goro Akechi kisses someone, Shuake Week 2020

Summary:

But in truth, in reality, Goro is selfish. Always will be. He is all ragged edges and sharp teeth, he is rough and all consuming and unrelenting.

And ruining Akira is perhaps his most selfish desire of all.

Shuake Week 2020: Free Day (a six and one prompt)

i. his mother

Goro is six years old and he is crying.

The water is scalding against his skin but that he doesn’t quite mind. He tries to fight the tears but they fall despite his brave efforts to not let them roll down his cheeks. Normally, he likes this place. The bathhouse is usually calm and comforting, and feels a little bit like an adventure when he’s sent here on his own. But tonight, he knows something is wrong .

One of her “ friends ” is over. One of the many he doesn’t like. His mother had that look on her face when she ushered him outside, the kind of look that made him want to stay rooted to the spot, clinging to her leg and begging to not be sent away.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been in this place, time almost doesn’t feel real in the bath. But it’s been long enough for his fingers and toes to prune, for his tears to have (finally) run out, and everyone else to have left. He runs his wrinkled fingertips over the tiles of the tub that are smooth and sleek, and wonders if anyone would come looking for him if he stayed in the water all night.

Probably not.

He sinks another few centimeters so that the water reaches his chin, and thinks about staying.

But he would miss his mother too much, and his eyes sting immensely, and all he wants is to fall asleep with her curled up next to him on his futon. He wouldn’t even mind if she hogged all the covers. It would be enough to know she was with him. That he wouldn’t be alone anymore.

He fumbles his way out of the tub and into his night clothes with clumsy, pruned fingers. The street is empty as he walks back to the complex where he and his mother live. The door is unlocked, but he vigilantly locks it behind him like she taught him. She must have forgotten. Again. But that’s okay! Because Goro can reach the top lock now and knows she must be tired, that’s all.

There are no lights on except for the glare from TV, a forgotten channel making ambient noise he barely notices. He creeps towards her bedroom and slides the door aside to find it empty, to his relief. No strangers left to linger in the space he covets. The next place he knows to check is the bathroom, which is where he finds her laying on the ground. Her head lifts at the noise and her eyes widen when she sees he’s standing in the doorway.

“Go-chan?”

He’s seen his mother like this before. He knows she’s hurting but doesn’t know why (a much older Goro would understand and curse himself for not noticing sooner. But he was six, and a six year old wouldn’t know what to do. He would blame himself anway.). He lays down beside her on the floor and she tucks him underneath her chin. He pretends he doesn’t hear her cry, pretends that he hadn’t just been crying himself, and buries his face in her neck. Her hair is damp but smells like home, floral and fresh in the way that makes his heart ache. He is grateful it's not the lingering scent of cigarettes and sweat that sometimes would stain her skin in ways that would make his stomach churn.

He thinks she’ll be okay this time when he feels a tender kiss on the top of his head, on his temple, on his cheek when she finally pries him away from her throat.

He thinks she’ll be okay when she whispers I love you , against his forehead as she carries him into his room, and helps him get ready for bed.

He thinks she’ll be okay when she leaves a chaste kiss on his lips when they are finally curled up on his futon together, as she brushes away the tears that somehow, some way, had found themselves running down his puffy face again.

But he doesn’t hear her when she says I’m sorry with soft lips pressed to his damp eyelids. After his fingers have woven into the locks of her hair like a lifeline.

Because Goro is already half asleep, and doesn’t have the energy to kiss her goodnight.

ii. a relative

Goro is nine years old and he is numb.

It’s freezing outside and no one thought to give him a heavier jacket. So he stands there shivering, hands fisted under his armpits as he tries to breathe normally. The air burns his lungs each time he takes a hiccuping breath, and wishes more than anything that someone would wake him up. Because this has to be a dream. A cruel one.

Then someone grabs his face and kisses his cheek, starling him out of the haze that had settled upon him like a wet blanket. They had meant it to be a comforting gesture he would come to realize much later in his life, but his traumatized nine year old brain couldn’t handle it and he violently recoils.

The shove isn’t strong enough to deter this woman… an aunt? A great aunt? A friend of his mother? Goro doesn’t know. He’s never met her before. Or maybe he has? If so, she clearly wasn’t important enough to remember or leave an impact on his life before this moment.

All he knows is they violated his space and as he remembers what his mother--he chokes on the protest that formed on his lips as he repeatedly pushes himself farther from the person trying to hold onto him--he remembers what his mother had always told him.

