#it's nothing compared to when he first started recognizing this feeling as love. THAT was a downpour. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wrixthesley · 8 months

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𝑮𝑨𝒁𝑬 | 𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑨

warnings: dubcon, stalking, yandere childe, alcohol consumption, facial, blow job, fem reader, degradation, cum eating(?), snowballing, breath play

wc: 4.1k

a/n: im baaaaack, also this is for @jozhenji ily bitch mwah

You hate Snezhnaya.

The cold that bites at your cheeks, the way your bones ache if you stand outside too long, and how blinding the snow can be on the days where the sun is the brightest. You hate holding onto candle light to maneuver your way down the hallway of your house, only to hear talk of the Fatui growing in size and manipulating more people into joining under the harbingers from the neighbors that stop by to chat in front of your door late at night.

“They each have their own agenda.” One of them says, as if that’s supposed to justify their actions, like they’re not all connected in some way.

“Did you hear Ajax got into another fight?”

“Again?”

You hate him. Ajax. You hate how he always needs to be the center of attention.

You hate his laughter, his gaze, the way he starts fight after fight and how he doesn’t care if his father cries or threatens to send him to the military. You hate how he knows so much, how he thrives off of the adrenaline that runs through his veins when he knows he’s won, when he can taste it, feel it in his hands and configure it so that it adds fuel to the fire burning brightest in his chest. It’s the one of the only times his smile reaches his eyes.

You hate that it’s the same smile when he looks at you. When he thinks that he can barge in on your walks to get firewood, or when he finds one of your siblings and walks them home. He only wanted to make sure they would get home safe, he swears.

If Ajax could put his pride on a pedestal, he would. He would bellow in letting people watch as it grows and swallows everything in its path to take up more space, thriving on the marvel painted on people’s faces who pass, who watch as he leaves the small village of your hometown to join the Fatui. It shouldn’t have come as a shock when he was recognized because of his ability to fight.

You think about the time that he went missing for three days causing a search party that grew so rapidly in size because his father is a respectable man, it hurt to see how little he slept. It hurt your community to see him attempt to console his other children.

It hurt even more when you were the one Ajax showed up in front of first.

You were looking out to the horizon, the firewood that had been collected by your side, stopping to enjoy the hot stew you had prepared for your siblings in the thermos that had been carefully wrapped to protect it from the bitter temperatures. It wasn’t exactly as hot as you expected but you welcomed the few seconds of warmth brought to your lips. It’s comforting and while looking out to the horizon, you make a silent promise to yourself to move to a nation that is always sunny, where the winds are warm, and the waters are blue. Something that would help your soul feel weightless in contrast to your current surroundings.

When the forest is covered in snow you can hear everything, the branches that fall under the weight of the ice, the crunching of footsteps when someone passes by, and even the curses of the men who were fetching more wood for their wives; tired, exhausted, and numb.

That day he came back, you didn’t expect to hear him, much less see him.

“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” You knew his voice, whipping your head around so fast because you never heard his footsteps approaching. His nose was bleeding, staining his mouth and shirt. “It’s nothing compared to you.” He smiled after wiping the blood off his nose and mouth with his sleeve, watching you in awe of how relieved you must have been when he showed himself to you.

He stumbles forward a little, laughs, “Hey, I lov-I’ve loved you from the moment we met.”

You’re the last thing he sees before he blacks out.

Years have passed since then. You watch when Teucer and Tonia come running by with their new toys, how much easier it gets for his father to take care of himself when he’s promised that Ajax is okay and the financial hardship doesn’t consume his very being. It’s hard not to smile when Teucer looks up at you with a toothy grin, begging you to play with him again.

You’ve never been able to tell him no, even though he has the same eyes as his older brother.

You feel uneasy when Pulcinella knocks at your door one evening.

It’s routine for him to visit Ajax’s home, he is the one who offered him the position in the Fatui, you knew he had good combat skills but never would have guessed it was enough for him to be recognized as one of the harbingers. His name is no longer familiar, replaced with Tartaglia. He erases the name given to him, fully accepting his role.

You open your door for him, it would be rude not to answer when the mayor comes to your door.

He smiles gently at you, it does nothing to relieve your nerves, makes goosebumps run down your spine and you will yourself to meet his gaze and return a smile that you would never call your own.

“For you.”

You let him place the box in your hand, it's rectangular, flat, and wrapped beautifully. It makes your stomach drop when his hand touches yours, you can feel a letter slip in between your hand and his, it reminds you of when your grandmother would place chocolates in your hand when you were a child.

“Thank you.” You mumble, mouth dry and lips chapped from the unexpected visit. He nods, leaving you and waving goodbye at Ajax’s family.

You set the box down next to the fireplace, you can hear the crackles from the wood engulfed in flames, it makes you feel less lonely at night. Now that your siblings have gone and left, you’re left to take care of the house your parents had left behind.

You carefully unwrap the bow that sits on top, folding it neatly beside you. Your palms are sweaty when you peel back the wrapping paper. The outside is revealed with the name of an expensive boutique known for the intricate patterns of beautifully displayed lingerie.

You stare at it in disbelief, the measurements are your size down to the millimeter, you feel like screaming. Like locking yourself in your home, blocking out the windows and doors so that no one, no one else could ever invade your privacy the way that he has.

The black lace is decorated with hints of glitter and the satin lines it feels so, so fine. If it were from anyone else you would be enamored, delighted to wear this for someone that you held feelings for, but the only thing you feel is fear.

You remember the letter that was placed in your hands.

You wish you hadn’t opened it. He only speaks of the past, how he never got to tell you how grateful and happy he was to see you after he had been missing for so long.

When you returned home with Ajax, he was different, asking how many days have passed to everyone that came to visit him during his recovery, contemplating how time passes differently where he was in. When you would see him, you had reassured him over and over that it was three days, though he argued it had been three months. He used to make you retell the story again, and again, and again going over the most miniscule details until you were in tears telling him that it’s all you can remember.

You throw the box and letter into the fire, watching the flames consume it all. You spend the remainder of the night fitting whatever parts of your life that you could in a suitcase.

You leave the next morning.

Your life in Fontaine is calmer than back home, you’re near the ocean and you bask in the warm windy hills during the day or dive into the ocean once you’ve finished your work at the small little dress boutique in the middle of the city.

Your boss teases you about one of the Gardes that have caught your attention when he patrols, you even sparked up a conversation about your favorite flowers you’ve encountered in Fontaine.

“Romaritime flowers!” you exclaim, “They’re beautiful. They look so pure in and out of the water.”

He places one in your hands the next time you meet, promising to take you on a proper date when he finishes patrol.

You assume the bouquet of them at your front door was from him, assume that you would see him that night when you closed the boutique and assume that he would ask where you would like to go next.

You spent that morning getting ready for work. Donning one of your favorite dresses, it compliments you well enough to make you stand out, but still allows you to work comfortably. It’s something your boss had given to you when you first arrived in Fontaine, the excuse was that you also needed something when you would go out. How else would you fit in?

You cried at her kindness, something you had not encountered in years.

You finish work that night, assuring your boss that you would close up. She gives you a hug, tells you that she wants to hear all about it when you come back after your day off.

The clouds start to darken when she leaves. You hope it’s only temporary.

You imagine this is what heartbreak feels like.

To trust someone with your feelings so easily only to be faced with the hard realization that they didn’t seem to care about that trust to begin with. The rain, which you hoped was short lived, only rubs salt in the wound. It’s pouring, your shoes are in your hands and your dress is stuck to your body. You waited for two hours after the boutique closed for him to come by, you waited another hour after his patrol ended. You finally left after ten more minutes, when a young woman knew the look on your face and offered you her umbrella. You politely declined, assured her that you would be okay.

In the end you’re left disappointed, cold, and wet. It reminds you of the numerous times you would come home from the harsh snowfall in Snezhnaya, greeted with silence when you stepped foot into your house shivering and attempting to start a fire. You hated it.

You ignore the stares from couples strolling the night, instead focusing on the cool pavement beneath your bare feet, how the rain feels somewhat cooling to your face and how you can hide your tears.

It’s better this way, to only rely on yourself. You’re all you have after all.

When you return home, you toss your shoes outside to dry. Slamming the door behind you and begin struggling to peel off your dress because the fabric is soaking wet and it’s stubbornly sticking to your skin. You curse when it doesn’t come off, panting and pulling it over your head, you step on something sharp, cursing again when you finally throw your dress off and the tears threaten to spill. You curse and throw the dress into the corner of your living room.

You’re left cold, shivering, and only in your bra and panties when you look at the blood from your foot. You begin to cry.

Your gaze then follows the trail of broken glass on your floor, the pool of water leading up to the broken vase of the Romaritime flowers.

“Do you let others stare at you like this?”

Your blood runs cold. You remember the same feeling back when he found you staring out into the horizon all those years ago.

He places a hand over your mouth, holds you flush against his chest when he sneaks up from behind you. “Shh, s’kay.”

You can’t scream, you squirm in his hold, kicking and clawing at his arm holding your face. He thinks it would be fun to allow you to think he’s off balance.

You shift all your weight onto him, hoping that in the fall you’ll have enough time to run, to hide, to fight. You could run to your neighbor’s house, the nice little old couple that lives behind you and hide in their garden until you’re safe. You wish you were safe, you wish you were home sooner. Oh fuck, if only you hadn’t waited for so long into the night.

He grabs your wrist before you’re able to move, bringing you back to him. You force yourself to find strength to move, to be able to turn around and face him. He anticipates this, he spins you around like a dancing couple would.

He laughs once and you stop.

You no longer want to look, you can only see the boy who was missing smiling and complimenting you with blood running down his nose, you remember the lingerie he sent when you were still in the village, how your stomach dropped when the mayor knocked at your door.

Nothing compares to this, to the goosebumps littering your skin when he peers down at you, blue eyes that don’t ever leave your gaze and make you feel like you’re drowning in the sea waters that surround Fontaine.

“I was waiting for you” he whispers, peppering your face with kisses while you stand there, frozen. It’s similar to the time when he collapsed in front of you, only this time you can’t find the words to scream.

It’s funny how this time he’s found you. Your poor attempt at hiding from him is amusing.

“Missed you so much” he continues to kiss you, makes his way down to your collarbones and doesn’t hesitate to get on his knees to kiss the softness of your stomach or the tops of your breasts that are exposed to him.

“Should have locked you up you know? You ran from me, took me forever to find you.”

“Ajax” you whisper, the tears that sting your eyes are threatening to spill. “Why are you here?”

You hold in a sob, you know why. You’ve always known why he was enamored by you.

“Does it matter?” he breathes, shifting his position so he is behind you again, kissing the tears off the side of your face, watching how your breathing shifts when his cold hands touch the bare skin exposed to him.

“Had to pay that Garde off really well. He wasn’t cheap, you know?”

Your heart breaks further, the sob you were holding building into your throat. “You’re so worth it though, pretty little thing. Look at how I found you, fuck, you missed me too didn’t you?”

He’s guiding you to your couch, laying you down while he towers over you. You feel nauseous when you feel his hardening cock through his pants, “look at you, look at you!” He laughs again, another bout of tears flowing down your cheeks, hot and heavy.

He leans down to kiss you, you turn your head but Ajax isn’t opposed to using force to get what he wants, you know this. You’ve always known this. He takes your face into his hands again, squishing your cheeks together like he did before except his gaze is demanding, icy, and bitter.

“Kiss me back”

You oblige, letting him press his lips against yours and slipping his tongue into your mouth. You flinch at the roll of his lips, clutching at his shirt when he groans into your mouth. He mistakes this as want, giving you more until you’re consumed by him, his presence, his scent, his touch.

He breaks away to let you breathe, smiles at the string of spit that connects both of you and how your eyes are hazing, even though he can’t tell if it’s from crying or from how dizzy he’s made you when he kissed you.

“Let’s celebrate” He’s off of you before you can register what he said, grabbing a bottle of one of Mondstat’s best wines. He’s unceremonious, rogue even, when he pops the cork off and takes a drink straight from the bottle before dipping back down to kiss you.

He didn’t swallow much to your surprise, he let the wine pass from his mouth to yours. Pulling away to watch your face scrunch up at the taste, “s’good” he slurs, taking another drink and swallowing this time.

“Here.” He’s pulling you to sit up, he’s so fast it’s hard to follow what he’s thinking, what he’s doing. He’s taking another drink again, it’s smaller this time, more like a sip that he thinks is adequate for you.

He doesn’t let you pull back, his hand is on the nape of your neck making sure you can’t escape his intensity. You try to keep up, letting his tongue enter your mouth and swirl with his. It’s so sloppy, so hot, and sticky that it makes your head spin. He only gives you a break to drink more wine, to make you both drink more.

He keeps giving you more and more, loves when you get weaker and you don’t protest as much anymore. When you whine and start anticipating the alcohol from his mouth to yours, it makes the taste more bearable and your thoughts aren’t as loud in your head.

The wine keeps spilling from the corners of your mouth, leaving a little trail of purple-red for him to lick up to. He’s sucking at the skin of your neck, finding your pulse point so easily. His teeth nip at your skin, you don’t mean to lean into him, the alcohol is making you slow to react. He swears he hears a small moan escape your lips when he nips at the sensitive skin again.

His hand slides down your chest, feeling your tits through the fabric of your bra, it’s still wet.

“Ajax” you slur, “wanna wait” you say. He looks at you, he notices the tears again. You feel them spill, you’re cold. You cling onto him because at least he’s offering you that sliver of comfort.

“Wait?” He repeats, licking a tear off of your cheek.

“Why would I wait when I know you want me too?” He whispers in your ear, his hands unclasping your bra in one go. His touch is cold, similar to how it feels when you first go into the sea. Your body has to get use to it, it starts to warm up and you feel like you could swim and float for hours.

It’s the same with his touch, the cool tips of his fingers warm up the more he squeezes. He likes the sound you make when he pinches at your nipples, he takes one into his mouth, sucking and licking. Groaning when he hears the little whimpers you try to hold back.

He makes his way back up to your lips again, grabs your hands that are clutching at his sides to guide them down to palm the shape of his cock through his pants.

He’s dreamt of this for so long.

“Oh fuck” he pants, his breath hitting your lips before he’s kissing you again, his tongue feels like he’s lapping into your mouth getting as sloppy as possible as if you’re going to vanish again. His tongue rolls over yours until he’s aching, cock throbbing for attention.

“Hey, feel me here.” He pants, eyes red rimmed and the blue of his irises brighter. You feel like you could drown in them.

He takes your hand and holds it in his, tossing his vision on your table. He’s undoing his belt & pulling his pants down enough for his cock to spring free.

He wraps your hand around the base, guides you in how fast and how much pressure to place around him, when he lets go of your hand you can feel him looking at you. You’re focused on the length of him, how heavy and hot he feels against your hand.

You feel like crying again. You oblige him because at least he’ll leave you alone sooner, you’re just another thing for him to win over, to declare victory before he gets bored with you and moves on to this next challenge.

“More fuck, please more” he pants, hips stuttering into your hand. You can feel the sticky, hot precum that coats the tip of his dick and now your hand. You look up at him and see that he’s got his head tipped back, moaning about how hot you are, how good you are, how he’s thought about this since you saved him. Since you found him, how he’s been in love with you since he found you looking out into the horizon. Even before, he’s been in love with you since the beginning, since he saw you.

“You owe me this.” he breathes.

“What?”

He laughs again, the same one that haunts you.

“Don’t act like you didn’t know. I had you watched wherever you went, I made sure your siblings got into the school they wanted, fuck I even followed you here.”

He takes your hand in his, knows that your hand is coated in his pre cum, takes one of your fingers and licks it up the length. His eyes ever leave yours as he does.

“You should thank me.” He deadpans, cock still throbbing and hard when he stands up at full height.

“Thank me.” He repeats the length of his dick is on your face, rutting against your cheek until the tip meets your lips.

