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heartscone · 2 months

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Noa’s Dream - A Star Wars fan story

Premise: Noa Skywalker (my Star Wars OC and Anakin’s younger sister) is dreaming during a stressful period, and gets some advice from someone special.

Warnings: implied PTSD.

Note: I was half asleep on a plane when I wrote this so sorry in advance for any continuity or grammatical errors.

Noa couldn’t remember how she got to this unfamiliar place.

She remembered laying down for some much needed rest, and next thing she knew, she was in a place she was sure she had been before but couldn’t quite place.

Is this a dream? she questioned.

The time coming to Hoth had been less than kind to not only her, but everybody around her. Her clone troopers. Her fellow Jedi, Zen-Tara… no. Zen was a Master now.

Noa guessed she had already gotten so used to seeing them as equals that she forgotten that she had watched her promotion just before this mission.

After all… their relationship had gone past the normality of a Jedi Master and a Jedi Knight working together as a trusted pair. What they had, it was more than that…

Noa’s head had begun to spin from many things that had happened in the recent year. Her own promotion to Jedi Knight. Her past battles, including the brutal Jabiim, which still left her with nasty mental scarring.

Not to mention her cybernetic hand that she acquired just before coming to Hoth… she tried to not think about that too much. Not while everything was already too much.

She needed some rest, and she was thankful when Zen agreed to let her sleep.

She had not been sleeping for too long when she woke up in a place that was oddly familiar, but different at the same time.

It was definitely a home. A home that belonged to somebody. But one thing about it was off…

Everything was burned.

The young Jedi swallowed in agony as she pushed herself up out of the charred remains of what she assumed used to be a bed. She looked down at her body, and realized she was still wearing her comfortable Jedi attire, though her robe was missing. She felt for her light saber, but she realized that was missing, too.

What is happening?

The crunch of the char and soot under her feet was soft, yet to Noa in that moment, it sounded about as loud as a gundark’s roar. It was almost deafening to her and her body tensed up at it.

Am I… dead, or something?

No, she couldn’t have been.

Fighting the urge to scream out for anybody that might listen, Noa took a shaky breath before she stepped out into the dirty, blackened hallway. What looked like once tan walls were stained with ash and dust. Soot caked the bottom of the walls connecting to the filthy ground she walked across.

It was almost enough to make her feel sick to her stomach.

What happened here?

Her thoughts were interrupted when she came around the corner to a sight that made her heart skip a beat or two.

Inside the room, there was a sofa couch that remained completely in tact, as if the implied fire hadn’t touched it. It looked old, but it’s beauty made it seem like it was just bought fresh off of the market. Not a single thing wrong that Noa could see.

Sitting in the center of the couch was a woman; the woman on the couch had her back turned to Noa, but she would’ve recognized the dark and curly hair anywhere.

“M…mom?”

Noa’s voice surprised her, it was surprisingly puny.

The smallness of Noa’s voice caught Shmi Skywalker’s attention immediately. Turning halfway around to face her daughter, Noa scanned her face for any sign of injury. After all, the last time she had seen her mother was moments before her death…

Thankfully, Shmi seemed completely unharmed.

Noa’s heart swelled with emotion. Everything inside of her wanted to run to her, to hug her, to cry on her shoulder while her mother comforted her like she used to. Through all of those emotions, though, Noa found herself being unable to move even a muscle.

“Noa, my darling.”

Shmi’s voice was enough to cause Noa to shed some tears. It was as soft and welcoming as she remembered it to be, only this time there was less pain in her tone. It was only all love.

“Have a seat here.”

Not wanting to waste a single moment, Noa shook out the feeling of stillness and dashed to the couch, sitting in the open space beside her mother.

“Mom… where are we? What’s going on?” So many questions surged through Noa’s mind, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask anything else.

Shmi smiled softly and placed her hand on the small of her daughter’s back. “None of that matters, my dear.”

Noa trembled at her mother’s touch. It brought her a sense of comfort she had not felt for ages.

“I’m so happy to see you again. You’re so beautiful.”

Shmi’s words to her made Noa begin to cry. A heavy cry, but a happy one.

“I’m glad to see you, as well…”

The two sat together in silence for several seconds, both of them appearing to be soaking in the moment as it came.

Though Noa couldn’t have been happier for this, it also made her heart ache. It was in this moment, she realized that none of this was real. It was only just a dream…

“How is Anakin?”

The sudden question made Noa jump a little.

Facing her mother, the question made her shift a little. She was not sure she knew how her brother had really been doing.

“He is… good.”

Her voice must have been laced with uncertainty, because it was enough to make Shmi’s eyebrows furrow. Noa’s cheeks flushed as she suddenly felt like a youngling that had been caught in a lie.

“Something is troubling you, my love. What’s going on?”

Sniffling, Noa avoided answering her mother’s question. Shmi recognized this reaction, Noa had always been hesitant to talk about her feelings since she was young.

“It’s okay, Noa. You can tell me anything.”

Noa shifted again as she thought of the right words to say. Though she loved her brother dearly and would’ve given anything to be fighting by his side every day of this Force-forsaken war, a part of her felt like the feeling only went one way.

Of course, Anakin had expressed pride toward her when they were made Knights, and sure they may have fought together during Jabiim, but Noa stil had a nagging feeling that their connection had been beginning to break.

“I… I don’t know, mom,” Noa choked on her words. “This war is changing everything, but I didn’t think it would change my relationship with Anakin.”