“ Don’t let anybody touch you unless you want them to .”

He holds those words close to his heart, hoping the punches he’s throwing get his message across.

He didn’t want to be touched by anyone.

Anger bubbles up from somewhere in his gut. Why didn’t his mother do the same when all those “friends” touched her when she didn’t want them too? Why couldn’t she be strong enough? Why wasn’t he strong enough to protect her ?

Why wasn’t he enough?

Bile rises in his throat when he finally breaks the hold of the hands that were gripping his chin, his elbow... blatantly ignoring the affronted scoffs and whispers of what a disgrace, such a rude child, that circled in the wake of his outburst.

The only person he wants holding him is his mother.

But she is six feet under the dirt at his feet, and won’t ever be able to hold him again.

iii. a girl in the orphanage

Goro is eleven and is taken completely by surprise.

One moment he is huddled around a board game in his room with a classmate, and the next she is suddenly leaning into his personal space, pushing her face into his. His eyes go wide as he braces himself on the edge of the desk so as not to fall out of his seat.

He never really thought about kissing girls before it happened, and knew immediately after that he probably would never think about kissing girls again.

His body reacts faster than his brain and shoves her off. She gasps and stumbles back, her expression twisting in confusion at his rejection.

“Why,” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “did you do that?”

“Because I like you, and I wanted to kiss you…did you not like it?

He had never been kissed like that before. He thought first kisses were supposed to feel special. But this...felt empty. And bluntly says as much to her.

She looks at him like he had slapped her across the face. “I-I thought...you liked me back?”

“What gave you that idea?”

Guilt only starts to settle in his gut when he sees the tears welling up in her eyes just before she mutters something akin to an apology and bolts out of his room.

He glares at the spot she had been standing.The longer he thinks about it, the angrier and more justified Goro feels. He doesn’t regret telling her the truth but… he drops his head on his arms.

He can’t even make friends right. Maybe he really was broken, like all the other kids say he is.

She gets adopted two days later.

He doubts she even remembers that kiss.

iv. a hook up

Goro is seventeen and it's a means to an end.

Goro hates these events, but has to attend to keep up airs with Shido and his... associates . To be available for Shido to both dangle in front of and threaten his inner circle with. The fact Goro fits in with them at all makes his skin crawl, and he drowns the urge to peel it off with the complimentary wine he’s (illegally) being served. It’s the least offensive crime he’s committed by a landslide.

Goro just needs to be seen and not heard. To both impress and intimidate. And it works every time.

But tonight, it works perhaps a little too well. Or Goro is a little too drunk to care anymore, and wants to get something, anything out of this hell he’s stuck in. Which is how he finds himself pressed up against a bathroom door by the son of some sycophant politician dragged along by his father hoping to get in Shido’s good graces.

The boy is his age, maybe a little older. Far too eager, excited, and sloppy. He kisses Goro hastily, before Goro could stop him (it’s not what they're in this bathroom for, and they both know it). The boy’s mouth is clumsy, and the kiss is full of inexperienced tongue and tastes of the sickly sweet moscato they’ve been chasing. When the boy tries to deepen the kiss, Goro takes a fistfull of this boy’s hair and yanks. It earns him a yelp.

Glaring down at him, Goro simply states, “On your knees.”

And the boy obeys without a second thought.

The boy doesn’t like him . He likes the image he carefully manufactured to be desirable. Even if the boy claims he went down on the Detetive Prince in a bathroom in some fancier hotel in Shinjuku, no one will believe him.

Back at his apartment, Goro slams down the mug of tea he had made to wash out the taste of the boy from the party. If that boy really knew what Goro kept buried underneath the layers and layers of masks he wore, what he was truly capable of, he would run away screaming.

But it doesn’t matter, it’s not like the boy’s affection was really for Goro . And Goro held none for the boy. It means nothing. A release, an excuse to feel something other than seething rage for a few minutes. A pitiable excuse for human connection Goro so desperately craved. How pathetic.

Goro begins to laugh.

And when his manic laughter breaks into sobs he can’t quite tell.

v. his rival

Goro is eighteen and it stops his entire world.

Stepping out of the Jazz Jin, Goro is quickly enveloped by the brisk November chill that finally settled itself in the streets of Kichijoji. It seeps through his clothes and makes him shiver, craving the warmth and atmosphere of the lounge they just left.

