#love is truly in the air maybe its time for spring | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jojikawa · 6 months

Text

Sukuna’s Vessel, Yuuji Itadori.

Your time as Sukuna’s wife was a small blip in time. Something you nearly forgot until a pink-haired boy tries to talk to you

tw// fluff, adult language, MC is Lilith! (a powerful demoness) if this does well I will make multiple parts.

masterlist

Art by icebuko

Was inspired by this scene from RWBY. dividers

You have already adjusted to your life in this world. It was hard to know if this is what you enjoyed or not but there was much less violence and a lot more excitement and love…You figured the mundane life suited you better. You became interested in the culture of Japan, you taught yourself its current traditions and you learned to be an elementary school teacher. No idea of why you were resurrected in this modern age came to your mind, but all you could do was live. Although, for years upon years, you felt like something was missing, you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

Just when that feeling was beginning to fade, you met a particular boy. You stood in the spring rain with your transparent umbrella, dressed in business casual as you helped your young, toddler students cross the busy street. Silently, you desperately tried to shield the babies from the harsh rain and cold air. The children scattered, going on their way back home using the routes you taught them so that they could be fast.

“Um, excuse me…?”

It was the boy you had seen before. He was young, probably a teenager. You noticed him stalking you for a bit now. What could he have wanted from you?

His hair was an unnatural color, maybe dyed. His uniform wasn’t anything like you had seen before and on his feet were painfully red shoes that hurt your eyes. Truly the sense of style for a young boy in this age fashion.

“Yes?” You turned around to look at the boy. He was visibly nervous but you tried to comfort him with a welcoming smile. As you examined him, you got a sense of familiarity.

“Are you….(y/n)?”

You blinked for a moment. Could this have been an older sibling of one of your students?

“I am.” You replied. “Is there…something you want to speak to me about?” You tilted your head and he became increasingly restless under your watchful eyes. “Can we talk in private?” The boy asked politely. You looked down at your watch. It seemed you had time before you needed to go home to prepare your lesson for the next day of teaching.

You humored the boy. The two of you walked to a nearby park where he told you his name and his occupation. He told you why he was going to school. If what he was told was true, you should already know about curses and sorcerers. He also asked you questions.

Yuuji asked things like if you had a family. What have you been doing with your time? But then he asked who you were and if you loved anyone.

You found it rather inappropriate that someone so young and strange to you was asking about your personal life.

Now, the two of you sat on the bench. The rain eased to a drizzle and you began to enjoy the little time you had left with the boy. “Why does who I may love matter to a boy like you? You should be into girls your own age.” You joked, closing your umbrella and leaning it against the edge of your wooden seat. Yuuji blushed at your comment and raised his hands before shouting. “N-No, it’s not like that! I was asking f-for a friend!”

“A friend?” You repeated, raising your eyebrow slightly. You couldn’t recall anyone who wouldn’t be interested in you. “Well, I am going to need to get going.” You told him. “Dinner’s calling me and I have to grade my student’s tests.” You smiled kindly, beginning to stand before the boy suddenly stopped you. He grabbed the sleeve of your attire before uttering:

“Are you really the wife of Ryomen Sukuna?”

Your mouth opened to speak. You felt the world stop and it was like you couldn’t feel the rain on your skin anymore. That was a name you haven’t heard forever.

“Who told you that name?” Your ability to make Yuuji feel calm was soon diminishing. Yuuji didn’t reply at first. His eyes darted from you and often looked to the right as if he were in thought. He would hold his head but never made an effort to mention why he was behaving so erratically.

“I guess that means you are her.”

Your face eased. “So, I assume that you have revealed yourself to me because you plan to kill me like what happened hundreds of years ago or so?” You tilted your head before giving him a closed-eyed smile. “Huh?? Oh, N-No, of course not. My sensei doesn’t even know I’m here.”

“Then…who sent you?” You sat back down by Yuuji. The boy didn’t answer you. His gaze broke from yours. “Yeah, Yeah, I’m getting to that!” He muttered but rather loudly. The boy didn’t seem to be talking to you.

He then turned his full attention to you again. “How did you meet Sukuna?” His question was innocent but it held unimaginable weight. “First,” You raised a finger. “How do you know that name?”

Yuuji shoved his hands into his pockets. “School.” He lied…half lied.

“They’re teaching you about him at your school…? Gods…” You sighed softly. “I knew Sukuna a long time ago but my story goes beyond him. I’m much older than him, you see.” You looked down at your black pumps. It was expected of you to wear this for your job. You suddenly felt the pressure of walking in them all day and kicked them off just a bit.

“Older?”

You nodded. “I was actually the first woman. I was the first wife of Adam. You know who that is?” You broke your gaze with the ground to see that the boy was staring at you rather intently. Was he even listening? He wasn’t even blinking. “Yuuji.” You called, ripping him from his daydream.

“H-Huh? Oh, Adam? Um…” He thought for a moment before shaking his head. You smiled. “It’s okay if you don’t. It’s more of a Western tale…” Your manicured nails dug into the soft wooden chair. “Adam was a jerk.” The frown you held was small but behind it was an anger that only the Gods could fathom.

The boy’s ears perked up. “Oh, like Adam and Eve! You’re Eve!” He looked as if he had hit the lottery with a guess that good. But…

You laughed again. “No. Eve came after me. She was the more obedient wife. I’m often erased from history.” Your posture eased and you leaned your back against the bench. “Ryomen Sukuna was the only man that ever loved me. And that I loved back.” Your heart rate quickened thinking of your lover. “You humans know him as a horrible threat…which is true.”

“But I was a horrible person too. We were horrible together…my Ryomen.” You said his name so breathlessly. It was so long ago but you replayed your favorite moments with him. There was no harm in talking about Sukuna, right? He was long gone so this boy’s superiors couldn’t have been targeting you for any reason. You enjoyed pretending to be a human. This wouldn’t be a problem, right?

Yuuji didn’t say a word. He hid his eyes from you, sinking further into his jacket. Without saying much of anything, you effortlessly humanized Sukuna. It didn’t make the boy feel any less hostile toward the King of Curses but it did give him insight into what kind of person he was. He had a soft spot for at least one person. Without warning, he sat up straight. “Um…would you say you still loved him?”

Normally, you would be put off by such a question, but you were already deep in this conversation. Your eyes wandered to the people entering the park here and there. They pushed their kids in strollers and walked their dogs. The sound of the cars driving behind you was painstakingly loud as you tried to think of the past. You answered. “Yes, I do.”

Suddenly, Yuuji erupted with activity. The way he pulled his hood over his head and turned away from you concerned you. “Are you alright, sweetheart?” You leaned over going to rest a hand on your shoulder when you heard muffled speaking. “Yuuji—”

“I-It’s nothing! ‘Just cold, sorry!” He blurted out, causing you to recoil back. “I see…”You replied, going back into your place. “I wonder what ever happened to Ryomen.” You looked down at your watch. It was time for you to go now.

“I know where Sukuna is.”

“What?” The corner of your mouth instinctively raised into a smirk but your eyes were wide as saucers. “I didn’t peg you as a prankster but I suppose I should’ve expected it.” Your tenseness eased, before shutting your eyes and laughing to yourself. Sukuna? Here? No, that surely wasn’t true. The world would be in ruin if he were.

“I’m serious!” Yuuji then proceeded to explain to you his unique situation that involved him swallowing your lover’s fingers and, in turn, bonding them together. You still didn’t know what to believe. It almost made you angry…you somehow felt that perhaps, sorcerers were watching you, waiting to see if you’d break your masquerade as a human if they convinced you that he was alive.

You clenched the handle of your umbrella as it lay beside you. “If Sukuna is really inside of your body, then let me speak to him.” You were….half serious. You wanted so badly to just hear his voice again, even if he were saying something vulgar or pure evil. Or to just know if this was all a trick. Yuuji rubbed the nape of his neck. “I can’t really do that. Not in public, he might—”

“He won’t.” You interrupted. “I’ll make sure he won’t do anything.”

Yuuji had no choice but to trust you. For the last day, he’s had Sukuna yelling at him so loudly and often that he wasn’t able to tune it out like always. For a moment, Yuuji stopped resisting Sukuna’s pull on him, allowing the curse to take over his body. There was a familiar set of markings that appeared on his body and face. The amount of joy, confusion, and concern that filled your body was undeniable.

Although your Ryomen Sukuna was in front of you, trapped inside the body of a boy, you felt like it was a trick. Maybe it wasn’t sorcerers casting a spell on your mind. Perhaps it was God punishing you one last time or it was Adam trying to take one last jab at you before you experienced true death.

Once you laid eyes upon Sukuna, it still looked as if Yuuji had control. His eyes were like that of a dear in headlights while his face was full of admiration.

“Ryomen?” You called his name, causing the vessel he was in to flinch. His eyes then turned serpent-like. They were eyes you knew very well.

“It seems as though you have been resurrected.” He rested his head on his palm, those same eyes wandering your body, staring shamelessly at your chest area and thighs. “But you can never be too sure. How do I know you’re real?” He fidgeted more in his seat—more than Yuuji actually. He tapped his foot on the ground, drummed his fingers on his leg, and even sank his nails into his jawline out of anticipation.

The question caused you to blink. “You’re asking me if I’m real—?”

“Hurry. You have—” His gaze shifted downward for a brief moment before it went back to you. “—less than 60 seconds. If you can’t answer me, I’ll kill you and be done with it. Tell me what I said to you the first time we met. Only I and the real (y/n) know of this.”

Your mouth curled into a pleasant smile. You turned your hips towards him. “I’m not scared of a little monster like you.” You locked eyes with him. “When I met Ryomen, the first words to me were ‘You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.’ And I said, ‘I think the Gods would disagree.’ He laughed in a way I would never forget before telling me: ‘Give me a son and I’ll give you the world.’”

Sukuna was unmoving. His antics completely stopped and he listened. So silent…it was unlike him. You continued.

“I was devastated when he asked that of me. I said ‘I can not have a child. My womb is corrupt.’ And so he vowed to make—”

“Shit, it really is you.” The words pour out of his mouth like a waterfall. “It’s been so long. I thought I would never see you again. What are you doing living a mundane life with mortal scum?!” He cursed and threw out his insults, not even caring about the poor humans who walked by and were forced to listen to him. You smiled attractively. “I kinda like this ‘scum’” You replied, mimicking his voice so well you sounded like a female version of him.

“What happened to your body? Why are you burrowed away inside of a child?” Your head tilted with curiosity. His vessel was much smaller than before although, it was nice seeing what he’d be like as a human and not a monster.

Sukuna parroted the same thing Yuuji did, confirming the truth. The boy ate his finger.

“…but once I return to full power, I’ll make the Gods pay for what they did to you.” He wanted nothing more than to just reach out and touch you. It’s been so long since he’s seen you…since he’s heard your voice. Hundreds and hundreds of years of his consciousness lingered beyond his execution and his only thought was you. Even then, aspects of you had faded in his memory. Where were your horns and claws? Did you even have either of those? You had a sword too? No? Oh, he couldn’t remember but one thing that did stick with him was your presence. Sukuna could track you like a bloodhound and find you at every corner of the earth.

“The Gods wouldn’t care about you, Ryo.” A dry laugh left your lips at his awestruck face. “They don’t even care about me…but Adam—will return. You’ll be good to me and kill him, right?” Your sweet smile turned into a smirk, your eyes turned warm and filled with lust. Sukuna picked up on your subtle cues, his mouth going from slightly agape to a twisted, toothy grin. “I’ll bring you his head, I swear!”

“Hm.” Your eyes lit up with enthusiasm. You couldn’t help but rest your palm on his cheek. Yuuji’s skin was much smoother and softer than Sukuna’s monstrous features. “…and if you objectify me again, I’ll obliterate you.” Your manicured nails grazed his skin, threatening to pierce the vessel’s skin at any moment.

Sukuna was confused—not afraid. He hasn’t wronged you so why are you threatening him? It was then that he noticed your eyes. They glowed red.

That’s right, you were rather observant. His hungry eyes were already sexualizing in every way possible.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Sukuna replied, his wide demonic grin returning to his soft features. “Ya know, if you want, you can have me right now.”

Your eyes softened before you exhaled. “In that body?” You chuckled. “Maybe when it matures a little.” Your words made his smile fade and his nose scrunch up in disgust. “Who cares how old this vessel is?! It’s ME!”

“And you’re a bit short for my liking.” You fake pouted before letting go of his face. Upon instinct, he rubbed the claw markings you left behind. “I’m still taller than your small ass. You women are so picky with your size kinks.” he spat, rolling his eyes. “Next, you’ll ask me to put the world in your hands. And what do you bring to the table, huh?”

“Myself.” You replied before placing an innocent kiss on his cheek.

“Then, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to stick around.”

#ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #jjk sukuna #ryomen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujustu kaisen headcanons #Sukuna x demon reader #female reader #reader insert #fluff

1K notes · View notes

mrsnancywheeler · 3 months

Text

the river (6) // finnick odair x f. reader

summary: the Capitol has taken you away from Finnick, the life you've been trying to build together and now he has to fight to get every part of you back

previous chapter

masterlist

7.1k words

warnings: hurt/comfort, smut, angst, fluff, arguments, a wedding, pnv, unprotected sex, f receiving fingering, he doesn't pull out, cursing, allusions to trafficking, paranoia, violence, mentions of death, suicidal ideation, self-hate, dount, mentions of pregnancy but she's not pregnant, distrust, brainwashing, mentions of Snow, unedited, no use of y/n

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

You looked so beautiful, so angelic, so unspeakably alluring standing in front of him in your borrowed dress. Never had he felt more excited than when he'd realized this was in fact the day you would become not just his wife in spirit, but legally, Mrs. Odair. The way you'd so delicately smiled up at him made him feel like his grin was more like that of a mad man, and maybe he was. Madly in love, madly obsessed, madly in need to spend the rest of his life with you. He needed the revolution to be over so he could have a billion kids that looked just like you, that laughed like you did, and smiled like you did. How soft your fingers felt when they brushed his lips with salt water was addicting just as it was when his fingers did the same to your lips. He felt blindly dazed by your smile as you recited the vows, Finnick barely remembered that there were cameras around.

Your genuine happiness was something he had come to miss, yet here it was once again. The feeling that made all the rough times worth weathering the storm, how unequivocally enamored of you he was with each smile and sweet word. Your sugary repetition of what the officiant said eventually waned, Coin had insisted on less flowery vows to keep the event concise, but that was okay because he'd spilled his heart before. It also helped that now he wasn't sure he'd be able to form any coherent proclamations of love when looking at you put him into a stupor.

“I, Finnick Odair, take you as my wife from this day forward. Together or apart, we will always be united. One life, one purpose, one destiny.” He'd never get sick of the way you were looking at him right now, like that same girl from the market that he'd approached all those years ago who was joyously stunned that Finnick Odair would even talk to her.

“You may kiss the bride." The officiant announced and Finnick had never been more pleased for his lips to touch yours. The salty and peachy taste that lingered on your lips that he adored, compounded with the sound of the children's choir beginning to sing, a confirmation that his official voyage with you had really begun. Ever so slowly he pulled away to gaze at you further.

“Hi." You whispered softly through your perfect smile.

“We're married." He whispered back, the giddy smile almost hurt, but he couldn't make himself stop. “Like actually married."

You nodded with a light laugh, "Yeah, we are!” The words left you so breathily before you'd kissed him once again and he wanted to drown in your lips. His mind seemed to echo the same words over and over again, a never ending stream. She's actually my wife. She's so happy and pretty and my wife. My wife. The way you danced and laughed was exhilarating, this was the you that the Capitol had chipped away at making a glorious appearance. You could have another breakdown tomorrow, but right now you shone brighter than the sun and it was all that mattered. It wasn't home, there was no sea breeze in the air, there had been no net to cover you both, or sending the couple off in a boat at the end for farewells. It wasn't even the spring time wedding you'd once whispered about on late nights, but it seemingly was exactly what you both needed.

Your feet had only stopped moving once the cake was rolled out, glorious in its waves of blue frosting. It truly left him amazed in the attention to detail of each sea creature so delicately placed. “Oh, it's perfect." You muttered, squeezing his hand.

Finnick nodded in agreement, “It's amazing." It was the closest to home as either of you could get, he ached to be able to know he'd be carrying you over the threshold of a tiny cottage by the sea, but he couldn't until this was all over. Until they'd won. So the cake would have to be sufficient enough and in the joy, it was. Especially when you so carefully fed him a bite of it, blue staining his teeth as he took the bite. Before the blue and green had just as equally begun to stain your lips when he did the same, and it made him feel so young again. A kid who'd eaten too many colored sweets.

Eventually the propo had to come to an end and with it, the fun and dancing. But his happiness didn't subside, even if it was no traditional reception of dancing all night, at least he could carry you through the door of the compartment and be with you for eternity.

“Hello, Mrs. Odair." He'd whispered after carefully placing you on the floor of the shared room.

“Hello, Mr. Odair." You responded absentmindedly, eyes so loving as your fingers played with his hair.

“We're actually married, officially married, forever and ever and ever."

“Yeah." You glowed, all of you was so bright. “Don't get cold feet on me now."

"Never.” He affirmed, kissing you again.

"Good because I'm rather attached.” He smirked and quickly pulled you back into his lips. Slowly, but surely your lips attacked him more feverishly, with more passion. It had been so long, but it was a feeling he missed so much, until your fingers had slidden down to the buttons of his jacket, where some sort of panic permeated his happiness. He longed for you more than he'd even let himself ponder, but he couldn't risk it when you were still at risk of a meltdown at any turn. So reluctantly he pulled away.

“Angel, what are you doing?"

He missed the cooling feeling of your skin the moment you pulled contact away and hated how embarrassed you suddenly looked. “I'm sorry, I should have asked, Finnick. If you don't want to, I won't.”

His hands reached out to assure you otherwise and caress the side of your head. “No, no, sweet girl, that's not it. You're all good."