“Yeah, that's how you should do it.” He smiles, the one that meets his eyes. The genuine one.

He’s holding on to the back of your head before you can move. He doesn’t care if your hair is messy, it's almost dry now. He takes your hand again, planting it onto his thigh for leverage.

His grip returns to the base of his cock, tapping the tip on your lips again.

You don’t open your mouth, new tears building up in your waterline. He shows no remorse for what he’s doing, no concern, he thinks he deserves this. It’s the least he deserves for what he’s done for you.

He pinches your nose, catching you when you part your lips to shove his length into your mouth.

You cry, struggling to breathe at the pace he starts at.

“Woulda been so gentle to you if you would have been good, fuck.”

He seethes, eyes rolling into the back of his head when both of his hands are holding your head to match his hips. Your nails are digging into his thighs, your strength unmatched for how you try to push yourself off of him as he pulls you forward on his length. He can’t handle the hot, wet, tightness of the back of your throat.

“Fuck yes, more, more, more” he chants, pinching your nose again to see you panic when you look up again, he loves you like this. When your chin is covered in spit and tears and his balls hit you with every rut of his hips.

“God, gonna paint your fucking face, slut. Gonna cover you in my cum so you can never forget who you belong to”

You can feel that he’s getting close, he grants you grace for only one second before he’s holding your jaw in his hand again.

You take in gulps of air, coughing, and crying while he forces you to look at him.

“Don’t run from me again.” He seethes, forcing you back down on his length.

He’s ruthless this time, uncaring for the way your eyes can’t focus, or how you look like you’re going to pass out. You’re vision keeps going in and out, you can hear yourself. How you choke and gag around his length how he curses with each “ack. ack. ack” of his dick hitting the back of your throat.

“Gonna cum—shit”

He pulls you off, using one of his hands to keep you in place while he jacks himself off with the other.

“Say it, say who you belong to.”

You can’t understand, hazy vision threatening to go black.

“Fuck, say it and I’ll cum. I’ll cover your fucking face and never leave you. You understand? You’re mine. “

You don’t know what he’s rambling on about. You want to plead with him, talk this out and let him know he could pursue someone else.

“Ajax” you rasp.

“Yeah? You belong to me don’t you? Oh fuck—“

He groans, doesn’t hold his voice back, calling you all sorts of names but mostly that you’re his, his, his.

His cum on your face should be enough to prove it. He looks at you like a masterpiece, taking his finger and dragging it through his cum and putting it into his mouth before kissing you.

“Don’t let anyone else see you like this.”

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ghostssweetgirl · 1 year

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I’ve always headcannoned ghost as not wearing his mask when he’s off duty. Idk I just think that he whould want to separate the two, maybe trying to find his identity as Simon back.

Love your storys btw there so *chefs kiss*

Can we get some married headcannons with our beloved ghosty. ❤️❤️❤️

I like to imagine that, too. Or at least that he doesn't wear his mask in the safety of his own home, he probably stays masked out in public (if he's ever in public). And thank you 🥺 I'm so grateful you enjoy my stories!

Ghost as a Husband Headcanons

At first, he was scared of marriage. Didn't want to risk anything happening to you, God forbid an enemy got intel of your name and location. He'd walk through the gates of Hell himself if you got hurt.

But, he knew from the moment your relationship started that he did want to marry you- you were the one, and he just knew it.

He's a big softie, you get princess treatment FORREAL. He doesn't let you carry anything heavy AT ALL, even if you are fully capable of doing it. And if he catches you carrying anything too heavy, he's scolding you (playfully).

If you're on a walk and come across a puddle, he's carrying you bridal style over it, no if's, and's, or but's about it.

He carries all of your bags around for you when you're out and about shopping.

And dammit, he will walk around almost every store with you. Even when he's sighing from exhaustion, nothing compares to the smile on your face when you're getting what you wanted.

Dreads going on deployment. Hates knowing you'll be alone even though he's taught you everything you needed to know about self defense. You know where all the guns, knives, and everything you can use as a weapon are in your shared house.

Loves, loves, loves coming back to you. Back home to your home cooked meals and tender environment, a safe place. A safe place to separate Ghost and Simon. Unmasked, and himself around you.

When he's on deployment, he stays up late at night thinking about you. Looking at pictures he has saved of you in his wallet, rubbing over it, cherishing what he gets to return home to. Sometimes Soap barges in his room while he's hunched over the side of the bed staring at the picture. Soap definitely playfully teases him about it.

If he returns home in the middle of the night when you're asleep, he doesn't want to wake you, or try to. He likes to watch you, your perfect face in such an innocent state, peaceful. He'll rub your cheek, soothingly rub your back until your eyes flutter awake.

Oh, how he just loves watching you groggily recognize him, you jump up no matter how tired you are, into his arms, squeezing him so hard. It just feels nice to know that he was missed.

You always cook him a big breakfast the morning after. He'll come up behind you, placing sweet kisses at the back of your neck, wrapping his arms around your waist. He shuffles his huge body with you as you move around, causing you to giggle.

"Simon! I can't cook that well with you up on me like that!" you laughed.

"I just missed you s'much, luv," he kissed the back of your head. "Need to be up on you."

And even though he refuses to talk about his missions, his work, you didn't need to know that, he didn't want your perfect little head to worry about it, he loved to hear you ramble about what you did to the house, the garden, things you did with your friends, etc.

Almost cries when you bring out the gifts you got him while he was away, surprised that someone loves him enough to think about him like this.

A/N - I swear here lately I'm half asleep working on requests lol, I hope you enjoy these <3

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley #cod mwii #ghost cod #modern warfare 2 #cod modern warfare #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost riley headcanons #simon riley headcanons #ghost cod headcanons #ghost cod mw2 #ghost cod mwii #simon riley imagine

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hoshigray · 8 months

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Anon said: I hope it's okay.. wondering if you could write something for ushijima where he's married with kids and the mc is starting to feel insecure about her body and ushijima shows to her how much he still gets turned on by her (now more than ever too). Also I'm really happy I came across your blog! Absolutely love your writing! 🤗💕✨️

Omg another Ushi request!! Stop this is so cute, has me grinnin' and shit!! Tysm for the kind words, noonie, happy to have you on my blog as well~ ;w; ♡ (also, I'm so so so SO sorry for deleting your ask before, plz forgive me bc the draft wasn't finished AT ALL, lmao)

Cw: Ushijima x fem! reader - soft and then smutty, so minors DNI - reader is chubby + has stretch marks cuz I said so - kisses on body (f! receiving) - cunnilingus/oral (f! receiving) - implied breeding kink - praise - biting (Ushi nibbles on your tummy, cheeks, and nipples) - clitoral play (swiping and sucking) - ends with implied insertion - slight overstimulation - reader feeling self-conscious about their body but Ushi coming in for the rescue - you and Ushi have two-year-old twin sons!! Wc: 2.8k

There's nothing you would want to change about your life.

You already thought you hit the jackpot when you stumbled upon and started dating THE Wakatoshi Ushijima, a man you never — in your WILDEST dreams imaginable — could see yourself with. And the fact that he proposed and took you as his spouse is shocking enough. But now, as you see him on the couch with two small children asleep on his lap as the man watches the television, it's hard to conceal the smile that sneaks past your comprehension, and you silently walk upstairs to your shared bedroom.

It's been three years since you and Ushijima tied the knot, and you expectant with two boys immediately after. Since then, your life has gotten brighter and brighter by the day. Not only has Ushijima been a great and supportive unit as he has been since he first met you, but watching your sons grow into such beautiful bundles of joy never fails to make you beam with glee. And it's so cute because they're literal carbon copies of their father! Aside from being much more expressive and bubbly than their silent parent, he says they get from you.

For the past three years, every day in the Ushijima household has been grateful. Having a loving husband and two wonderful children is evidence of such. Because of this happiness you bestow and witness, there's absolutely nothing in this life that you'd want to change or replace…

...But that's a lie because there is one thing you'd wish to change. And it bothers you as you stare into the bedroom mirror.

Turning your figure to the left and right in your underwear, you're the only one here who can point out the critiques of your body that you've noticed since pregnancy. Your brows crease as you bore holes at the plumpness of your abdomen that wasn't this curvy before, the detailed streaks of your stretch marks indicating the changes your body's undergone through the years. And your appearance comes off plumper than you've remembered prior; memories of your "perfect" figure from your wedding night flood your mind.

The mirror doesn't display a "you" that you recognize. It's a "you" that has long replaced your old self — the old self who was distinct compared to now, the old self that would model cute outfits and pose with their friends, the old self that grabbed the attention of a well-renowned volleyball player and would soon bear his children.

That old self is long gone, fueling your dismay about who you're looking at as your reflection. This is you, but this isn't your body, is it? It can't be. A body like this shouldn't be able to experience the happiness you're experiencing...should it? The more you stare at your reflection, the blurrier your head is clouded with your thoughts, and an uncomfortable bob strangles your throat.

KNOCK!! KNOCK!!

You jump at the sudden sound, turning to face the ajar bedroom door. Your husband, Ushijima, entering halfway. "Can I come in?"

"Uhhh, yeah, come in!" You stutter as you grab an oversized shirt (Ushijima's) to cover up. It's funny: being together all these years and you still wish to be modest around your partner. He closes the door behind him once you sit on your side of the bed. "Put the boys to bed."

"Mhmm." He hums in response, walking to the mirror you were using, touching up on his hair before taking off his shirt. He stretches in front of the glass, and you observe him as he does so. His reflection depicts the gorgeous lean physique as his breathtaking back muscles captivate you. Even when he goes into the closet to fetch a more comfortable tee to sleep in, your eyes never leave him.

Strong. Stoic. Incredibly athletic. And a cadence that engulfs anyone in his path. There are many ways people in your surroundings have depicted your husband. And with a front-row seat, you understand what they mean. Ushijima is a rather unusual breed of man, both mind and body; it's a fact you've known before you two dated. And it's a fact that grasps your attraction to him constantly. All these years, and he's still the handsome man you fell in love with.

Makes you wonder if he thinks the same for you. Even with your current body...

"Y/n." A voice snaps you back to the present, turning to the other side of the bed to see Ushijima look directly at you. You blink with a shiver; he must've been calling for you while deep in your thoughts. "You okay?"

You cough before answering. "Ahem, yeah, yeah! Sorry, I'm fine."

The man trenches his brows. "No, you're not." He cuts you off before you can say an excuse. "This is the third time this week you've been thinking up a storm to yourself. Not to mention you've been doing it for the past few months."

"Am...Was I that obvious?"

"That, and I saw you looking at yourself earlier." It's bad enough his blunt answers shoot arrows to your heart, but to know he did see you eyeing yourself at the mirror? Your mind goes rampant thinking what he'll say next. "So, what's wrong?"

You could try to dismiss the topic again and just retire for the night, but you know Ushijima well enough to know you can trust him with what you're thinking. You sigh heavily, turning to your fingers that fidget amognst themselves. "Toshi...Do you...like my body?"

One second goes by. Three seconds. The silence gnaws you, you chew on your lip to distract yourself until the man answers. "...What do you mean?"

"Like...before I had the boys, I felt real...confident? With myself?" Your fingers now toy with the comforter covering your lower body, the awkward atmosphere eating you alive. "I'm not saying I was the most gorgeous person alive or anything, but I liked how my body looked. And now, after being pregnant and everything, I just feel like.....I don't know. Forget about it; good night!" You swiftly turned off the lamp on your bedside and patted your pillow. But before you can situate yourself to sleep, a hand comes to your cheek, prompting you to look at your spouse again.

"Y/n." The way he says your name is so calm and comforting. You lean to his touch. "Is that what's been bothering you?"

You nod, a thumb stroking the soft flesh of your cheek. "Yeah, it's just me with my stupid thoughts bullying me, really..."

Ushijima hums, his free hand freeing your lower half from the warm comforter, exposing your legs to the air-conditioned space. "You shouldn't let those thoughts take the best out of you. You're an adult; it's only natural that your body changes as you grow. And as a mother, it's not guaranteed you'll look like your old self." Once again, the man obliviously scolds you with his curt response. Although, you know he's not wrong, nodding to his words.

"I know, I know. It's just..." Another sigh leaves your fatigued lips. "Every time I look at myself, I just don't know...how can such an amazing and wonderful guy like you still want to be with me looking...different. I get it: it's just my head being mean. But still..." And you leave it at that, withdrawing your face from his warm palm.

Ushijima, though, kept his eyes on your solemn expression. He tries again, bringing his hand up to your chin to look at him. "To answer your question: yes, I do like your body. The reason why is that it's your body. I keep mine in the same condition — if not better — simply because I have a job that requires me to do so. But that's just for me, not you. I didn't date you just because of your body alone. I sure didn't propose to you for it either. I married you — all of you. I love everything about you, and that love hasn't changed since I said my vows." The hand on your chin returns to cupping your cheek. "And it won't change just because of some natural changes to your body. Otherwise, I'd be a terrible husband and father for thinking so."

"Toshi..." Just when you thought your love for this man couldn't get any significant, he always finds a way to bring it up to substantial levels. Your heart swoons to his words, making you fall unquestionably in love with him again. Now you bring a hand to his cheek, "You're such a wonderful man, you know that? So lucky to have you as my husband." He averts his gaze from yours, a sign you know is his way of accepting praise.

"I'll say this, though," the tall man places his other hand to seize your small one on his cheek, olive eyes boring into yours: a sign of honesty. "Ever since you had the twins, I think you've become more beautiful than before."

His face draws in close, and your breath hitches. "Toshi—"

"I mean it. You're so beautiful..." His lips rest on your plump ones, and you're gently pushed to your back with your head on the pillows. It doesn't take long for you to melt into his kisses, small gasps when he leaves your lips to set sweet smooches on your cheek and neck. "So beautiful for me....."

The feeling of his lips on you has you under his spell, and you mean when a hand snakes under your shirt. Ushijima lifts the material to expose your body to him; humility still runs over you as you use your hands to cover yourself. But the man before you doesn't let that happen, moving your hands off your body and onto his shoulders. "Don't do that. Let me see it all." His mouth goes back to your neck, sucking on your skin that'll surely leave marks for you to see in the morning.

He then ventured down, kissing and sucking on every piece of insecurity that caged you. Every stretch mark, from your shoulders to your tummy, kissed with love and gratitude. Your plush thighs were rubbed by his hands before his mouth came down, giving the fat above your panties a teasing bite, causing your legs to jerk. Ushijima removes your underwear, discards the lacy material to the cold wooden floor, and spreads your legs to have your bare genitalia out for him to see.

Your face is now hot from the exposition. "Toshi..." you say his name in a whisper, not wanting to get loud as your bedroom is not too far from your sons'. "Please, you don't have to—Ooohhh..." You're cut off when you feel his tongue lap on one of your nipples, licking on the bud while using his hand to toy with the other breast.

"No, I do have to." He says in between licks to your nipple before taking it wholly into his mouth; your whimpers fail to cooperate on wanting to be stifled by your lips. The heat between your legs starts to flourish, having you grind your thighs together to ease the throbbing sensation. And Ushihima notices, releasing your mound from his hand and slithering it between your soft thighs, protruding his fingers between the folds of your vagina. A sharp cry comes out of you at the sudden contact of his forefinger brushing your clit.

"Ahhhh! Toshi, right there, right—Mmmmm..."

"Not yet, Y/n," your husband coos to your ears, his voice so hot to hear. "Need to warm you up first..." He lays kisses on your neck while pushing his finger into you. You bring a hand to cover the shriek from exiting when his digit enters your chasm, your inner walls adjusting to the size. And when he inserts his middle fingers, you find purchase on the tee he's wearing.

"Oooh, hooohh...Jesus Christ, Toshi, your fingers," you whine to him. He brings his face up to glance at yours. "Feels so good, so—Ahaaannn!!"