This statement made Shmi seem more confused. Shmi remembered when Anakin and Noa were young children, it would’ve been difficult to separate them for anything. Both of her children had been each other’s biggest cheerleaders, even when one of them seemed to fall behind.

This idea made Shmi shake her head. “Now, why would you think that, Noa?”

Noa swallowed.

“We aren’t as close as we used to be, mom.” She sniffed and choked back a sob. She had tried so hard to not begin fully crying in front of her mother, though all of her efforts were futile now. “I know we’re Jedi knights now, and we have responsibilities now. But now… now he won’t even tell me he loves me anymore… it hurts, mom.”

Shmi slowly wrapped her arm around her daughter’s shoulders to comfort her, as Noa brought her cybernetic hand up to her mouth to block out the sound of her cries.

“Noa, do you truly think Anakin could forget about you?” The question wasn’t asked with malice, rather Shmi hoped it would help Noa think about her words more. “Your brother has always spoken so highly of you, even when you don’t know it.”

Noa glanced up at her mother as she listened to her words.

“You’re both so alike,” Shmi chuckled. “You both have always worried about each other, but you worry because you love each other.”

Shmi gently reached a hand up to touch Noa’s cheek.

“I promise you, my dear. Your brother loves you very much. He will always love you. There is not a lot you could do that could ever change that.”

Hearing the words from her mother, Noa felt the curve of a smile etch across her cheeks.

“Thank you, mom…” she said to her, through a trembling voice.

“Remember, I am always with you, Noa. You and Anakin, both. Always…”

Before Noa could reach up to touch Shmi’s hand, she noticed the figure of her mother beginning to fade. Just as easily as she had appeared, Noa could only watch as her mother began fizzling out into the ash and debris filling the house.

“Mom?” Noa swallowed again, her tone shifting to an urging plea. “Mom, no! Please! Don’t go yet! I’m not ready!”

The scene was overtaken by what seemed like flakes of snow as Shmi’s figure disappeared.

Her eyes opened quickly and her body tensed up as Noa woke up in the small bed she slept on before. The warm, comforting feeling she had during the dream was now being replaced by the lingering cold of the snow planet, even with the aid of the heating inside the transport vehicle.

She lay in bed for several minutes, processing what she had just experienced while in her dream state.

As she sat up and pushed back her own dark, curly hair, she still heard the voice in her head; remember, I am always with you…

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #original character #my ocs #anakin skywalker #Noa Skywalker #shmi skywalker #Em’s stories #text post

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slasherhaven · 3 years

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HI, I discover your blog and i really love it. i dont know if youre already done it but could you do how the slasher would react to dreaming about they killed their s/o and wake up finding his s/o peacefully asleep next to them? im pretty curious (and sorry for my english :,3)

The Slashers having a dream were they kill you:

Thomas Hewitt

It was horrible and he woke up feeling sick.

In the dream you had been terrified of him, pleading with him to let you go, but you didn’t seem to recognise him. He didn’t recognise you either, you were just the next victim in the basement. Just a job. He woke up just as his dream self killed you.

He panicked, suddenly terrified of losing you, needing to see you.

But there you were, where you always were at night, practically laying on his chest, sleeping peacefully. You even had a small smile on your face. Nothing like in the dream.

He didn’t want to wake you, he knew it was just a dream but it had really shaken him. So, he just wrapped his arms around you tighter, holding you close and refusing to let go as he buried his face into your hair.

He loved you so much, he didn’t want you to get hurt, and the thought of being the thing that hurt you killed him inside.

“Tommy, are you alright?” you asked quietly, barely even awake. Still, it made him jump a little, he didn’t mean to wake you.

He just nodded, making you smile to yourself as you cuddled up to him some more, placing a light kiss on his chest before falling back to sleep.

Michael Myers

He hadn’t even realised it was a dream at first, he was stalking a house like he usually did, targeting the person inside. But then he realised that the house was his own, the one he now shared with you, and the victim inside was you. That didn’t seem to stop him though, he found his way into the house, taking you by surprise and driving his knife into your stomach.

You had looked up at him with wide eyes, hands clutching his arms. “Michael?” you sounded scared, betrayed...it wasn’t an image he would soon forget.

But then he woke up, finding himself in your shared bedroom, looking up at the ceiling of the dimly lit room.

It felt so...real...

He sat up and looked down at your place on the bed, finding you sleeping peacefully, unaware of the inner turmoil he was feeling. He did not like this feeling.

Killing somebody had never once left a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach but this did. If he killed you, you would be gone forever, and that was something that unsettled him more than he would like to admit.

You were sleeping deeply, so he luckily didn’t wake you up. He didn’t want to have to explain himself to you if you found him laying back down, shifting closer, and wrapping an arm around you, holding your body closer to his. He focused on your breathing and your warmth.

Maybe he was only just realising it but now, for once, he had something to lose.

Jason Voorhees

The dream was horrible. The scream, the blood, your limp body. You had been so afraid, so afraid of him, and he had killed you mercilessly, something he couldn’t even consider doing in reality. You had screamed before choking as the machete hit you. Jason had lowered you to the ground, your hand raising and leaving a bloody handprint on his mask before falling limp, the light leaving your eyes. You were gone...

And that was when Jason woke up, eyes wide and panicked.

The first thing he did was look for you, reaching out to touch you. Finding you sleeping soundly in his embrace.

You were here, alive and happy. Sleeping by his side, completely unafraid of him.

He didn’t want to wake you, he just wanted to hold you. So, he did.

He couldn’t help but tear up as he held you. It had all felt so real, for a moment he really thought he had lost you and it was painful, it had broken his heart before he realised that none of it was real. He wouldn’t be able to get that vision out of his head, of him stained in your blood...