For a moment you seemed relieved before the confusion seemed to settle back in. “Then what's wrong?” Finnick sighed, how could he tell you he was terrified that you'd have a mid-thrust mental breakdown that threw you into some kind of terrified hysteria? He sat down on the bed, preparing himself for the hole he was digging himself into. At the very least, talking to you about it now was leagues better than going along until you cracked.

“Honey, I just don't think it's a good idea."

“Oh, okay." Shit. He always ruined everything. You'd been so open and happy all day only for your voice to slightly break with a speck of insecurity. You were so sweet with the way you'd move on to pretend it didn't upset you somewhat and find something else to do.

“Not because I don't want you, trust me I do." The words tumbled out of his mouth as fast as he could form them to try and reassure you.

“If you want to, then what's stopping us? I do too."

"Honey, come here.” He patted down on the bed and you sat, carefully he grabbed your hands, hoping his warmth would provide some sort of comfort. “I just think maybe we should wait until you're feeling like there's less of a chance that you'll get scared when we're in the middle of something.

"I'm not gonna get scared, Finn, I want this.”

"You're not right now, but say you get hit with those thoughts that say I want you dead, which I don't, and I'm on top of you. That'd be scary for you.”

"I haven't had an episode for a couple weeks.” Your head turned to stare at the wall in front of you.

"You haven't had a major one and I'm so proud of you for that, but you've had some small ones. I don't want one getting bigger because of the circumstances.” Your hands pulled away from his, covering your face where stray tears must have begun to fall. “Hey, no, don't cry. I'm just trying to look out for you."

“I make everything so difficult, I'm sorry."

“No you don't, it's all okay."

Quiet sniffles filled the room before you laid your hands back down on your lap to look at him. “Finnick, I get you're worried about me and I love that about you. But I could freak out waking up in the middle of the night or when we're just cuddling. I want this, I want you, and if the worst happens then it happens and we cross that bridge, but I'm really sick of letting it control me.” He wanted you too, he'd felt guilty for any fantasies he'd had of you, but he had missed every part of you beyond belief.

“I just don't want to do anything you might not be able to handle, I'd need you to constantly communicate with me, so I know you're okay."

“I will, I promise."

You were so ethereal, he hated that it made parts of him throb when his brain had already found another dilemma. “I don't think they've got birth control here, or at least we don't have any."

“That's okay, I don't care." No, he couldn't do that to you. How could you handle being pregnant in the midst of everything else?

“It's not a good idea, angel."

“Why? We'll win the war soon and be back home." He wished it was that simple, but poor you having an episode would only complicate things.

“Honey, I just don't think you're ready right now."

“You're?" Fuck. Why the fuck would he say that.

“I meant to say we. We're not ready." Why was he so stupid? How could he manage to be trying to protect you so hard that he caused an episode instead? He'd have to brace himself for the mess he was causing.

“You’re lying to me. Why am I not ready?”

What he'd give for this blip to be over, to be at the point where there could just be children without all the worry about your health. "It's our wedding night, let's not argue. Let's go to bed, I'll read to you.”

But your walls were slightly raised and he could feel it as you stood up. "I wasn't trying to argue, I was trying to consummate the marriage. And instead of just saying you weren't feeling it right now and letting us move on, you said you thought I'd be a bad mom.”

"That's not what I said, don't put words in my mouth.” He said it too sharply and instantly regretted it.

“Then what are you saying, Finnick?” He despised the fact that he was only confusing you more when he was supposed to be letting you know what was real and what wasn't. The stress in your voice was evident as your arms protectively crossed around your body, foot tapping.

“That I don't think this is a good time for a baby, we should jump over a few more hurdles first." Finnick stood up, desperate to touch you, to soothe you. Trying to hide how mortified he was that regardless of all the talk he could still feel himself straining against his pants. “I just didn't say it right, I'm sorry, sweet girl."

"If you don't want to have sex that's fine, but stop trying to come up with excuses.”

"Angel, I do, I'm just…I've gotten so focused on trying not to set anything off that I've started planting the thoughts instead." He should be stronger, more able to read you so that he wasn't the one instigating the thoughts. Instead he was becoming overly paranoid himself, he hated the idea that he could need care when he was finally trying to care for his girl. “What I meant was, I think we should wait until the war is over for certain, so I'll just pull out." Slowly he approached you, hands softly urging your arms to uncross.

He could feel the way you began melting into his touch and it made him feel whole again. "Do you actually want to? I don't want you to feel like you have too because I'm in a mood.” Your eyes glistened with a sincerity that warmed his heart as your arms succumbed to his movements.

"Wanna make my sweet girl feel better, want to make it up to her.” He could basically hear your heart pounding and he loved that you still got somewhat flustered.

“You're absolutely sure though, right? This isn't just you-" His lips on yours cut off the further listings of any anxieties. Free hands searching for the zipper on the back of the dress as he quickly slid it down. He only pulled away long enough to make sure the dress had successfully become a pool at your ankles before his lips were on your chest. “Finnick?" Your voice snapped his head from his assault to look at you, who looked so sheepish to say anything at all. “Can that wait? I'm just… you know.”

With a smirk he raised his head, makitsure to stand fully back up as he looked at you. "You're just what, angel?”

"Finn, you know.” Your fingers messed with his jacket sleeves as you avoided his gaze.

Softly he pecked you on the lips,"Communication.” Another quick peck, "Need you to say it for me.”

"Finny, please don't be mean.” Fuck. Pulling out that nickname ever so sugary sweetly made him want to cave, to get straight onto taking care of you for life. “Already spent all that time arguing."

"Not being mean, angel, we just have to practice using our words.” You lifted his hand to your face, touching the heat of it to your face, which was oddly hot already considering how cold your hand was, per usual.

Your breath fanned across his hand as you quietly gave the confession, “Been aching for you all day, Finn."

“All day?" His hands moved to slowly unhook your bra, “Waited so well for me." The way you needed to just be coddled and taken care of was evident, he wanted nothing more than to love on you any way that he could. He let the bra fall to the wayside so his fingers could focus on how soaked your panties had become. “Can tell you've been waiting." It had been so long it was no wonder you were shy under his gaze. “Gonna make it better, show you how sorry I am." He could fall into the endless depths of your eyes that drew him in and fall forever with a smile on his face.

“I love you." The way you said it so tenderly made his heart skip a beat, he couldn't help but smile and place a small kiss on the tip of your nose.

“I love you, sweet girl.” Your fingers slipped up to continue the unbuttoning of his jacket which fell into a pile on the floor.

“Are you sure-"

“Yes, I'm sure." Finnick tried to back up this assurance through his eyes, hoping you could read through the depths of his soul. He slid his shirt off and you nodded, a signal that you had accepted what he said as truthful. Your fingers had settled on the button of his pants which you'd slowly undone as he stood there in utter awe of just you, all of you. He stepped out of his pants and boxers, leaving you on a nearly even playing ground. His fingers made their way to your hips, to the hem of your underwear to start pulling them down and the way your skin was so cold was startling. You'd always been freezing to the touch, but it made him feel guilty that you'd been stripped of any warmth besides his fingertips. “You're basically shivering, angel."

“You're burning up, so I'll be okay." It was true, the way your body temperatures aides the others had felt like another way you were made for each other. So slowly he'd pulled the panties off your body until they hit the floor as everything else had. Without another word your lips had crashed onto his which he used as an opportunity to slowly guide you towards the bed while you were lost in the feeling of his lips. He laid you down as your hand on the back of his neck dragged him down with you.

He took the opportunity to slide his fingers into your core and reveled in the feeling of you moaning into his mouth. A sound he hadn't heard in so long that it rang in his ears like music, a symphony that he could listen to for days. “You're so perfect." He muttered through the seconds you pulled away for air. You laughed breathlessly, shaking your head, “Yes you are." Finnick reiterated, thumb finding your clit causing another moan into his mouth the moment your lips had reattached to his. “Melodic to my ears angel, so perfect." Your hands tugged at his hair and he couldn't suppress the groan that came out.

"Love you so much, Finn.” The way you talked through the whimpers every time he added more pressure to your bundle of nerves made him an obsessive man. Your lips had become swollen from your prevalent addiction to his mouth, but you didn't seem to care, whining when he pulled his head just out of reach, trying to tug him back down.

He began thrusting his fingers in faster, mesmerized, as he always was and would be, by the way your face contorted with pleasure. “Love you too, angel, love my wife so much." In his daze of fascination you were able to pull his face back towards your own, fingers knotting in his hair.

Your voice was airy as you smiled softly through small whines,"Your wife.” He felt the clear heat your face exuded when he pressed his forehead to yours, it felt like your souls were one.

"My beautiful, perfect, gorgeous wife.” Your lips raised just enough to steal another peck from him as he kept rubbing harsh circles onto your clit. For a while he became enraptured just by your sounds, he didn't know how long had passed as he took in every small whimper to the loudest moans that you tried to cover.

“Oh my god, Finn!" You writhed slightly, a tell-tale sign of how near you were to release.

"You close, sweet girl? You gonna come for me?” He does his fingers up, as well as the intensity of his circles. Lips meeting yours once again as you nodded, eyes scrunching closed.

“So, so close." He began kissing at your neck, beguiled by the somehow lingering smell of the ocean on your skin.

"Come on, you can let go for me, sweet girl.” His kisses trailed down to your chest once again, utterly addicted to leaving the lingering feeling of his lips wherever he could. Upon your release the climactic end of the symphony blessed his ears and he was certain that if it was somehow possible, it had certainly made him harder. "So good for me." He slid his fingers out of you, the need to taste you winning when he brought them to his mouth.

“Need you inside, Finny, please." Your hands lead his face back close enough to kiss as you tried to catch your breath.

“You sure you're ready, angel?” You nodded eagerly, legs lifting to cross around his torso, pulling him closer.

“Yeah. Are you?" Your voice was so sugary sweet and addictive, every part of you was, if he died he was sure every part of you would consume his senses first.

“Yeah." His hand moved to softly caress your face, moving small strands of hair that had begun sticking to it away. Carefully he lined himself up with your entrance, stroking your cheek before he slowly pushed himself in. The sounds of both of your moans mixed in the air, intertwined as your bodies were. “Feel so good, angel. Fits so perfectly, you were made for me, we were made for each other." It was true, he wouldn't be complete without you. He'd gone his whole life needing nothing more than you, in every sense of the way, you fit one another flawlessly. He felt so sensitive that he was scared he might already be on his way to the climax, which he only dreaded because of how close he felt to you when he was in the warmth of your walls. That you were as close as you possibly could be, yet he still longed to be nearer.

“Faster, please?" It was nearly incoherent as you babbled through your whines, arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, as if you were still somehow trying to pull him in further. He happily obeyed your plea and sped up his ministrations, thrusting through his own climbing pleasure as he moaned. “Missed you so much, Finn. Can't live without you, you're-" Your own moans interrupted your train of thought and you took a moment to regain some type of verbal composure. “Only ever wanted you, only needed you. Meant to be." He was able to decipher your proclamations through the whines and over the sound of his own noises, it brought him ten times closer to feel so basked by your love.

“Not gonna let anyone hurt you ever again, I'm gonna take such good care of my wife. Promise." The security you both needed, that you both ached for and could only be guaranteed once the reign of Snow had toppled entirely. You looked ethereal, your face scrunched up with each noise you made, hair splayed out around you, eyes glazed over with adoration and pleasure. He was so hypnotized by the way love seemed to have filled every crevice of the room and whisped around that he barely even registered that he was at the very top of his climax. He'd let go at what felt so suddenly that he'd simply thrusted further inside of you as you moaned at your own release. It wasn't until the thrill had mostly passed that he remembered his own fears. “Shit, shit, shit.” He muttered as he pulled out of you completely.

You sat up almost instantaneously and he could feel the panic radiating off of you. "What, are you okay?”

You were so sweet. "Yeah, I'm fine, sweet girl. I just…" He trailed off, staring at you, wide-eyed, anxious to help at any indication something was wrong. For years, nearly a decade he had loved you, something that somehow seemed to be constantly, rapidly increasing. Besides all the troubles you'd both endured he knew there was nothing he would trade any of it for if he knew he could have you and now that life you both yearned for was just in grasp. Finnick had and would dedicate every second he could to sustaining that dream and keeping you afloat, and if he could do that, he could do the same if you did get pregnant. He sighed and leaned closer to you, “Nevermind, angel, just didn't pull out, but it's okay. We're so close to freedom I can taste it and I want a family with you so bad. Finally going to be able to have our perfect little family and perfect little life." He crawled into the bed near you, kissing your face.

“You really want a family with me?" Your eyes were wide with an adorable hope, like you hadn't really accepted that he really wanted to be with you. He scoffed like the doubt was ridiculous.

“Of course I want a family with you, my sweet girl, I married you." He pulled you as close as he could get you, foreheads pressed together once again, making his heart buzz with contentment.

You smiled before looking for reassurance once again, which he was happy to deal out. “And you're gonna stay with me, right? Never gonna be a part or split up again?"

With all the sincerity possible he caresses your face again, “Never gonna leave you again, I promise, angel." You were blissfully pleased with his answer and kissed him once again.

But maybe Snow was right, even if it was unintentional, Finnick Odair was a liar and he in some ways resented himself for it. Yet it felt like there was nothing else for him to do when weeks later he found out about the squad Coin was putting together and he was absolutely certain that regardless of the shared training, the promises, he had to be on that squad, and you absolutely could not be.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Finnick couldn't remember the last time he'd be physically ill, but since you entered the arena, he'd spent every day fighting the nausea. The Capitol's medicine certainly helped, but when he got feverish he barely wanted to take the concoctions. No if you died, he'd let himself die of fever to be with you. This was all his fault for ever even breathing in your direction, for caring, and now he'd have to suffer for it. What kept him going was how he had to be presentable and therefore healthy enough to get you sponsors, to rally for you. So he downed the medicine and copious amounts of caffeine to try and stay awake, he couldn't risk missing anything regardless of the alliances supposed to keep watch when you slept, he knew how fickle those could be. He rallied harder than he ever had to keep the public opinion on your side, you were sweet, delicate, a hopeless romantic, trying to stay alive for love, so pure, naive, a princess being forced to slay the dragon. Per usual people gobbled up any word that fell from his mouth and the sponsors came when called.

Then the rain started and he prayed that the arena would flood, you could swim, you'd survive that way, but it didn't flood. Raindrops just pattered down as the temperature dropped and then in what seemed like a matter of minutes, a few days into the rain, you were sick. Never had he been so grateful to have withheld the money for gifts beforehand because now he could get you what you needed to stay alive. Your lips were turning blue and he felt like he was tripping over himself in anxiety to send it to you. The sound of the rain echoed in his ears as he desperately waited for the blanket to arrive. For you to be warm, to stay alive. That night was the first one he had let himself cry, where death felt so imminent that he was plotting ways to go with you.

You persisted, you were like that. He felt his spirits rise as you continued on, so smart, so resourceful. His stomach wasn't in complete knots until suddenly your facade was slipping. What the fuck were you doing? What the fuck were you saying?

“Seems there's a lot about you I don't know then.” Conway stood and stared at you, Finnick could feel the illusion cracking through the screen. It was never going to continue forever, but this was too soon.

You tried to be quick on your feet, to throw together words to save yourself. “I’m not saying that I want to, just that sometimes you have to do what it takes to survive. Even if it's difficult -”

Conway interrupted your attempted safe and in that moment Finnick's stomach dropped. “Untrue?" Fuck. Fuck him. Fuck himself and Conway and fuck your slip of tounge. The stress had clearly gotten to you and was messing with how articulate you usually could be with your words.

“Yeah, I guess."

Finnick couldn't help but start muttering out loud, “No, no, no, no, don't say that. Angel, please.” He felt like he was going to cry again, you were on the edge of a cliff and the rocks were cracking.

“I'm sorry if that upsets you, I'm just doing what it takes to get home." Of course you were, you were doing what you had to, like every victor had, but you shouldn't have said it. It definitely didn't help that the frustration was evident in your voice. There must have been a brick of lead in the bottom of his stomach. Now he could never be home with you. Conway knew, there was no way he didn't.

“It’s okay, I understand.” No he didn't. “It's just hard to come to terms with, when you remember that this is all designed to bring that out in us. To see the other side, not through rose colored glasses.” Then he kissed you and Finnick knew the tides had turned. You needed to catch on, you could not be the prey, not now. Say you have to pee and run. Dart to wherever you can and hide.

Yet you didn't, you stuck by his side, and didn't follow when he and the male tribute from 7 went off alone for a second as you all ate. Finnick felt numb as the two discussed how they would get rid of you and the girl from 7, eyes red and stinging as he stared at the screen. He was helpless, he could only hope you could get his telepathic message that you were in danger. You didn't and your death warrant had been signed.

He saw how disenchanted Conway was by you when you killed the girl from 2. How dare he be disgusted when you were doing exactly what you had too in order to survive. Finnick was screaming at you through the television when Conway led you away. Stay. Stay by the girl from 7, let her take out the threat of Conway. Don't go with him. It was so hard to watch, but he persisted because he had to make sure you were alive. Finnick despised the way Conway was luring you in, he didn't care if it was hypocritical, you needed to survive, to come back home to him. When Conway's lips crashed into yours as he pulled the knives, your only protection, out of your hands Finnick felt like he'd lost all grip on reality. He threw a glass at the screen which shattered with a resounding crash, bubbly liquid cascading across the room, but he didn't care. Not when you were being led straight to your death, a ticket to a train that kept you forever away from him on this Earth.

You appeared so innocent and trusting, but with a glance Finnick could tell how scared you were, that you knew something was no longer quite right. Then the foot tapping started and if Finnick's stomach could get heavier then it did, too obvious. Any chances of you being able to play the role of the naive ingenue were long gone because Conway knew what it meant too. Then you did as Finnick had begged you to do long before, you ran. Predator and prey. You ran, he chased. Conway's long legs gave him an advantage as he sprinted after you, calling your name out in the tense air. You tried to hurtle yourself upon the closest tree and Conway had pulled you down in seconds.