He shouldn’t even be here with Akira. Against his better judgment, Goro had reached out, invited him here one last time before…

Akira ducks around him as the door shuts, effectively cutting off the only exit out into the street.

“Akechi, can I ask you a question?”

Goro raises a brow. “I suppose.”

Akira removes his hands from his pockets, and suddenly seems unsure of what to do with them. Turning them over and flexing his fingers as he says, “Um, I’ll need you to close your eyes first.”

“Akira, we don’t have time for games,” Goro chides in that manufactured plastic tone of voice the Prince uses to let his fans down easy.

(Thinking Akira will probably try to shove some stupid trinket in his hands like last time. And Goro will have to repeatedly decline said trinket until Akira inevitably shoves it in his pocket while he’s not looking and only for Goro to find it later when he takes off his coat back at his apartment).

A soft laugh pulls him back to the present. And then, “Indulge me, detective . Please?”

Maybe it was the poorly disguised desperation hidden in Akira’s voice that made him cave to the delinquent’s whim, or Goro’s realization that this was perhaps the last time he would ever get to feel like a normal teenager before...  

Goro rolls his eyes and gives in to Akira’s request with a sigh. “Alright.”

The sounds of Kichijoji’s nightlife are amplified when his eyes flutter shut. He becomes hyper aware of the cold clinging to his skin, the idle chatter of the passerby at the top of the stairs, milling about down the street.The welcoming scent of coffee that never seems to fade from Akira’s clothes.The sound of Akira stepping closer into his space.

Suddenly, alarms are going off in Goro’s brain as he register’s Akira’s hand cupping his cheek, skin to skin.

“May I?” Akira’s question is whispered so quietly, Goro thinks he feels it more than he hears it.

Goro swallows, unable to get his tongue to work to form words. It’s the first time anyone has ever asked Goro for his permission, for his consent, and he has no idea how to even voice how that makes him feel.

It’s blindsiding him.

A thumb traces over Goro’s bottom lip, and his eyes snap open. He’s peering right into irises of silver, sparkling from the string lights that hang around them in the stairwell of the Jazz Jin’s entryway.

“You said you would keep them closed,” Akira whispers, gaze dropping to where his thumb is still idling tracing Goro’s mouth.

Goro’s prolonged silence seems to unnerve Akira, for he begins to pull away. Without thinking, Goro’s hand shoots out and grabs the lapel’s of Akira’s coat, holding him in place. Goro wasn’t even aware he moved until Akira let out a small gasp.

“I never said that,” Goro murmurs, but his eyes fall shut anyway when Akira leans in again.

Akira’s lips are so soft, so delicate and gentle when he presses them against Goro’s mouth. They are everything Goro is not, and Goro is melting . It’s so much kinder than he deserves, far more genuine than Goro is even capable of being.

“To remember me by,” Akira breathes when Goro parts his lips to taste more of him, “since we agreed to stop seeing each other after this.”

Too soon the warmth from Akira’s mouth is gone, and so is the dark haired boy. Having assimilated into the shadows to leave Goro alone in that stairwell.

It changes everything and nothing at the same time.

Goro still puts a bullet in Akira’s brain two days later, but it's his own head that explodes.

vi. a kiss met halfway

Goro is still eighteen, and living on borrowed time.

“ Your life isn’t trivial! ”

Goro has never wanted to believe anything so badly before. But knows in the shell of his empty heart, that Akira is wrong.

That he’s just being a brainless, sentimental fool, giving Goro’s life more meaning than it ever had the right to have.

Yet the thief’s words echo in the recesses of his mind, with each step he takes away from Leblanc for them only resonate louder. By the time he reaches the main road, the words are deafening screams and he has to--has to--

Akira is just where he left him. Sitting there stupidly at the cafe counter with his face in his hands.

The door to Leblanc is ripped open. It shakes on its hinges as it absorbs the aftershocks of being slammed into the wall by the force of Goro’s hand. The jingle of the bell is drowned out by the roar of Akira’s voice in Goro’s ears.

Akira startles and whips his head in the direction of the noise. Goro can see the thief’s eyes are swollen and red, brimming with unshed tears as he pulls his hands away from his face. His mouth falls open, brows furrowed in shock or confusion, Goro isn’t keen on differentiating at the moment because he’s too busy closing the distance between them.

Goro is so sick of other people defining what his life is meant to be. So sick and tired of being manipulated, following orders like some kind of marionette on a string. And for nothing in the end. Because Goro is his own worst enemy the cards were stacked against him from the beginning.