You would wake up the next morning held in a tight embrace with Jason’s face buried in your hair, refusing to let you go.

Brahms Heelshire

In the dream, you had been busy and he was having a tantrum. You tried to shush him while getting on with the work you needed to do, but you kept denying him, ignoring him, telling him to give you a moment. Then you shouted at him. And then there was blood...so much blood. One moment Brahms had stabbed you, the next he was trying to stop the bleeding, begging you to stop. He couldn’t stop it, and he saw you die.

He woke up, shooting up straight in the bed, breathing heavily with tears in his eyes.

He was absolutely panicked. He hadn’t done that right? No, he couldn’t do that!

Frantically looking around, he saw you sleeping beside him, having clearly been disturbed by his sudden movement.

You woke up a little, sleepily asking if he was okay. He swallowed the lump in his throat before laying back down, cuddling up to you, holding you like his own personal teddy bear.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. I wouldn’t ever hurt you. I’ll be good” Brahms promised you, the pain obvious in his voice.

“Of course you wouldn’t, Brahms. You’re a good boy. Why are you saying these things?” you asked but he just buried his face into the crook of your neck. “Bad dream?” you asked and he nodded. You sighed before petting his hair, slowly lulling him back to sleep before joining him.

The next day he would be on his absolute best behaviour, he couldn’t do enough for you. He would also be extra clingy, not letting you out of his sight for a moment.

Bo Sinclair

Bo had his fair share of bad dreams, he just wasn’t very open about them, but you knew. This dream was different though, it wasn’t about his childhood, it was of present day. He was taunting you as you begged him to let you go, promising to do whatever he wanted, asking him why he was doing this. But he only laughed at you, not caring, all before killing you. Watching the life leave your eyes as you reached out to hold onto him, your hand wrapping tightly around his wrist as you feel to the ground.

Bo woke up suddenly with an uncomfortable feeling in his chest. It was a dream, he reminded himself, chastising himself for being so pathetic.

Then he felt you shift beside him, moving closer and getting his attention. Bo looked down at you and slowly felt that feeling in his chest fade, replaced by warmth.

You were alive and well, and sleeping peacefully right beside him.

He wrapped his arm around you, letting you cuddle up to him some more.

He wasn’t going to wake you up because he didn’t was to share the dream with you, not just yet anyway.

For now, he was quite happy to just lay with you and hopefully get some more sleep.

Vincent Sinclair

Everything had happened so fast in the dream. A new group of victims had come into town and Bo had sent him after them. He did, as he always did, finally catching up to the last victim, stabbing them, killing them. Only then did he realise that it was you, looking up at him in horror, your blood coating his hands.

Vincent woke up breathing heavily, eye wide as he tried to ground himself back in reality.

He instantly looked to you, gradually calming down as he watched your body rise and fall with steady breaths.

He didn’t want to wake you up or disturb you, he just needed some comfort.

He carefully shifted closer to you, wrapping an arm around you and pressing his chest to your back, nuzzling his face against your hair.

He felt a tear threatening to fall and he just allowed it, as long as he was quiet as to not wake you.

All he wanted right now was to hold you and calm down. Everything would be alright in the morning, he knew that.

Lester Sinclair

Lester had a bad dream every now and again, just like everyone else, but they had mostly stopped since you started sharing a bed with him. Tonight seemed to be an exception. Lester never did the killing, he brought the victims to the brothers. This was no different. He had taken you into town, handed you right over to the twins, even when you begged him not too, both of you knowing what your fate would be. As Bo walked you away, followed by Vincent, you had looked back at Lester, begging him one more time, a look of complete betrayal and heartbreak on your face.

Lester startled awake, breathing heavily and sweating slightly.

His sudden movement woke you up, making you roll over to face him, rubbing your face sleepily. “Lester? You okay?”

“Y-yeah, just a bad dream...you’re okay, right?” Lester assured you, looking over you as if checking for any injuries.

“Of course I am” you frowned slightly, confused by his question. But he seemed to relax then, joining you in bed again.

“Good...good” Lester sighed as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you towards him as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. You just wrapped your arms around him and held him as the two of you fell back to sleep.

Bubba Sawyer

It had been an accident in the dream. He was chasing down an intruder, chasing them through the house, nothing too new. He thought that he had caught up with them, dealing with them using his chainsaw...but once the chaos was over, he saw you laying on the floor, your blood pooling around you.

Bubba woke up, instantly panicked and searching for you. But he found you sleeping with a content smile on your face right beside him.

He quickly moved closer, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you against his chest in a tight embrace.

The movement woke you up but you knew it was Bubba so you just happily moved closer and cuddled into him.

“You okay, Bubs?” you asked and he nodded, letting out a few concerned coos. “Bad dream?” he nodded again.

You lifted your head, kissing his cheek, silently assuring him that everything was alright, before cuddling up to him again. Falling asleep in his arms.

Billy Lenz

Bad dreams weren’t new to Billy but this one was. He was walking through the house and he had a knife in his hand, he had a destination in him, a victim was waiting for him. He slowly pushed the bedroom door open before stepping in, the slither of light illuminating your sleeping face. He moved over to you, raising the blade above his head before forcing it down into your chest.

Then he woke up with a gasp, eyes wide and frantic as he sat up.

The suddenness waking you up slightly. You asked if he was alright, altering him that you were alright.

“Bad dream” Billy murmured as he returned to you, tangling his limps with yours and clinging to you. “Billy wouldn’t hurt you. Billy loves you” he mumbled.