"Shhhh, keep feeling good for me." He coaxes you with a kiss on your forehead, the pace of his fingers quickens, and the squelching noises coming from your cunt burn your ears. Your hips buck whenever his digits scrape the velvety walls, and your mind slowly descends into a lustful haze. You want him so bad — want him right now.

And Ushijima takes this time to examine your body while he works on your leaky slit. Watching your figure quiver to his touch, your mouth agape for cute moans to fill the space, and your eyes screwed to an expression of pleasure. Here is where he treasures you more than ever: having you like this with him and only him. It turns him on. It's a raunchy thought, but it's true.

Beauty stirs many images in Ushijima's mind. But nothing triumphs over the true definition of beauty when it's about you. You are the most beautiful in his eyes, both body and soul. Every time he looks at you, the memory of your first smile to him flashes before him, a moment he cherishes till his last breath and is the moment that cemented his wish to have you by his side. And now married with two bouncing boys, there has not been one instance where his light for you diminishes. If anything, it grows brighter and brighter.

However, when it comes to his attention that you don't see yourself in the same light as he does, it's only befitting for a husband to fix that. Because, in his eyes, even through all the changes throughout the years, your body still drives him insane. Especially now, when he's the reason that transformed you with his youths. And seeing you writhe on the bed with his fingers in your vulva, that switch that once flipped before has twitched something inside him...

"Ahhhn!! Nnnmm!! Toshi, Oh God..." The tall man snaps to your disheveled look, your eyes watery and lips puffy from frequent chews. "Haaah!! It's coming, I'm gonna—Ohoooo!!"

"Go ahead. Cum on me, Y/n." He kisses and nibbles your cheeks before putting his mouth on your nipple once more, sucking and lightly biting the nub while pushing his fingers in and out of your cunt at a sporadic rhythm. He places his thumb on your clitoris, swiping and grinding on the tender button. And that was the final piece for your orgasm to overtake you, the walls of your slit clamping around his digits while your body quivers with the crawl of your spine.

Your cries fill the bedroom, riding out your climax until the last tremble. Toes curl as your pussy flutters on him, and they relax when your body is sheathed with a soothing silence that calms you down from the aftershocks. Pants exit swollen lips, too distracted in your bliss to catch a glimpse of Ushijima moving downward to your southern lips, his tongue running on your slick-coated folds.

A forced wail comes out at the motion of his mouth on your chasm. "T-Toshi, stop! I'm too sensit—Iiieeee!!" Your hollers return with an ecstatic vigor as your husband drinks your essence.

"Y/n," his voice was loud enough to draw your awareness to him, licking your fluids from your inner thighs. "You drive me crazy, you know. Your body, it turns me on so much."

"Mmmm, hmmmm, r-really?" Even though Ushijima is sucking on your most delicate areas, you're able to carry on with the conversation.

"Really. Actually, I've been turned on throughout the entire pregnancy. Something about making you big and swole with a baby — the thought about it makes me go wild." He finally removes himself from your cunt, licking remnants of your fluids from his lips. He then takes off his tee, his well-built physique for your eyes to ogle.

Hooded olive eyes stare at you as he undoes the drawstring of his sweatpants, bringing them down to reveal his erection. The image of his cock springing has your sweat run to deep ice cold. You know where this is going, and you can't tell if the pulses of your chasm are out of fear or mutual excitement. "Toshi—"

"Hey, Y/n, I've been thinking" he brings you close to him, your legs spread for him. He then aligns his dick to your wet cunt, using your slick to lubricate the tip of his length before pushing it between your folds. You have to bring a hand up to conceal the mewls. "Maybe we should have another baby. Let's try a girl this time." His mind clouded with aroused thoughts; you pregnant with his child again, all big and round and swole with his child. The image sends shivers up his since. He gets so fucking turned on by it. But as long as it's you, it's all good. Even now, when the tip is finally inserted with a muffled cry from your covered lips, Ushijima doesn't want to turn back.

"Want them to be cute and beautiful like you..."

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kiame-sama · 2 months

Note

Omggggggg Zestial would be the BEST yandere papa out there istg I love your new fic 💜💜💜