This was it, the end. Finnick could feel his eyes welling with tears as his yells intertwined with your screams of begging Conway to let you go. He didn't know when he did it, but the coffee table had been toppled over on the floor, objects scattered across the carpet. Conway spewed on and on about how he knew you didn't love him, your heart was clearly owned by another, and how he was getting back at you now. You fought like hell, trying to squirm your way out of his arms until a knife was firmly plunged in your side. The scream you let out was so gut wrenching that let himself crumple onto the floor. Knees pulled up to his chest, face wet with a steady stream of tears, he was so helpless, so broken to not be able to save you.

You, however, made the tides change when your hands, now covered in defensive wounds, sharply forced themselves into Conway's eye. He screamed, trying to cover it, and you'd instantly darted up. Suddenly there was light at the end of the tunnel again, you were so smart, you'd halted him long enough to grab the spear. Finnick held his breath until the cannon went off, you'd overcome it, and he hated that he'd doubted you would.

Regardless of the fact that there were two tributes left, part of the weight on his chest lifted. He knew the feeling of how adrenaline pushed through the body to get you through every kill to the victory when one was in the arena and he could see it in you. His eyes stayed glued to the screen and he felt like he was stuck to the floor. Fingers knotting into the carpet as he anxiously watched. Time passed agonizingly slow, it hadn't been long, but each second you were still in there was hell. A hell that burned his chest just as yours must have been was the girl from 7 was holding you under the water. Just hold your breath, don't panic, just keep holding it as long as you can. You were an excellent swimmer, you could do this. Your body flailed about, trying to break free, but the other girl was firm in her hold. He'd sink into the bathtub himself, go overfill it and drag his head under, force the instincts to hold his breath wouldn't kick in.

Oh how the Capitol would mourn but love the tragedy of every single lover dead. The story they would tell of how heart wrenching it was. A story that wouldn't be told because you'd found the spear and quickly thrusted it upwards. A cannon echoed. You'd won. You'd come back to him. He'd be yours. You'd be his. You'd be each other's. Tears of relief, of happiness racked through his body. Fate had granted you both more time, he would forever be indebted for it. He shot up from the floor, staring at you, “I'm gonna be with you so soon, angel, right with you. Never gonna leave." He'd do whatever he could to be with you as soon as possible, to hold you once again, it was exhilarating to know the work had not been in vain. He'd have to comfort you, console you, but it would all be worth it just to be with you once again. He couldn't even dream of ever leaving your side when he had you so securely back, the one person he loved more than life itself.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Finnick thought he'd had plenty of preparation for how you might respond when you found out that he'd convinced Coin you weren't mentally stable enough yet to be on the squad. He'd done it to protect you, to make sure you were safe, but he needed to be involved. It felt like a no-brainer that he had to help really take the Capitol down, take Snow down. Your emotions made his skin bristle with cold, you were stormy, hurt, betrayed. Which he hadn't done, he responded, he'd done it to save you.

“How could you do that to me?" Your voice shook as you wiped away the tears creeping up in your waterline.

“Angel, I can't let you go out there and die. I'm just keeping you safe." He tried to get closer, if he could just touch you that could reassure you of his pure, loving intentions.

“You think I'm gonna be safe when you die out there and I'm stuck completely alone?"

“I won't die." His eyes were pleading and yours were full of a white hot rage he'd never had directed at him on full blast before.

“I went through all the same training as you, I am my own person, you don't get to make decisions for me.”

“I don't want to control you, I want to keep you safe." How could you not understand? He sighed and took a step closer, which you countered. "Honey, I don't doubt that you're getting better, but this is war and if something happens that makes you go off…” Like him dying, like you being out there with him when his soul left the binds of the planet. “You could be a danger to yourself."

“I’ll be a danger to myself here too."

“There are doctors here who can take care of you, sweet girl. Please, I love you and need you here." Finnick tried to ignore the pressure of tears building up.

“All they'll do is sedate me and I'll never recover. I have to go with you, Finnick, you can't let me rot away alone." You got closer, hands finding his face. He adored the feeling but he couldn't savor it when your eyes were digging into his, bargaining with the depths of his soul. Which would not bend, it couldn't fold to you, no matter how much he wanted to be attached to you for every waking and sleeping moment. You must have sensed this incoming rejection when your face became stony and your grip began to slip away.

He tried to pull your hands back towards him, to keep contact, “It's just a couple of weeks, then we'll be free. We can go home together, live our lives, and have our perfect family. Just one more thing I've got to do."

You fully pulled away and he grieved the loss of contact. "You're punishing me, for leaving you in the arena, you're trying to get back at me for it.”

He shook his head as quickly as he could, "No, I'm not. You were just trying to follow the plan, I don't have any grudge over that, sweet girl. You did what you had too.”

"Like how you're doing what you have too, now?” The air felt stagnant in the silence of the beat as you stared at each other. You stepped closer again, hands grabbing his arms, pleading. “I know I was terrible, that I'm terrible, but please don't punish me for it. Please, Finn, don't do this to me." His head ached, his heart ached, everything ached.

“You're not a terrible person, I love you, and you can't go."

“You promised me-" You choked for a second on the tears in your throat, “You promised you wouldn't leave me." He thought about how you'd done the same and hated himself for thinking it. That was the thinking you already assumed he had and that's what he had to fight against.

“I know and I'm sorry, honey. It won't be long." Once again you pulled your body away from his, you looked so betrayed that it felt like he'd been stabbed in the stomach. “I promise."

He felt like he watched something frightening click in your brain, “You promised last time too." Your voice was low before your hands started moving rapidly around while you spoke. “This is you trying to get into my head, they were right, but you're in my head instead. You're trying to psychologically get to me, oh my god, I get it now."

“No, no, no, no, no, no, honey, no. That's not real." Another step forward and you stumbled slightly as you quickly went backwards.

“Yes, you've been toying with me this whole time. That's why you keep pulling shit like this, you're trying to break me.” He was always digging himself into much deeper holes.

"Angel, I'm not. I'm trying to keep you safe. I swear, the stuff you're thinking, that's not true.” Your arms crossed around your chest. “This is why you can't go, this is dangerous."

“I'm not crazy!" You looked at the ground, shaking your head as the tears began falling.

He stepped closer, “Nobody's saying that, you're not crazy. I know that. You just need some more time."

“If I needed more time, why wouldn't you stay?" You pointed at him, “You are a fucking liar and I wish you'd just have killed me instead of playing mind games on me."

You moved around so frantically that he had no choice but to grab you and he wanted to die himself when you flinched and shrunk into yourself. “I don't want you dead. I'm keeping you safe, I know I lied, I didn't mean to and I am so, so sorry.” His own dam protecting him from tears had broken and he began to cry. "I will come back so we can be together forever because I love you, that's what's real. When I'm gone and you're confused, know for a fact that I love you.”

“You can't go. If you go, I have this horrible feeling something bad will happen. Please, Finn, just stay with me.” The way his chest squeezed with guilt was nearly unbearable.

"I have to go.” He whispered and the way you completely broke down made him wish he'd never gotten close enough to be the one who hurt you like this. He caught you before you hit the ground and held you close. "We have time, I've got you, sweet girl. It's okay.” He soothed, rubbing the top of your head, rocking you back and forth to try and call you down.

When it was finally time for him to, the doctors did have to sedate you. It left him with echoes in his ears of how pleaded with him and how you cried. The thought of how much he would really be betraying you if he died kept him going. Every step of the journey was thoughts of you, echoes of you. Wondering if you were still sedated and how he'd make it up to you when you could finally be together again. Free from the reign of the Capitol and together. At least you were safe in District 13, you'd be upset, but protected until the world was ready to stop reigning terror on the two of you. That was until Coin sent in the replacement members for the squad and Finnick was sure he would absolutely lose it when you and Peeta walked off the craft, straight into another set of trials and tribulations determined to tear apart his happiness.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

thank you all so much for reading and all the fun discussions we've been having about all the details, I love you all so much. as always likes, reblogs, comments, feedback is all very very appreciated. love you all so so much 💋

taglist: @aegonswife @avoxrising @artsyaquarium @jennaaaaaaaaaaaa @secretsicanthideanymore @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts @thatonegayloser616 @libertyybellls @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @ravensinthedaylight @innercreationflower @uhnanix @aesthetic0cherryblossom @yourdailymemedelivery @ang3lflor @maxinehufflepuffprincess @prettybiching @miserablebl00d @wowzabowza69 @nomorespahgetti @problematicpastries @abaker74 @nj01 @whens-naptime @sarcasticbooknerd12 @cakes-hq @honethatty12 @s1lngwns @alliex-o @mushy-mushroom04 @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @korra-rail-me @scoliobean @quack-quack-snacks @itsrainingbisexualfrogs @chqsing-annabcth

#finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x y/n #the lakes #finnick odair #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair angst #finnick odair x reader fluff #finnick odair x you #the river #finnick odair smut #finnick odair fanfic #finnick fanfic #finnick odair x reader angst #finnick odair x reader smut #finnick odair imagine

225 notes · View notes

saintship · 11 months

Note

humbly would like to request konig seeing s/h scars on his s/o for the first time :’)

fun fact i got dumped one time over em one time, my ex saw em on my thigh and was like “yeah no”

First of all I’m hunting this fucker down, what the hell??

People who get stranger’s IP’s do your shit

I’m so sorry that happened to you, that little boy did not deserve you, I hope you enjoy<3

SIDE NOTE I saw a headcanon on tiktok saying “König is NOT shy” And I kinda loved that so I tried to explore it a bit

Warnings: S/H scars, revealing of traumatic events

König x Reader

Outer Patrol

Of all the assignment you cycled through, outer patrol was the easiest on the eyes. The forest surrounding the base consisted of thin birch trees packed together, so that slivers of sunlight would reach through and grace the east grounds. Your favorite was the early morning outer patrol with König—he shared your fascination with the forest, and slung a loose arm around you when it had been truly freezing last winter.

Now, in the warmth of July, the sun casted its light aggressively through the gaps of branches and leaves, the humid air clouding your thoughts.

The sticks and leaves crumpled under both of your boots, König bringing up the rear on the narrow path.

“Do you think there are bears out here?” You murmur, looking carefully through the gaps of the trees.

“Nein. We make too much noise..” König pointed out. The camp certainly made itself known during artillery drills.

You hum, letting the air settle in silence again. Suddenly, you stopped in your tracks, causing König to nearly topple you over.

“Hey!”

“Sh!” You hold up a gloved hand, staying as still as possible. Slowly, you lifted the other to point ahead of you, where a fox pawed at the ground, investigating the lush grass.

“That’s not a bear.” König’s whisper nearly made you laugh, but you swatted his shoulder instead, smiling.

“He’s so cute..” you whisper. The fox lifted its head, spotting the two of you and bounding away quickly.

“I guess it’s not too loud for him.” You turn around and walk backwards to face your partner as the path widens ahead.

“Maybe we’ll see kits in the spring.” König said softly.

“Aw..” You cooed at the thought, smiling.

The path continued, but there was a faint fork that led off to the right.

“Have you seen this?”

König shook his head.

You pushed back a branch, stepping through the threshold. The path was littered with overgrown ferns, bushes, and a few fallen logs you had to vault over. Finally, the path opened to a clearing, where a small stream expanded into a large pond nestled underneath a trickling waterfall. The rocky ledge slanted down, the falling water sparkling beneath the late morning sunshine.

“Oh..my god..” you breathed. You turned to see König’s reaction; he was transfixed on the water, his eyes shining under the dark paint and hood.

“This is insane..” you knelt by the water, removing a glove to feel the temperature. “Not bad. I bet people used to swim here.”

Suddenly, König’s pager buzzed, and he was broken from his trance to retrieve the device from his hip.

“König, outer patrol..” He greeted.

“Price is tellin’ me to inform everyone off base to not come back until the afternoon; apparently we’ve got more people than we’re supposed to have on the property, and the hounds are here earlier than he thought.”

Simon’s voice rang gruffly through the transmitter, sounding irritated.

“So just don’t come back for a few hours, yeah?”

“Ja.” König replied.

“Thanks, Ghost!” You called from where you knelt at the water.

“Whatever.” The line clicked, leaving them alone with the sound of running water again.

“Well, we couldn’t have been in a luckier spot to stay put.” You stated, pulling off your backpack. You set down your gun next to it and hugged your knees, watching the water.

“That is true.” König conceded. He shed the bulk of his gear, along with his weapon, but remained standing, wandering along the shoreline. He knelt for a moment, seemingly inspecting something, before standing again and tossing a stone sideways, the rock skidding a total of four times before plunging into the water.

“Woah!” You got to your feet, walking over to him. “You could go Olympic..” You found a stone that seemed thin enough, turning it over in your ungloved hand.

“Just turn your hips. Put your soul into it.” König instructed, enacting his ridiculous stone-skipping stance. You laughed a bit, but followed his direction, skipping the rock twice.

“Ha!” You threw your arms up, connecting your hands with König’s for a double high five.

“Not bad..” He chided.

The sun rose in the sky over the next hour, you and König perfectly content with skipping rocks, wrestling, and splashing each other. All the movement combined with the beating sun made for a layer of sweat underneath your uniform.

“Wish we could swim; I’m melting..” you laid on your back dramatically, feeling the warm stones through your shirt.

“Why not?”

“Because, we have work, and someone might- hey!” You sat up, gaping as König lifted his shirt. He was careful to keep his hood on, but dared to strip of his pants, boots and socks.

“What are you doing?” You couldn’t help but smile at his tenacity.

“Just to my waist!” König gestured to his bare torso, his black briefs and hood being the only fabric left on him. You watched as he waded in, the muscles of his back enough to have a warmth climb your neck. You look away, feeling uncertain about ogling your coworker.

“It’s so nice!”

You turned back to see him hip-deep, running his hands back and forth along the surface. The definition of his chest and shoulders was criminal, accentuated by the patterns of light reflecting off the water’s surface.

“Come on!”

“No way!” You grinned, trying to hide the sense of dread the idea brought onto your mind.

“I am willing to use force!”

“Oh, god..” you sighed, removing your boots and socks. You waded to your shins, rolling up your pants so they didn’t get wet. The water was cool, washing away the sweat prickling on your legs. “Happy?”

“I don’t think so..” He sang, wading back to the shore. The water cascaded down his lower stomach, along his thighs. You found yourself furiously studying the pebbles at your feet, rendering you unaware of König’s attack.

He lifted you from the water with damp hands, ready to drop you in the further depths. You yelped, laughing but terrified of coming back with a soaked uniform.

“Alright! Alright!” You shouted. “I’ll get in, crazy!”

A gentle laugh rumbled from his chest, which sounded right by your ear as he set you down. You had felt the muscle of his chest through just a layer of fabric; the thought enough for you to avoid his eyes.

With all the laughter, you almost forgot the reason you didn’t want to undress in the first place. While König returned into the water, you pulled off your shirt, your sports bra being the only covering for your chest. The high-waisted underwear that you wore so your belt didn’t dig dents into your skin acted as bottoms, but you were hesitant to remove your pants. König noticed your labored breathing, returning to your side again.

“You don’t have to..if you really don’t want to.” He said gently, holding out a surrendering hand.

“No, it’s not..I just..” you sighed, irritated, and sat down in the sand.

“Is there something bothering you?” König’s gentle question shouldn’t have made you shrink the way it did.

“I’m sorry I pressured you, I didn’t-"

“König, it’s not your fault.” Your words escaped a bit snappier than usual, your shame building into frustration. “It’s..there are parts of myself you haven’t seen. Things that might upset you.”

König continued to look in your eyes, his concern drifting to confusion.

“There is nothing I would hold against you..” he assured. “If you want to do this, you shouldn’t hold yourself back, it’s alright.”

His words grounded you. He was right; a bodily feature is not grounds for hiding yourself away for the rest of your life when you don’t want to.

You nod, finding it easier to just get to it. Your belt came off first, the sound of the sliding leather deafening in the air of trickling water and chittering birds. Sliding your pants down your legs, the scars stretching over your thighs seemed especially defined under the sunlight. You discarded your pants, resisting the urge to cover yourself. You heard an intake of breath from König; a noise of realization.

“That is why you didn’t want to?” He asked gently.

“Scars like these don’t sit well with most people.” You murmur. Standing, you wade fully into the water, letting the water come up to your shoulders. König followed quietly, the same depth with his height letting the water only reach his sternum.

“I don’t think of you differently.” He admitted softly. “I’m honored you trust me to share something like that..I believe you have nothing to be ashamed of.”

You study his eyes for a moment, the water around you soothing your worries. “Really?”

König nodded, then let the silence stretch its legs between the two of you for a moment.

“Do you wanna go under the waterfall?” König asked.

You smiled. “Your hood will get wet..”

He hummed in realization. “I suppose you’ll have to go under for two?”

You laugh gently, swimming toward the waterfall with a splash at his chest. The water fell gently, soaking your hair and cooling your scalp.

“That’s nice..” you murmured, your eyes closed. “They’re totally going to know..”

Opening your eyes, you spot König already looking your way. The water is deep enough here that the edge seams of his hood are dipping into the water.

“I think it was worth it..”

You know he doesn’t mean it was worth it to escape the heat. Or threaten to dunk you underwater, or watch you tilt your head back under a glittering waterfall. You’d admitted something raw—deeply personal. There was a tie that bound you now, separate from that military based trust that everyone shared. With the others, you’d devoted the sacrifice of your body; your role in the fight. But to one Colonel, you had devoted your mind.

#cod requests #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #cod mwii #call of duty mw2 #cod mw2 #könig x reader #könig mw2 #könig x fem reader #könig x you #könig modern warfare

604 notes · View notes

xwritingdixonx · 7 months

Text

To Rot With You | Daryl Dixon |

––––––––––

Masterlist

Summary: The reader and Daryl take a stroll through the forests, contemplating what it truly means to die. And to do it together. (Purely written based on the Hozier song, In A Week.)

Warnings: mention of death, no use of y/n (yay)

Word Count: aprox. 1.5k

Era: hinted at Alexandria, established relationship

Song Recommendations: In a Week - Hozier

A/n: This is pretty simple and short but hopefully still enjoyable!