So fuck it. Goro decides for the first time in a long time that he wants to be touched. To be held. To feel the weight of someone’s desire for him pressing in from all angles. He wants to drown himself in Akira until he can breathe nothing else.

And Akira meets him halfway.

They don’t speak of what they’re doing, as they tumble up the stairs to Akira’s room.

They do not name the desperate feeling they are chasing through each other’s clothes as they fall to the floor.

They refuse to acknowledge the truth that is passed between each other’s mouths, secrets they had kept buried beneath flesh now exposed.

But everything left unsaid hangs in the silent spaces between their bodies as they move as one.

+1 a kiss goodbye

Goro is (still) eighteen, and he is dying.

It takes less than a minute.

Goro does his best to keep the desperation out of his eyes but can’t keep it from his hands.

Hands that reach for Akira to roughly pull him into the helicopter after Maruki, who had been tossed aside like a ragdoll.

Goro drags the beaten and bloodied thief into his lap, and no one seems to pay them any attention, too focused on either watching the unconscious therapist in the back, the collapsing palace around them, or the brilliant white light they were heading for.

Akira goes to unhinge his helmet, and Goro lets him. It clatters to the ground, next to where Akira abandoned his own mask.

He lets Akira drag fingers drag across his chest, to travel up and bury themselves in his hair, to cradle the back of his head like the most precious treasure he’s ever laid hands on. So much of Goro yearned to be touched, and there was so little time.

Goro slides his own hands, still encased in clawed gauntlets, along Akira’s battered face. He uses the pads of his thumbs to trace the angle of Akira’s jaw as he crushes his mouth against Akira’s for the last time. Akira’s blood is sweet on his tongue.

For a split second, Goro wishes he could have been a stronger, more selfless man in his final moments. One who didn’t covet things that were never his ( would never be his ), or ruin the things he touches.

But in truth, in reality, Goro is selfish, always will be. He is all ragged edges, and sharp teeth, he is rough and all consuming and unrelenting. And ruining Akira is perhaps his most selfish desire of all.

Goro knows Akira deserves better, but Akira allows it willingly all the same. Letting Goro lay claim to everything Akira is, everything Akira could be for a moment. For a moment, it all belongs to Goro.

And in return, Akira takes everything from him. His revenge, his anger, his envy, his loneliness, his heart. Devouring what is left of Goro Akechi as the false reality shatters around them in a blaze of white light.

#Shuake #Akeshu #Shuake Week 2020 #Goro Akechi #Persona 5 #Goro Akechi x Akira Kurusu #forgot to post this here

[sincerelystranger]

hello! ive been doing some THINK and i just really couldn't get it out of my mind like what if the last time that lwj (from honesty is the best policy) has seen wwx was like in that scene in the bathroom, so like his last memory of him is his trembling hands and how it was his fault that it came to be AND IM JUST LIKE IMAGINING ALL THE YEARNING??? like upon seeing each other again, lwj is angry and confused and incredibly yearning aHHHH also im that person from ur previous ask i rlly luv ur fic!

Hi again! Thank you for liking my story so much lol. I feel like if the story had gone that direction it would have gone something like this?

---

Lan Zhan didn’t know how he got back to his apartment, but he fell to the floor as soon as he got through the door, shaky and nauseous. He couldn’t get the image of Wei Wuxian - on his knees and shaking - out of his mind. Lan Zhan had done that to him, he thought, another wave of nausea rolling through him. Lan Zhan had treated him so poorly - had been so needlessly cruel to him - that Wei Wuxian shook at the sight of him. 

Lan Zhan had left Wei Wuxian alone in that cold restroom, alone and shaking. He had been so thin and tired and Lan Zhan had left him alone. But what else could he have done? Wei Wuxian couldn’t imagine Lan Zhan wanting anything other than sex from him. Seemed to recoil at Lan Zhan’s touch. Seemed terrified of him somehow.

It was almost humorous to think about - Wei Wuxian being scared of him. Lan Zhan was the one who had been terrified of Wei Wuxian for so long. The one who had been so scared of the way Wei Wuxian smiled, the gentle way of his fingers, the easy way he accepted Lan Zhan’s silence, his coldness. He had been terrified of falling in love with Wei Wuxian for so long and look where it had brought him? He had been so scared that he had forced that terror onto Wei Wuxian as well. 

His uncle had been right about trash, but not who was trash. Wei Wuxian would be better off not associating with Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan would not dirty him any further.