Warnings; Same for Hazbin, platonic yandere, gender neutral reader, stalking

~~~~~~~~

"This day doth become itself. With luck, Pride shall be treated to acid rain come the eve."

Zestial hummed with a pleasant smile gracing his inhuman features as he walked along the sidewalk by your side. He had been a fairly persistent companion to you ever since you struck your deal with him. Though it had been several months, you were only now adjusting to life in Hell.

That first week Zestial never left your side, and not a single sinner dared look your way for too long. The only other sinners you really interacted with were overlords and even they were rather far and few between. It wasn't easy to get used to the constant din of Hell, but you did what you could.

You were quick to warm up to your room in Zestial's manor and he often let you have free roam so long as you stayed inside. It was a very quiet place compared to the rest of Hell and you figured that Zestial was not one for being doted on or fawned over. Still, he seemed to value your presence in his home so you refused to question him on it.

Month one ended in a difficult way as you learned just why you were called a Sin Eater. You had gathered that you consumed an overlord your first day in Hell and that's likely why it took so long for the hunger to set in again. When it did finally take hold of you, Zestial was swift to intervene and found a soul of his own to satiate that howling emptiness. Returning to awareness was not pleasant but the ancient Overlord was a gentle comfort in your distressed state.

You learned to recognize the signs when your hunger was about to set in and warn Zestial of it prior to a black-out. He was always quick to aquire or procure a sinner for you and never seemed bothered by it. When you did finally question him he had just smiled and told you he knew what he agreed to by making a contract with you.

It was at the three month mark you realized the contract was both to protect you from Hell and to protect Hell from you. Zestial finally allowed Carmilla to tell you what other Sin Eaters had done prior to your arrival. There was a reason they were destroyed quickly and without mercy.

Carmilla still didn't trust you, but she trusted that Zestial had a good grasp on the unfortunate nature of your soul. It was with her approval that you started to venture out without Zestial by your side in constant. Unbeknownst to you, he simply stayed in the shadows and still followed your every step.

Now at the second day of month four he was walking with you to see Carmilla. Though it was what one could consider a sunny day in Hell, you weren't feeling as happy or pleasant as Zestial was. Something had happened that first day of the month and you were worried how Zestial would take it. Coincidentally that was also the first time Zestial truly let you navigate Hell without hovering over your shoulder.

"What weighs upon thy soul, young (Y/n)?"

Ever perceptive as always, he picked up on the way you seemed so occupied with your thoughts. Deciding to give a gentle nudge at first to see if you would share willingly. Though he did not want to command you to tell him, he still felt he needed to know what had you so distracted.

"Nothing."

"(Y/n), thy soul spins another yarn, do not presume to lie."

"I... Something happened yesterday."

"Do tell."

"it- it wasn't something big. Just... Some sinners seemed to think I had money they could take."

"Did it come to blows?"

"No... I just didn't fight back when the started taking my stuff and they left after realizing I didn't have anything they wanted."

There was a moment of silence as you tried to play it off like it wasn't a big deal, but you had managed to keep your voracious nature under control. However, Zestial was less than pleased. He was not angry that you got into a fight, he was upset you didn't call for his aid or kill the other sinners. He would rather you kill them than let others harass you and take advantage of you.

"Tell me, (Y/n), doth thou not place value on thine own life?"

"But... I thought I wasn't supposed to fight-"

"Child," Zestial interrupted, turning to face you fully, "thou art supposed to call upon me in times of strife. Thy deal is in place for a reason."

Zestial was clearly displeased and you felt genuinely bothered to have upset him especially when you had been trying so hard to not be a problem to the elder overlord. As you saw it, Zestial was both patient and caring towards you, so upsetting him was a difficult pill to swallow.

"I'm sorry, Zestial. I didn't mean to make you mad. I- I'm sorry."

He let out a soft sigh, the frustration seeming to melt from his person as he straightened up.

"It is not anger that occupies me, Child. It is concern. A Sin Eater may be thine title, but thy soul doth belong to me. Those who target mine own souls doth incur my wrath upon their house. Thou art one of my treasures and thy soul was at risk. And had they been displeased to find no items of value upon thy person, they could have turned to pleasures of the flesh instead. Call me to thy side whenever anyone tries to give thee trouble, that is an order."

"Ye-yes, Zestial."

The elder sinner frowned slightly before he pulled you to his side, checking you over for any sign of mistreatment. He almost finished his inspection with nothing to show for it before he paused, seeing the ring of deep bruises around your wrist where one of your assailants grabbed you. There was a long moment of silence as he stared at the ring around your wrist, his eyes all widening as the top two gained red irises with black pupils.

"The second thou doth lay eyes upon these sinners again, thou shalt immediately call upon me so that punishment may be delivered. This is also an order."

"Yes, Zestial."

"Clearly it was my folly to believe that thou could walk amongst the streets of Pride unattended. It is not a mistake that shall be made again."

When Zestial released your wrist, the ring of bruises was gone and he had returned to a much calmer state. One large hand rest upon your shoulder as he began to walk once again, leading you towards Carmilla's home among the streets of Hell.

Sinners ran and hid the second they saw Zestial in broad daylight, but there were eyes that still trailed after the soul by the overlord's side. Cameras turned and focused on the little soul, wondering just what use the oldest overlord could possibly have for them. Certainly another valuable soul was on the market and the ever watchful Vox of the Vees was looking to cash in.

#kiame-sama #yandere #x reader #yandere x reader #reader insert #tw yandere #platonic yandere #yandere Zestial #gn reader #gender neutral reader #gender neutral y/n

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sehodreams · 1 month

Note

hiya!! first off wanted to say i love ur blog and i enjoy reading all ur content but esp look out for ur toxic!riize headcanons those are fun haha, i was wondering if and only if ur comfortable with it cuz it’s a little weird.. but thoughts or a drabble about like bully! or toxic! sungchan with plus size!reader but he likes to tease her for her size sometimes but it’s really just to hide how attracted he is to every aspect of her.. idk like only if you’ve got some ideas, that’s all… thank you and i hope you have a great day!

pinching

TW and tags: oral sex (f receiving), bully!Sungchan x plus size!reader, bullying (duh), heavy dubcon.

WC: 1.8k

Comment: thank you so much hahaha, I'm happy that you like my silly content, I love toxic!riize too, to be honest, I also want to write a toxic!sungchan x plus size!reader, I have an idea but I've been so busy I haven't been able to write properly in days, still, i hope you like this bully!Sungchan. Pd: please look at that picture, I imagined him looking like that the whole time.

You have a couple of memories from that place, like how good it felt to hug your grandmother before bed, how there was a little stall in front of your school that always had tasty sweets, and how there was a little boy you used to walk home with after classes finished.

There wasn’t much objection once your mother said you would go back and live together in your grandmother's place to not leave the house empty. You had a couple of friends, but it was nothing special, so you said goodbye to them and moved with your mother without problem.

You had to admit you were even kind of happy, perhaps you could eat those sweets again, and you wouldn’t be able to hug your grandmother, but at least you would feel her presence with the old floors and flower decorations that surrounded every room, and especially, you hoped you could see him again.

You should've known by that point in your life that having expectations only leaves you with the sour aftertaste of disappointments.

The stall wasn’t there anymore, your mother changed the whole house, leaving no trace of your grandmother behind, and the sweet boy that used to follow you with a smile now followed you to make fun of you.

It was easy to recognize him, he had the same eyes and shiny smile, and you were elated to see a good old friend now all grown up into a real man, but he wasn’t as happy to see you there, showing you a disgusted face once you told him who you were.

‘’Don’t fucking talk to me’’ he said, and you didn’t understand what you had done wrong, perhaps you were too confident, or your perfume wasn’t to his liking, or your hand was sweating too much when you touched him, you had no idea why he reacted like that, but you understood that, just like his appearance, he had changed, because that sweet boy you used to know would never talk to you that way.

Just that interaction was enough to make you never want to approach him again, and you tried to not even look at him when you recognized his voice, you didn't want to hear that tone ever again, and you did your best, but it was useless, you had become his new favourite thing.

At first, he was all words and no bite, throwing comments every now and then about your physical appearance, comparing you to a pig when you ate your lunch in the cafeteria, or mocking your uniform for being bigger than normal because of your size.

His friends only laughed at his comments, and those who weren’t his friends stayed silent, no one dared to approach you afraid of receiving the same treatment.

Then, he started to touch you.

He pinched your arm, telling you to give him your homework to copy it, then it was your cheeks, telling you to stop eating if you didn’t want to gain weight, and then, one day, when all of them had left for EP class and you were searching for your towel in your seat, from behind, he pinched your waist.

You turned to him, scared, it had hurt a lot more than when he did it to your cheek, and he definitely had done it with the intention of hurting you.

When you looked at his face, his typical grin wasn’t there, replaced by a surprised face and curious eyes, and you felt that something wrong was about to happen, so you pushed him out of the way and walked out of there as soon as you could without caring that you left with empty hands.

‘’Where’s your towel?’’ your professor asked you.

‘’I forgot it’’ you answered, not wanting to go back to the classroom.

Later, Sungchan arrived with your towel in his hand, and you got punished for not bringing all the obligatory material.

He got worse.

if he crossed you in the hallways, he would shamelessly pinch your waist until you hissed, and when he found you in the library, between shelves, he would pinch your ass, grinning from ear to ear at the picture of you biting your lips to not make a sound and get in trouble again.

As if everything he did was an innocent game, he smiled at you after nipping you in different parts of your body, like the side of your ribcage when you decided to walk away, the back of your hand when you tried to push him or your thighs when he sat beside you in the cafeteria or the study room.

‘’Why are you doing this?’’ you whispered, pushing his hand away from prying under your skirt and pinching your upper leg.

‘’Look at all that skin, your body is begging for it’’ he answered, grabbing your round hand with force to stop you from getting away, and then when you tried to do it again, he pinched the space of your boob that your bra didn’t cover, making you whimper of pain, laughing at your hurt expression.

‘’It really hurts!’’ you tried to reason with him, but he was a lost case, and he didn’t care that you were full of little purple and green spots, flinching at the mere sight of him lurking around, he wanted more.

This is going to end at one point, you tried to fool yourself.

He’d get tired and leave you alone when he found a new toy, it was impossible he only focused on you the whole time, and even if it was like that, it was your last year. After that, you’d never see him again.

Everything has an end.

Your house was the only safe space you had, even if it wasn’t anything like the warm memory you had about it, it was a place that had never been tainted by Sungchan, not like your school or the streets you walked to get there.

He would sometimes follow you and murmur insults while pretending he was your good friend walking you home, but once you opened your door and saw that he stayed feet away, you would exhale, relieved of him not trying to follow you inside too.

‘’Your friend is waiting for you in your room, I’ll go and buy something for you to eat later’’ your mother smiled, ‘’He’s become such a handsome boy’’.

She, unlike you, was excited to have him there, and you, trying to breathe properly to not show how the panic was consuming you, nodded.

There was nothing you could do to run away, it was your house, and opening your door, you saw him calmly looking at your stuff.

Your pillow wasn’t where you left it, he had definitely been roaming around for a while, invading your space and doing whatever he wanted, like he always did.

Standing in front of your bookshelf, one of your books open in his hands, he recognized your presence.

‘’Thought you would never come, didn’t know you took so many walks’’ he said and went through the pages of it, as if there was exactly something he was looking for, ‘’it doesn’t explain why you still look like that though’’.

‘’Sungchan… I’ve done nothing to you’’ you sounded as if you begging at that point, ‘’why… I don’t get why’’.

‘’I have my reasons’’ he answered, leaving the book where it was.

You flinched when he showed the intention of getting close to you, your hands becoming fists, alert, ready to run to another room in case he tried to hurt you again.

‘’We were friends’’ you said, lower lip trembling, ‘’please stop, Sungchan, it hurts’’.

He saw you like that, broken, vulnerable, and he beamed with it, walking towards you, and you thought your body would listen to you and escape, but it didn’t. Closing your door behind you, he pressed the little secure, making you finally react with the sound of the click, trembling in your place.

‘’But if I don’t touch you, who else will?’’ he whispered, taking your shaking hand, not pinching it this time, he interlocked his fingers with yours and pulled you closer to him, ‘’if you’re good, I’ll stop being so hard with you, what do you think about that?’’ he offered.

You didn’t understand, being good with what? You stayed still, looking up at him, your chest pressed against him, and his other hand went to rest over the small of your back, the generous curve from your ass to your waist that was the object of so many of his jokes.

You could see where the thing was going, and you felt yourself get nauseous with his aroma flooding your room and his temperature making you hot with almost no distance between your bodies.

‘’My mom will come back in any second…’’ you didn’t know what other excuse to use.

‘’I’ll be quick’’ his tongue poked out and wet his lips, sending a signal to your brain that screamed just be good and finish it.

‘’Will it hurt?’’ your face betrayed you, plainly showing all the fears you had, giving him, once again, the upper hand.

‘’Not anymore’’ he assured you. His hand that used to bring you so much pain suddenly became gentle and trailed up, caressing your arm with multiple marks from him, groping your chest a few times before he cupped your face. You didn’t make a single sound, not the hiss you always left out when he pinched you, or the cry when he was being too much, ‘’well done’’ he praised you when you let him open your thighs with his leg.

He quickly found his place, your pants were somewhere in your room, and his head was between your trembling legs, slurping all the involuntary wetness your body made you drip to accept him and not suffer.

Not being able to say his name properly, you moaned when his palms gripped your meaty thighs a bit too hard and his tongue found your entrance, bumping his nose against your clit between your plump folds, making you squirm at the intense sensation of him eating you out like a hungry man.

Your hands went to his hair, and you don’t know what flooded you, but you felt free to hurt him too, so you pulled his hair and moved your hips to crash his face, using him instead of the way around.

Then it felt good, to hurt him felt really good, and you thought, maybe this is why he does it, because you had never felt so powerful and in control before, especially with him.

Looking down, you two made eye contact even with your chubby stomach prodding out. His eyes had nothing of the mockery they always showed, completely lost instead, and you whimpered when he seemed pleased to have you focusing on him and what he was doing.

Not much after he started fucking you with his tongue the knot in your stomach started to feel so tight you knew it would snap in any second, so closing your large legs around his head, you crushed his head as much as you could while cumming, overflowing over his mouth and nose, asphyxiating him for a few seconds before you relaxed and finished giving him all you had.

He didn’t move away, gulping your juices and then moving his mouth up to leave a loving peck on your clit, as if he was proud you had abused him like that, and before he caught his breath again, he talked. ‘’See? This didn’t hurt’’ he smiled with the lower half of his face glistening with your orgasm.

#riize x plus size reader #riize smut #sungchan smut #riize hard thoughts #riize hard hours

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beskarandblasters · 2 months

Text

Was it all a dream?

Chapter Six: I'm gonna sleep because you live in my daydreams

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Series Masterlist | Series Playlist

Series summary: You’ve always had vivid dreams, an escape from your monotonous life. But one night, something appears in your dreams that keeps reoccurring; a pair of brown eyes. -Or- Two people, in completely different parts of the galaxy, find each other in their dreams and try to make sense of the strange connection they share.

Series warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent (long live the Razor Crest), switches between Reader and Din’s POV, story takes place in the dream realm and the real world, takes place somewhere between the end of season two/Book of Boba Fett/beginning + middle of season three, eventual smut, line between reality and dreams gets blurred, use of Mando’a words and phrases, no use of y/n

Chapter summary: You further your escape plan off of Sullust. Din searches for you on Coruscant and ends up finding more than he bargained for. But once you two reunite in your dreams that night, everything starts to make sense.

Word count: 4.3k

Chapter warnings: Din has sex with someone else (but it's not technically infidelity IDK), sex work, angst, skinny dipping, fingering, oral sex (F receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, praising, panty stealing

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics Fic recs: @kelbellsficrecs

You

The first step of your plan is to slowly accumulate all the parts to craft a blaster at home. You can’t take all the parts at once, it’ll be too obvious. By the end of your shift, you want to grab at least two or three parts that you know will be useful. You’ll shove them deep in your pockets, hoping no one notices. Especially those pesky droids.

As the day shift crew starts to thin out, you hang back, waiting until there are fewer eyes around. Hastily, you grab two parts and shove them into your pocket, not even looking to see what you took.

Day one of stealing blaster parts is seemingly a success.

After you leave the factory, you take the shuttle home, making a plan in your head to drop the parts off at your place and head to the library again. You have to research the last two dream locations. The last one will be hard, all you saw were endless beige hallways and a field through a window. Nothing distinctive about that. You’ve been hoping he would recognize one of these places eventually, giving you some sort of clue as to where you can go after you escape.

Once the blaster parts are safe in your home, you head to the library with your mind running wild. When you really think about it… you’ve only known Din for less than ten days. Is it crazy to go after a man you barely know? Sort of. But when your reality is as bleak as it is, you’d take any reason to flee.

Reality doesn’t even feel like reality anymore. That thought doesn’t even make sense. To you, reality is when you’re with Din in a love that feels real, more real than anything you’ve experienced in your life. That’s why you keep going. Besides, you were born to explore the galaxy, not to be bound to a soulless corporate life.

Finding a secluded spot in the corner of your library, you pour yourself over books and articles on the data-pad– a routine for you as of late. Just as you expected, searching for a “place with beige hallways” yields no results. And the other place, the field by the lake and the grove of trees, you can’t find it either. You need him to recognize a place or to dream of somewhere with a distinct landscape. But for you, that’s every place, everything is distinct and memorable compared to Sullust.

You hope tonight’s dream takes up someplace different, someplace real.

Din

Din spends his day doing what he does best; tracking someone down. But this time this someone is you. He’s going off of the fragmented bits of information he has. He knows you live underground somewhere. And while you don’t remember where you live in real life when you’re dreaming he does recall one place where he found you in a dream— the lower levels of Coruscant.