“Did you hurt me in the dream?” you asked softly and he hesitantly nodded. “It’s okay, Billy. I know you wouldn’t hurt me in real life. I love you too” you kissed the top of his head, feeling him hold onto you a little tighter before trying to get some more sleep, you joining him.

Asa Emory (The Collector)

For Asa, bad dreams usually related to his childhood, not anything from his present life. Sometimes he would dream about his crimes but he wouldn’t call them bad dreams, he was very neutral on them. This...even he couldn’t feel neutral about what he was dreaming about right now. Of hurting you, not even making it quick, drawing your pain out before finally doing you the mercy of killing you.

As soon as he wakes up, he steadies his breathing and focuses himself.

It was a dream, nothing more.

But that didn’t change the sense of contentment he felt when he looked down to see you sleeping, arm around his waist and head on his chest. A perfect reminder that it really was just a dream, that you were still here, and he wasn’t going to hurt you.

He wrapped his arm around you some more, just holding you more securely without waking you up. He wasn’t going to discuss this with you, not right now anyway.

Jesse Cromeans (Chromeskull)

In the dream, it was like you were just another victim. He had subdued you but you were still away, tears staining your face as you pleaded with him to show mercy. He just took the camera off of his shoulder and zoomed in on your terrified face, he was enjoying it. He soon put the camera back in place before pulling out his knife.

Your piercing scream of agony rang through his mind as he woke up, greeted by the ceiling of his bedroom.

He turned his head to the side, seeing you sleeping beside him. Perfectly well and unharmed, your arm resting over his waist.

You were alright, you were safe. He would never hurt you.

Jesse wrapped his arm around you, gently pulling you closer to him.

It was just a dream, he was well aware of that, and knew not to let it effect him too much. Still, the thought of hurting you made him cringe.

That would never happen, he would protect you, he promised himself that.

Otis Driftwood

It was a violent dream that unsettled him more than he cared to admit. Just him carrying out his true nature but on you instead of a victim he couldn’t care less about. You had cried, pleaded, tried to get through to him, but he didn’t stop, he didn’t care. And then, you were dead. He had killed you, your blood staining his hands and clothes.

Otis is pretty used to disturbing dreams, they rarely bothered him, but this one definitely did.

He woke up, instantly focusing on you. How your head was resting on his chest and your legs was draped over his hips. Very much alive, not a spot of blood on you, perfectly content.

He never thought that somebody outside of the family could have such an effect on him. That somebody’s loss could...scare him so much.

His arm remained around you as he made himself more comfortable, causing you to shift closer as well, letting out a quiet, sleepy hum.

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, nearly chastising the fond feeling he felt when you smiled in your sleep.

Baby Firefly

Gory dreams never bothered her, they couldn’t be any worse than reality, in fact she wouldn’t consider them nightmares at all. This though, this was certainly a nightmare. You were bleeding, crying, and in pain, but she was just giggling, being the person hurting you. And, just like that, you were dead and her giggling stopped, a look of worry spreading over her face.

She woke up, running a hand over her face and brushing off the dream. It was just a dream, you were alright.

There you were, sleeping right beside her. She knew that, she was looking at you.

Still, she shifted into a more comfortable position, brushing your hair out of your face and beginning to scatter kisses over your face.

She wasn’t going to mention the dream right now, it was silly. She just wanted to hear you wake up giggling at her playful attack.

Yautja (Predator)

Dreams weren’t all that common for him, at least not like this one. Even in teh dream it was an accident, him forgetting how fragile you were compared to Yautjas. And it cost him everything.

He woke up just as you died in the dream, leaving him with a sickening feeling.

But when he felt you shift, making him relax.

You were curled up on his chest, sleeping peacefully, just like you did every night.

He purred soothingly as he gently combed his clawed fingers through your hair, purring some more when you smiled and nuzzled into him.

You trusted him. Trusted that he wouldn’t hurt you, that he wouldn’t let anything like that dream happen. He just had to trust himself, and he could do that.

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chiwhorei · 3 years

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𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐯𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐞𝐬

paring: kenny ackerman x fem!reader

genre: apocalypse!au, smut, dark content, 18+ mdni [cross-posted to Ao3]

word count: 3k

overview: kenny *i-wouldn’t-fuck-you-if-it-was-the-end-of-the-world* ackerman; but it is and you do . . . and you’ll probably do it again. or, if you read beyond the cut and wind up in hell that is legally not my fault.

tags: dymph does sacrilege once again, post-apocalypse au, blood, violence, zombies (only mentions of gore nothing specific), somnophilia, noncon, dubcon, degradation, smoking, insertion, sloppy oral, big age gap aka kenny is a nasty old man and reader is a sweet little virgin.

a.notes: happy *fucking* easter. this is for the smut pile’s apocalypse collab so go give everyone’s pieces a read, everyone has worked so incredibly hard. this is dedicated to @pleasantanathema, who was both my beta reader and emotional support while stringing this together. here’s to the old man fuckery, cheers.

hymn: the seven deadly virtues - camelot

But stay awake at all times, praying that you may have strength to escape all these things that are going to take place, and to stand before the Son of Man. -Luke 21:36

* * *

Wet.

A sticky kind of wet. Clinging on like thick clay, splattered across your neck— gore and sinew wrapped in a noose. Shades of decaying reds and browns are all you see these days.

The seeping, molding kind of wet.

The smell is suffocating, the toll of death deep in your bones. You keep moving, you have to. One foot in front of the other, fingers fretting with the cross hanging between your collarbones. Counting your Hail Mary’s distracts from the ache in your soles and the burning feeling that you’re rotting away.