Lan Zhan got up slowly, leaning against the wall for support. He supposed he would have to get used to this silence again - this apartment devoid of warmth.

Lan Zhan made his way to his room, his steps wobbly as if he were drunk. Shame and guilt and regret rolled through him, punching the breath out of him. Hot pins pricked the back of his eyes - could he cry? Did he even deserve that? 

He undressed and got into the shower. The water sluiced off him, but Lan Zhan couldn’t tell what the temperature of the water was. Steam rose up around him but he was still cold. He leaned back against the tile and stared at the shower seat in front of him. 

Wei Wuxian had sat there once. 

Wei Wuxian had let Lan Zhan wash his hair there - pliant and trusting. Had trusted Lan Zhan to wash his hair. Had trusted Lan Zhan not to hurt him. 

A sob finally ripped itself from his throat. No matter how cold Lan Zhan had been, Wei Wuxian had trusted him - and Lan Zhan had destroyed that trust. And for what? For orchestra? For his uncle? For some rich bastards that couldn’t give a fuck what happened to Lan Zhan either way? 

Why had those things seemed so important? 

They didn’t mean anything now. 

Lan Zhan would give up everything now, if Wei Wuxian would just sit there again. If Wei Wuxian would just let him wash his hair again. 

He’d give up everything. 

----------

Lan Zhan floated through his days, his thoughts in a fog. He spoke to Shei-laoshi, told him that he would step down from orchestra. The conductor had seemed troubled at this, had asked him to take a couple weeks off and see if he still wanted to quit instead. Lan Zhan had agreed, but he knew a couple weeks would not make any difference. 

His presence alone hurt Wei Wuxian. He would not hurt Wei Wuxian any more. 

Lan Zhan vaguely remembered his uncle making him another visit to his apartment after that. Yelling at him as if he had lost his mind. 

“Wei Wuxian will not associate with me any more,” Lan Zhan had said, “Isn’t that what you wanted, uncle?” 

His uncle had gone almost purple, sputtering at Lan Zhan in a way Lan Zhan had never seen before. Perhaps it was shock. After all, Lan Zhan had never spoken back before. 

Whatever. Lan Zhan couldn’t be bothered. His uncle could take everything away - what did it matter any more? He had lost what was most important anyway. 

---------

A knock at the door surprised Lan Zhan from his dinner. It was late. Who could it be? His uncle again? 

He opened the door slowly, resigned to see his uncle’s ornery face. 

He blinked slowly at the person in front of him. 

He must be dreaming. 

He blinked again. 

Wei Wuxian.

He blinked again, and Wei Wuxian still stood there, real and beautiful and... Why was he there? 

“What do you mean you’re quitting orchestra?” Wei Wuxian asked hotly, his perfect brows furrowed. They shouldn’t be furrowed like that, Lan Zhan thought faintly. He wanted to touch him. Rub that furrow out with his fingers. 

“I- I-,” Lan Zhan stammered. What could he say to get Wei Wuxian to stay? His heart suddenly seemed to jump into his throat. 

“You can’t quit,” Wei Wuxian continued, seemingly unaware of Lan Zhan’s internal crisis. “You’re the only one good enough to be first violin. Su She will be first violin if you quit and that will ruin our entire orchestra.” Wei Wuxian scratched the back of his head irritably. “Is it because of me? If it is, I promise I won’t make things weird. So... please don’t quit.” 

Lan Zhan couldn’t help himself then - when could he help himself with anything regarding Wei Wuxian? - he grabbed Wei Wuxian and tugged him towards him. Enveloping him in a crushing embrace. He was real. He was real. 

Lan Zhan thought he might have let out a sob at that. 

“Wha--? Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian cried, struggling a little in his arms. 

“Please,” Lan Zhan said, his voice coming out ragged and desperate. “Just a minute - just a few seconds. Please.” 

Wei Wuxian stilled at that. 

He was always so kind, Lan Zhan thought desperately. Wei Wuxian was so kind. He deserved so much better. 

Lan Zhan cupped the back of Wei Wuxian’s head, brought him close, tried not to sob. How long had it been since he had had him in his arms? This would be Lan Zhan’s last opportunity. He tried to memorize how Wei Wuxian’s hair felt in his fingers, how his head slid perfectly into the crook of Lan Zhan’s neck, how the warmth of his body seemed to seep into Lan Zhan’s pores - warm him at a cellular level. 

Lan Zhan took another breath and let Wei Wuxian go. 