Is it a long shot? Yes, but it’s also a lead. Besides, any disappointment he’ll face if he doesn’t find you is worth it on the off chance that he actually does.

It’s raining when he lands on Coruscant and it makes him immediately think of you. How he wishes he could take off his armor and feel the train on his skin. But not when there are all these people around. He wants to feel the elements with you and only you at his side.

And so he sets off on his mission, combing the lower levels of Coruscant. He searches in cantinas, nightclubs, motels, and even brothels. And every time he gets the same answer from people after he tells them your name and describes what you look like– never heard of her.

He goes to leave the brothel, the third one he’s been to tonight, but before he can go one of the workers stops him. It’s a woman; tall, brown curly hair, deep blue eyes, and glimmering red robes.

“Are you in need of a service tonight, sir?” she asks sweetly, batting her eyelashes at him.

He shouldn’t. But this is different… right? This isn't sex with someone he loves. This is sex in the form of a service, with no emotions attached. And besides, you exist in the dream realm. The sex he had with you wasn't even real. But Maker, it felt so real. He’s in his own head, contemplating whether or not he’s dishonoring you, questioning whether or not you’re real. Are you out there somewhere in the galaxy yearning for his touch? Are you longing to escape whatever abysmal place you’re from? Are you seeking physical connections with others like he is right now?

Do you only exist within his gaze? In the confines of his subconscious?

“Sir?” the woman asks, stopping Din from spiraling further.

“Yes,” he says awkwardly.

“Follow me,” she says, turning with a sway of her hips and leading him down the hallway.

She brings him to his chambers, closing the door behind him after he enters.

“What are you in the mood for?” she asks, running a finger down his breastplate.

Not this, he thinks to himself. But maybe for a fleeting moment, this can fill the void in his heart; a void in the shape of you. Perhaps he can close his eyes and pretend it’s you he’s burying his cock in. It won’t be the same and he knows that. With you he can be his true self, free of his armor and stripped of his real-world responsibilities.

“I don’t have a preference,” he shrugs.

She grabs him by the hand and leads him to the bed, coaxing him to sit. She begins to fall to her knees, brushing her hand over the bulge in his flight suit. He looks down at her, her eyes wide and searching his visor. But when he closes his eyes he’s transported back to the house with you, watching as you suck him off, your tongue swirling around his foreskin. You know just what to do to make him melt into a puddle, your touch reducing him down until he’s completely at your will.

But this isn’t the same. And if he’s going to go through with this he needs to do it in a way less personal, without this woman’s eyes never leaving him.

“On second thought,” he says, getting up from the bed, “Get on your hands and knees.”

This position takes him back to his early bounty-hunting days. He would spend countless nights railing prostitutes from behind, relieving his stress and frustrations, and getting off without having to worry about keeping up appearances afterward.

He’s doing the same thing now. Except this time it feels different. There are feelings attached but not in the way he wants. The guilt he feels is indescribable. He’s wishing you were here, feeling your skin and hearing your moans. But that’ll just have to do for now.

“Whatever you want, handsome,” she says, shedding her robes.

Whatever you want, handsome.

She doesn’t even know what he looks like.

That shouldn’t make him laugh but it almost does. The stifled laughter comes out as a strange sound and he has to pass it off as clearing his throat.

Handsome.

Kriff, now he’s sad again. That word is forever associated with you and the cave illuminated by the fire. It feels wrong for someone else to call him that.

But he can’t be sad now. He needs to perform, to pretend he’s not feeling so terrible inside.

The woman moves on the bed, resting on all fours and arching her back. It’s now or never.

He gets on the bed, situating himself behind her on his knees. He pulls his cock out of his flight suit and strokes it, spreading the pre-cum built up on his tip down his shaft. He looks to his left and sees a bottle of lube lying on the bed.

Perfect, he thinks to himself.

He grabs the bottle and squirts a dollop of lube onto his fingers, spreading it around the woman’s entrance, just enough so he can slip inside. He tosses the bottle aside and holds her hips, thrusting into her roughly. She moans, high-pitched and breathy. It almost seems like it’s played up like she’s putting on a show. It’s nothing like you. Your sweet moans are melodic, music to his ears.

He feels awful. This poor woman is just doing her job, just making a living. And here he is, fucking her while he compares her to someone who might not even be real. He just wants to get this over with.

If he’s learned one thing from his experience, it’s that sex in real life can’t even begin to compare to sex in the dream realm.

He pulls out and cums all over her ass, not even feeling any relief. He’s not sure if she came either, too lost in his thoughts. She flops forward and rolls to her side, looking up at him as he puts his cock away and moves off the bed.

“Hope you enjoyed yourself…” she says, not looking at him, “You can pay out front.”

He nods and leaves without saying a word. He needs to get out of there now.

Before he leaves he places a fistful of credits on the front counter, hoping it’s enough to cover his services. He’s exhausted, and in need of sleep in more ways than one.

Once he’s back in the Razor Crest, he’s peeling off his armor and stripping down to just his flight suit. As soon as his head hits the pillow he’s out, searching for you, wherever you are.

You

Blinding sunlight. Sand, so much sand. You look up, searching for any notable features.

A binary sunset.

That’s something you don’t see every day.

Sand is pooling in your shoes. Maker, this sucks. But at least you get to feel the sun on your face.

But where’s Din?

“I hate this place,” you hear him say behind you.

You turn around to see him coming towards you, the harsh sunlight making him squint, resting a hand on his hip.

“We just got here.”

“I’ve been here before.”

He’s been here before.

“...In a dream?”

“No, in real life. I feel like I’m here quite often.”

“What’s this place called?”

“...I don’t remember.”

It doesn’t matter. You finally have a lead, a tie to a real location where you can possibly find him.

“I like it here.”

“You won’t be saying that for long. You’re not used to the sun. We should try to find shelter, ner vercopa,” he says, grabbing you by the hand.

He leads you across the desert, searching for some form of haven away from the blazing suns. Although you’ve learned for so long to feel the sun on your skin, he was right. This is too much. He’s silent as he walks, too focused on you and getting you comfortable.

In the distance, you spot looming rocky bluffs. Maybe there’s a spot in the shade there. But it’s like your eyes are playing tricks on you because beside the rocky bluffs is a body of water. There’s no way. It has to be a mirage, your mind is faking you out, giving you hope that there’s water nearby.

“Is that real?” you ask, turning to look at him.

“It can’t be,” he says, meeting your gaze. His warm brown eyes are lit up by the sun, turning them into a beautiful shade of amber. “There are no places like that on this planet.”

You look at the mirage again, letting your primal urges take over. Real or not, you need to find out. You let go of his hand, trudging through the sand towards the oasis.

“What are you doing?!”

“We might as well see if it’s real or not,” you shrug.

He catches up to you, interlocking his hand with yours once again.

“None of this is real. We’re in a dream,” he says.

“You know what I mean,” you respond, rolling your eyes, “Like whether or not this is an illusion.”

“...Right.” He still sounds uneasy.

As you get closer you notice more about the oasis– tall leafy trees, bushes full of ripe fruit you’ve never seen before, and blue shimmering water. All of it tucked into the side of a rock face.

“Looks pretty real to me,” you say, standing at the edge of the water.

You let go of his hand and crouch down. The surface of the water moves gently in the direction of the wind. You cup your hands and scoop up a handful of water, rising from the ground to show Din.

“Look. Real water,” you say, holding out your hands to him.

His eyes flicker from the water in your hands back to your face. The unsettled expression on his face is starting to dissipate, finally letting himself relax. You bring your hands to your mouth and take a sip of water– so crisp and refreshing. But it’s not enough.

You pour the remaining water back into the spring and reach for the hem of your shirt, pulling it off over your head.

“What are you-”

“Taking a dip,” you say, taking off your shoes and kicking off your underwear and pants in one go, “Are you joining me?”

“Yes,” he says quickly, slipping off his boots.

You ease yourself into the water, expecting for the temperature to shock you but it’s the opposite. It’s…. inviting.

Din joins you in the water, his hands immediately gravitate to your waist, pulling you into him. It’s not that deep, only going up to the middle of his waist.

“This is nice,” he says.

“This is nice… And real,” you tease.

“I’m not used to there being water here. Or swimming for that matter.”

“I’ve never been swimming before either.”

“See? What if you jumped in and immediately drowned?”

“I’d have you to save me, of course,” you playfully retort. You move to float on your back and continue, “Besides it’s not that deep.”

“I guess you’re right,” he says, floating on his back beside you.

The two of you stay like that for a while, staring up at the sky.

“Have you seen your son?” you absentmindedly ask.

But then you wince in anticipation of his response.

“No,” he admits.

“I’m sorry. You must miss him.”

“I do… This is the only thing keeping me going.”

“What do you mean?”

“This… Us.”

“Really?” you say, standing upright and looking down at him. His curls are wet and his eyes are closed, the sun hitting the high points of his face.

“…Yes,” he says, still not looking at you.

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” you say, vaguely remembering your plan back home. You’re escaping but you don’t know where from.

“What if we found each other? You know… in real life.”

“I’m trying, ner vercopa,” he says, grabbing your hand.

“You’re trying?”

“I searched through the lower levels of Coruscant.”

“That’s sweet, Din,” you respond, squeezing his hand, “But I’m not from there.”

“I know,” he sighs, “It was worth a shot.”

He lies there, floating so peacefully like he’s never had any real moments to rest until he’s visited the dream realm with you.

“I’ll tear the galaxy apart to find you if I have to,” he says.

“You mean that?” you ask, his words tugging at your heart.

“Yes…” he says. The inflection in his response was a little weird like he wanted to say more but quickly decided against it.

“What is it?”

“…I have to tell you something,” he says, eyes still closed.

“You can tell me anything.”

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum,” he says, finally looking at you.

“What does that mean, Din?”

“It’s my native language. It means I love you,” he says, eyes flickering away from you and staring up at the sky once again.

You sink to his level, your head poking up from the water as you grab his chin, brushing your thumb along the hair on his jawline. You turn his head so he’s looking at you but instead, he shifts so he’s floating upright, face to face with you.

“I love you, ner vercopa,” he says, looking you in the eye.

“I love you, too, Din,” you respond. You don’t even have to think about it.

He closes the gap between you two, going in for a kiss. But just as he leans in the sky above you changes from day to night with a sunset somewhere in between. In what feels like seconds the sky is an inky black tapestry peppered with stars shining down on the two of you.

You look up admiring the star-filled sky, a sight you’ve never seen before. Din’s hands cup your face and you feel his eyes on you. He angles your face towards him, pressing his lips against yours. You wrap your arms around him and his hands slide from your face to your chest. And you stay there, hands roaming each other’s bodies, kissing like you’re the air the other person can’t live without. He feels so real under your touch– the warmth of his skin, the stubble on his face, his minty breath like he just brushed his teeth before bed; before coming to meet you here.

But as the night settles in so does the chill in the air. Your fingertips go wrinkly, goosebumps prick your skin, and a shiver runs down your spine. Din runs a hand up your back before pulling away and telling you, “We should get out. You’re freezing.”

He’s right even though you’re worried if you get out of the water the dream will end. So begrudgingly you get out, crouching down to scoop up your clothes and wait for what’s to come next. You glance to your right, looking into the rock face where you spot a cave, just like where it all began.

“Look,” you say, pointing to the cave as he’s collecting his clothes, “A cave.”

He pokes his head up, squinting at where you’re pointing.

“I’ll go make sure nothing’s in there,” he says, balled-up clothes in one arm and his blaster drawn. You pick up his boots, tiptoeing behind him as he inches closer to the cave. It’s a funny sight– Din fully nude, moving towards the mouth of the cave like a loth-cat on the prowl, holding a messy ball of clothes.

He enters the cave and you wait with bated breath, hoping it’s not too deep and that nothing is lurking in there. But then you hear a muffled, “Ow…”

“You alright?”

“Walked right into the back wall of the cave…”

“Oh,” you say, stifling a laugh.

“It’s not funny!”

“It kind of is.”

“I normally have something that helps me see in the dark,” he sighs.

You follow him inside, feeling around for him in the darkness until a hand finds your face.

“I’ve got you,” he says, softly.

He takes the clothes and boots you’re holding and presumably sets them down by his blaster and his clothes.

“What do you think? Should we make a fire?” you ask.

“I don’t know. I like this,” he says, hands finding your face again.

It’s almost entirely pitch black in the cave except for a sliver of moonlight trickling in.

“Fine with me,” you say, sitting down on the cave floor, expecting to be met with the feeling of cool rock against your skin. But instead, you feel your clothes laid out underneath you. What a gentleman.

He wastes no time, his hands pushing you by the shoulders so you’re lying down. You spread your legs for him, ready to have him inside you already. You’ll have to be patient, though, judging by the way his hand creeps up your leg slowly, starting at your inner ankle. A shiver of anticipation rattles through you, your body chilled by the nighttime desert air. His large hand palms the skin of your inner thigh, inching closer to your entrance ever so slowly. A small whimper thoughtlessly escapes your lips, prompting him to tease, “Patience, ner vercopa.”

You hear him shift to lie down in front of you, head resting against your thigh. His warm breath gently tickles you, triggering another shiver from you. He chuckles, his face sneaking closer to your cunt. His tongue licks one long, slow stripe up your cunt, moving in a way that can only be described as methodical and meticulous. He does it again, somehow moving even slower than before. He can’t do this, not when you’ve been aching for him for what feels like forever, even though you saw him the night prior.

“Din,” you whine.

“Shh,” he whispers, making all of your hair stand on its end, “What did I say?”

“...I have to be patient,” you say, softly sighing.

“That’s right,” he chuckles, hovering over your clit. He pauses for a moment, just to drive you crazy before whispering, “Good girl.”

That gets another whimper out of you but it turns into a choked-up moan as he sucks on your clit, tongue making circles around it over and over again. His arms wrap around your thighs and your back arches up off the floor of the cave. In no time, he pulls what is your first of many orgasms of the night. You just expect to have him inside you now that he’s made you cum but instead, he stays there, planted in between your thighs, licking up the remnants of your spend before trying for a second orgasm. And he does it again, faster than before since you’re so sensitive from the first one.

For what feels like hours, Din stays there, arms hooked around your thighs and face buried in your cunt, making you shiver and whimper, making you squirt in this small cave under the star-filled sky. But once he finally feels like you’ve had enough, however many that orgasms was, he pulls back and rests on his elbows.

“You ready for me, ner vercopa?”

“Yes, “ you say quickly.

“Someone’s eager,” he teases.

“I’ve just… missed you,” you admit, spreading your legs farther apart to accommodate how broad he is.

“I’ve missed you, too,” he chuckles, grabbing your thigh, “But not so fast. On your hands and knees, ner vercopa.”

Your cheeks heat up at his commands as you shift to rest on all fours, back arched and ass sticking up for him. One hand roams your body as the other strokes his cock, spreading his pre-cum down his shaft. His hands lock on your hips as he pushes into you slowly, buying himself down to the hilt and pausing to enjoy the feeling before pulling back and slamming into you. Deep and guttural moans force their way out your throat, coming out as choked-up sobs.

“Kriff, you feel so good,” he moans, squeezing your hip harder.

There’s not a coherent thought in your head, leaving you to respond in the form of a whimper. One of his hands moves from your hip to your shoulder, holding on to you for purchase as he rails you. Soon enough, the small cave is filled with the obscene sounds of skin colliding with skin and the wet, squelching sounds of his cock in your pussy.

With one last thrust inside you, you cum around his cock, walls clenching and releasing him erratically. The sensation of your orgasm triggers his; his cock spilling his cum inside you. He fucks you through your release, the hand on your shoulder moving back to your hip and leaving a trail of tingles in its wake.

He pulls out and you let yourself rest against the floor, thankful again for the clothes he laid out underneath you. He lies down beside you and you move to lay on his chest.

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum… I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you, too,” you whisper back.

Din

You go stiff beside him, falling silent as well, assuming you’re falling asleep. Falling asleep in a dream…. How does that work?

The blinding light spilling into the opening of the cave interrupts his thoughts. The suns are rising again. Has that much time really passed here?

He rests his hand at his side, feeling a ball of fabric against his palm. Looking down he spots… your panties, gray and basic but with a noticeable wet spot in the center.

Is it wrong to take a sniff? Maybe. Is it a little weird? Yes.

But you’re sleeping so soundly against his chest. You won’t know.

Slowly, he takes the fabric and brings it to his nose, ready to take a big inhale.

And then he wakes up. Maybe it was the Maker punishing him for his perverted behavior.

The dull ceiling greets his vision yet again. And as he stretches and yawns, he feels something in his hand.

No, it can’t be.

He opens his hand to reveal the panties from the dream, gray with the same wet spot in the center. How in the galaxy did this happen? Something from a dream materialized in real life, right in the palm of his hand.

First, the perverted thoughts have to take over before he thinks about what this means. He brings the panties to his nose and inhales deeply, his senses met with the same familiar scent– you. His cock twitches in his flight suit and flashbacks of the dream play in his mind. It makes him miss you even more, wishing he was dreaming again.

But now that that’s out of the way he’s starting to realize that…. You’re real. If anything this just incentivizes his mission even further. He’ll turn the galaxy upside down if he has to.

Banners + dividers by @saradika-graphics

Art by Roger Mattos

WIAD Tag list: @wannab-urs @hyzer34 @milly-louise @hellfire-state-of-mind @dugiioh @handspunyarns @fckyeapedrothots99 @leithatnight @corazondebeskar @burntheedges @imherefordeanandbones @pamasaur @dameron-grant-spector @competitivedust @survivingandenduring @the-color-is-black @perennialdoll247 @littlegrungegirlaf @lupietra @bluebeary-jay @angstyvirgin001 @missladym1981 @alltheotps @lahooozaherr @that1nerd-20 @pedrostories @anoverwhelmingdin @djarins-cyare @kirsteng42 @dins-riduur-anthe @pigeonmama @babeincolor

#wiad #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x you #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x f!reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader

126 notes · View notes

lovelyjj · 5 months

Note

"Please, speak to me." from the prompt list? love your work btw<3

a/n: i got two requests for the same prompt so I decided to write two stories instead of one. sorry it’s so short.

———

The night sky was dark. The air was cold and chilly. You were walking to the château to see JJ. Normally, JJ would never let you walk alone at night but he was busy with John B and couldn’t walk you.

You didn’t mind it was fine. You were enjoying your walk when the sidewalk in front of you was illuminated. The headlights of the car that pulled up next to you were bright.

Soon, you recognized the truck belonged to Rafe. He was stopping right next you and he rolled his window down.

“Hey there missy,” Rafe called out.

“What do you want Rafe?” You responded, but you kept walking causing Rafe to drive up to keep in sync with you.

“I just wanted to talk to you about us,” Rafe drawled.

“There is no us,” you retorted.