It was slow at first. The end of the world, the crashing, clattering end felt like a slow decent to hell. Pieces of the modern world falling away, the promise of tomorrow, the assurance of a cure. You refused to believe the dead could walk the earth until they were stumbling straight towards you.

All of us, you think, are rotting away.

“Pick up the pace, kid. Are you trying to end up like the rest of those fuckers?” His voice rings from a few feet in front of you. The brush under your feet is dry, leaves crunching loudly with every weary step forward.

Kenny always likes to remind you of your naïveté, insults about your rose tinted glasses barked crudely from around a cigarette. Your youth, your optimism, your beliefs-- useless traits in his opinion. What good is God in a world like this.

“Friends. They were our friends.” Your words come out in a whimper, the tone further irritating the man ahead of you.

He stops, turning around to catch your eyes, gaze piercing through the night like a knife. All that’s left of your composure is used to keep from crashing right into his chest.

“Ain’t no more room for friends in this world, baby doll,” a long pointer finger lifts your chin, the slightest touch still bruising, “thinkin’ like that is what’s going to get ya killed.”

Rose tinted glasses, cracked and splattered with blood, fall off and are lost to a world that no longer exists. Kenny let’s up and turns, pulling you farther into the thick brush. You could swear you feel the lenses as they splinter under your shoe.

* * *

Kenny is a vile man. He knows his name isn’t on a reservation list at the Pearly Gates, he’s aware that a sinner lives on borrowed time.

Nowadays, everyone is living on borrowed time. Even you.

You, he thinks, looking back to where you stumble over a tree branch, far to good for a world like this.

He can’t help but laugh, the absolute absurdity of his current situation. Escaping death by the skin of his teeth, watching any familiar faces burning in the remnants of a camp he couldn’t really call home. People that fought to the bone, melting or devoured or both.

And then there was you, standing in front of the flames, tears falling down the apples of your cheeks, stiff in shock and horror. He remembers the way your lips moved, mumbling a quiet prayer instead of trying to run. Stupid little thing.

It’s not the earth the meek inherit; it’s the dirt.

Was it pity that made Kenny pull you away from an infernal gravesite all those months ago? He’s never the hero of any story. No, it must have been something else.

Maybe it was the way you looked up with teary eyes, silently begging for help. Unwittingly making a deal with the devil. His teeth grind at the memory, the vision of how beautiful you look so completely helpless.

Kenny leads and you follow, he hunts and you flitch at the sound of an arrow piercing flesh. The small squeak and proceeding thumb of meat as it hits the ground never fails to make you sick. When he’s not hunting for food, he’s hunting something else.

The sounds of death are all the same.

Some days you’re lucky, coming across abandoned hideouts or deserted cars. Snagging whatever hasn’t already been picked over; some ammo, the occasional can of peaches or pack of cigarettes. Kenny laughs dryly everytime, chucking the carton into his bag. Always the cigarettes, never the lighter. Most days, not so much.

Every night, you fall asleep to the flicker of a campfire, lulled by the steady sound of Kenny’s knife as it scrapes against a piece of wood. He’s always the last asleep. The woods are a dangerous place, the possibility of monsters circle at every moment. Under the veil of night, anything could happen. And it does.

He wipes his mouth, settling back into the harsh ground below him with a pleased hum. Your whimpers have settled back into a light snore.

Kenny is a vile man, and you’re too concerned with the lifeless villain in the shadows that you forget about the one sitting on the other side of the fire.

Three months of waking up to aching limbs and misplaced panties can’t be a coincidence, can it?

* * *

“Well ain’t this something.” Kenny pulls on the door, swinging it open with a loud creek. Your neck strains to look up at dark wood and steepled roof, the tall building hidden by dense forest, you two must be the first people to step inside in months.

“A church.” You’d find comfort within these walls if you weren’t so positive that God had abandoned this world.

Statues of the Virgin Mary and Saint Joseph are empty behind their stone eyes, shadowed with an unsettling shade of red from the stained-glass windows. The moment is a time capsule, a vision of the congregation of saints bathed in blood.

A chill runs down your back, counting every vertebrae.

You push down the unsettling foreboding, focusing back on the instincts to survive instead of lingering on a religion that you can no longer make sense of.

“Hey kid, over here.” You pick up the pace, quickening footsteps away from holy symbolism and towards Kenny’s voice. You walk into the closest room off a dark hallway and find him leaning against the doorframe. The rooms are getting darker with the vanishing sun, but you make out shelves of cans and boxes, food, blankets, clothes.

“I bet they used this as a food pantry,” Your comment was probably an obvious assumption, but Kenny just hums in response, “there’s enough here to last up months.”

Good samaritans in the first life are a saving grace is this one. Your cynicism lifts from heavy shoulders for just a moment. The lines between luck and divine intervention are fuzzy at best.

“I saw a well right outside too. Water’s probably cold as ice but it’s better than anything we’ve come across yet.” Kenny’s voice is even, but you swear he cracks a smile.

He was right, the water is cold enough to shatter your bones like ice. You shiver and chatter, teeth threatening to crack, but the feeling of being clean has you dumping bucket after bucket over your head. The grime and grit of your reality running down to seep into the grass below.

There’s no home to run to after the world ends, but water and food is more than you could imagine in recent months. Shuffling through boxes of donated clothes, you find a shirt big enough to sleep in. The fabric smells like moth-balls and dust, but the feeling of clean cotton against your skin is heavenly.