He took a step back - or tried to - when Wei Wuxian crashed into him again. His arms going around Lan Zhan stomach.

“Wei Wuxian?” Lan Zhan asked, his voice shaking in shock. 

“You said orchestra was more important than me,” Wei Wuxian said, his voice muffled by Lan Zhan’s chest. “So why are you quitting?” 

“I lied,” Lan Zhan replied honestly. “Or, to be more correct, I was wrong.” 

Wei Wuxian raised his head from where he had buried it in Lan Zhan’s chest. He was so fucking beautiful, Lan Zhan thought. Lan Zhan wanted to wake up to that face. Wanted to see it before he went to sleep. He wanted that face to live in his apartment. Shine his light into the cold, lonely space. 

“It turns out, you are more important than orchestra,” Lan Zhan admitted. 

Wei Wuxian let go of him then. Lan Zhan immediately felt the loss - immediately missed the warmth. 

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian said, his voice shaking, “Please don’t mess with me, Lan Zhan.” 

“I’m not,” Lan Zhan replied, desperate to get Wei Wuxian to believe him. “I’m not. I was wrong, Wei Wuxian.” 

“You weren’t!” Wei Wuxian cried. Somehow, the thought that Lan Zhan valued Wei Wuxian more than orchestra seemed to terrify him. How heartbreaking. “I’m not worth losing orchestra. I’ll quit if that makes it easier for you. Please - please don’t quit orchestra.” 

“Wei Wuxian,” Lan Zhan said, his chest aching, “I won’t quit orchestra if that is what you want - but, it’s the truth. Losing you wasn’t worth keeping orchestra or my uncle happy or anything.” 

“Don’t,” Wei Wuxian said, something desperate in his voice as if he couldn’t bear to hear that he was valued. “If you want another fuck buddy, I can introduce you to someone - someone better. Someone even your uncle will approve of.” 

Lan Zhan’s chest ached at that, a sharp jolt of anger and shame going up his spine. “You’re not worth more to me because of your body,’ Lan Zhan said hotly, “If you chose to never touch me again, I’d still choose you over orchestra - over everything.” 

“What are you talking about?” Wei Wuxian begged, stepping backwards from Lan Zhan, his back against the door now. 

“I’m in love with you,” Lan Zhan admitted then, his body going hot and cold at the admission. It was terrifying, opening himself up like this, but Wei Wuxian deserved this, didn’t he? At least this. “I’ve spent probably all of our time together trying to convince myself that I wasn’t in love with you - but I am, and I can’t deny it any more. I hate that it took losing you for me to realize it, but I’m in love with you.” 

Wei Wuxian stared at him, his eyes wide, his body still. 

“I don’t expect you to return my feelings,” Lan Zhan continued, valiantly making his way through his terror, “I know I treated you horribly, and I’ll never forgive myself for that. But I love you. I thought that you would be more comfortable without me at orchestra - so I wanted to do that for you.” 

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian whispered, looking at Lan Zhan almost as if he didn’t recognize him. “Lan Zhan, don’t say you’re in love with me.” 

“But I am,” Lan Zhan whispered back, a lump forming in his throat, making it hard for him to speak. “I really am - I’m sorry.” 

------

(I’d continue, but it seems a little long for an ask lol! Basically after this, it would probably go similar to the way the story ended. WWX in LWJ’s arm’s :))

#honesty is the best policy #wangxian #the untamed #my fic

[sugarless-suki-writes]

First Lines Meme

Tagged by @nikkxb -- sorry it's taken me so long to get to this, lmao

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!)

See if there are any patterns.

Choose your favorite opening lines.

Then tag 10 authors!

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

I just kinda went to my recents on my google docs, so this is gonna have a mix of stuff, some original stuff too. ye :3 but I'm starting with fics that I currently have posted online. All of them are the first paragraph of the update that's in progress

Favorites have bolded and italicized titles :3

1. Sobriety || KouKag

Kagome had three sessions of therapy so far and she wasn’t fully sure how to feel. She knew it was helping her, but she was left feeling so.... raw and open after every session that she felt like she was just back pedaling and it was hard to cope with. A part of her wanted to just stop altogether and go back to self medicating, but she knew that this was just part of the process. The first couple sessions were going to be hard because there was just so much to unpack, but her therapist was nice and calm and patient with her. She really had to thank Kouga again when she saw him later today.