“But there once was,” Rafe added.

You and Rafe had a history. It was way before you and JJ started dating. It was a casual fling but Rafe always made it sound like it was more.

“That was along time ago,” you counter.

“Yeah maybe but if you don’t tell your boy I will,” Rafe smiled maliciously.

“Why are you being like this?” you asked.

“Like what sweetheart?” Rafe smirked.

“Like an asshole.”

“Ouch. Somebody’s in a sour mood.”

“Go home Rafe.”

Rafe stopped his car and got out. He ran out to you. “Y/N!”

You kept walking faster.

“Y/N, stop!” Rafe reached out his hand and got ahold of your arm pulling you back.

“What?” you growled.

“I just don’t want you to forget we had something too.” Rafe looked into your eyes searching for emotion, anything but found nothing but annoyance.

“I’m not going to ask you again, leave!”

By some miracle Rafe drove off after a few unsuccessful attempts to get your attention. You were pissed off and now you had to be around your boyfriend. If you didn’t put on an act you’d be questioned. You didn’t want to explain to JJ your interaction with Rafe.

You also were aware of the fact that Rafe was gonna tell JJ about the two of you if you didn’t do so first. That fact and the fact that Rafe still tries to talk to you made you want to have a meltdown.

Finally, you arrived at the château, dreading the conversation you were about to have. When you walked into the château JJ could tell something was wrong.

“Hey what’s up? You made it, thank god.” JJ acknowledged.

“Yeah I’m here. Just tired.”

“Do you want anything to eat?” JJ asked.

“No thanks I’m ok.”

JJ could sense that there was something bothering you and he couldn’t figure it out.

“What’s wrong?” JJ questioned.

“Nothing.”

“Please, speak to me,” JJ begged.

“JJ I can’t,” you replied.

“Yes you can just talk to me I know something’s wrong.” JJ tried to keep his voice calm as he wanted you to tell him all your troubles.

“Alright fine. I ran into Rafe on my walk here,” your voice was shaky.

“That son of a bitch, what did he do to you?” JJ spoke protectively.

“Nothing he just talked with me,” you put your lips together forming a tight line.

“Oh. Well what did he say?”

“There’s something I haven’t told you and I don’t know how your gonna react,” you hesitated.

“What is it? You know you can tell me anything,” JJ soothed.

“Well um me and Rafe sorta had a thing way before our relationship,” you cringed hoping JJ didn’t take this the wrong way.

“How serious was it?”

“It was a little serious, but nothing compares to us, to you.”

“As much as I hate the idea of you with Rafe, I’m glad you told me. I appreciate it.” JJ let himself smile.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” You gave JJ a look of apology.

“No worries baby, Do you feel better now?”

“Yes, like a weight has been lifted off me.”

“Good.”

“I love you,” you spoke sincerely.

“I love you too.”

120 notes · View notes

grapejuicestyless · 21 days

Text

Good Luck, Babe!

Harry Styles x Fem!reader

Summery: Harry could run around the world in search of a replacement to fill the void that you left, but he’s better off coming to terms with the fact that he’d have to stop the world just to stop the feeling.

I’m okay knowing I won’t ever get to call my future lover my high school sweetheart. It’s hard to stay committed to someone for decades as an adult, let alone at sixteen. But it pulls at my heart strings just to know little me would be so devastated knowing the boy who used to string up fairy lights and scribble on big bubbles letters on poster boards for our prom decided I was too boring for his massive life and left once the glitter from all the glamour of fame got in his eyes.

It’s funny to think about, ten years thrown away forever because my stable life wasn’t worth living when he could offer me anything I could ever dream of. God forbid I want to settle down with some little ones to teach nothing but love in a world where everyone can only ever teach their children hate. God forbid I wanted that with him.

No, my dreams were stupid compared to those of his own. Children mean nothing to him if he’s not taking home another award for his excellence. Settling down is a laughable dream, how could I expect him to ever even try when it seemed like with every single chance to start trying he was at a new peak in his career.

When I left him, he didn’t even look sad. Not even when I turned to face him as I walked out of our front door with all my things stuffed in a bag slung over my arm. He looked distant, sure, but not sad and that made me sad, for me but mainly for him.

Three years ago if I had even shown signs of unhappiness he would have stopped the world to fix our issues, ironed it all out real nice to make sure that I never felt that feeling again. Now I could beg on my knees pleading for him to hear me and my cries would fall on deaf ears.

But I don’t regret leaving him in the end. It hurt at first, leaving behind all I ever knew, letting him go after I wasted away all my youth on him, but life goes on and my heart would heal the longer we were apart.

Occasionally he would reach out, letters with the same swooping letters that I recognized as his own handwriting, the same writing that once wrote me love letters, all addressed to me with the hopes of meeting up.

But I knew myself better than that, I knew Harry better than that. If I met him, even only for coffee our night would end with me back in his arms and his head between my legs. We weren’t ever meant to split, but then again no one who’s ever felt the same kind of love like young kids is ever made to walk away from something so sweet.

I was better for it, between each letter there was a new girl. A model who resembled me in the most vague ways. I wondered all the time if he ever accidentally called any of them my name. If he chose them with my eye color so when he looked into their eyes he could see mine for just a second. It felt like each week he was caught leaving some bar with some other girl, someone else’s lipstick staining his jaw.

I got over him slowly, never fully, but enough to love again. I had room to give once more and enough strength left to keep fighting for the love I deserved. I earned the right to be able to hold someone who would call me “baby” with pride, without the slightest hesitation or embarrassment.

Harry could kiss a hundred girls and boys in bars, drink away his twenties and sing to his fans across the world, and I would be here chasing my own dreams. After all, he always needed the spotlight, he lived for it. All I needed was a little love, and somehow in his search for glory, he lost any kind of that he had and I had found it again.

I saw Harry a couple years later, the small bar in Brooklyn with the good music and sweaty bodies. He looked good, he always did. His hair looked a little grey and I must admit, I almost drooled, but looks were the only attraction I would ever feel for him. Emotionally, I was cut off, even when he leaned up close and pressed me into a bone crushing hug.

With a cool smile on his face he asked me confidently what I was doing here and how I’d been. I told him a friend of a friend had invited me along to come celebrate an old friend’s birthday, that I didn’t really want to drink tonight and was just trying to enjoy myself.

I could see his hesitation when an arm slung itself over my shoulders, curly brown hair tickling my cheek and a kind smile flashing towards him and somehow in our conversation, I forgot the most important update in my life, one I’d make sure he’d never forget.

“Who’s this?” He asked kindly, ready to introduce himself even though we were all well aware everyone in the room knew him by name.

“Oh, Harry, how rude of me!” I laughed at the time, but I’m still not sure if he could hear it over the music. I hope he did, because it would have been the last time he would hear it.

“Harry, this is my girlfriend.”

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #yn x harry #harry x reader #harrystyles #harr

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saintmuses · 2 months

Note

Please write Jonathan Crane x Female! Reader one-shot, where the reader was admitted to Arkham Asylum because of minor mental problems and Jonathan Crane became her psychiatrist. She had a difficult situation in her life and Jonathan, having listened to her story, is attracted to her. Soon, after several sessions with her, he fell in love with her. However, after a while, Jonathan used his toxins to make her go insane, and he drives her so crazy that she is now under his control.

❝𝙚𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙚𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙣𝙖𝙢𝙚 𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙞𝙙𝙚 𝙢𝙮 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙙❞ — 𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐞

Warning(s): Dark themes. Description of Taphophobia. Usage of toxin. Hallucinations. Power imbalance. Manipulation. Strong implications of future controlling tendencies. Minors, dni!

Word Count: 946

She couldn’t see anything, nothing can see her as clusters of dirt began to fill her mouth, eventually suffocating her lungs.

No sounds could be heard other than her terror which was screaming into nothingness. An empty abyss.

“Darling?” A voice murmured, she had recognized his voice.

Doctor Crane. Her mind wailed, screaming his name. Her mouth refused to dispose of any soil she had felt in her lungs. Help me please.

She could feel the soil collecting on her skin, above her, below her, and everywhere as the hell began to engulf her and her sanity.

She felt herself being shaken by someone. “Y/N,” it was the same masculine voice, but a hint of urgency was added to his tone this time.

Doctor Crane. She attempted to shout, but couldn’t. His name bounced off in her own head again instead of leaving her throat.

“Y/N,” he shouted, finally cutting through hallucinations that was drowning her. Clearing through the muddled thoughts and images, blurring all into one until it faded to reveal a concerned Doctor Crane peering down at her.

She gasped, finding herself back on the couch that was set up in his office at the Arkham Asylum. She scrambled off the cushions and into his arms after realizing he was the one who was holding her.

“I got you, darling.�� He shushed her gently, rubbing his hand down her back. “I got you.”

She whimpered, fingers clutching his blazer-clad shoulders. “Doctor Crane-“

“What did I say about calling me Doctor Crane?” He reminded her, his tone stern as he leaned away to give her a slight strict glare.

She struggled with that sometimes, and when she did it, she would receive a reprimand from him. “To call you by your first name.” She mumbled, shyly.

“You’d be a good girl, and call me by my name properly.” He ordered, the glaring light from his table lamp reflected off the glass of his metal frames as he turned his head to the side.

She ended up dragging her fingers from his shoulders to the hem of his blazer, curling her fingers into it.

“I can’t be in here anymore, Jonathan.”

It was one of the worst hallucinations she’d ever had since she started receiving them two weeks ago.

He shushed her, his icy eyes became intense as he stared into her eyes. “Listen to me; I will put the note in that your condition has improved, and you are ready to continue your recovery at home. They will let you go,” he murmured softly; running his fingers through her hair, tangling them slightly in her strands as she looked up at him with glassy eyes.

“But where would I go?” Her voice sounded small, pitiful even as she inquired. Her fingers clenched tightly in his blazer.“I-I don’t have a home. Not since my parents did not believe what happened with…” she trailed off, sighing softly; almost defeated.

“Well, you can turn down my offer if this is something you would not want to do, but I can take you in until those hallucinations stops, okay?” He offered, giving her a slight quirk of a smile. Tracing the pad of his thumb across her collarbone that was revealed during her scrambling.

She knew she was his favorite patient out of everyone in the Arkham Asylum due to his treatment of her compared to the others. He was gentle with her whereas he was stoic and harsh with others. He even let her eat in his office during lunch and dinner hours. Jonathan was patient with her, always has been since the moment she was admitted to the asylum.

Jonathan was even there during a few episodes of night terrors a few months ago, and then he was there during her hallucinations for the last two weeks. She had been compartmentalizing her hallucinations from her usual night terrors with her fear of being buried alive. Instead of dreaming of what happened to her, she was experiencing it all over again but without the vault protecting herself.

Growing up she had never known she was afraid of it; Not until her step-brother who turned out to be a psychotic asshole happened, and he tortured her by trapping her in the safe vault and attempting to throw the vault into a makeshift grave in their backyard with her in it.

She never had a home even when she was a child. Her parents -including her step-father who her mother recently married to- were never nice to her. She grew up in a household of negligence, but it was not enough to drag Child Protective Services into it.

“Really? You would do that?” She wondered, twinged with doubt. She dragged her hands from the hem of his blazer, placing them in her lap.

He nodded, his eyes shifted into a slight storm. “Yes,” he said simply. “We will get you out of here, and you’ll stay with me until you feel better.” Then his eyes lit up with a possibility of keeping her permanently when no one would miss her at all.

“Okay,” she whispered, giving him a small hesitation of a smile before looking down at the top of her thighs where her hands rested.

He grabbed her by her chin, gripping it with his fingers as he beckoned her to look at him. “Don’t worry. You’re safe with me.” He murmured darkly, his lips curled into a soft smile as he looked down at her with tenderness no one would ever expect from such a stoic man himself. Although the tenderness was there, it was tainted with sinisterness. “I will never let anything happen to you, darling.”

#jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane x y/n #jonathan crane x you #jonathan crane #the dark knight trilogy #cillian murphy x reader

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chpsticklesbian · 2 months

Text

Christine

lorraine warren x fem!reader

cw: angst, repressed emotions and such

a/n: i love her so bad!!! the lack of fanfics is absurd though... inspired by 'christine' - lucy dacus & a reference to 'i'd have to think about it' by leith ross.

words: 2.4k+

connecticut felt cold. colder than usual. maybe autumn was coming faster. maybe it was going to rain. whatever it was you were glad it happened. because tonight lorraine held your hand tighter to keep hers warm. you welcomed it, naturally, without hesitation as the three of you walked out of the theater.

but much to your dismay ed hadn't parked far away.

"god that movie was so boring i was fighting not to fall asleep" lorraine complained. you scoffed in response, mumbling an 'i told you so', and she playfully shoved you.

"what? you insisted on watching it after i told you it would be!" you defended yourself with a playful smile.

"whatever." she grumbled, making you chuckle.

"well if you're tired you could sit in the back with y/n and sleep on the drive back" ed, ever the gentlemen, offered. you guess it was nice he cared and preferred she fall asleep comfortably over making her sit on the passenger seat beside him.

"you sure?" he smiled at her, still having her hands interlocked with yours. he thought it was a girlfriends thing. though in your eyes he was wrong, you just hoped lorraine thought so too.

"wouldn't want you exhausted." you could only stare at them smile at each other as you tried your best not to tear your hands away from lorraines grasp.

"thank you." she leaned to press a kiss into his cheek. that's when you looked away.

climbing into the backseat with her you noticed ed taking something from the trunk of his car before getting in the driver seat. he turned to the both of you before passing lorraine a wool blanket so she wouldn't get cold. it all felt natural. him caring for her. as if he'd done it a hundred times. you felt your gut churn at the thought. you know the feeling all too well. you felt it too. it seems you were far more similar to ed than you thought.

lorraine fell asleep quickly after ed started the drive back. as she did, the car fell into an almost awkward silence. but you weren't planning on talking to him any time soon. you were fine with lorraines head on your shoulder, her quiet mutters of nonsense as she dreamt.

you were already halfway back home when ed finally decided to speak.

"she alright back there?" of course, his first sentence to you would be about her. you just hummed, completely uninterested in conversing with him. you knew in a way it was childish. he'd done nothing to you or lorraine. but the mere prospect of losing her to him so easily was enough to make you dislike him.

it wasn't that you were possessive, no. she's had many boyfriends before him. but none of them had compared to him. they weren't as nice as he is, they didn't care about her like he did, mostly they didn't love her like he does.

it was stupid, really. you started to recognize it when he took her out to things you two usually did together. that wasn't out of the ordinary of course. her previous boyfriends had done the same. but before ed it was always;

"it was much more fun when i went there with you."

but with ed she'd call you grinning ear to ear, you could hear it in her voice. that's when you realized he didn't love her like her previous partners did. he loves her like you do.

"so how long have you known lorraine?" he looked at you and lorraine through the rear view mirror. you guess he got tired of the silence and decided it's better to talk about this than nothing. you sighed.

"since we were in middle school." you decided if he was going to talk to you, your responses would be short. you weren't trying to make a friend anyway.

"so you guys are close" you could tell he didn't plan what to say next. you just hummed. a minute of silence passes by.

"do you-"

"you don't have to talk to me, ed. i know you're her boyfriend and all but that doesn't mean we have to be friends." you cut him off. you felt bad, in a way. but you knew saying that was better than enduring painful small talk for another few minutes. so you were thankful when he nodded and you resumed staring at the road from out the window.

“i’m sorry, it’s just, you’re really important to her. and i don’t know what i’ve done to make you… disapprove of me, but whatever it is i’m sorry. truly. i care about her, and you mean so much to her- and i really, really don’t wanna make this lose my chance with her. so could you please, tell me what i’ve done.” he started again. you almost felt bad now. maybe you’ve been too harsh on him. you sighed.

“look, you haven’t done anything. honest. but you’re getting terribly close to her. more than anyone else she’s been with has managed to. you can't blame me for worrying about her a bit. i know you’re a good guy and i’m sorry if i’ve made it seem like i dislike you in some sort of way, but it’s hard to know these days” you half-lied, half told the truth. he nodded his head in understanding. at least he believed you.

“if it makes you feel better i swear i have zero intentions of hurting her. you have my word on it.” you mustered up your best smile.

“thank you, ed.” he nodded. the rest of the ride was filled with lorraines constant murmurs and the sound of tires on gravel until you reached your house. calling lorraines name as softly as possible, you gently nudged her awake until her eyes opened to meet yours. she looked out the window, recognising your house immediately. of course she did, she was always there. she shuffled away from you until you were able to open the car door. but you were surprised to find her leaving the backseat too, following you out. you turned to her before walking back home.

“still on for tomorrow?” she smiled at you. it was dopey and soft. her eyes squinting even more due to her still being half asleep. and my god was it warm.

“wouldn't miss it.” it was your turn to smile. with that, she pulled you in for a hug, and suddenly connecticut felt warmer than usual. you hope she was sleepy enough to not notice you held her tighter.

“sleep well pretty girl.” you whispered to her, she chuckled at that.

after pulling away she opened the door to the passenger seat beside ed and took a seat. all the warmth you felt previously suddenly disappeared. the cold rush of air prominent once more on your skin. So you turned and descended home. reaching your door you turned back. the car hasn't moved. lorraine was fast asleep again, but ed was watching you to ensure you made it inside. he can be nice. you unlocked your door before turning back once more and offering him a wave goodbye. and he grinned, gladly tossing you a wave back and turning to put his car back to drive. you found it difficult to sleep that night, too many things had managed to occupy your head. only thing keeping you steady was that you’d see her face tomorrow. just her.

your evening with lorraine was perfect. lunch was full of conversation and laughs about anything and everything and everything else in between. it tuned out any thoughts you had about the previous night. and him. it didn't stop you from admiring her as she rambled, however. you thought she was either so oblivious to not notice or she was welcoming it. you hoped for the latter.

by the time you two finished, evening was slowly approaching. you offered to get ice cream, you know she’d never pass that up. so to an eager nod; you chuckled and guided you both to the nearest parlor. you got her order out before she got to telling you. she was surprised to find you got her order complete with nothing missing. she’d be lying if she says it didn’t make her smile, or make her heart beat a few times faster. but you were just being a good friend. though how come ed always asks what she wants?