You find Kenny in the clerical office, rummaging through the priests desk. The sun is replaced with a flight of candles, for the first time in forever, you don’t feel like death is standing right behind you.

“Would you look at that,” Kenny pulls a cigar from the desk, bringing it up to his nose for inspection, “Looks like father had his own little habit.”

Despite yourself, you laugh at his comment, rounding towards the large leather chair he’s settled into.

“Smoking kills you know.” You lean against the desk next to him. Your bare legs brush against his knee, the heat from your skin makes his mouth water.

“I think there’s more pressing concerns than tobacco, kid.”

There’s something different about tonight, even more than just the four walls and roof around you. There’s something about Kenny and the way his stare has followed you all night. You can feel a cord pulling taught, fraying in the middle before it snaps.

“Asshole.”

The plush of Kenny’s bottom lip is close enough to your cunt to be disastrous. Friendly banter becomes laughing and swatting at his chest like a teenager. Communion wine and tension pulling you into him. The loneliness of this life becomes more apparent the closer he is to touching your skin. When did the man in front of you make your heart race so fast?

Maybe you’ve always felt this way.

You feel it, the ghosts of last night, the night before. The ghosts of weeks or maybe even months. The familiarity of a touch you weren’t quite awake for.

Ass arching off from where it sticks to the cherry wood, you want to feel it again. The laving of tongue and mouth against you. The devouring of your most intimate planes of skin, places no one else has ever touched before, places you were saving for your future husband.

The kiss as hot as hell.

“Awe, c’mon now,” His nose nudges against your clit, the movement pulling another cry from your throat to bounce against the high ceiling, “that’s not my name.”

“I’ve been tracing it into this precious cunt of yours every night,” each word is more unhinged than the last, no longer worried about the doe in his sights running away, “Do I need to spell it out for you again?”

There’s nowhere to run, pressed in between his canines.

Dreams of calloused fingers and a wandering mouth are now cementing as memories. The feeling of rough facial hair. The sounds of desperate moans and how they shake against you.

The way his tongue curls like a signature.

His mouth is flush against you again, sucking at your aching clit for only a moment before moving his attention to long lashes against your clenching hole.

“You must remember. You were moaning it so sweetly,” he nips at your puffy lips before drawing back. His chin is sheened in your arousal, slick refracting off the dimly lit space between you, flickering candles outline his features with a dance of orange shadows. Kenny’s eyes hold you captive, giving you one more chance to answer.

“What’s my name, kid?”

His tongue breaches you, a set of large, familiar hands keep your legs spread wide atop the desk.

You remember— of course you do. You remember everything. The name stuck in your head like a broken record. The name you call for in a sleepy haze as your body is dragged into orgasm.

The name that’s spelled against you like a promise.

“K-Kenny please.”

That’s all that he needs, the only thing, if he’s being honest, that he’s ever needed.

“There’s my sweet little girl. Finally using your manners.” Two fingers come up to swipe against your pussy, stopping right before your clit and collecting slick to bring up to your eye line for inspection. You jump when the warm digits drag against your bottom lip, a silent prompt for your mouth to fall open.

Kenny sticks his fingers in, the intent to make you gag is clear but you take it. You’ll take anything he gives you. Your tongue swirls around the intrusion, running against each joint and suckling loudly. The sound is wet and lewd, the spit collecting at the corners of your mouth makes his head spin.

Your destruction, he decides, will be beautiful.

Kenny’s fingers release with a wet pop. He runs callouses down from your cheek, over the curve of your tits and down your abdomen. Two fingers stop at your pubic bone to trace lightly against the skin in random patterns.

“Your body is just as agreeable when you’re awake.” His words drip in sin, reminding you exactly how familiar he is with you. All of you.

Both thumbs come down to spread your lips, Kenny can’t help but take a moment-- just a beat-- to stare at your swollen, glossy clit and the quiver of your little hole. Your skin is soft, completely untouched by anyone else. He laid claim to almost every inch before you begged him to.

He sinks from the leather chair, kneeling in front of you. You’re the body and blood as far as a sinner like Kenny is concerned.

There’s a plea stuck in your throat. You want to beg him to slow down, it’s too much all at once, but you know if you cried out-- all you would do is beg him for more.

His tongue is long and flat against you, every swipe is punctuated with a growl. The rumbling from his chest is thrown against your clit like a current through cold water. Sharp, shocking, terrifying.

“Kenny, I- I want,” He sucks your throbbing clit into his mouth, rubbing the tip of his tongue against the hood. There’s no words in any language that make sense to you. There’s nothing but his name.

“Kenny ah, I need, I don’t know how t—”

Your dangling over a fire, trying desperately to jerk away from the lick of the flames.

“I know, kid, I know exactly what you need.” his breath is heavy and warm in fans across your skin. You're dripping down the sides of his face and onto the cleric’s desk. Kenny is covered in you, open mouthed kisses against the sweetest thing he’s ever had in his mouth. The tangy taste of your pussy mixing with the wine still on his tongue.

If he spent forever between your thighs, it wouldn’t be nearly long enough.

“Such a sweet little thing, you’re insatiable.” All you can do is nod dumbly, eyes glazing over with a distinct look of teary submission. It’s so new to you, but grinding upwards and catching your clit against his chin seems like second nature.

The primal need for release is much stronger than any prayer of abstinence.

“What would your little prayer circle think if they knew you spread your legs for a dirty old fucker like me?” Kenny coos against the apex of your thighs. His words knock on the hollow space behind your breastbone.

Your family and friends, the priest from St. Mary’s who baptized you, old man Jaeger from next door— all buried or burned to ash or so much worse.