2. 100 Arms, 100 Years || KouKag

This was the fifth day that an offering had been left in front of Kagome’s door for her. The fifth time she would receive the carcass of a large animal that she wouldn’t accept. The fifth time that Inuyasha found himself in front of her and Kikyō’s shared hut and bringing the carcass to the village for her. His fifth time taking the credit for a hunt he had no part in. He had to admit, this was quickly grating on his nerves. He hated the attention that he was getting from the villagers now. They praised him for shit that he didn’t do. That, and he didn’t want to be praised for anything. It was bad enough that he practically had the Sacred Jewel within his grasp and wasn’t able to use it to become a full-fledged youkai, but now he was being celebrated as a hero by some mere humans? Keh... they’re lucky I don’t tell them what this is all actually about. I bet they wouldn’t be so happy then. He sniffed and scratched at his nose. He talked a big game, but Inuyasha knew deep down that he would never do anything to hurt them. If he did that, that would in turn hurt Kikyō and he couldn’t do that to her.

3. Big God || KouKag

Kagome let out a frustrated huff as she shoved her phone into her pocket. She then plopped down onto the couch, tucking her legs up underneath her and curling into Kouga’s side. “That’s the fourth test we’ve ran, and we just... can’t figure out what the hell that stuff is... It’s so frustrating!” she grumbled.

4. You are the Moon || KouKag

Kagome took care of dinner that night, going out to pick up a few things she would need before returning home and cooking. Her mother tried to talk her out of it, but Kagome insisted, wanting to give her mother a break for the night and do something nice for the family. She missed them, and she wanted to make up for being gone for so long.

5. The Demon of Nabewari Yama || KouKag

Kagome let out a small huff as she looked up at the mountain she was heading towards. She had been traveling for several days, bordering a week now, looking for somewhere to settle. However, all the villages she had come across already had a miko or monk residing there, and if they didn’t, they didn’t want one. To be fair, there weren’t many villages she had come across between her hometown and here, and sure, maybe she should go further out after completing her training, but it was still just a little frustrating.

6. Seasons of Love || ZelGan

Zelda looked herself over in the mirror, and the corners of her lips pulled down into a small frown. Her hair was pulled up into an extravagant updo, several locks braided and pulled into the bun that rested on the back of her head. There were some flowers pinned in as well, all of them white in color. She would have preferred something with a pop of color, so they would stand out against her hair; but she figured that, in the end, everything had to match her dress.

7. Gerudotown || ZelGan -- Title may change for this, idk lmao

Ganondorf let out a grunt as he dismounted from his horse. The beast was large with a jet-black coat and a matching mane. He gave the steed a pat on his neck before handing the reins to a stable boy, holding back a chuckle from the look on the boy’s face. He was certain the child had never seen a beast so big, nor a Gerudo, based on how he was looking up at Ganondorf with wide, disbelieving eyes.

8. Shit, Let's be Pirates || DaveJade

Jade ran down the dirt path leading to a hidden beach. She had just gotten out of class and was eager to go down to the coves. She wanted to find some cool shells and snap a couple pictures for her biology class. She always went above and beyond in that class, but she just had a passion for marine life.

9. Changing Fate || ZelGan

“You can’t possibly be serious about this, father!” Zelda snapped indignantly. Her hands were balled into fists at her sides and her face was contorted in rage. King Rimoll let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. They had been at this “conversation” for what felt like hours. He didn’t expect it to go this badly. Of course, he didn’t expect it to go well in the first place, but this was beyond what he anticipated.

10. Moon Bonds || KouKag

All Hallow’s Eve. A powerful night for witches and magick users alike. A night that better helped connect them to the spirits of the earth and those who had been lost. It was a night that Kagome looked forward to every year. The surge of magick that tingled under her skin and filled her very being... by the goddess it was an amazing feeling. And this year would be even more delightful and powerful.

11. Princess and the Pirate || Amuto

Growing up, Amu had been told many stories about pirates, everyone on her small island had. But Amu felt as if she had heard more than most. Her mother would tell her tales before bed about the pirates on a ship called the Emerald Line. Despite the name of the ship, its hull and sails were completely black. The only speck of color was the pirate flag it flew, which was emerald green and depicted a cat head with crossbones beneath. It was also known to be the fastest ship to sail the seas.