with the park nearby empty, you took the opportunity to occupy a vacant bench. She followed quickly to sit by your side. the bench wasn’t too long, you sat shoulder to shoulder. conversation came easily, until it steered to the topic of ed. something you desperately didn’t need today.

"you think he'll make a mother out of me?" you scoffed at her, facing away to throw away your napkins to the trash can beside the bench before facing her again.

"you'll make a mother out of yourself when the time is ready. raise 'em like you've always wanted."

"by the lake" you both said in whispered unison. it never failed to surprise her how you always remember details about her. whether it was her now, then, or her in the future. she couldn't help but wonder if he’d remember her that easily too.

"you think i'd raise them right?" you hummed in agreement.

"well knowing you, they'd be the first kid to never hurt another." she chuckled. you could feel her laugh vibrating from her body.

“you think too highly of me.” she jokes.

“it’s hard not to.” you tease her back, she rolls her eyes at you. you chuckle in response.

“hey, i hope this- me and ed thing getting serious isn’t bothering you too much.” oh god did he say something to her? you tried to have your face remain neutral.

“no, not at all. why would it?” she looked at you, eyebrow raised and all.

“we spend everyday together. now i spend most of my days with him. i wouldn't be surprised if it does.” you let out your best convincing laugh.

“seriously? lorraine, he’s your boyfriend. i'm not offended you’ve cut spending time with me to be with him. yeah, i miss being with you all the time but i understand. and hey, you still hang out with me. that’s completely enough for me.” you reassure her with a smile. you wish you could tell her the way you actually feel about the situation. but the regret faded when you can see her get peppy and smiley again.

“so glad you’re not the possessive type.”

“you wish.” you tease, making her nudge you to the side with a laugh.

"but if you get married," you start, your voice playful.

"what? you'd object- throw your shoe at the altar?" her tone wasn't serious. it was light, humorous, all the components you needed to joke around. though you couldn't help but think she wasn't entirely wrong. but you simply laughed along with her. doing your best to ease your mind. it's not like it was hard for you to smile when you were with her anyway.

"hey, you joke but i might just" you made her chuckle even more. and you swear you could look at her smile for years.

"what? is that so ridiculous?" the smile on your lips was almost audible in your voice.

"you'd be willing to lose your dignity just like that?" the smile was still adorning her lips while her eyebrows were furrowed lightly, looking at you as if trying to decipher if you were bluffing.

"better than losing you." you were still smiling, albeit with a linger of melancholia at the thought. you couldn't help but notice her smile mirrored yours. until it faded completely, leaving just her subtly furrowed brows and building frown. you'd realized you might've said something wrong. so you turned your face away from her to stare at the grass in front of you. but she didn't budge. eyeing you as if you'd just said the most interesting thing in the world. you didn't dare take your words back.

instead you let her process them. letting a minute of silence engulf you both until she spoke again.

"you'd still lose me. and my respect. you'd lose me regardless" at this you turned your head back to her. you tried to ignore that she subconsciously admitted that you'd lose her in this situation. no matter what happens. still the thought lingered in your mind for a while.

"that's fine. then at least i'd lose you knowing that i didn't lose you to someone that doesn't make you happy." she didn't reply to that. looking off to the side before turning back to you.

"does he?" she raised an eyebrow before realizing you were asking if he made her happy. another passing moment of silence. the hesitation to answer gave you the real answer very quickly. but she'd deny it. she couldn't admit he didn't, at least not in the way she wanted him too. she couldn't admit nobody's made her as happy as she was each time she was around you.

So she nodded. it was impossible for her to lie to you verbally. too scared to look you in the eye, she looked to the view beside you.

"then i'll forever hold my peace" she took in your words and almost regretted lying. for some odd reason she wanted you to know he doesn't make her happy. she doesn't know why. maybe deep down she wants you to destroy her wedding one day. maybe she wanted you to profess your love to her in formal attire while she stood in the chapel wearing a white gown.

"but he doesn't-" a deep sigh. your brows furrowed.

"he does. just not the way i had in mind" not the way you do.

"nobody's perfect" your smile was tight and forced. her eyes were glazed over as she looked at you.

“you are.” you chuckle. the truth behind her words went through you. you always denied the off chance she’d love you back. she was just being nice.

“then it’s too bad i’m not him.” she frowned. maybe in some universe you were. but the chance of being together in another universe provided no comfort to you or her. what was the use if you wouldn’t be satisfied in this universe?

she clicked her tongue as she opened her mouth to take a big breath and let it out in a sigh. she turned her head back to the scene in front of the both of you and you followed suit, letting her rest her head on your shoulder.

connecticut was cold. but it was too bad she wasn’t yours to keep warm.

#lorraine warren x reader #lorraine warren #vera farmiga #the conjuring #fanfic #fanfiction

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oldstateofmind · 10 months

Text

nobody else can heal it (but you) [part ll]

➜ pairing: miguel o’hara x fem!reader ➜ warnings: spoilers from ATSV, a bit of angst cause i’m human, confrontation, hanahaki disease but make it nightmares instead, english is not my first language. ➜ words: 4.8k ➜ [part l] ➜ a/n: Okay, I’m so sorry! I know I promised there would be smut next, but then this chapter started to get bigger and bigger so I decided to split it into a 3 part series. I love how this one turned out and wanted you to read it as soon as possible. Please, stay tuned for the next and final chapter! Also, come say hi!

chapter ll. fate at the hand of my mistakes

Caught by the sudden wave of sorrow, you almost miss the moment Miguel’s presence tingles your spider senses. But as with everything regarding the man, you were already too aware of his existence due to the number of nightmares that plagued your dreams. It was inevitable that at some point, you could recognize him by the sound of his steps alone. All of him was embedded in your mind, for better or worse.

Ao3

VI.

The silence was deafening.

You’ve been passing from side to side for what seems like hours now. Hand running through your hair in a frantic motion, biting your lips and nipping the delicate skin of it. Your mouth feels dry as you finish telling your friends everything that has been happening for the past few weeks.

When the words began dripping from your mouth, you couldn’t stop. To expose your feeling and hand your heart on a plate was unbelievably hard, but once you took a deep breath and began telling them, it felt like a dam had broken on your brain, letting all the submerged feeling float to the surface.

The mortifying idea of being seen was frightening, but it was all out now.

You can’t gather the courage to look at them; to take note of each expression. Recognizing your feelings was already a task too complicated to do on your own, having to verbalize them to your friends was even more exhausting. You weren’t drowning anymore, but it was still hard to gasp for air.

Pavitr cleaned his throat amid the silence. “So… You like Miguel?”

Unbelievable.

“That’s what you gathered from what I just said?”

It’s the first time you dare to look at the little group. When you broke down after the confrontation with Torment, Margo had called them in a hurry as you spiraled down, falling from the pedestal so hard that you were afraid of the aftermath when you hit the ground. Thankfully they were there to catch you.

They had gathered on the small couch Margo kept at a forgotten corner of the lab; piling up on top of each other. Gwen was the first to show up, and the one who helped you put your thoughts back together. You breathed in and out, trying to calm down your heart as her hand rubbed your back. You’ve never been so grateful.

You catch the smirk growing on Hobie’s face before he says, “Well, Miguel is a walking nightmare, there's nothing new here.”

“Hobie!” The group shouts in unison.

“You’re not helping, man,” Pavitr whispers, poking Hobie’s side.

“It’s just my opinion on that wanker–” He says in his defense, throwing his hand in the air. But Gwen stops him with a cushion on his face before he can finish. It's the first time you want to do something else than cry.

“We are glad that you decided to tell us, Y/N,” The girl says, glaring at Hobie who does not look slightly intimidated. “You shouldn’t be suffering alone, it’s your life that we are talking about here.”

There was a fine line between wanting to laugh at the absurdity of the situation and wanting to cry at the amount of feeling bubbling up inside you. Your heart swells in your chest seeing your friends trying to help you, even when it wasn’t news to anybody that Hobie didn’t like Miguel, or that the rest of the group was a bit wary of the man. But seeing them trying to understand was enough. At least they never asked why – and even if you could put it into words, it felt shallow compared to the intensity of affection you felt toward Miguel

“Thank you, Gwen. I just–” Words now often got caught up in your throat and you hated feeling so vulnerable. You swallow down the tears threatening to fall. If you thought long enough about it, you were doomed. “I don’t know what to do.”

“It seems pretty obvious to me,” Margo chimed in. The girl had the tendency to be straight to the point, never dancing around any subject.

“Margo, I can’t just tell him–” You start, for what seems the eleventh time, the same old speech you have been repeating over and over again.

“Why?” She presses, her piercing gaze seems to see right through you. “Yes, it’s the only way to make the nightmares disappear, but you’re only in this position because you’ve been harboring these feelings for so long that they became so powerful that even a villain had to intervene. They were hurting you and the nightmares are only the materialization of it.”

You close your eyes as you start to feel the edges burn, turning away so they can’t see your lips quivering in a pitiful attempt to stop the tears from falling. The need to scream at the top of your lungs almost wins you over – you’ve never been so worn out in your life as you are right now.

Margo was right. But that doesn’t make it any easier to accept the fact that your feelings were starting to eat you alive, chopping every bit of your soul whenever Miguel wasn’t around. Whenever you spent lonely nights looking through your window wishing it was different. Wishing he was there, wishing he would love you.

How long could you spend your life wishing for something until it damaged you beyond repair?

“Are you that afraid of the answer?” Her voice is soft as if it saying any lounder would shatter the fragile state you found yourself in.

“No… I’m afraid of the confirmation,” You confess. As you turn around to look at your friends, a defeated smile adorns your face. “Sometimes it hurts less not knowing, you know?”

“How can you be so sure, Y/N?” Gwen is the one who raises the question, the gentleness in her tone is nauseating. How could she propose that idea when she knew who Miguel was and where he stood?

Even if there’s a small hope that Miguel might not reject you, you always stop yourself from clinging to it. It would only cause more damage than the acceptance you've been trying to wave as a white flag – you were defeated anyway.

“Love is a beautiful thing, Y/N. You shouldn’t be afraid of it!” Pavitr jumps from his seat, walking towards you with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen. Sometimes he would glow more than you and your suit. How he did it, you weren’t sure. “I was the one to confess my feeling to Gayatri, I was shaking like a leaf! And look at us now, we are so happy!”

Every now and then you wondered how Pavitr could be so… happy. Life seemed so easy when wearing his rose-colored glasses. You wondered if it was part of his personality, being so cheerful and hopeful, or if he did a hell of a job hiding his fears. Nonetheless, you believed in his sincerity, not in his advice; there was no way Miguel would correspond to your feeling.

You sigh, defeated. If the lack of sleep didn't kill you, the heartbreak would. “I would like my funeral to be just for those in my inner circle; nothing too big. Also, I’m not a big fan of those funeral wreaths–”

“Stop that! It’s your life on the line, don’t play with it.” Gwen interrupts you, she looks upset by your self-deprecation and lack of confidence. But you couldn’t help, It was your coping mechanism expecting the worse in all situations. “I can only imagine how it feels having to confess your feelings when you’re not ready. But there’s no easy way out of this one.”

Caught out off guard, you weren’t expecting Gwen to hug you. To think she was living in a shell all this time due to all her traumas, but decided to take a step forward to show her true self was heartwarming. It’s warm and inviting, and you helplessly cling to her, appreciating the show of affection. They gather around you, and the warmth of each encouraging smile is uplifting.

Hobie gently bumps your arm, his smirk is enough to make you feel that everything was going to be alright. “Don’t let that tosser be the reason you’re not here to play with us anymore, won’t you?”

Miguel's apartment was on one of the lower levels of the tower.

It was a rare thing having him back home, he would usually linger at his office for as long as he could, only going back home to sleep and eat – when he did so, he had the terrible tendency to skip those. It was always up to the spiders to bring him something to eat, Jess would be the first to send him home when the bad mood started to show up. Miguel often neglected himself, and you couldn't help but think it was a sort of punishment for what he did.

It broke your heart, but there was nothing you could do to help him. The guilt he felt was a weight he would carry forever on his back – something to inflict on himself every time he faltered in his mission. Besides, he would never share the pain with anyone else, perhaps it was the only reminder of her daughter, and no one could take that away from him.

As the day turned to night – which made everything more real – you watch the city disappear once the elevator reached below the surface level. The underground city had its beauty as well. Even though the dark was prominent here, the lights and the neon sighs were a sight for sore eyes.

Everything was splendent, such a contrast with the city on the surface. It wasn’t a mystery why Miguel would rather have his apartment located here, where the sun couldn't reach. Sometimes you wondered if the lack of sunlight was the reason why he was always so… grumpy. However, when you have eyes so sensitive to light like his, it’s inevitable to hide from it.

On the way down, you couldn't distract yourself with anything. You picked your cuticles, and bite the skin of your lips till it was bleeding; your leg never stopped bouncing. Anxiety sky rocked as you watched the numbers change, the sound of each level counting down the seconds until you were at his door.

As much as you wanted to be brave, it was impossible. Every single outcome that played in your head was worse than the other. Why couldn’t you just imagine something good for once? Your self-sabotaging mind was draining, and when you finally stopped at his door, it felt like you could collapse at any minute.

Breathing in and out, you press the doorbell. It was now or never.

“Hi Lyla,” You greet the AI as soon as she appears on the screen, trying to sound as casual as possible. “Could you tell Miguel I’m here to see him?”

“Hey girl, it’s been a minute!” Lyla greets you excitedly; the fact she objectively points out you’ve been away churn your stomach.

You would stop by to check on him every now and then, sometimes you would even prepare a meal when he was too stubborn to eat – Miguel never went more than a few hours away from the screen of his lab. However, the soft humming in the kitchen, his eyes on you – those were easy days you wish could turn into forever.

“Yeah… You know how it is.”

“Sure…I’m calling him, just a moment!” Lyla was not originally programmed to have feelings and a personality, but she developed into such a proportion that you could feel the irony in her synthetic voice.

The door opens without ceremony, and you step inside feeling your heartbeat reverberating through your body – each step slower than the other, mind aware of each intake of breath. Like the back of your hand, you had memorized his place, walking past the entrance into the living room as if it was yours. How easy it was to cloud your brain in a haze of familiarity that each room brought to you.

“He’s coming in a minute, you can wait here,” Lyla interrupts your thoughts, appearing at the corner of your vision.

You slowly nod, feeling your hands start to get clammy, “Thanks.”

Before she disappears, you could swear you caught a glimpse of an amusing smile on her face, as if she knew something you didn’t. You shake your head, the lack of sleep has proven how much it can affect your perception, this must be your mind playing another trick, using the fluttering feeling bubbling in your chest as a weapon.

As you look around, waiting for him in the leaving room, you notice how it feels empty, joyless. Often you found yourself looking at these white walls wondering if Miguel didn’t want to at least add a bit of his personality to them. Did he think of himself as a stranger? Or maybe a phantom, doomed to live a life behind the screen with no real joy?

There’s a pang in your heart as you think about how lonely must it be; to be at the top, surrounded by hundreds of thousands of people who would eventually go home to someone, while he was stuck here, paying all alone for his sins.

However, as you turn, you’re caught off guard by the sight of him anyway.

Miguel stands over the threshold, folding his arms over his chest. He must have been working out because the white tank top he’s using hugs his chest in a sinful way. His hair is a little bit more curly than usual, damped at the tips. The sight of him makes your mouth go dry, and you have to swallow down before speaking.

“Hi.” It's the only thing you manage to say as you watch the muscles of his arms contract against his chest.

You can’t read his expression, and it makes you nervous not being able to predict what he’s thinking. It takes more than a heartbeat for Miguel to answer, still seeming unfazed by your presence. And it’s torturing having him so close, yet so far.

“Hi.” It’s dry, almost cold. The ache in your chest grows larger by the minute.

“H–How are you?” You try to play it cool, hoping the trembling in your voice is not noticeable. He raises an eyebrow as you point at him, “Working on those muscles, I see!”

It’s instantaneous the wave of cringeness that washes over you. The words feel wrong on your tongue, every movement is met with strangeness. The gap left by the nightmares is bigger than you thought, placing you back where you started. And honestly, this felt worse than the day you met him. Because when he looks at you, there’s some sort of sadness behind his eyes; disappointment. Miguel shakes his head slightly, stepping into the living room and heading to the kitchen.

“What are you doing here, Y/N?” He asks, not even bothering to look at you.

As you fight with your mouth, trying to find the right words to say – to at least start a conversation – he grabs a bottle of water from the fridge, unscrews the cap, and drinks it all in one gulp. And then again, your brain is slow to process any answer when he’s standing in the kitchen like that; the light reflecting his toned body, the sweat running down his nape to underneath the collar of the shirt.

You look away, resolve faltering, “I…I came to check on you, it’s been a while.”

“And whose fault is that?” Your eyes widen in shock at the small outburst; the bottle crushed in his hand.

He quickly recomposes himself, throwing away the bottle. You were expecting Miguel to be wounded by your disappearance, but not to the point of being rude to you. It was rare to see him so… angry outside of missions. You took pride in being someone who he could always count on; having him looking at you as if you were a complete stranger not only stung, it maimed you.

“Miguel, I’m sorry–” You start, not knowing how you’re going to end the sentence, but doing anything to revert the situation. It’s clear that he’s upset, but you’re not exactly sure why. You step towards him, but this time, he’s the one who steps back.

“Oh, so now you’re sorry? No puedo con esto,” The muscle in his jaw tightens as he runs a hand through his hair.

“Miguel,” You call for him, feeling desperate. He won’t look at you, as if the person standing in his living room is unfamiliar. You despise it the feeling crawling underneath your skin, and hates it even more because it’s you are to blame, “I’ve been dealing with a lot lately, and–”

“Running away from me is one of them, so it seems,” The cut is clean, borderline cruel. Miguel’s stare burns your skin; the bitterness is cold to the touch. And if there was any chance of this working out, they were very slim at the moment.

“I didn’t…” The guilty that settled in your heart the moment you started avoiding him comes back in full force and hits you in a wave of emotions that makes you nauseous. But you can’t find your voice, can’t find the courage to say anything more than, “I don’t know what you talking about.”

Coward. You were such a coward.

The look of disappointment on his face is heartbreaking, and you regret everything you ever said from the moment you step into this place. You were supposed to tell him how much he meant to you, how come you’ve done the opposite?