––––––––––

The morning air was fresh, chilly, and slightly damp from the rain that fell throughout the night.

The morning was early. It is too early for any creature to crawl from its sleep and begin withering its way around the forest. Or perhaps it was too wet for any creature to begin their everyday lives, still hiding in the safety and warmth of their enclosures. Or perhaps they were bathing in the fuller ponds and slurping from puddles. Or maybe, they were like you. Drudging through the forest in search of their first meal, the pads of their feet slick with mud.

The moist soil squelched beneath your steps. Wet bits of green grass stuck themselves to the textures of your boots. A layer of mud painted itself to the sole of your shoe, lodging itself into whatever print had been carved there.

Though you didn't own a calendar and probably would never again, you could feel it in the air that Winter was ending and Spring was blossoming. The mornings were still chilly but always sunny, the warmth coming in the later hours of the day. And the rain was frequent but it did not bother you. It softened the frozen ground and plumped the trees and flowers so they could grow full of life and beauty. It provided drinking water and filled the natural water resources with even more water.

Daryl, however, was always bothered. He complained about not having seen a rabbit or a deer on your morning hunt. You poked at him and told him they were still resting like you should be. He complained when he slipped in the mud. And he complained even more when he saw a fox saying, that's the reason we ain't finding no rabbits not because they're gettin' some extra shut-eye.

But he never complained about you. Not a word slipped his lips when you distracted him by holding his hand or standing too close. What was wrong about enjoying the presence of your partner? He had woken you up so early to drag you along, he might as well enjoy you.

When it came time to rest, you set up just on the treeline of a wide field. Wild with uncut grass, weeds, and flowers. The both of you sat on a fallen tree, attempting to avoid the wet ground that would surely ruin your clothes. Daryl had particularly picked this spot to keep an eye on anything wandering into the field for a nibble at the grass.

The sounds of the woods fell upon your ears as silence settled. A slight wind disturbed the greenery. Bending the tall grass, making it dance with the wildflowers. It moved the freshly grown leaves on the branches of the trees, flowing around like hair in the wind. The birds chirped their morning songs and the squirrels scattered from one tree to the next. You liked to joke and say they were hiding from Daryl. And truthfully, you couldn't blame them. You also had no desire to be shot with an arrow, skinned, and then thrown on a grill or tossed into a soup.

"Ya alright?" Daryl broke you from your daydreams, his voice gentle and smooth. You turned to catch his gaze, replying with a gentle, “Yeah.” Followed by a reassuring smile. His hand reached for yours, pulling it to rest in his own. You were already at peace in the sounds and scenes of nature but his touch calmed you in places you didn't even know were tense. Every moment you were able to bask in the love you felt for him, you cherished.

Waking up beside him, falling asleep beside him, showering with him. There was nothing you wanted to do without him by your side. And that included death. You had thought about it...many times. How could you not in a world like this? Death was always right around the corner; peeking, creeping, and waiting. You and Daryl had had your fair share of scares over the years and those thoughts haunted your mind every time. How could you go on without him? How could you fight every day if the thing you're fighting to go home to, is no longer there?

Daryl had the same gloomy thoughts. Losing you was, as clique as it sounds, his worst nightmare. He ran from the thoughts as much as his legs would let him but eventually his legs wore out and it caught up to him in the worst of times. When you got hurt, even the smallest scratch sent him tumbling down. He’d grasp onto you, repeating the same words again and again; Are ya okay? Can I do anythin’? M’sorry. But the gloomiest time came at night after you'd fallen asleep, leaving him alone to succumb to the dreading feeling that was always chasing him. He’d lay beside you, watching your gentle features finally be at ease and always making sure your chest rose and fell with gentle breaths.

“We should just stay here.” You didn’t turn to look at Daryl when you spoke but he looked at you, admiring your silhouette as you looked off. “What do ya mean?” Daryl answered. He wasn’t entirely sure if you were actually talking to him or if the thoughts in your mind were just slipping from your lips. “We come to sit here all the time and no matter the weather, it’s always just…” Your words trailed off as your mind searched for the word to describe the scene before you.

“Perfect?”

An airy laugh came from your chest at Daryl’s word choice. You turned to him then. With your hand still in his, you brought it to your lips and planted a kiss. Almost as a way to say, thank you for the effort. “Comforting. But yes, also perfect.” In your mind it was warmth when it was cold, it was a breath of fresh air in a world of rotting corpses, it was the hope of a future in a world of early death. But he was right…in simple words it was perfect.

“We can build a little house-”

“We?”

With only one word his tone was thick with sarcastic disbelief. You playfully rolled your eyes and gave his hand a squeeze. With your free hand, you pointed to a random spot in the clearing as you rephrased your previous sentence. “You could build me a little house right there.” Daryl liked the sound of that better. A house he was to build, with his hands, just for you to live in. “We’ll fill it with all our things, steal some furniture from home, and scavenge the rest…We can build a fence around so we’re safe.” Your words were a daydreamy gleam and you were far from finished. “We’ll light fires in the Winter to stay warm and open the windows in Spring…” This was obviously a daydream you had put quite a bit of thought into, one you’d laid up at night pondering about, and Daryl would not rob himself of the indulgence of your words.

"I'll start a garden and you’ll hunt. We’ll always have full tummies,” You looked away from the sky to meet his equally blue eyes, “And even fuller hearts.” Your gentle smile rested upon your face and your eyes were filled with the longing of a home that only existed in your whimsical daydreams. Though it did not exist and there was a possibility it never would, Daryl felt himself melting into this world of what-ifs. Daryl had never associated the words home and love together before. But…what if it could exist? What if he could build a home. A home just for him. A home of comfort…a home where he could just simply love and not be afraid.

“W’bout everyone back home?” He questioned, “They’ll never find us.” You responded quickly. Daryl shook his head and scoffed, “Nah, they’d find us in less than a week.” Daryl’s ears perked up at the sound of your soft laughter. “Yeah, yeah they would.” Daryl’s eyes never left you, even when you turned your head to look around the wooded area. He could practically see the way you were editing your story. “Fine, we’ll uh-” Motioning behind you, you continued, “We’ll clear a path through the woods all the way to the road. So they can always come visit.”

Then, as you looked at him, the dread crept upon you. Wrapping its clawed mangled hands around your perfect bubble. “And when we go…we’ll go together.” This caught Daryl by surprise. The fate he so deeply feared was no longer chasing him. It was sitting on that tree with him…and in the form of the words that came from your tongue. “C’mom..don’t talk ‘bout that.” He tried to defer but you would not let him. Whether you went from a bite, from a bullet, from a freak accident, or if you were lucky enough to go naturally, it was and always will be the inevitable truth of fate. “Once we’ve lived in our home long enough and full of love, we can lay in the grass and go.”

Everyone went back to the earth anyway, right? You had no desire to be thrown in a hole and covered in damp cold dirt. If you had to decay, you wanted to be on the soft grass, under the sun, even under the rain. You wanted the wildflowers to eventually grow through the cracks of your skeleton, just as you had seen done with other animal carcasses. You’d let the bugs find shelter in your bones and you’d let the foxes nibble at you. Maybe it would stop them from eating all of Daryl’s rabbits.

“I mean it…I don’t wanna go alone. Never mind how it takes me, I just wanna go with you.” The hope that your eyes once shined was now overshadowed by the tears that formed in your waterline. Daryl swallowed the lump that formed in the back of his throat. “C’mere.” He opened his arms to you, providing you the comfort you desperately needed.

Now with your rambling seemingly done and your body against his, Daryl thought.

“Alright.” Was all he said. Though it wasn’t a typical alright, it was serious. You pulled yourself up from his chest and looked to him with a cocked eyebrow, “Alright?” You questioned. “Yeah.” His demeanor confused you, seconds ago you were spewing words of fantasy, words of love and death, but now he seemed a little too serious on the matter. “What do you mean?”

“Means I wanna do it.” He spoke with his face close to yours, eyes locking into your own, so so close. “Imma build ya a home. Might take a little bit but I promise I will.” With his promise, you closed the sliver of space between you. You had kissed him many times before but there was a new feeling to the gentle urgency his lips met yours with. You could feel the fear of fate melting away in the softness of his kisses and you felt the desire for a peaceful future replace it. And that peaceful future tugged at your lips and ran its fingers through Daryl’s hair.

But most of all there was now a promise. A promise that you’d build together, love together, be full together, and eventually…you’d rot together.

240 notes · View notes

princess-tulip-writes · 1 year

Text

my illyrian baby • cassian

genre: fluff

summary: mornings in valeris are magical, but a certain baby bat doesn’t appreciate it when his girl admires the starry dawn by herself.

a/n: this just a quick morning thought i had while getting ready for work :) its not edited so im sorry.

there was not a single sight like this one; speckles of starlight painting the sky as the sun rose, shades of pink and orange swallowing the dark night as morning greeted the night court. the air was crisp and welcoming, like a baby fawn in the mossy woods during spring time, and your morning cup of tea seemed to taste better than usual as you sat on your porch, enjoying the sunrise.

stealing a few moments for yourself before being clung to all day was a ritual you wished you could maintain every morning, like this one. something about valeris made loneliness feel like a warm hug, as if you were never truly alone, and perhaps you weren’t. perhaps, maybe in some way, the souls of your loved ones stuck with you here, always lingering and watching over you. valeris was a very mysterious place, even after centuries of residency you still had so many secrets to uncover about the city, and it certainly wouldn’t surprise you if sprits were trapped here, following their dreams in the after life that had yet to accomplish in their life and finding happiness in the city of starlight—at least that’s what you hoped anyway.

taking a long sip of your tea, you sighed contently as the silence of the morning enveloped you in a tight embrace, causing a content smile to tug at your lips. silence was rare for you these days, not that your mate’s roudy nature annoyed you or anything, the occasional silence was nice though. it was new, refreshing to take some time to yourself. but, after a full hour, you missed him. you missed his warmth, his touch, his laugh, his voice, his face—

as if the both of your mind’s were linked, the loud groaning of hardwood sounded from behind the open door, and your smiled wider as sandalwood and mountain air found you, filling the fresh morning air with his scent as he neared.

he was clumsy in the early morning hours, even at the beginning of training most days, so when his large feet stumbled over nothing, you didn’t flinch.

“baby…”

his whine turned into a yawn, causing your gaze to finally tear away from the sunrise and settle on him for the second time today, but the first time seeing him awake today. you may have stolen a loving glance at him before you slipped outside earlier that morning, but you’d never boost his ego like that by telling him.

his arms stretched over his head and his wings flared out completely as he stepped onto the porch, finally having enough room to fully expand to stretch all of his crampy limbs. especially the large wings that spend most of their time tucked tightly behind his back. his hair was a tangled mess and his face was puffy with a good night’s sleep, yet he still looked like the most beautiful male you had ever seen.

he smiled lazily at you as he caught your gaze.

“g’morning.” he yawned as his arms fell limp to his sides. his wings tucked in slightly, but still stayed flared and you were sure it was just him showing off. not that you minded of course.

you returned his smile. “good morning, cass.”

cassian’s hazel eyes seemed to clear up at the awaited sound of your voice. waking up without the warmth of his mate atop of his chest was not something he was happy about, and finding you star gazing without him caused a pout to replace his smile.

“why’d you leave me?” he whined, his shoulders and wings slumping as he stepped closer to you.

his arms wrapped around your middle, and his face nuzzled in your neck before he took a deep inhale of your preshower scent. the natural smell of your skin in the morning air always made cassian’s heart feel warm and full, if he had it his way, you wouldn’t shower at all.

but that’s gross, you always remind him when he suggests the idea. so he drops it and enjoys the short lived scent while he can.

your free hand, the one that didn’t have a glass mug in it’s hold, settled on top of his larger hand as he began to take a handful of your chub.

“i wanted to watch the sun rise before it was too late.” you answered softly.

he huffed into your neck. “coulda woke me up. maybe i wanted to watch it with you.”

a soft kiss was pressed to your neck after he spoke, causing your lips to upturn.

“i’m sorry.” you whispered.

you couldn’t explain to him that you wanted some time to yourself, even if you knew he would try to understand. he was sensitive when it came to you, and although he would pretend to be understanding, he would feel a bit rejected and most likely pout all day. so, instead, you played it off.

“wake me next time.” he grumbled into your skin, sending vibrations down your shoulders. “please.”

his plea was a soft whine, giving away just how grumpy he was about waking up alone, and you couldn’t fight the guilt that built up from it.

“i will, i’m sorry.”

your hand squeezed his reassuringly, sending strokes of love and apologizes down the bond to soothe him from within. it seemed to have worked because his arms tightened around you slightly and his breathing slowed down. the tickle of his stubble scratched your neck as he nuzzled in closer, wanting to savor the feeling of you before the day begins.

for a few moments, silence filled the air as you continued to watch the dawn turn into skies of blue, sipping the rest of your tea as you both enjoyed each other.

“missed you, sweetheart.”

you chuckled. “you had me all night. i was only gone for an hour.”

cassian groaned in disapproval to your answer and nipped your neck playfully, causing you to yelp in surprise. his soft tongue was quick to run along the sore spot, and soothed the irritated skin under his wet mouth. “still felt like forever.”

you rolled you eyes at him but felt a sense of appreciation for his need for you. it was flattering coming from a male like him; powerful and so so sexy. how the hell did you get so lucky?

“i don’t like waking up without you.”

you turned to look at him, as difficult as it was given his position, and placed a gentle kiss to the crown of his head. his hair was soaked with his scent, causing your ovaries to scream out for him.

“neither do i, my love.”

his arms tightened around you again, but this time it was an action of security, to remind him that you were there now, in his arms and making no effort to abandon his embrace. your body felt as if it was made for him, the soft plush feel of you against his hard body was safe, like home. he never wanted to see how empty the feeling would be without it.

a few more minutes passed as the two of you fell into a conversation about the day ahead, sorting out each other’s schedules and knowing the where abouts of each mate for assurance that you’ll both be okay. this routine wasn’t rare, in fact it was nearly a daily occurrence given how scared you both are after the war of losing each other. cassian was terrified especially, the thought of losing his whole world, his mate, his girl, made his stomach queasy and bile rise in his throat. without you his life would be nothing, he wouldn’t survive.

as the sky became blue, a rumble of your mate’s stomach brought you back to the reality of your usual mornings.

“want me to make you some pancakes? i’ll add the chocolate chips you love and some powdered sugar.”

his ears perked immediately at the slight mention of food, let alone your cooking. the male was convinced that every me you ever made him was with love, even when you were angry with him. you put so much thought into how he liked things, adding special ingredients you know he likes and serving it to him with a smile and a cheek kiss most days.

you made everything so much better.

a grin creeped on his features as he lifted his face from the crevice of your neck. his eyes finally met yours, and he couldn’t stop his lips from finding the skin of your temple as you looked up at him. next, was your lips. his eyes darted down to your lips, and before you could catch on, he dove in and took your breath away.

the pouty illyrian was no longer there, now the general was awake and greeting his wife for the first time that morning with a kiss.

your lips molded together, tongues smoothing against each other as his hands found your hips, flipping you over to face him so he could get to you deeper.

with you, he always wanted more. nothing was ever enough, he needed all of you.

“i love you.” he mumbled against you.

you smiled into the kiss at the sound of voice, setting down your mug on the table behind you without disconnecting, then wrapping your arms around his middle, his strong, hard torso.

“i love you too, my illyrian baby. always.”

#cassian 🌷#cassian fluff #cassian x reader #cassian x reader fluff #acotar x reader #acotar blurb #acotar fluff

581 notes · View notes

lamemaster · 1 year

Text

The Curse of Bloodlines (Thranduil x Feanorian reader)

Thranduil x Feanorian reader

Genre: angst (shit ton of it)

Summary: You wonder if your child would be born before the passing of Spring or if they would be born in the creeping days of fall. 'Not long now,' you whisper to your belly.

Part 2: The Curse of Heart | Part 3: The Curse of the Uncursed

Day 475th of staying in your room. The air carried hints of creeping spring. The cloying fragrance of blooming flowers made its way into your room from wide open windows that were never closed. You could not bring yourself to close them. They were the only reminder of the world that existed outside your room.

The afternoon sun left you feeling drowsy as you huddled closer to your favorite nook next to the windows. Resting your head on the wall, you stretched your back to alleviate the hovering ache that rarely left you these days. You gently massaged your swollen feet, or at least tried to with your belly getting in the way.

You wondered if your child would be born before the passing of spring or if they would be born in the creeping days of fall. "Not long now," you whispered to your belly.

"You would be the prince of the Woodland Realm. Everyone would love you like they do for your father. You would grow up with so many people looking after you," you sniffed as you felt the butterflies of your child's movement under your hands. "Your father would give you anything you could wish for. He is an ellon who cares immensely for his people."

You tried to focus on the little flutter that tickled your palm or the cool breeze. You tried to ward away the thoughts that plagued your mind. They had been frequent these days. A premonition of what was to come. You avoided those thoughts to protect your child from their shadow.

However, a sense of mourning clouded your heart. It was the realization that you would not live to see your son. You could feel it in your soul and your body. Long ago, your great-grandmother Miriel had been the first-ever elf to die on the blessed lands, and now you felt the same fate looking back at you.

You were a Finwean, the granddaughter of Feanor, and the daughter of Celegorm. You hadn't known it for the longest time. You had grown up with a single mother who never spoke of your father. You didn't dare stir the grief that lay heavy on your mother's heart. Your father's name was never uttered in your household.

Maybe that was the reason why you assumed your silver hair to be from your Sinda mother. You simply did not fathom the possibility of it being a paternal trait. You did not care for your green eyes, which seemed to be a gift from your grandmother Nerdanel. Never had you ever thought of belonging to the cursed bloodline of the Noldor. The Silmarils had never called for your soul, you were not oath-bound, and your soul didn't long for your home beyond the seas.

It fooled you and Thranduil, who once loved you. He truly did, at the beginning of your courtship when every second of your existence was spent next to him. You both had wed early, and none had objected. You had once been the crown princess of Greenwood the Great.