Anyone you’ve ever loved is dead, maybe that’s why Kenny is still around.

There’s nothing that can hold you back anymore, the control you claw at slips from your fingers like watery silk. There’s no escaping the roughness of his stubble and an evil, serpent tongue.

“Kenny!”

You cum with a shattering cry, the sound ringing so loud in your ears you swear any enemy of the living in a 10 mile radius could hear you. In reality, what escapes is little more than a broken snivel.

It hurts, muscles aching from the exertion of trying to keep from falling apart. Your body is a hairpin trigger, the comedown feels more like withdrawal.

“There’s my girl, my good little girl.” His voice is uncharacteristically soft, doting while you fall back to earth. It’s a strange feeling, you’ve never found comfort in Kenny before, he isn’t the shoulder you go to lean on.

But tonight he’s the chin you buck into.

The aftershocks run across your naked skin, already missing the feeling of his touch as he settles back into the cracked leather chair.

His cock presses into the denim confines uncomfortably, the ache can wait though. Whether this is his last night alive or has all the time in the world-- he’s going to savor the glistening prize nestled between your thighs. Kenny’s fingers find the cigar where it lies next to your knee, bringing it up to examine while you squirm at the cold night air against your wet cunt.

“No one will ever make you feel as good as I do,” both legs kick out, falling to dangle on either side of his knees in surprise as the cigar comes down to trace your outer lips. He presses the tuck inwards, pulling out slightly so you cry out. The harsh texture of the wrapper mixes with the most minimal of stimulation, causing tears to clump in your waterline.

“Why don’t you think of a way to repay me, hmm?”

You push past the heaviness in your muscles, sitting up to meet his incredulous stare. Kenny sticks the cigar between his teeth, striking a match from the desk drawer to light the cap. The cigar is stale, cheap tobacco. But every drag now tastes like you.

“I- I could try to--” Words are left unspoken on your tongue, even now, the intonation is poison in your throat.

You expect Kenny to laugh at your bashfulness, instead, two fingers come up to curl around the Rosary around your neck. He drags you forward, exhaling smoke into your parted, quivering lips. You try your best not to choke.

He pulls the cigar away, ashing it carelessly on the floor.

“Use your words, kid, tell me what you want.” His words are sleazy but his voice is soft around the edges. Prompting you to shuffle onto his lap. His free hand rests in the small of your back to keep you steady.

“I want--” Fuck, your voice feels like it’ll fail, you take a moment to breathe, “I want you to fuck me, Kenny.”

Your plea is rushed, so quick to hit his ears he almost misses it. There’s no hiding anymore, there’s nowhere else in this world but the private quarters of a long-dead clergy member. The space between you and Kenny is foggy and tense, only inches between lips.

There’s no more penance in this world, no more time to sit and atone for his sins with prayer. The soft, syrupy feeling of your cunt wrapping around his cock is a slice of heaven, cut out and stolen right from the sky.

“I thought you’d never ask, doll face.”

✞ all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️

#aot x reader #aot x reader smut #aot smut #kenny ackerman x reader #kenny ackerman smut #the smut pile: apocalypse #tw: somnophilia #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #tw: blood #tw: sacrilegious #sin.somnophilia #sin.noncon #sin.dubcon #sin.blood #sin.sacrilege

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bokubonk · 3 years

Text

happy anniversary

warnings: angst

content: hurt/comfort, angst

characters: Ushijima x gn!reader

date: 2/14/21

word count: 2.1k+

notes: Happy Valentine’s Day, my loves! Let us celebrate with some angst :)) Also I know I said it would be a few more days until I update but I just couldn’t resist writing this one.

You approached your boyfriend once you saw the boys cleaning up after practice. You had been standing outside, waiting for your boyfriend for the past few hours. It was cold, but you didn’t mind, your excitement to celebrate your one year anniversary with Ushijima kept you warm.

Your freezing hands were wrapped around his gift: a new volleyball. You saw that the one he had been practicing with was getting worn down from how powerful his spikes were and you wanted to get him a new one, knowing how much the sport meant to him.

You crept into the gym as quietly as you could, not wanting to bother anyone but you saw some of the team members noticed you and they sent you small smiles after they saw the gift you were hiding behind your back. After all, they remembered that today was the date the two of you got together, their stoic captain and you, who somehow managed to put up with Ushijima’s busy schedule and look after the team like they were your own children.

Tendou and Ushijima were on the other side of the gym and you could see Ushijima being hard on himself as usual. Sweat lined his brow as he continued practicing his spikes, the force echoing throughout the gym.

You winced from how loud it was and as you came closer you locked eyes with Tendou, who waved at you and raised his eyebrows at Ushijima, exclaiming, “Oh? Look who it is, lover boy, your beloved y/n is here!”

Ushijima paused to look at you, his eyebrows furrowed and you were unsure of what to make of his expression. You knew your boyfriend wasn’t one to show emotion but the look he was giving you now wasn’t one that you were expecting, especially since today was your anniversary.

“Go home, y/n,” he said, “I will be staying late today to practice. You should go home now. It isn’t safe to walk around alone at night.”

Your hopeful expression dropped but you tried your best to keep a smile on your face. He turned away from you and Tendou gave you a sympathetic look. It seemed Ushijima had forgotten what today was but you tried comforting yourself, reminding yourself that he was busy and that he had other priorities in his life just like you did. After all, you were both third years and there were plenty of things to worry about.