Miguel looks down, shaking his head as he murmurs something in Spanish under his breath. You don’t know what it means, but by the looks of it, it’s definitely not something good.

“I don’t know what I’ve done to you, Y/N,” Miguel sounds defeated. He rests his hands on his hips as he sighs, “I’ve been cracking my head trying to understand where it all went wrong. When did our relationship become…this”

You could hear the sound of your heart shattering, the heavyweight finally crushing the muscle you kept in your chest. Suddenly, the need to touch him is overwhelming – the need to spill everything out in one sentence clogs your throat. But like in your nightmares, you find yourself frozen in place.

Miguel doesn’t seem to notice your internal turmoil, wrapped in his own demons. “But you wound’t even spare me a moment to just… talk to you. You stopped answering my messages. Avoiding me like I’m some kind of decease.”

As Miguel continues to spill out everything that has been haunting his mind, all you can do is watch the man fall from grace. It’s agonizing to see him like this, so helpless. And all because of you.

No. It wasn’t completely your fault. And he needed to understand that.

The nightmares were a ghost that crept into your life and took over your action. It clouded your brain, made you seethings that weren't there, and miss those that actually were. The messages were just an example. As you tried to make a point to your friends, you found out that not only he had sent messages, Miguel had called you. Multiple times.

How did you even miss those? And how can you begin to explain the motive behind it? You curse the woman who put the spell on you. You curse everything that happened that made Miguel think you didn’t care anymore, because you so painfully did.

“I–I never meant to upset you, Miguel,” Your voice it’s almost above a whisper. Tiredness eats your bones; the headache from unshed tears pounds your head, “I was just in a really tough spot and I didn’t know how to deal with it.”

Miguel looks at you in disbelief. “Y/N, I was so worried when you started missing the meetings. The next thing I know,Lyla is the one telling me about the accidents you've been having during work because you stopped talking to me. Do you how dangerous those injuries can be?” Miguel doesn’t look at you. Instead, he rubs the bridge of his nose – and you knew that movement very well by now – it was an attempt to contain his rising anxiety.

The intensity of his words leaves you breathless, and even though the remorse is sickening, your heart skips a beat when the intonation changes – when his voice goes softer when talking about how concerned he was. The spark of hope swiftly ignites brighter in your chest.

But then, Miguel stops, dropping his hand and looking directly at you. “Then, when I came looking after you, what did I get?” Miguel’s voice is filled with hurt and resentment, it’s impossible to stare back when he looks betrayed. “You ranfrom me, Y/N!”

His voice is like a knife to your heart, cutting so deep you didn’t know you could bleed only from words alone. Flashbacks from that night play in your mind on a loop; from the other side, it seemed so real and spine-chilling. But now, the images turn into something else, as if a fog had lifted from your eyes; the touch of his fingers on your wrist and theneed in his voice when he called your name.

Fuck. How much worse could this get?

Miguel turns away, not giving you a choice to answer his pleading. He must be so tired of your excuses and half-spoken words – you were tired of them too. There’s another pang in your chest, devouring you with the certainty that you were not the only one suffering all these weeks.

Miguel sighs, breathing in deeply, “I care about you, so much I–” He taps his knuckle against his lips, cutting whatever he was going to say in half. His eyes finally lift to your face, crestfallen in an unusual sadness. “But what am I supposed to do when you look at me like I’m a monster?”

Your body moved before you could think about anything else. In a second you were standing in the living room, heart beating in a furious rhythm as you listened to his voice break at the end of the question. And then in the other, you had reduced the distance in just a few steps, stepping into his personal space with no warning; breaking the wall you both had built around each other.

You immediately search for his hand, holding it tight. It’s you who is begging for him to stay this time around, and thankfully, he does.

“You are not.” You say, steadfast in your conviction. It takes you a bit of confidence to look up, to stare deep into his beautiful crimson eyes. But once you do, it’s impossible to drift your stare anywhere else. Miguel has always been handsome, but up close, he was breathtaking. “You are not a monster, Miguel.”

The way his eyebrows scrunch is adorable, mouth opening in surprise at your advance, but no words come out of it. He’s only staring at you, and you could swear his eyes gleam with your reflection against it. His body is unbelievably warm from this close, and you can’t help but notice each tiny drop of sweat gliding down his neck – each wrinkle around his eyes, his strong bone structure, the tiny curls of hair on his forehead.

Oh, You could stare at him forever.

“I’m sorry,” Still holding his hand and with a new resolve settling in your bones, you bring his knuckles to your lips, kissing them softly. They are rough against it, but you welcome how real they feel against your skin. “I’m so sorry.”

You notice how his breath fluctuates at the simple touch. Your stomach turns at the thought, but it’s not anxiety that settles deep in your gut, is anticipation.

“Porfavor, bella,” Miguel’s voice is breathy as if you had knocked the air out of his lungs. And maybe you did. “Explainto me because I’m tired of trying to understand your pretty little mind.”

You blush at the compliment, caught off guard by his choice of words. Glancing at him, you study his face, but can’t find any sign of mockery. Instead, there’s only fondness at the crease of his eyes, the gentle smile settling at the corner of his lips – which are the solemn reason why you almost lost your train of thought.

“Do you see these dark circles?”

Miguel's smile widens. He brings his hand to your face, tracing the soft spot underneath your eyes with such gentleness you could cry. Warmth spreads over your body, and you don’t let go of his other hand, needing something to ground you as his touch completely destroys your defenses. “Kind hard to miss.”

You scuff, still basking yourself in his touch, the sun in on his hands. “A few weeks ago, Hobie and I went on a mission to stop a villain named Torment,” The words roll out of your tongue with ease now, having his attention like this was addicting, and you would do anything to compensate everything you put him through. “You know, usually villains don’t have superpowers that go beyond the physical type of injury.”

It’s easy to keep the memories at bay when the warmth of his skin lightens your dark and disturbed mind. However, they are still there, feeding on your fears and doubts and waiting for the perfect moment to get you. “But this one did.”

“What do you mean?” Miguel's tone is concerned, he tries to cup your face but you step away as a shadow crosses his eyes.

Suddenly, everything feels wrong.

You take a deep breath, it was a matter of time until reality crushed down your state of mind. It was too good to be true; to be wrapped around his aura without feeling threatened. You drop his hand, turning slightly so you won’t look at him – because you know what you will find there. It was the only way to keep going before the nightmares crept into your mind and twisted the moment. He deserved to know, and you deserved to finally be at peace.

When you speak again, your voice is shaky, “She planted nightmares in my head, twisting memories and images of something…. someone dear to me.” At the corner of your vision, you notice how Miguel tries to touch you again but stops halfway through when he sees your vacant stare; light starts to dim on your face.

You are starting to run out of time. In a moment, those shadows would be biting at your heels. And then it would be too late for both of you.

Shaking your head, you gather enough strength to keep going, “It slowly deteriorated my mind, I think at some point I was seeing things because of how much I was sleep deprived. I don’t think I’ve got more than 2 hours of sleep these last few days.”

“Why didn’t you tell me right away?” Miguel asks, desperation at the edge of his tone, “I could’ve helped, we could have found a way to stop–”

“I couldn't." It’s weak, it doesn’t explain a thing. If anything, it only serves to irritate Miguel even more.

“Why?” He pleads, trying to make sense of the nonsense you’ve been mumbling about, “I thought we had a deal, Y/N. You were always there for me when I needed you, why couldn’t I do the same for you? Por qué?”

You turn towards him and your throat burns. And it’s no help when the desperation in your voice overwhelms your senses. “Because they were about you!”

Miguel goes quiet, eyes widening as his mouth stays slightly open. You rapidly cover your face with your hands, letting a shaky breath escape your lips. The only sound you can hear is the beating of your heart, and it’s so painfully loud. “Torment told me that her powers search for what you desire the most and twist them into something beyond recognition in your mind until it bleeds to the real world. My theory is that; you either fight against that fear, doing exactly what you are most afraid of to make them stop, or you succumb to them.”

When it was clear Miguel wasn't going to say anything, still baffled at the amount of information you had thrown at him, you hysterically let a laugh escape. “How funny, right? The things we love the most are the ones that haunt us forever.”

You were tired of running away. You wanted Miguel to know, and you wanted him to correspond so badly. You wanted to give your to love him and wanted to have his love back.

“So, there you have it, Miguel,” You look at him, finally speaking the truth that had been locked in the deepest of your soul with such ease it scares you. “I love you.”

#miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #across the spider verse spoilers #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x you #sometimes i write

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svsss-fanon-exposed · 4 months

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I really appreciate your continued emphasis on people being free to enjoy canon and fanon as they want while providing accurate canon information! All the asks and PSAs you've shared on that recently reminded me of a fic where sj actually WAS innocent, even wrt abuse. They had to make an a/n how it was their spin deviant from canon so it'd be great if they could stop getting nasty messages pls. I just think we should all foster a nicer fandom environment, so I love what you're doing~!

Yeah, I personally might be a book-canon purist, but I can certainly recognize that not everyone feels the same way-- and at the end of the day, it is fiction, what people want to do with canon and fanon is up to them and really has little to do with them as a person. I hold authorial intent in really high regard, but no need to bully those who don't, and who want to rearrange things.

Of course, for something like you mention, I would advise using some kind of tag to indicate that it's off-script. Especially since SJ's abuse of LBH is an integral part of the story the novel is telling, changing things like that changes the entire tone of things.

If a fic where the characters are intentionally OOC gets popular, then people will inevitably start going to that fic's portrayal and mixing that up with canon details (this is, probably, why there is so much apologism and denial of SJ's canonical abuse of LBH in this fandom, though it certainly wouldn't be the specific fic you're referencing alone and is probably a combination of many different factors). I personally don't like portrayals like this, but if a writer is changing it for their story, then who am I to judge or harrass them over it? The only issue comes when it spills over into the wider fandom perception, and you have people swearing left and right that SJ had nothing to do with the fake manual (he did) or didn't actually mean to abuse LBH or want him dead (he also did, and this can't just be contriubted to unreliable narrator since it comes from his own perspective in the extras). So I think an a/n at the beginning is a good idea in situations like these. If writers don't want to spoil things, just simply tag that the character is OOC compared to canon-- no need to go into specifics, and readers will know going in that the portrayal isn't meant to be a take on canon or aligning with it.

No one knows how popular their fic will become, after all, and if it gets into the wider fandom space without proper context, things like "Shen Jiu was just treating LBH normally for the time period, he wasn't abusive, LBH was just a self-obsessed person trying to demonize him" become mainstream, widely held beliefs.

Of course, this is what my blog is for, hopefully rerouting some of those ideas, pointing back to the sources where the divergence happened, so that people can see that while they may enjoy this canon-divergent depiction, that they shouldn't bring it into canon-based analysis. I think sourcing fanon is very important for this reason-- better than just saying "you're wrong" is being able to say "this is where the idea came from."

At the end of the day, a deliberately off-script, ooc portrayal should be tagged as such and AO3 provides those tags for a reason. There's nothing inherently wrong with writing characters OOC to change a story. People can write what they want! It's the writer's job to make relevant information known, and the reader's job to filter it out and just not read things they don't like. I'm so particular that I put down probably 80 percent of fics I read before I even get through the first few chapters. That's just me though! I'm a canon snob! Other people have no issues and that's fine.

As long as things aren't skewing into abuse apologism in regards to the canon-universe, there's literally no reason I can't just ignore things I don't like, and there's no reason other people can't do the same with things they don't like.

Anyway, don't harrass artists and writers in the fandom. If you feel it absolutely necessary to leave a comment in regards to an OOC character portrayal, don't be mean about it, just say something like "<Character Name> seems to be a bit OOC here, is this intentional?" but even then, it's really not necessary to come into someone else's space like that. Make your own posts, write your own fics.

There is no reason to assume malice when there are other explanations. This is hard with topics like abuse apologism, but people also need to remember that this is fiction. SJ was abusive in canon, but he's still not a real person, and if someone wants to write a version of him where he's not abusive, then that portrayal can easily be treated as a version from an alternate universe where things were different. This is not the same as saying a person in real life isn't abusive, because in this case, it's not apologism-- it's literally a different universe where the rules of the original canon don't apply. In fictional and fandom spaces, it's a lot easier and better off to just give people the benefit of the doubt.

As long as you're not claiming that his canon behavior wasn't abusive (since that's about behaviors now, and not just a fictional story), it literally doesn't matter what people write in fanfic.

Authors, tag your fics with everything you'd like your readers to be aware of, because when a reader opens up a fic they're probably expecting the characters to follow canon unless stated otherwise.

Readers, read the portrayals and stories you like. Don't read the ones you don't. If something isn't tagged correctly, and you find out you don't like it after reading, just close the fic and stop reading.

No one should ever be harassing anyone else over fandom for any reason.

#answered #psa #if it's going to be a discussion on character analysis #then people can have civil debates while providing sources #it's possible to argue without it being harassment or bullying #no need to attack people there either #but definitely no reason to just not read a fic you don't like #you know what i'll put this one in the tags #svsss #shen jiu

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mayandjuly1811 · 5 months

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WHY HUNTLOW IS A FORCED AND UNREALISTIC SHIP.

1. First impressions:

Raeda has the most amicable meeting. About Lumity, Amity shook Luz's collar and almost got Principal Bump dissect her. It stems from misunderstanding, because Amity doesn't know Luz is human but a strange non-Abomination that Willow used to cheat. About Huntlow, Willow seems to be violent for no reasons at all. Hunter disguises as a Hexside student so to Willow, he's just a student that she doesn't know. He's not a threat at all. Yet she summons the vines to wrap him tightly and drags him down the ground so hard that the asphalt gets damaged. Treating strangers like this is not fine and out of character for Willow.

Also, when Hunter is about to leave again, Willow drags him down the ground and takes him to the field without asking his permission. This crosses boundaries a lot. In comparison, even though Amity sees Hunter as an enemy in Eclipse Lake, she just simply uses Abomination magic to capture him, not dragging him down violently like Willow.

2. Understanding:

Raine and Eda have a genuine common interest in music, magic (Eda is interested in wild magic and Raine supports her). Luz and Amity are both interested in Azura, the idea of being not enough for anyone, the idea of being accepted and loved for who they really are. Amity is also interested in Luz's glyph magic and she learns to draw it many times.

About Huntlow, I don't see any common between them besides flyer derby. The whole “Half a Witch” is forced. Half a witch means a witch who is not powerful enough. Willow is a powerful Plant witch, her fathers just didn't realize her real magic talent and put her into Abomination track, which isn't her forte. If you're only good at Maths, but not Chemistry, does it make you unintelligent overall? Of course not.

About Hunter, first off, he is not even a witch. He's a Grimwalker with no bile sack, his pointed ears were adjusted to look like witches’. Also, he's skillful at using magic staffs so no one sees him as powerless. He's the elite Golden Guard, one of the most powerful figures under Belos. No one dares to call him half a witch, even if they do think he's weak. And how he quickly recognizes the illusion of Willow in S2ep18 is unrealistic. How come Gus, Willow's long-term friend can't figure out before Hunter? The fact that Willow seems to be scared of Hunter is understandable. Last time, he literally locked her and her friends up, then kidnapped them, he also worked for Belos. Who knows if he's gonna do the same?

Hunter and Willow know little about each other. It's one sided. Hunter knows Willow is a strong and independent person, a caring and selfless girl. But Willow knows too little about Hunter compared with Luz, Gus and Amity. They never have a serious talk about Hunter's trauma caused by Belos, only a short scene of Willow cutting his hair. In Thanks to Them, Hunter has a deeper conversation with Luz and Gus than with Willow. With Willow, he just blushes even though nothing happens. Gus and Hunter's bond makes more sense than Huntlow to be honest. They both like Flyer Derby, they both like Cosmic Frontier, Gus knew about Hunter's being Grimwalker and his conflict with Belos, Hunter comforted Gus when he felt sad in Labyrinth Runner and when he missed his Dad. Hunter's screentime with Gus is even more than with Willow. Their platonic bond is stronger than Huntlow's forced romantic one.

Feeling development.

The way Willow and Hunter like each other is too rushed and unexpected. Starting with Hunter, he met Willow only one time in ASIAS and started to have a crush on her? He only met her once directly and already blushed? And Willow, she treats Hunter the same way she treats everyone. Only until Hunter has power and saves her does she fall for him. It's so rushed all of the sudden. Some people say they live together in Luz's house for months so they have feelings for each other. But there are no bonding moments between them besides the cutting hair scene. Even though the show is cut short, from Willow's scrapbook, she and Hunter don't have any bonding moments between the two of them.

Comforting.

It's one sided again. Hunter is understanding and sympathetic towards Willow. Meanwhile, how Willow tries to comfort him is questionable. He just lost Flapjack and Willow isn't understanding at all. She gives him the Flapjack picture, causing him to feel grieving again. He's been struggling to hold back his grief to focus on helping others. This backfires really back. She should have waited until Hunter brought things up about Flapjack first, just like Gus. He knows Hunter is a Grimwalker since the Day of Unity, but he doesn't bring anything up first and waits until Hunter says it first. He thinks about Hunter's emotions after being traumatized by Belos

Also, when Hunter looks upset, Willow should have stayed to continue to comfort him?! Instead, she acts like she's the one who is hurting and leaves. Imagine you're feeling sad, someone tries to comfort you. You haven't felt better since you need time, they feel sad and leave you. Now you feel guilty because you can't be happy to make them happy. This is making things worse. Hunter can't even make himself feel calmer after Flapjack's death, yet now he'll feel guilty because his own sadness and grief makes Willow feel sad! Also, when Hunter calls out, she keeps walking and ignoring him.

In conclusion, Willow and Hunter are better off as friends. They don't have any romantic chemistry or deep understanding. The ship is so forced and rushed.

#toh #toh critical #ship hate #anti huntlow

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