12. The Black Card || KouKag

Kagome paced around her room in her tiny apartment, struggling with picking out an outfit. It was her first day off in a while and she wanted to look cute, seeing as she wouldn’t be restricted by her, somewhat lenient (semi-strict?), dress code at the bookstore. However, she also wanted to be comfortable, so she was at a bit of an impasse. It wasn’t really as big a deal as she was making it out to be, but she was exhausted and she hoped that dressing nice would throw Sango off her trail. With a huff, she finally settled on a nice sundress she had stuffed in the back of her closet, one she rarely wore and almost forgot she had. It was light blue in color with a floral print.

13. Harvest Moon || KouKag

Kagome stretched as she woke up that morning. She opened her eyes and saw the torn-up ceiling and frowned to herself ever so slightly. She had moved into the country several days ago and had only recently started working on repairs that her home needed. It was a pretty large house, but the rent was extremely cheap. The only downside was she had to pay for the repairs, but in all honesty… she wasn’t too bothered by it. Apparently the house had been abandoned for years. No one was really sure how long... but Kagome could take a guess that it had been at least a decade with how worn down and dirty things were.

14. Memories || Original Fic - No Pairing

Lotus looked around at the scene before her. It would be an easy job, simple. She could do it in her sleep no problem. She scoffed and looked at the man beside her. “Really? You need me for this?” she asked. He turned to look at her, a scowl on his face.

15. Any Way the Wind Blows || ZelGan

Zelda woke up to the sun on her face. She grumbled and grunted, rolling over onto her side on her small mat. She opened her eyes and looked out ahead of her, at the grass and flowers swaying in the breeze. Her stomach gurgled and she placed a hand on it, a grimace on her lips. Food...

16. Found || KouKag

When Kouga had heard that there was a disturbance along one of their borders, he had been prepared for anything. He pulled together a team quickly, not taking all the strongest warriors, making sure to leave some behind to protect his pack. They ran off, ready to fight. Ready for anything. Anything except this.

17. Interlude IV (Showtime) || KouKag

O Signore, per amor del tuo nome, perdonami la mia iniquità... Perciocche ellà e grande Kagome sat there in the street, blood seeping through her clothes and soaking her knees. Tears continued to stream down her cheeks in a never ending flow. Her breath kept catching in the back of her throat as she tried to force down her sobs. Her hands were curled up into fists, pressed against the pavement, soaked in blood and in pain from being clenched so tightly and pressed so firm against the rough asphalt. Regret, despair, and guilt crushed her heart. They squeezed tight, holding onto her and keeping her trapped in the moment. A moment she’d rather drink away and forget, only for her guilty conscious to bring it back in her dreams at night, keeping her away from the blissfulness of sleep.

18. Bubblegum & Nicotine || Original Fic -- Astrid/Loki

Astrid opened the door to the apartment and latched her keys onto her belt loop. She then bent over to pick up the bags of groceries she had set on the ground to unlock the front door. Once she had crossed the threshold into the house, she raised up her right leg and kicked the door closed behind her. With a bit of a grunt, she hoisted the bags up a tad higher and made her way to the kitchen. She set them down on the counter with a thud and took a moment to catch her breath. She may be in good shape, but carrying several pounds of groceries up three flights of stairs because the elevator was out? That would wind anyone.

19. We Are Complicated || Bubbline

Bonnibel Kaugummi entered the school and was quick to drop her things off in her locker so she could head straight to the Student Council room. She grabbed a couple of her books out of the locker and shoved them into her messenger bag. The tan colored bag complimented her uniform, which consisted of a grey sweater, a red ribbon tied into a neat bow, which was neatly tucked underneath the collar of her white button up shirt underneath her sweater, and a red plaid skirt. The red accents to her uniform identified her as a Junior, and they complimented her red-orange hair and rosy complexion.

20. The End of All Things || KouKag

Kagome let out a soft sigh as she curled up in her spot on the bench, bringing her legs up to her chest. She was sitting out on the small deck that overlooked the garden in her backyard and watching the rain. It was fairly cool out thanks to the constant drizzle that had begun early that morning. The sound of it pattering against the ground and roof that extended over the deck filled her with a sense of calm, a calm that she desperately needed right about now. Working as a nurse wore her out. She loved her job, of course, but gods if it didn’t have its trials and tribulations. She had been working almost every day for a solid two weeks now, covering shifts for people on top of her own. Thankfully she had a couple of her shifts taken from her after being at the hospital for a full 24 hours at one point in time. Today just so happened to be her natural day off, and she felt pretty great about it.

#ask meme #koukag #kogkag #bubbline #zelgan #amuto #inuyasha #adventure time #legend of zelda #shugo chara #original content