Then it had come. A letter from your uncle who wandered unknown shores. It was a letter that shattered your world. And the beloved crown princess of Greenwood the Great became a kinslayer's daughter. Child of an ellon who had once slain the King of Beleriand.

All was lost when you learned of your father. Your people were no longer yours. Your mother, an unknown elleth who had picked you up from an abandoned camp. Most of all, your husband and all his love were gone.

You should have resented your uncle or your father, yet you could not bring yourself to. It would have been easy to deny the claim in the letter. It could have saved your marriage, but how could you? It seemed as if it was meant to be. How else could your father's name find you despite all that had happened? How else could your uncle, whom many called a wraith, remember you?

So you bore all the hate, anger, and resentment that came towards you. It was all you could offer these people. All that you could give your husband, who refused to look at you.

Thranduil had waited for you to deny the claim in the letter. He had expected it to be a lie. You would have too if not for everything pointing to one truth. Your silence had been the only answer you could offer your husband, a fact that broke his heart.

Your bond stretched thin with the barest presence lingering. It lingered on the edge of snapping. Had Miriel felt the same way too? You seemed to share a fate similar to your great-grandmother's. Maybe someday you would get a chance to ask her.

You would bear it all for the sake of your child. Even the confinement of your room was an acceptable fate to persevere for your and Thranduil's child.

It had been an unspoken sentence laid down by Oropher. You were banned from the gardens and woods you grew up in. Stables, lakes, halls, kitchens...you were prohibited from them. It started with guards following your every step and ended with the room you had not left for the past year.

It could have been a prison cell if you had not been carrying the heir of the Woodland realm. Or maybe you would have been kicked out of your home. You would have accepted it. Maybe that would have appeased all those who had been wronged by your father.

Therefore, you did not mourn the weariness that lay heavy on your soul. Whatever doom awaited you would free Thranduil and your child from your existence. None in Greenwood would burden them with your family's wrongdoings.

#the hobbit #the silmarillion #tolkien elves #noldor #thranduil x reader #Feanorian reader #celegorm #angst #middle earth #two shot #thranduil x wife #thranduil

459 notes · View notes

belladonnadawn · 2 months

Text

Silver Springs

“I know I could have loved you if you would just let me.”

Alex x Reader

After your ex’s infidelity, you swore that you’d never let your heart be discarded once again. Then came Alex. He was sweet, charming, and passionate. His charm seems to skyrocket once you find out about his skill at photography. How he captured images and changed its perspective truly enticed you; and soon he captured your heart too.

You were guarded– scared. That feeling of fear was valid after what happened in your last relationship. But Alex was understanding, he told you how it happened to him too and your heart broke with his. Nevertheless, your relationship blossomed from there. Slowly let your guard down, with a hope that maybe this time it was worth it.

Everything was smooth sailing, you sometimes wonder if you got lucky or blessed. Either way, you’re sure that what you had was meant to last. And it did, for four amazing years. You knew what you and Alex had was special.

HIs success was inevitable. You believed since then that he was bound to go big, making his own name in the industry. It meant more gigs, more work, and less time with you. You understood since you were building your career path as him.

But these past few days a new name became familiar in your household: Natalie. All you know from his accounts was that she's a good colleague: efficient, passionate, and pretty. You knew her position and understood her significance in his career, but to see that Alex has someone to bond with the same passion together… it did bother you. You tried to swallow the jealousy bubbling up inside you, blaming it on lack of affection and distance from each other’ but it never went away.

Then came the doubts, the suspicions, and finally the argument.

There's not a day where the argument never replayed in your mind. You pointed fingers at yourself, wishing you were quieter and more understanding. You’d stare at him, wishing he was assuring and empathetic. But you know that no one wins in the blame game, so you try to move forward. After four years, there’s no storm that you and Alex haven’t weathered… right?

Tension filled the night air as you and Alex faced each other again. After the argument, you expected reconciliation– after all, there’s a calm after a storm. But you were wrong. Alex revealed that a new life was welcoming him, a life in New York filled with new opportunities and experience. You were beyond happy for him, especially when you watched his journey for years. But that happiness didn’t stay long as he revealed that it was best for you and him to part ways.

“With the right person, I think I’d be able to do it.” Alex took a deep sigh, head hung low. The statement made you flinch, heart falling to your stomach. After dissociating for how long, it brings you back to the situation as if it’s rubbing it in the wound, mocking you.

“Do you hear yourself?” He looks up at you, meeting your gaze. You look at him in disbelief, not recognizing the man you love.

Both of you sat in silence, the air was thick with things left unsaid. You felt your heart beating out of your chest. You never thought that you’ll reach this point in your relationship.

“We had just one argument, one disagreement; and now you’re casting me away for New York? After four years?” You tried to hide the hate in your words, but after being placed in such a predicament, you know you can’t.

Alex stood up, trying to make his point across. “It’s not just that, you have no idea how complicated our relationship would be, especially after you accused me!”

“Are you really breaking up with me because of my accusations or you're breaking up with me so you can enjoy your new life in New York?” You stood your ground, wanting to awaken some senses to him.

Alex only sighed, looking away from you. “You don’t understand.”

“I know I don’t.” You spoke, words laced with contempt and sorrow. Your heart shattered; you didn't know that this is how it ends. You could see your picture perfect future shattered in front of you.

“Did you even imagine a future or a life with me?” With a heavy heart, you looked at him for answers.

‘Did you even consider me as the right person?’

You bit your tongue, holding back the question. At the state of your relationship, you already knew the answer. It was tragic that it must come to an end. You love him, but you know that love is not enough foundation in a relationship.

“I think I need to get some air.” You grabbed your belongings, praying that the tears you’ve been holding back won’t burst out in front of him. Your relationship flashed in your eyes, a bittersweet feeling engulfs your heart.

You could fight and beg for him, but that would seem desperate– and love isn’t built out of desperation. You could scream how much you deserve better, but only the ones who truly love you will be willing to listen. So you just decided to take a walk to clear your mind. The night was quiet, a contrast to the tumultuous emotions that continued to fill you. Your gaze fell on the stars, with a silent wish that the pain that you carry would hurt less. Holding your heart, you let yourself love for the last time.

“Good luck, Alex. I wish you well in New York.”

Note: Hello, everyone! Thought I might post an Alex fic before taking a break. Been visiting the doctor these past few days, and let's just say I'm still under observation. I'll be okay (Maybe a Kayson audio would revive me, I miss him so much), and I promise to come back with more bangers. Might lurk from time to time tho hehe. That's all, thank youuu!

Pattern banner from Cafekitsune.

#zsakuva #sakuverse

58 notes · View notes

fairykazu · 4 months

Text

letters to her ft. kazuha

cws: established relationship, f! reader (referred as lady, princess, etc), third person, making up lore to fit the story, princess bride ref

masterlist

kazuha stood tall amidst the warmer breeze that inazuma had to shoulder for the spring, every cherry blossom tree was in bloom, the pink petals falling to the ground. he pocketed one petal for her as his long, white hair dancing like ribbons of silk in the gentle winds. red eyes scanning the horizon as he was searching for a glimpse of the one who held his heart captive.

just before leaving to inazuma last night, he had written her another letter, his heart pouring out onto the parchment paper as if it was the lighting storm that showers over the islands, blessed by the electro archon herself. he wrote carefully as the ink stained his fingers; words blurred together as his vision began to blur with tears. unspoken words he'd never said out loud.

as he was traveling by boat to the city, the memory of their first meeting came flooding back, he remembered it as if it was yesterday. he was left, stranded, in the harsh wilderness of the islands, abandoned to care for himself.

thankfully, a woman had taken him in out of pity. although kazuha wasn't the type to believe in the archons like he used to, he thanked them above for blessing his eyes with her. her beautiful, sparkling eyes and her dimples when she smiled. she was truly someone who was as beautiful as the ocean waves when they crash on the shore. he had fallen to her charms quicker than the first snowflake that danced in the winter.

he remembered how kind she was as she poured him some jasmine tea. her delicate hands made him feel safe. even then, in his heart, he had known that she was the one. the one who would make all his pain and suffering worth it.

once he arrived on the dock of the city, it had been a long time since he saw her. years had passed since, but their love for each other had only grown stronger. they exchanged countless letters, sharing their deepest desires and fears. promises were made, vowing to be together soon. kazuha took out a letter from his pocket, unfolding it. clutching it close to his chest, the scent of her perfume lingered on the paper, taunting him with the memory of her.

closing his eyes, he allowed himself to be consumed by the moments of their time together, reliving each memory as if it were happening all at once.

he chuckled silently to himself as he remembered the way she would laugh, how her eyes would sparkle when she smiled, nights they spent together, whispering secrets and sharing dreams beneath the starlit sky.

like how the archon mythology had said when people were originally had four arms, four legs and two heads, but when the archons had a war, it eventually split the people into beings with two arms, two legs and one head, doomed or blessed them with their other half wandering the world.

maybe, she was his other half, and he was fated to be hers forevermore.

his heart started to race once he arrived at her estate, hoping that he would be embraced by her arms once again. pink blossoms waltzed in the wind around him, the scent of love in the air. the grand mansion loomed before him, its towers reaching towards the celestials.

the door was guarded with two knights, clad in their bright armor, holding onto their polearms as if their life depended on it. he took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come. one of them asked the ivory haired samurari,

"state your business."

"i am here to see the lady." kazuha replied, staying calm despite the broody knights staring daggers into his soul. he smiled politely as one of them raised a brow,

"the lady? don't be silly, young man. everyone in the world wants to see the lady. please show me how you know her."

kazuha didn't expect the security to increase when he was gone. he handed the letter he recieved from you recently to the broody knight number one.

broody knight number one laughed in kazuha's face, the saliva sticking to his face. he grabbed a tissue, wiping his face. "young man, don't make me laugh!” loud, booming fits of laughter came from both knights. “this is no way the lady's handwriting." he squinted, passing it to the second broody knight.

"i agree. this must be a bootleg version. nice try, kid." kazuha tried to take back the letter but the knight only had ripped it up in front of him, his eyes grew to saucers, watching the parchment become one with the pink flowers. as kazuha was about to unsheathe his sword, a little man, dressed in all black, presumably the butler, creaked open the doors. he waddled to one of the knights, whispering something.

as the laughter took a full stop, a moment of silence increased the tension. the knights' facade of being proud dropped completely, laughing nervously. "my apologies, sir kaedehara, we weren't aware of your business with the lady."

he retorted back, "you would've if you read the contents of the letter." the knight opened the door wide open, making the brass knockers clink against the wooden door.

as the doors were still open, kazuha sauntered his way into the mansion; it revealed a grand hall adorned with tapestries and different styled paintings of your family. kazuha could feel the weight of the knights' daggered gaze upon his head again, he chuckled nervously, forgetting that he made a remark towards their intergity.

most definitely, deserved though.

he made his way towards the staircase that led to the upper levels of her estate.

as he ascended up on the marble stairs, the tension in the air grew more cruel, colder. it was as if the whole world was holding their breath, waiting for him to arrive; it made him realize that he was holding his breath too.

he made himself relax as he paused for a moment on the top of the stairs, taking in the surroundings around him. from the lavish furnishings to countless, new portraits framed in gold, each single one served as a painful reminder of his time apart from you.

he was familiar with the hallways, turning a left, reaching her chamber. his heart was pounding in his chest, taking a deep breath just before he steadied himself. he knocked on the door, "my lady, are you there?"

a moment of silence came before a click of the latch replied to kazuha's question. the door swung open, revealing his lady in front of him. she was more beautiful than he ever remembered, even if he attempted to remember her appearance, engraved in his mind. it couldn't compare to reality

. her eyes lit up like sparkles in the night sky, "hello, my knight, how are you? how was your journey?" she said with grace, upholding the reputation she has across many towns. her voice was soft and sweet just like how he remembered.

taking her delicate hands into his calloused ones, he kissed her knuckles, "it was beautiful despite the harshness of the weather." your face shifted uncomfortably. "don't worry, princess, i wasn't hurt badly. in fact," from his bag, he grabbed a single rainbow rose he saved just for her. "i have this flower for you. it reminded me of you."

she smiled, her teeth shining brightly, "thank you, my knight. care to come in?"

kazuha nodded. the door behind him shut closed. she took a deep breath, taking a step forward, her facade as a perfect lady crumbled before him. her hand trembled, reaching out to his cheek, "kazuha," she whispered, her voice hoarse with emotion. "you've come back to me." tears began to form, creating little pearls at her eyes.

"i promised that i would." kazuha replied, gently comforting her as she pulled him into a tight embrace, clinging to him as if she might never let go. he wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her neck, breathing in her familiar scent.

it was the scent of home, of love, of everything that had maintained him during the years they had been apart. kazuha departed from her embrace. he lit the fireplace as it crackled and cackled. he returned to the nook of the bedroom. he carried her to the loveseat, sitting next to her. she gazed into her lover's eyes,

she sniffled, "kazuha, i adore you. although sometimes i wonder if i'd be enough for you?" her snot running down her nose, he quickly retrieved a tissue, wiping the snot from her face.

"you know, i'll always come back to you, princess," he said softly, brushing a lock of hair from her face. "no matter where I go or what I do, you'll always be the star that guides me home."

she smiled through her tears; her face began to light up. "and you, kazuha, my love, you're the only one who can make this place feel like home." she leaned into him, her body warm and familiar against his. "stay with me, won't you?"

he returned her smile, sweetly, wiping a single tear off her face, "of course, my lady, i wouldn't want to be anywhere else but with you." he pressed a kiss to her head, humming a tune.

she nodded, sniffling, wiping her nose with the tissue kazuha gave her. "thank you, my knight." she rested her head against his shoulder, her breath warm against his neck. "i've missed your stories about your adventures; do tell me, what have you been up to since you left?"

"as you wish, my lady."

#i realized i dont write a lot of fics for him #IM SO SORRY KAZUHA #astronetwrk #kazuha x reader #kazuha kadehara #kazuha kaedehara x reader #kazuha genshin #genshin impact #kaedehara kazuha x reader #kaedehara kazuha #kazuha kaedehara

105 notes · View notes

glow-worms-are-believers · 11 months

Text

Time makes strangers of us all (dp x dc)

It was a mild night. They were way pasts sweater weather, what with summer fast approaching but the air was still pleasantly cool as the sun went down. Jazz liked that about the late spring months, no more allergies but the smell of summer in the air. It was a quiet night in Amity. It wasn't quite so rare as it had been a few years ago but it was still something the people here knew to be grateful for. At least most of them.

Jazz sighed as she walked through the darkening streets. The sky was turning a beautiful dark blue colour, and here and there street lamps were lighting up. She'd gone long enough to have reached the park that was nearby and she started down the road that followed its edge. Her eyes settled on the illuminated scenes of people going about their evening. With the lack of natural light, the warm glow that shined through the windows made it all the more visible. As she walked within view of a large stone house with its balcony door open, she could hear piano notes filtering through the quiet night. Jazz slowed down as she passed in front, maximizing her time within earshot of the peaceful music.

She could see someone washing the dishes in one house, and a couple sitting on the couch in another. Some windows, she didn't see anyone, but the warm light indicated a soul was awake somewhere in the house. Jazz didn't wish that warm light was hers, at least not anymore. Leaving Amity Park for college had given her something like perspective, and coming back after two years left her with complicated feelings.

Tonight, it seemed nostalgia was the most prominent one. She reached the end of the street which brought her face to face with the river. She used to catch fireflies with Danny near here and she wondered if there were still some around. With a smile, she started on the path following the riverside as the first stars started to come out.

It was truly a beautiful night. Not a cloud in the sky, Danny would've loved to go stargazing. It was almost a shame he had stayed back at their apartment near campus. He'd said he had a big assignment due and had begged off the trip. Jazz could understand. She had made the same kinds of excuses for two years to avoid coming here.

Danny would come around one day. He would realize, as she did, that the life they'd left behind wasn't waiting here in Amity Park. It wasn't waiting anywhere anymore because it no longer existed. Their old house was sold, the inventions, the portal, long dismantled. There were no more ghosts in Amity Park except the ones Jazz had come here to lay to rest. From the corner of her eyes she caught something moving. She turned her head to see one lone firefly sitting on a leaf of the willow tree that was growing on the bank. Jazz smiled as she crouched to get a better view of the small insect. As she looked at its antenna that were gently swaying in the wind, she caught herself wishing Danny had come with her after all if only to reminisce together.

Someone cleared their throat behind her and Jazz jumped a feet in the air. She turned around quickly. In front of her was a man, looking about the same age as she was. He was about the same size as her as well, maybe a bit shorter, though his shoulder width more than made up for it. His face showed surprise at having surprised her so badly.

"I'm sorry," he said, looking awkwardly apologetic, "I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's alright," Jazz said as she willed her heartbeat to slow down to its normal speed.

"My bike broke down," he explained as he gestured behind him towards the highway in the distance. "I was wondering if you knew the closest mechanic around?"

Jazz winced. "Sal's is definitely closed by now," she answered.

The guy sighed wearily. "I figured," he said. "Do you know someplace I could crash for the night?"

"Amity's Bed and Breakfast is close by," Jazz offered. "I can show you if you'd like?"

"That'd be great," said the guy as his shoulders slumped a little.

Jazz nodded before stepping back on the river path fully. Like that, she had a better view of the highway coming into town and the big Welcome sign that proclaimed Amity Park was "a nice place to live". With a last nostalgic thought before she let the peace of the evening disperse fully, Jazz let a small smile stretch her lips. It really was a nice place now, the golden sky after the storm.

"My name's Jazz," she started as she turned her back on the road in the distance.

"I'm Jason," the guy said as he followed after her.

Yeah, thought Jazz as they retraced back her steps from earlier that night, her days of running around chasing the undead were truly and completely over.

It was smooth sailing for her from here on out.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #tall jazz #jason todd #jazz fenton #honey you've got a big storm coming #huhuhu #what would be funnier:#Jason being here because there was something weird and he wants to investigate #OR Jason being on a roadtrip/vacation and being just as pissed as Jazz about the Shenanigans(tm)?#roxpox #roxpoxwrote

151 notes · View notes

junehan · 2 years

Text

arcane characters and their love languages ☆

🕷› vi

words of affirmation, perhaps her trauma is to thank for that. she's already lost herself to the forces of fate and time, where her most intimate relations have dulled to become only strangers with memories. haunted, she can only trust her own words to ensure it never happens again

through your words she can be certain. through her words you can sense her sincerity. she tells you it will always be you and her against the world. she tells you you're beautiful when you're determined, that your smile is cunning and captivating. she tells you she'll see you again, even if time itself has to collapse just so it can happen

your voices against the brewing storm. soft kisses and whispered promises tidied to linked pinkies. gentle smiles laying beside one another when the day is still. she tells you she loves you and you know it is true

🕷› caitlyn

quality time, hands holding one another in the quiet of night. silence that stretches comfortably. blinking away the residue of sleep, wrapped in the other's embrace, the tracing of pictures on skin. sharing breakfast at a table

you find yourself always at her side when the two of you join a bigger group, always sharing bigger memories as a pair. it's undefiable that the two of you stick together, experiencing every high and llow without another word

movies, late night calls, going to the store down the road at 3am, going on patrols, you find yourself indulging every moment with her by your side

🕷› jinx

gift giving, the constant knock on your door that opens to no one, seemingly, but look down at your feet and there's a poorly wrapped present on your doorstep. cute doodles and erratic color palettes, you find these everywhere when your back is turned, echoed by the giggle of someone familiar

sometimes, her gifts explode into glitter that takes ages to clean up, or jumps at you on a spring. sometimes, there's simply nothing and sometimes there's only a message to "look behind you!" sometimes there's a vulgar drawing and sometimes there's another small gift waiting when you open it.

other times, you find a recreation of the necklace you were eyeing through the window of a shop, the sparkling diamond replaced with a bullet. other times, she leaves bits of rubble from her missions, and though its quite frankly useless, it tells you that even across the bridge, she's thinking of you

🕷› ekko

physical touch, he's never truly at ease when he doesn't have an arm slinged over your shoulders or around your waist

maybe this is a projection of his fears, of watching a loved one disappear from his sight, a fear so vivid you can see reflected in his eyes when he looks at you

in your most intimate moments, he'll bury his face in your neck and breathe you in, your presence never wavering by his side, simply holding him there when he needs it

🕷› viktor

acts of service, it's no surprise to you really, knowing that his research usually took precedence over your relationship. sometimes, on silent nights where the air is still unlike the raging thoughts in your head, the only company under a cold moon, you wonder if he truly even loves you

but though he isn't fond of endearing words, or not one to cling, it is the cup of fresh coffee waiting for you once you open your eyes to a new day, or the silent completion of household chores, or the blanket that is thrown over your tired body in the middle of the night that spells out his care for you

he'd rather show you his love than tell you, a silent kind of affection reserved for only one special person

you don't need to talk, neither does he, simply being there is enough, illuminated in the glow of midnight, silent save for shared breaths

#arcane headcannons #arcane #ekko #jinx #vi #caitlyn #viktor #ekko x reader #jinx x reader #vi x reader #caitlyn x reader #viktor x reader

571 notes · View notes

little-annie · 1 year

Text

Ghostly

Steddie | Little_Annie | Ao3

---

It started with whispers so faint he could have sworn they were nothing but the wind. Cool and quiet, ghosting over his ear with a light breeze.

It started with the subtle run of invisible fingers down his arm, tracing over muscle and flesh, setting nerves on fire for something that was just out of touch.

It started in the nights where he'd awake from the horrors of his nightmares to a sudden chill that'd linger at his side. An eerie but oddly comforting feeling that'd press against his body with intent. Pressure at his back and wrapping around his waist, a touch he'd longed for but never had the chance to experience. A touch he'd been desperate for since spring break of 86'. A touch he'd wish to experience in the aftermath of hell but never once had the opportunity before it was taken away and left to rot in the barren wasteland of the Upside Down.

A touch of a man he knows he could have grown to love.

In reality it started with glances in the halls and a twist in his gut that at the time he was yet to recognize as desire. It wasn't until years down the road with a jagged bottle pressed millimetres from spilling the source of his life at his feet that Steve Harrington recognized that need. It came in the form of piercing dark eyes, a mess of curls and skin so pale it resembled the beauty of porcelain.

But it came too late. It came in a time of distress and fear and the sheer unknowingness of survival. It came only mere hours before he watched the life drain from those very dark eyes, screams dulling around him and blood pooling in his hands.

It came and so suddenly it went. It went but it never truly faded away and when those gentle touches and brushes of what felt like fingers on his skin returned, well so did that desire.

—---

It was mid June when he was sitting at home alone, blissfully enjoying the rarity that was peace and quiet, when suddenly the lights flickered and the TV switched on only to flash through channels of heavy metal music videos and what only appeared to be very sudden flashes of what looked like the Upside Down.

His heart was racing in a matter of seconds. Was Vecna back? Was it something else? Was the form of sinew and stardust known to the universe as Steve Harrington about to finally perish to some unholy demonic god from another dimension?

But then the radio in the kitchen buzzed on in a surge of static. A name, one so familiar to the screams that haunted his dreams poured from its speakers in a frantic rush of words.

'Eddie,' 'Eddie,' 'Eddie.'

As if it was on repeat the man's name was chanted through the radio, its stations skipping in a fury between songs and voices, each one scratchy and hardly audible except for the definite 'Eddie,' that came through crystal clear.

Only when Steve's heart was threatening to beat out of his chest did the screaming of sound halt, the Radio buzzing stop and the TV shutting off with a flash.

"What the fuck?" He huffed to himself, trying to ease his breath when he felt pressure on the couch next to him, the scent of pine and menthols bleeding into the air around him.

He pinched his eyes shut and for a moment he could have sworn he felt Eddie's hand on his own, the unmistakable feeling of calluses and chunky metal rings against his skin.

It was a wild thought, fucking insane even, but it felt right, like whatever the hell just happened was nothing bad, nothing scary, just a ways of communication and he couldn't help but ask into the empty room around him, "Munson?"

The hand he felt on his own squeezed and he could've sworn he heard the faintest whisper of, "You betcha Big Boy."

He couldn't help the shuddered sob that racked his body as he collapsed further into the couch. This couldn't be happening, there's no way this could be real. Maybe the head injuries had finally gotten to him and he'd finally lost it.

"It's not real," he gasped to himself, only to feel the pressure on his hand tighten and a force press against his side like he was being held.

He laid like that for quite some time, trying to wrap his mind around the insanity of the situation but in reality, he'd seen so much in the last years that the idea of Eddie Munson's ghost sitting by his side wasn't such a far out thought.

It was only when he felt the gentle scratch of fingers against his scalp that his heartbeat eased and he leaned further into the touch asking a desperate, "Is it really you? How do I know it's you?"

The movement on his scalp stilled for a moment as if the being attached to it were in thought and then like it was nothing there was a gentle pressure against his cheek and a nudge against his ear, words whispered like a breeze in the air, "It's me Big Boy, don't worry your pretty little head."

But as those words were whispered and the pressure on his cheek crept to his lips, the phone rang and the tether that'd been keeping him grounded faded into nothing.

He'd gone to sleep that night thinking he was insane, the phantom touch of what he could only wish was Eddie Munson lingering on the entire left side of his body.

A week later it started again, though this time albeit much more subtle. Gentle touches and whispers of words in the breeze. He found himself confessing to the darkness of his room only to fall asleep later that night with the feeling of a hand clasped in his own.

He'd awake from the horrors of his dreams to a comforting sensation pressed into his side and eventually wrapped around his body.

The gentle touches and hardly audible voices continued for a month and it was when Steve had come to the conclusion that this couldn't be anything else but Eddie, he took his chance, whispering the words he'd longed to say into the emptiness of the world around him, "Kiss me."

The sensation of fingers dancing over his shoulder ceased, but only for a moment, the touch he'd experienced only that single day in June returned and he felt the warmth of lips on his cheek, slow, nervous as if they were unsure of Steve's conviction. But it was when Steve shuddered a breath and leaned blindly into the touch that the sensation deepened.

Still hesitant, nervous, a gentle but wanting thing.

With a slow releasing breath Steve felt what could only be a hand on his thigh and breath against his cheek, he couldn't help the whisper of a whine that escaped him, "Eddie Please."

The pressure on his cheek faded, leaving him gutted and wanting for only a moment, but a second later there was a weight settling in his lap, firm, heavy, warm. The sensation of hands resting on either side of his neck followed. Then a brush of his nose and then finally, finally a press to his lips.

Gentle and slow and so goddamn sweet. It was a kiss like none other, in the truest sense of it feeling other worldly. He swears he could taste the lingering burn of menthols on tongue, the slide of the other man's smooth with intent.

It was a heartbreaking feeling, but if this was all he could get from the Eddie Munson he once knew, he'd take it. He'd take it and hold it close to his heart and never let it go.

He sighed with the feeling of warmth in his chest, pressing his palms in the mattress below until he was fully upright, leaning with his back pressed to the headboard and a still invisible force weighing down his lap.

He couldn't imagine how ridiculous he looked, making out with a ghost, but everything about it felt so right. The heat that surrounded him, warm and wanting. The hands in his hair, unbelievably able to grasp and give a spine tingling gentle pull.

They remained that way for what could have been minutes or hours, only pulling apart when the pink hue of the sky hinted to the sun rising for the land of the living. It was then that Eddie pulled away, pressing a single lingering kiss to Steve's forehead before settling like a weight on his chest until the late hours of the morning.

It continued like that, Eddie's spirit lingering like an invisible force, stealing kisses in the emptiness of the Harrington house, ghosting fingerings through Steve's hair or stealing a peck in passing. Many times did Steve find himself standing with a firm line of pressure against his back and breath trickling over his ear, the occasional whisper of laughter breaching the barriers of the universe making their conversations seem not so one sided.

There'd be times when Eddie could talk, but they were quick, subtle things, the burst of words through the television or the radio, the man saving his greatest amounts of energy to tell Steve he's beautiful through a staticy hum.

It's the most they'd ever feel like they were together, the closest they'd get to something that could have been.

The kisses continued and the touches were ever present, but eventually Steve needed more. He wanted to feel all of Eddie, every part of him he was robbed of when he was taken from their world too soon.

It's an evening like any other, music playing quietly in the background, a tattered copy of the Hobbit in Steve's hand and gentle kisses begging to trail their way down his neck. The bed dips next to him with the weight of the man Steve knows he loves and when Eddie stops where he always does, lips halting at the collar of Steve's shirt, it's hardly even a thought when he drops the book off to the side and pulls his shirt over his head, encouraging Eddie to continue further.

It's a slow thing, beautiful and bleeding intention.

They'd learnt long ago that they can feel every ounce of the other under their fingertips, every hill, every valley, every new and old scar and raised tattoo. All it took was for Eddie to grab Steve's hand and place it on his cheek. He'd gasped at the sensation of stubble beneath his palm and couldn't help but let a few tears slip as he mapped out every feature of the man's invisible being.

Since that night he'd fall asleep with fingerings tracing the raised lines of Eddie's tattoos or combing through the softness of his curls.

But tonight he feels himself needing to feel more and when the sensation of Eddie's tongue over his nipple forces his back to arch and a gasp to break past his lips, he can't help but to say, "More. Eddie. I wanna feel more."

He might be hysterical or even absolutely insane, maybe this isn't even happening at all and he totally lost it, but logistics and sanity be damned, he wants every part of Eddie Munson that he can have.

The movement of lips and tongue and teeth on his abdomen still long enough for him to clarify, "Ed's I want you to fuck me."

There's a pause, the room's still but there's the pressure of hands on his waist and the indented of a body kneeling on the bed, it's not more than a few seconds later that the grip on his waist tightens and there's a brushing kiss being laid to his hip.

Steve watches in awe as a purple swells beneath his skin, painting him like a piece of art work as Eddie claims him as his own. Minutes later there's a watercolour of bruises littering his body, between and over each one a kiss was laid and a few even the faintest of bite marks that still indent his skin.

He'd lost his sleep shorts long ago, Eddie's artwork spread all the way from his hip to thigh to where he's now and Steve swears the man's trying to suck a hickey into the tip of his dick which only makes him wither in a delicious sort of pain.

There's gasps and moans and when he feels himself hit the back of Eddie's throat Steve knows he's already so embarrassingly close. When his back is arching off the bed and he's chanting Eddie's name like it's a prayer, the man only sends him further into orbit when there's pressure against his ass. Slow and circling and ever so slowly pressing in.

Steve knows he would've come by now, feels like he has a million times already, but he can feel Eddie's iron grip at the base of his cock stopping him from reaching release, leaving him to toe the waters of insanity as he babbles and whines for more, pressing his hips down and welcoming Eddie into his last knuckle.

The sheets are clenched in his hands, his knuckles flushing white and his throat sore from every gasp that's left his lips. He whines and withers and feels his toes curl when he assumes Eddie presses a second finger in, bobbing his head down and taking Steve to the root in the process, forcing a choked out moan to rattle through the air.

With a press of his finger to just the right spot, Eddie sends an absolutely spine tingling sensation through Steve's body. He feels himself jump and his legs shake and what he can only assume is a laugh vibrate around his length as Eddie continues.

"Are you laughing? Don't fucking lau-" Steve tries to scold through the euphoria only to be cut off with another press of Eddies fingers at turns his complaining into a breathless, "-oh fuck."

They don't continue like that for long, soon enough Steve can feel lips on his own once again as a heat and pressure settle against his ass. Moving in sync, licking lovingly into each other's mouth, he breathes out a helpless, "Please Eddie."

And it's with a gentle shuffle that there's a hand in his hair and lips locked onto his own that that pressure builds and he feels the stretch of Eddie finally pushing into him.

Down to the hilt Steve can feel the rise and fall of his own chest against Eddie's, the way the man is entirely wrapped around him with every speck of his celestial being. And then there's a push, a gentle rock of hips that forces a moan to be caught between lips.

Slowly and intentionally Eddie rocks into him, his already sensitive cock leaking against his stomach, waiting impatiently for the release it's been denied for far too long.

Eventually Eddie picks up the pace, though not much. The bed shakes around them and Steve can feel the flex of muscle beneath his finger tips, every rock of the man's hips accompanied by the twist of corded muscle under his grasp.

Lost in the moment and the feel of Eddie around him, Steve's release sneaks up on him. It's a sudden thing and when there's the pressure of ringed fingers wrapping around his dick, a single twist of a wrist is all it takes and there's heat pooling on his abdomen while comes with a choked out moan against Eddie's lips.

Not long after does the man follow behind, lips searing against his own, a grip on his waist that's sure to leave a bruise and Steve's sure he hears a shuddered breath as Eddie's body tenses above him.

They remain still for a few moments and as their chest heave together, Steve refuses to open his eyes, knowing he'll find nothing truly above him. He'd pinched them shut at some point, trying to imagine the man above him in his entirety.

He can still feel Eddie under his hands, the plains of his back, the ridges of his scars and he can't help but let a tear fall with the image of dark eyes above his own that he knows will never truly be present. In that moment he can't help but whisper, "I wish I had the chance to love you."

—

It'd been months. Weeks and hours and days and seconds spent with Eddie, or at least the closest thing Steve could get to the man himself.

They'd kissed, they'd cuddled and they'd made love countless times. It was still such a wild thing, but Eddie did what he could to prove to Steve that he was real. That he was there. Real and there and loving. Leaving picked flowers on the table in the kitchen, switching the radio on for songs they'd dance to for hours.

Always leaving Steve littered in the beautiful bruising evidence of their love. Bites and fingertips pressed into flesh. A wash of purple and blues and beauty, sucked into his skin by the mouth he kissed every morning and evening. And every minute in between.

They'd visit, mostly one-sided conversations but when Eddie found the energy there'd be words whispered into Steve's ear or crackled through the static of the radio.

They were attached at the hip, or so Steve imagined he supposed. But he could always feel Eddie's presence at his side, warm and caring, a pressure leaning into his being, grounding and tethering him to the very earth.

He hadn't thought much of it when he eventually invited the whole crew of monster hunters over for a pool party.

Robin and Nancy were sitting poolside giggling about god knows what. Dustin, Mike, Lucas and Max, flailing in the pool screaming and laughing over nonsense.

Steve and his ever present loving force sat curled up on a daybed. He could feel Eddie's legs over his own, the press of lips against his cheek, but no one was the wiser and he was growing to get used to that. Something for just the two of them, though he'd never stop wishing for more.

It wasn't until the Hopper-Byers clan arrived for the first time since the whole Upside Down shit show that Steve realised that dream could be a very possible reality.

El had stopped stone cold in the doorway, looking an inch or two to Steve's right and pondering something for a moment before she turned to see Will grabbing the back of his neck and staring in the same direction.

Dark, tortured eyes now locked onto Steve, so casually did El say, "He is still there."

The entire party stilled, laughter ceasing, conversations stilling and the press of lips against Steve's cheek retreating.

He was breathless for a moment, his heart pounding, his mind racing, and maybe his face gave away something akin to confusion, because El simply continued with, "That young man, he was a hero."

Steve, among the rest of the group that were there that day, remained shell shocked but all nodded, confirming El's statement to be true.

"Do you not want to save him?"

Steve's brows furrowed and suddenly reality dawned on him, he could have Eddie. The real Eddie. With a phantom kiss to his temple and squeeze of his hand, there was a whisper of a voice in his ear, low and raspy and so completely perfect, "Come find me baby."

—

With El's and surprisingly Will's help, they'd managed to open a single gate into the Upside Down, the stench of death and decay leaking into the atmosphere as they tore a hole between the two dimensions.

Upon stepping into the nearly collapsed wasteland, Steve took in his surroundings, it was eerily quiet, but there was a call of his name, gentle and loving, like a tether pulling him in the right direction.

It seemed after they killed Vecna, the grotesque flora and fauna of the Upside Down had died along with him, leaving the rotting corpses of Demogorgan's and Demobat's littered around the once deadly hellscape.

They'd managed to open a gate deep into the woods, hoping to find shelter there if anything had come to find them, but it was a rather laughable turn of events when the voice calling Steve's name led him right back to his own home. Well the Upside Down version of it at least. He'd entered the house alone, asking everyone to wait for his call of 'all clear' before they entered but upon stepping through his bedroom door he came face to face with the last man he thought he'd ever see again.

Lying there, makeshift bandages wrapped around his torso, Steve's clothes concealing his now thinner figure was Eddie Munson. A beautiful smile across his face, a stark contrast to the world of decay around him. His eyes shone the moment they met Steve's and he moved with a wince, hand flying to clutch his side but failing to give up as he flung his body into Steve's.

Steve held him as tight as he could manage without inflicting any more pain, burying his face in Eddie's shoulder as they held each other and let the tears fall and stain their skin with salt and the words they've managed to let go unsaid.

It wasn't much longer though that Steve felt lips on his own, skin soft and stained with tears, finally pressed together. He shuddered a breath, tears streaming down his cheeks as he choked out an unbelieving laugh, their embrace more teeth than anything as they leaned into one another, smiling, bodies held so close for the first time

Steve had so many questions. How was this all possible, being the main one. None of this made sense, but as Eddie's lips pressed to his again and the warmth of the man in his arms flooded his heart, Steve's need to know faded.

And it was with a soft kiss to his nose, and dark brown eyes looking into his own, that Steve knew he'd finally get his chance to love Eddie Munson.

---

65 notes · View notes

spunknbite · 10 months

Text

South Downs, revisited

The garden faces south.

Wisteria and lavender. Borders of delphinium. Brilliant violet asters, peonies and shock-white hydrangeas. Hostas that could use splitting come spring. Hollyhocks thriving, standing ten feet easy. Lady’s Mantle, climbing roses, snap dragons. Yarrow, a lot of yarrow.

Grow you a garden. Start from seed, from the beginning, the inception. Dirt under fingernails, cracked terracotta pots, noon sun high. Watch stalks rise and flowers bloom, creation, something new and whole and yours.

There’s lattice-work arches too. A little neglected, water-warped wood imprinted with decades of climbing tendrils tattooing the grain. The clematis has fallen back, overstretched and thinning at the apex, but still the stains of its vines remain on the wood, revealing past summers. The patio stones that dot the perimeter are smoothed almost slippery from years of use and rain. Initials are carved in the trunk of the overgrown birch that shadows the back gate. SM + RB dug deep in testament, a fine layer of moss creeping at the edges.

Loved, this garden was loved by its former caretakers. Could be loved again, certainly.

There’s room enough to spread out. Add some colour — daylilies, cosmos, bellflowers. Coax some ivy up the brick. Mint as ground cover, along with flowering thyme, lily of the valley, phlox.

He could build an awning off the back wall, offer some more cover. Move the hostas – they’d be happier under the protection. Plant some astilbes, coral bells, some begonias in the summer. Add a few lounges, a place for an angel to read while it storms.

Maybe an apple tree, if he’s feeling bold.

-----

“I quite miss the country,” Aziraphale says one afternoon. A sip of tea, the familiar clink of cup on saucer. “It’s been centuries.”

“Tadfield?”

“Centuries since I’ve holidayed properly. The occasional day trip hardly counts.”

“You can’t leave this shop.”

“Not permanently, maybe just to get some air. See the sky again.” Saucer meets desk. A smile his way, blue eyes alight,

“And I will make thee beds of Roses And a thousand fragrant posies, A cap of flowers, and a kirtle Embroidered all with leaves of Myrtle”

“For Satan’s sake, you’re invoking Marlowe of all people?”

“And why shouldn’t I? Just because he’s been a smidge overshadowed by —”

“You know he was an atheist, angel?”

“Even a broken clock is right twice a day.”

“And that broken clock can write poetry too?”

“Quite.”

The bell above the shop door rings, and Aziraphale is off.

-----

The third bedroom is just a nook really; it peaks out of a dormer window overlooking the back garden. It has built-in shelves along one wall, inset and bordered with the sort of colonial crown moulding that Crowley imagines only Aziraphale would truly appreciate. Grandmotherly; shelves seemingly meant to house sun-faded doilies and ceramic cats.

But it could be a library. Granted, a small one, but there was space enough for a collection of the essentials with room to spare under the window for a desk. An angel must keep up with his correspondence, after all.

Dear angel, he’d written once, centuries ago. Then scribbled it out.

Dear angel, he’d written again, not long after. Then burned it.

Dear angel, he’d written again and again and again. Wasted paper made pulp made paper again, never sent.

-----

He buys the damned cottage.

Dumb idea. Impulsive, really. Like a lot of what he did, what he still does — gets a notion in his demonic skull and just charges on, unencumbered by reflection. As if he trusts some higher power is looking out for him, has his back – the absurdity of it. Once upon a time before the beginning of the world, he’d sauntered vaguely downward without really considering all the consequences, the ramifications of it all; hadn’t weighed and measured, worked out the celestial maths. No, he made a choice and paid for it without knowing the price.

(he would have kept sauntering on anyway, knowing where it would ultimately lead — earth and humans and their wonderful cars and Aziraphale and and and — but he hadn’t known then, couldn’t have known, just what shape his damnation would take, and that was rather the point; he was a careless idiot)

Here too, on earth. We can run away together — Alpha Centauri. Get an idea, a cocked up, stupid thought and go all in on it.

The Bentley, raging down London streets. A sharp, nearly blind corner. Is there oncoming traffic? Could he stop if he wanted to? Who’s even in control, has he ever been? Has he gone from one master to another to another?

You go too fast for me, Crowley.

So he buys the damned cottage, because what else can he do?

-----

Aziraphale gets in the elevator and Crowley gets in the Bentley. He doesn’t know where he’s going, but it’s not South Downs.

Also on ao3 for anyone interested.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #good omens season 2 #good omens spoilers #today i chose violence #south downs happily ever afters are my fav candy of choice so hey let's ruin that just like season 2 ruined me

21 notes · View notes

mayolive-writes · 11 months

Text

Moonlight Trampoline Adventure | Jungkook

The Love Plaza | Moonlight Trampoline Adventure | Labret

Pairing: Jungkook x AFAB Reader

Summary: (Taking place before the events of The Love Plaza) Near the end of your summer break, you and Jungkook are stargazing on your childhood trampoline, thinking about what’s next to come.

Wordcount: 665 (a miracle, truly)

Genre: Fluff, Drabble

Warnings: N/A

A/N: This is set right before the happenings of The Love Plaza, but can be read as a stand-alone as a feel-good drabble!! Enjoy :) I have another drabble with this couple soon so stay tuned!!

Envision a trampoline.

Oftentimes, one would imagine a trampoline with wild children that hold even wilder imaginations. Jumping haphazardly, with a fantasy playing in their mind. Maybe they’re a pirate crossing the tumultuous sea? Or, perhaps, they’re a young adventurer fighting off a rabid dragon? Regardless, they laugh freely. But those days are long gone for Jungkook and you, imagination replaced with uncertainty. There is no more fantasy, only the future ahead.

The two of you simply lay there.

The summer breeze rustles the trees, the white noise making it easy to recede into your thoughts. The air still has the hint of a spring already passed, and the trampoline netting below brings a sense of weightlessness. Each and every star in the night sky above seems to want your attention, pulling your gaze to and fro; in the end your eyes rest upon the moon, milky white and serene, well aware of its beauty.

Soon.

Soon you will be entering a new adventure in your life, an adventure that always felt far away… until it wasn’t. This time last year, you were hell-bent on making the most out of the last year you had with such little responsibility. One more year to be stupid and crazy, one more year to be a little childish and not feel guilty about it.

One more year to conclude the end of this long chapter.

But it passed quickly, and here you are. Jungkook is as silent as you are, the only proof of his being the steady breathes that you can hear beside you. You’re certain that by tomorrow morning he’ll be complaining of itchy mosquito bites and a scratchy throat, but for now, he looks at peace somehow. However, you know better. Jungkook has always been hesitant to show worry or anxiety, often masking it as being content.

“So, like…” you grab his attention, “do you think you’re ready?”

A heavy sigh reaches you, and you wait for the rest of his answer for a few long seconds. “Hell fuckin’ no.”

Another sigh releases, this time from both of you. “Yeah, me neither. But we’ll still be there for eachother.” Still boring into the moon, you reach for his hand, “I appreciate you. I wish I had more ways of showing it and saying it. But I do.”

You don’t look over as it happens, but Jungkook lets his fingers latch onto yours, and his thumb rubs over the edge of your hand. “Thank you… the world isn’t ready for our shitshow.”

“Well, neither we nor the world have much choice in the matter.” The weight of his hand can’t be that heavy, but it feels like a hundred pounds has pinned you down. Or maybe it’s just you. The moon won’t miss you, so you finally beside you to see a boy with stars in his eyes. He’s excited and terrified. He smiles brightly, but with furrowed eyebrows. He’s only human after all.

You sit up, deciding that maybe it’s time for bed. As soon as you stand on wobbly knees Jungkook lightly kicks your leg out from under you. A fiendish smile replacing the soft one from before as you squeal. That is until you land on top of him, knocking the breath out of his chest, letting out a loud *oof--*

“You fucking idio—” You’re close. Very close. To his lips.

Jungkook is warm in a way that the late summer night could never be, and a magnetic force inside you urges you to lean in just a little more so that your lips may touch. Your mind becomes clouded and your heart races faster than the speed of light thinking about what if…

Before you can think any further and possibly screw anything up, Jungkook is pushing you off his chest.

“Stay. Just a bit longer.” Pleading eyes stare into yours, so strong that you have no choice but to lay on your back again.

The moon is captivating tonight.

Taglist: @blairscott @hoseokteardrop

32 notes · View notes

bazaarwords · 1 year

Text

thanks @shipsa-hoy !

The Halo’s power still hums in her veins, gentle. An old friend.

Superion—Suzanne—feels calmer now than she has in an age, all her edges smoothed out. In opposition to the storm raging around her, she has settled in its center. The eye of the hurricane, the loop of a halo. It aches, too, but she understands.

“We should pray,” she says, “for Yasmine, Beatrice, and everyone we’ve lost.”

When she closes her eyes to pray, it’s as if something takes her by the hand, pulls her—urgent, to its side.

It’s Ava.

She’s standing at the window, arms crossed, coiled tight as a spring. Maybe it’s only the Halo’s power, binding them together with thick cord, wire, roots, veins. She thinks better of that. Because Suzanne knows all of her girls, and even without a resurrection, anyone can see that Ava’s heart is breaking.

“Fuck prayer,” Ava says. Her voice is high and thin and it cuts the air like a razor. “Fuck that.”

“Ava,” she hears herself scolding. Just a habit, not the truth.

“You know what? Fine,” Ava spins around, not looking at anyone in particular, eyes bright and unfocused. “I pray to God that someone else gets to beat the shit out of Adriel first, because I’m going to rip his fucking—“

“Ava,” it’s Camila this time, not scolding. She stands, takes Ava’s hand. It’s shaking, bad enough to see from a distance. “Please, just breathe for a moment. We’ll figure something out.”

“When?” Ava snaps. “Tomorrow? The next day? After he’s brainwashed half the goddamn world? Yasmine is still in there, and—“

It’s a split second and her expression crumbles like a building demolished, collapsing from inside out.

Suzanne remembers this pain. Loss. She knows it well from too many fallen, too many, and too young. She also remembers when the Halo had ripped itself from the skin and sinew of her back how the physical pain had meant nothing—nothing against what happened inside. How, even when she could see the thing, bloody and bright, it was an entity separate from herself. She hadn’t known then if she would ever feel its warmth again.

But she has, now. Maybe that is enough. Enough, at least, to help Ava.

Ava, who is gone in the blink of an eye. Camila and Dora exchange looks, and Superion rises with all the sureness she’d thought lost.

“Get as much rest as you can,” she tells the girls, “I’ll check on her.”

Her body almost protests the ease of her joints, confused by what they can do. She’ll have to be patient with herself, as she’s about to be with Ava. Ava, who’s caved in on herself, who’s crumpled into a ball on the edge of her bed, who’s pulled loss from its wretched place and really, truly looked at it. Face to face.

“Ava,” she says, gentle.

Ava looks up, face wet with tears. Her heart breaks for this young woman. Ava comes to her and embraces her like a daughter, and true to her title, Suzanne returns the sentiment.

“I did this,” Ava weeps, repeating it over and over.

“No. No, Ava.”

“I—“ She takes a hiccuping breath. “I did this to her.”

It isn’t as if it doesn’t hurt, knowing that they’d had to leave some behind. Superion feels their loss, keen as anything. This, however? Ava’s anguish? Something else entirely.

“Beatrice is strong, Ava. Stronger than most.”

“I know that. I know.” Her voice grows small. “I love her, Mother Superion. I can’t lose her.”

Here we are, she thinks.

“I know that,” she replies, an echo. “I know.”

Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends, she thinks.

“You won’t lose her,” she tells Ava. She isn’t lost, she tells herself.

97 notes · View notes

thanks--for--listening · 7 months

Text

it was easier to feel nothing (than it was to make sense of it all)

throwback to august when i promised my cousins I would write them heartstopper fluff. I am months late and have come up with something a little too depressing to be properly called fluff but idk what I expected when I made tori spring the main character.

set during season 2 right after tori finds out they're gonna tell people, and its kind of like a prequel to solitaire but you don't have to have read solitaire to understand the fic. you just have to love tori spring. and don't we all?

(also on ao3).

Tori Spring had every intention of spending the entire night in her bedroom. Alone. While her brother socialized like a well-adjusted teenager, she’d have her headphones on, the door closed, with the only light coming from the moon outside her window and the computer screen in front of her. It was how she spent most nights. It was how she spent most days, as well.

How she found herself sitting on the top of the stairs, then, remained a mystery.

She couldn’t quite make out their conversations from her perch, but she could hear the ease with which his friends spoke. The laughter was loud and infectious, made up of more voices than she could distinguish. Their joy was collaborative.

In spite of her general opposition to clamor and commotion, it wasn’t the noise that kept her up. Drowning out the world was her specialty. It was perhaps the one thing she did better than anybody else.

No. What was keeping her up were all of these fucking feelings.

Her brother was happy. That should have been the only feeling. Charlie was downstairs, with his friends, and his boyfriend, and he was happy, and he was okay, and that should have been enough. That should have been everything.

But she remembered the quiet nights. The ones when no one came over. When she used to lean against their shared wall and search desperately for any break of silence, any proof that he hadn’t simply faded away. Tori hardly slept back then; she couldn’t risk missing something important. She couldn’t miss him needing her.

The loud ones weren’t much better. Drumsticks hitting practice pads over and over and over again, barely hanging onto anything that could remotely resemble a rhythm. The sound haunted her. There were nights where she swore she could still hear it, the constant thud on repeat, and relief wouldn’t come until she’d carefully pushed open his door and confirmed that no music was being made in the early hours of the morning.

Even now, when the increased volume was proof of improvement rather than regression, she couldn’t help but hold her breath. Couldn’t fight the urge to double check.

Maybe that was why she’d come out here. Maybe she had to make sure the tide wouldn’t turn again.

Except that was ridiculous. Charlie had friends. Friends who knew him. Friends who had watched darkness envelop him, who witnessed the battles he fought every day, the ones he tried to hide behind a smile and quiet demeanor. They had seen it all, and every time, they held him closer rather than run away. They were not afraid of the dark.

Tori wondered what that felt like. What it cost.

He also had Nick Nelson. Nick Nelson, who he was madly in love with. Nick Nelson, who was one of the most popular boys at his school. Nick Nelson, who was going to start telling people.

She didn’t hate Nick. Truly. It was actually absurd how happy he was making Charlie in the short amount of time they’d spent together. But he wasn’t there last year. He didn’t understand the scope of how utterly horrendous school was for him when everybody found out.

Tori had a feeling she only knew a portion of it. The thought of it having been worse than it appeared, of him keeping the depth of his torment from her, made her stomach twist and her skin crawl. Every second she spent speculating brought the walls tighter and tighter, until there was no air left to breathe, until the only images she saw when she closed her eyes were every possible way he could be hurting.

She had nightmares. Vivid, vicious dreams of him bleeding out from wounds she couldn’t see. He would look up at her, begging for salvation, and she was never fast enough to fix it. Never strong enough to help.

Tori woke in cold sweats every time. It was like her body couldn’t understand that what she’d seen was not her reality. She’d spend days after the fact just watching him, searching for red flags, for reasons to sound the alarm. It required all of her attention, all of her energy. The simple act of existing became entirely unimportant when he may have been suffering.

So yes, she was happy her brother was happy. She was thrilled. But she was also terrified. And perhaps a bit irritated that, of all the boys he could have possibly fallen for, Charlie chose the one who would inadvertently put him directly into the social spotlight once again.

And then there was the envy.

Not toward Nick and Charlie. She didn’t care much either way for relationships. But sitting up here, it reminded her how easy it was for other people to be happy. How effortless it all seemed.

Her own friends hadn’t been over in ages. She couldn’t remember when she’d stopped inviting them. Now that she had, starting up again was too daunting of a prospect. She wouldn’t know what to do with them. How to keep them entertained. How to explain why her bedroom walls were bare, or why she spent all of her free time being miserable on the internet, or why she couldn’t finish a movie in one sitting even though all she ever did was sit in her bedroom and watch movies.

Listening was simpler. At lunch, she could let them talk around her instead of to her, and take her adjacency to conversation as a win. Nobody expected anything from her that way. The logic was a little dramatic, perhaps, but it was sound: if she never tried, she never failed.

Even now, with his lot instead of hers, this was still the best she could do. She could sit up here, out of sight but not quite out of earshot, and pretend that observing joy was the same as feeling it. That it was enough.

The guilt hit her again. She was so selfish. Charlie finally had things going his way, and she managed to make it all about her. It was probably best if she just stayed upstairs all night. She didn’t deserve to bear witness to his successful social life, let alone reap the benefits of it.

Tori raised the volume on her computer, until the movie she had playing was loud enough to hurt. Only then could it drown out the thoughts running rampant in her mind. Only then could she properly exhale.

It was easier to feel nothing than it was to make sense of it all.

“Tori!”

Charlie came barreling up the stairs, as if thinking about him had been a kind of summoning. She wasn’t sure how many times he’d called her name, only that she hadn’t heard him until he was nearly on top of her.

Tori pulled her headphones out. “Yes?”

“What are you doing out here?”

“Keeping track of which one of your friends is the loudest,” she lied. “Darcy is winning.”

His face fell slightly. “Are we being too noisy? I can tell everyone to quiet down if you’re trying to watch something.”

“I’m not very invested in it. Feel free to yell to your heart's content.”

“In that case,” he said, mischievous smile replacing his look of concern. “You’ll be happy to know we’re getting ready to play Taboo.”

She gave him her own wicked grin back. Game nights weren’t the most frequent occurrence in the Spring household anymore, but back in their heyday, she and Charlie had been unstoppable at Taboo. Her parents had considered banning the game altogether, or forcing them to play on different teams, but they never followed through on their threats.

Tori suspected that was on her account. They hadn’t given up the fight to keep her out of her bedroom back then. They’d been willing to suffer defeat after defeat if it kept her at the kitchen table. Lose battles to win wars, and whatnot.

Although, she supposed they’d still lost that war in the end. Not that they seemed to care.

“I’m sure you and Nick will do your best. He’s got that competitive rugby spirit.”

“I’m not playing with Nick.”

“Oh. Tao, then?”

Charlie shook his head. “Tao’s a horrible partner. He can’t get his thoughts out fast enough, and when he does, they’re all obscure references to things only he knows.”

“Then who—“

“I want to play with you.”

He said it with a different kind of smile. Gentle and eager. It made him look young, much younger than her.

She forgot, sometimes, that they were peers. That her baby brother was just a grade below her. He’d told her once, ages ago, when they were still in primary school, how much he loved his birthday. It wasn’t because of the presents, or the party — it was because it meant he had caught up. He liked when they were only a year apart. Said she was too far away during the few weeks in April between her celebration and his, when she was technically an extra year older than him.

Tori had hated her own birthday ever since.

The rest of the world didn’t seem to notice the gap. People used to think they were twins when they were little. There seemed to be nothing they loved more than to see if their assumptions were correct. The two of them got stopped all the time: in grocery stores, at the park, at school events. Sometimes in their own neighborhood.

They didn’t even look all that similar. He’d always been tanner than her, his hair wavier even before it properly curled, and she’d been taller back then by at least an inch or two. But something about them flagged random adults to stop, and stare, and sometimes coo, and constantly, incessantly ask.

Charlie had never been a very good liar. It wasn’t in his nature. But he always said yes.

Fooling a stranger used to be her favorite feeling in the world. She’d spend the rest of the day walking around with the kind of pep that was ridiculously uncharacteristic. Not because they were getting away with a lie, but because, for a few blissful seconds, it was true. Or, at least, it felt true. She could embrace the act of pretending they were the same. Imagining the world where they were actually twins, going through every part of their lives side by side, hand in hand. Where they were never alone. Most of her daydreams used to be dedicated to that reality.

Sometime during the last few years, she’d stopped. They say twins understand each other on a level that’s hard to describe. That when one of them hurt, the other could feel it. She was pretty sure that wasn’t true. But, just in case, she decided it was good that they had a buffer year between them. That way, she could protect him from her insufferable morbidity. She could keep him out of her head. Even if it meant she had to be kept out of his.

“What about the others?” She finally asked.

“Everyone’s partnering up. We’re going to change every round to see which pairings are the best. But I already know it’s going to be us.”

“No, I mean — wouldn’t you rather play with one of them? They’re your friends.”

“So are you.”

His voice was steady, brimming with a quiet kind of confidence. It was one she’d only recently started to notice. His hands weren’t fidgeting, and his eyes were making direct contact with hers, and he wasn’t shifting his weight back and forth.

It dawned on her that she was wrong. She blinked and the youth she’d seen earlier vanished, replaced with a bravery and certainty that felt much beyond both of their years. It wasn’t his birthday, but nonetheless, here he was, catching up. Growing up.

She knew it wasn’t just a consequence of having a proper boyfriend. It wasn’t even due to his friends downstairs, although both played a part. No, something inside Charlie had shifted. Gone was the paralyzing doubt and self-hatred. For the first time, her brother was walking headfirst into a life he wanted. There was no more waiting for permission or hiding in shadows; he was moving forward without an ounce of hesitation.

And she was standing completely still.

“Alright. I’ll play.”

Charlie beamed and held his hands out. She let him pull her up and drag her down the stairs.

When they walked into the family room, his friends all excitedly said her name. Like they were genuinely happy to see her. Tori didn’t fully believe them— her attendance anywhere was no cause for celebration— but they didn’t sound fake, either. It made it very difficult to draw a logical conclusion about them and their intentions.

Everyone was already sitting in pairs. She’d expected a certain kind of coupling, but instead it was all jumbled up. Tara was with Isaac, Darcy was with Elle, and Nick was with the newer girl, Imogen. Tao, hovering near the end, kept giving Elle and Darcy weird looks. Or maybe it was just Elle. She wasn’t entirely sure, nor did she really care.

It took her a second to realize that he was the only one without a partner. Tori wondered why Charlie would bring her down here, would purposefully mess up their nice even number, just so they could play together. It didn’t make sense. He wasn’t that competitive.

She scanned the crowd again, looking for something specific this time. But nobody gave her that pitiful look. The isn’t it sad she doesn’t have any friends? look. The being alone couldn’t possibly be a choice look. The something must be very wrong with her look. Nobody focused on her long enough to, except Charlie, and he was the only person who had never seen her the way the rest of the world did.

“Elle and I will go first!” Darcy said much louder than necessary. Tori sat and watched the two of them try and make their way through the deck of words that required guessing, with Tara looking over Darcy’s shoulder to make sure she didn’t use any of the forbidden hints.

They got three. It was a pitiful showing. The group applauded anyway.

Tara and Isaac went next. They got a respectable six. Tori quietly clapped with the rest of the group.

Nick and Imogen got four, sneaking the last one in as the final grains of sand spilled down their plastic hourglass timer. They celebrated as if it was a game-winning buzzer beater, which would have been more appropriate had they actually gotten a higher score than Tara and Isaac.

And then it was their turn.

They sat on opposite sides of the coffee table. Tori held the cards, Charlie awaiting her clues. He had always been the better guesser. He knew what she meant, even when she was speaking nonsense.

Tori looked at him before they started, just to see if there was one thing he hadn’t outgrown yet. She was both pleased and slightly distressed to find that there was. He still stared at her with stars in his eyes; she still did her best to earn them.

Imogen flipped the timer over, and Tori grabbed her first card.

They didn’t miss a beat. It had been at least two years since they’d played, but they picked up right where they left off. She spoke quickly, and he read her mind, and soon she had amassed a pile of cards to her right.

By the time Nick told them time was up, the pile was up to nine. Not their record, but a solid start considering they were incredibly out of practice.

His friends acted as if they’d literally won an Olympic medal. Darcy was screaming, and Nick was playfully shaking Charlie’s shoulders. Tao was loudly claiming that whoever teamed up with him had better bring their A game, but Tori knew it would be a wasted effort.

She fought the urge to smile. It was much more difficult than usual.

They went another three rounds, with everyone except her and Charlie switching partners. Tao was, as Charlie had predicted, the worst of the bunch. Isaac and Elle had been a surprisingly successful group, but they’d only managed to get eight. Tara and Darcy kept laughing instead of guessing, but neither seemed to mind walking away with a measly one.

She and Charlie ended the night with a high score of twelve. He reacted with unusual, exaggerated excitement, likely embracing the chaos of his friends. The others gave her the same treatment — Darcy playfully slapped her on the back, and Elle gushed about how good she was, and it was all so strange that Tori had to constantly fight the urge to run back up to her bedroom where she knew how things worked.

Eventually, once it became incredibly obvious that no pairing was going to beat the two of them, they switched gears into debating what film to watch.

Tori took that as her cue. As quickly as she could, she snuck out of the family room and made her way to the kitchen. It was quieter in there. She could hear herself think.

She wasn’t entirely sure that was a good thing.

Currently, her thoughts were telling her not to get used to this. That it was easy, when Charlie was holding her hand, carefully walking her through the whole night, to pretend that she was normal. That she was unbroken. But she knew that was all it was: pretend.

These were good people. Good friends. But they weren’t hers.

Not that she wished otherwise. His friends were too intense. She wasn’t cut out for this much energy, this constant back and forth conversation. Outside of a few impressive rounds of Taboo, she offered nothing to this group.

She couldn’t stop from thinking about her own lot, though. Becky and all the other girls she sat with at school. If she offered Charlie’s friends nothing, she knew for certain that she gave her own even less.

Tori had thought avoiding failure was the ultimate goal. That it would be enough to technically be part of them, even if Becky was the only one she’d ever truly considered a friend. She’d never be loud and rambunctious, never be the one to throw the parties or sleepovers, never be the center of attention. She’d understood that. Hell, she’d embraced that.

But if tonight had shown her one thing, it was how much she was missing. Her friends weren’t like Charlie’s. They were drastically different, in both the big ways and the small ones. They didn’t watch out for each other. They didn’t laugh like them. They didn’t give each other anything, besides basic conversation and a way to avoid being alone in public.

Over the course of an hour, every one of Charlie’s friends had their needs met. It wasn’t an accident. It wasn’t some random coincidence. It was thoughtfulness. A consequence of all of them knowing each other so intensely. So intimately. Tori doubted they were even aware they were doing it.

Darcy got to be loud. Tara got to let go. Elle got to impress, Tao got to entertain, Isaac got to tune in and out as he so pleased. Even Imogen got to be embraced by a crowd. And Nick and Charlie got to be themselves, unabashedly and unequivocally.

What did she get? What did she give?

They would leave. Her friends would wake up one day and realize how little she mattered to their social ecosystem, and they’d go searching for someone else to take her place. It wouldn’t be difficult, either, because she was nothing more than a glorified shadow: dark and silent and always half a step behind.

Being left should have scared her. And it did, in a way, but it was like the feeling was muted. She knew what was coming, and some part of her wanted to avoid it, but she couldn’t get herself to care enough to try. She couldn’t act.

If this was a movie, she knew what it would look like. She’d be sitting alone on a runaway train. The audience could see it was going to crash. She could see it was going to crash. The collision was miles away, a blocked tunnel made entirely of brick, but it was inevitable. Her situation looked dire at first glance, except they weren’t moving very fast. In truth, they were hardly moving at all. The doors were wide open, the ground a safe distance below. All she’d have to do to save herself was jump. Nothing and no one was stopping her. But she just sat and stared straight ahead. Perfectly content to be crushed.

She didn’t know how long she’d been on board this metaphorical train. Maybe forever. Maybe her whole life had been spent sitting still in this pathetic seat, and everyone who’d ever come and gone had simply been taking a ride to their own destination. Maybe they couldn’t see the end. But she could.

Charlie wouldn’t understand. Neither would his friends. They all felt everything. Each high and low and shade in between, each victory and loss. It was how they’d managed to hold onto all that energy. They were constantly moving, fueled by endless emotion.

Tori felt absolutely nothing.

Her friends would probably leave after graduation. Cut their losses and start new. The thought should have upset her. But she’d already accepted it. She’d sit alone. The train would crash. The credits would roll.

God, she was insufferable. It was a wonder anyone tolerated her at all.

Reaching for the fridge, Tori grabbed the Diet Lemonade. Maybe if she drank enough of it, she could drown the voice in her head before she went back upstairs. That usually worked. She might even sleep tonight.

When she shut the door and turned around, Isaac was there, sitting at the kitchen table, book in hand.

“Jesus Christ,” she gasped.

He looked up. “Oh. Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “Only fair that I learn what that feels like, I suppose.”

“Huh?”

“What are you doing in here?” She asked. “I thought you guys were watching a movie.”

“We are. Or, we will be. It’ll take them at least twenty minutes to decide. I figured I could steal a bit of quiet while they did.”

“You don’t want to help choose?”

He held his book up. She recognized it, but— as was the case with most titles — hadn’t read it. “I probably won’t watch much of it, to be honest.”

Tori, in a feat of considerable strength, held her opinion on books and their secondary nature to films to herself.

“Will you watch with us?” Again, the way he spoke surprised her. There was no hesitation. No undertone that the answer should absolutely be no. It was just curiosity. Sincere, legitimate curiosity.

“Probably not. Your friends are very loud.”

Isaac chuckled. “Yeah. I don’t blame you for needing a break.”

“How do you manage it?” She wasn’t sure where the question came from, but she regretted asking almost immediately. Hearing it back, she knew it sounded rude, even when she didn't mean it to.

That happened to her a lot. Maybe she was just a rude person, and had tricked herself into thinking she wasn’t.

“It’s all about moderation,” he said with a smile. Isaac stood up, walked closer to the doorway. Tori followed, until they could just barely see into the family room.

Tao was in an impassioned debate with Tara and Darcy. The former wanted to watch an indie film; the latter, Mamma Mia. Imogen sat next to Elle, the two half-heartedly watching the battle play out in front of them.

Charlie and Nick sat on the couch. Nick leaned in closer, whispered something in his ear, and her brother laughed. His hands were entangled with Nick’s. His shoulders were relaxed. He was truly and genuinely happy.

Tori couldn’t remember the last time she felt like that. She couldn’t remember ever feeling like that. And she suspected it had nothing to do with her relationship status.

“Quiet is nice,” Isaac said next to her. “It’s necessary. But it’s also easy to get lost in.”

“What do you mean?” It was a pointless question — she knew exactly what he meant. But she asked anyway.

“Just that, when you’re stuck in your own world for so long, it becomes hard to remember what you gain from everyone else’s. And there’s a lot to gain. That is, if you can manage to put up with all the noise every once and a while.”

He nodded toward the family room. The debate had greatly intensified, arms flailing in support of arguments they were only half making. They kept getting interrupted by their own laughter. She wondered whether any of them still cared about the films in question.

“Isaac will agree with me,” Tao said, before loudly yelling out his name.

“No!” Tara managed to squeak out. “Isaac is literally my best friend in the whole world, he’ll agree with me!”

“Tara!” Darcy yelled. “If Isaac is your best friend, what the fuck am I?”

“…Arm candy?”

The laughter broke out again in full force. She could feel the itch, the desire to join them, in spite of the headache it would give her. Just to prove that she could, if she wanted to. She could have this life. She could make these choices. She could pretend.

The truth barged in, smothered her doubt before it could grow into something properly delusional. She was not Isaac. They may have both made friends with the quiet, but he’d managed to build a door in it, allowing a funnel of noise to slowly creep in at a pace he could handle. In return, he sent back some of the silence, something this group was sorely missing. They balanced each other out.

Friendship, she was beginning to understand, was a transaction. Nobody gave all this joy for free. And she, with all her misery and melancholy, her self-destruction and self-isolation, could never afford to give enough. Not if she wanted anyone to stick around.

Except Charlie. Though he didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. And if he did, she was certain he would never have picked her. Taboo skills be damned.

Her silence was useless. It was suffocating, not peaceful. It didn’t offer balance — it overwhelmed. There was nothing for anyone around her to gain.

Maybe that was the reason she stayed on the train. Better to crash in ignorance than to know for certain that nobody would care if she made it out or not.

“It’s not that simple,” she finally said, so softly she wasn’t sure he’d hear her.

“I know.”

“And it’s safer. Keeping quiet.”

“It is.” There was something in his voice. Tori wondered if maybe one of Charlie’s friends would understand after all. “It gets a bit boring, though, doesn’t it?”

Tori couldn’t pull her eyes off the crowd. The thought of spending the night down here with them was exhausting. But the thought of going back to her dark room with her mediocre movie that she wouldn’t even finish didn’t make her feel any better.

“You’re very wise,” she told him.

“I read a lot of books.”

Elle finally offered up a third option— a rerun of some Bake Off episode they’d all already seen — and the others appeared to find her suggestion reasonable. Someone called Isaac’s name again, and he exhaled deeply.

He took a step forward, before pausing and turning back. “Should I tell them you’ll be joining us?”

Tori wasn’t confident that anybody would notice her absence. Not even Charlie.

“Tell them I was tired.”

She half expected him to look disappointed in her, which would be ridiculous because she hardly knew him. But all he did was nod.

She lingered in the hallway for another few minutes, before quietly making her way upstairs. Standing in front of her bedroom, she paused. It was so dark in there. The clouds must have shifted over the past hour or so, because there wasn’t any light coming through the window.

Her laptop lay abandoned on the floor beside her. It beckoned her, persuading her to return to her former state. Usually, with its endless library of movies and blogs, her computer felt familiar. Reliable. A singular comfort in a world that offered her nothing of the sort.

Tonight, it felt much more insidious. Like it knew she was an addict. Like it could see her resolve slipping. She could feel it lurking in the metaphorical and literal shadows, waiting for her inevitable relapse so it could swoop in and supply what it always did: mind-numbing distraction.

It was a very melodramatic way to perceive a piece of technology. That was what she told herself as she opened it back up again.

But instead of completing her retreat, she sat back down where she’d started, at the top of the stairs. She clicked play on her movie, but she lowered the volume and took one headphone out.

The sound from downstairs carried, like it had before. In one ear, she heard dialogue from her computer; in the other, she heard her brother and his friends adding commentary to their show. It made it impossible to follow either, and she knew she probably wouldn’t last more than fifteen minutes before she gave up and officially escaped back to her bedroom.

But for now, she did what she always did: listen.

It was almost enough.

#as always comments and kudos give me life #heartstopper #solitaire #osmanverse #heartstopper fanfic #solitarie fanfic #tori spring #charlie spring #nick and charlie #and yes the random olympic line is a nod to my boy michael holden

11 notes · View notes