But, you couldn’t help the sinking feeling in your chest as you wished that just once, he would put more effort into your relationship. You were beginning to grow used to the ache in your chest from all the neglect you endured after Ushijima continued choosing volleyball over your dates.

He would schedule last minute practices and leave you waiting for hours at the restaurants or the parks he promised to meet you at. You should be used to it by now, but you couldn’t help but hold onto the hope that he would change.

You believed in his promises and even when he broke them, you told yourself it was okay, because you loved him and because he loved you, even if it didn’t seem that way sometimes.

Your cold hands clenched around his gift, the weight of the volleyball growing heavier as the seconds passed by and the lump in your throat grew.

“Wakatoshi, I-,” you began, but he cut you off. “I do not have the time right now, y/n.”

“I need to perfect this.”

You moved your gaze away from him and stared at the ground, wishing the floor would open up and swallow you whole. You could feel the pitying gazes of the other team members as they looked at you and you hated how small you felt.

Today was supposed to be a happy day so where did it all go wrong? What did you do to deserve being treated like this?

“But today is-,” you tried once again, your tears forcing your voice to a whisper.

“You are bothering me,” he interjected, harshly, “I am sure what you have to tell me can wait.”

You gave a small nod and began making your way out of the gym. Footsteps followed after you and for a second, you hoped it was Ushijima but when you heard a voice call your name, you felt the familiar taste of bitter disappointment.

“Y/n, he’s just having a bad day,” Tendou consoled, his eyes widening when he saw your tear-stained cheeks. “You know he didn’t mean it.”

“Yeah, I know,” you smiled, one that clearly didn’t reach your eyes from how the frown on Tendou’s face deepened. You used the sleeves of your thin jacket to wipe away your tears before extending the gift in your hand.

“Give it to him for me, will you?” you murmured weakly, “Make sure he doesn’t practice too late and don’t let him overexert himself.”

“No, y/n,” Tendou shook his head. “You should give it to him yourself. I’ll go grab him right now and tell him to walk you home.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him, “I’m not in the mood to celebrate anyway. I just came to drop off his gift.”

“Y/n, I’m sorry,” he frowned, his anger rising as more tears fell from your eyes. He knew how much you were looking forward to celebrating your anniversary and he felt terrible at how you were being treated by Ushijima. He wasn’t blind to all of the sacrifices you made for him and he knew it was time Ushijima stopped taking you for granted.

“Good night, Tendou.”

The walk home was cold and lonely and you only felt worse when you woke up the next morning with a fever. But you were comforted by all the messages from Tendou and the other members asking how you were doing and interrogating you. They were seconds away from going over to your house because of your lack of response when you assured them you were doing fine and sent them a picture of yourself in bed, saying you had a fever.

Even with the group chat blowing up, there was still no response from Ushijima and you wondered if he just didn’t care.

Your thoughts were swarmed with insecurities and before you knew it, you were sobbing into your pillow.

Does he even love me?

You tried remembering a time where he actually said those three words, but you found you couldn’t. A year of dating and “I love you” never escaped his lips. A year of being treated like a second choice. A year of putting his feelings first and getting your heart stomped on.

You were tired and you didn’t know how much longer this cycle of disappointment could go on.

You were torn out of your thoughts when you heard the front door open and the low murmur of voices before heavy footsteps began approaching your room. You pulled the covers over your head, hiding your messy hair and your swollen face.

The door creaked as it opened and you peeked through the small opening of the blanket, your mouth dropping in surprise when you saw a large figure standing in your bedroom.

“Ushijima?” you questioned, sitting up abruptly before wincing at your nausea caused by the sudden movement.

He stopped examining all the photos in your room and turned around to face you, his eyes widening when he saw your red-rimmed eyes. He barely registered the fact that you called him by his last name and not his first, his main focus was what made you cry.

“What’s wrong, y/n?” he asked, worry clearly written on his face. “Why are you crying?”

“Why are you here, Ushijima?” you asked instead, bringing your gaze to your fidgeting fingers, a habit you did when you were nervous.

“You are sick so I brought medicine and food to help you recover,” his eyebrows furrowed at your question and the lack of excitement in your tone when before, you always greeted him with a smile. It was one of his favorite things about you and he was beginning to miss it.

“Well, as you can see, I’m fine. You can just leave the medicine and go. I wouldn’t want to interfere with your practice,” your tone was harsh and left no room for argument.

You were angry, Ushijima finally realized. The hurt expression on your face wasn’t one he was used to and he didn’t know how to fix it. His heart shattered as your chin began to tremble and tears trailed down your cheeks.

He remembered the harsh words he gave you and the fact that he made you walk home alone and he opened his mouth to apologize when he heard you whisper, “Do you even remember what day it was yesterday?”

His silence answered your question and you let out a bitter laugh, sliding back under the covers and turning away from him. “Just go away, Ushijima.”

“Please,” your voice cracked as you held back a sob.

He stared at your shaking form, a frown tugging at his lips but he listened to you words and exited your room, the door letting a resounding click as it closed.

Despite your words, you hoped he would stay but you figured this was just another disappointment to add to the list. The thought only made you cry more and Ushijima listened just on the other side of the door, wondering what he could do to fix this.

You wondered if this was the end of your relationship and after an hour of crying, you finally fell asleep. By the time you woke up, daylight had faded and your room was now shrouded in darkness.

You were creeped out by how silent the house was but you figured it was time to get out of bed and get something to eat. You walked downstairs and heard the shuffling of footsteps.

“Mom?” you called out, now a little nervous that an intruder had somehow gotten in while you were sleeping.

You tiptoed your way into the living room, only for a scream to lodge itself in your throat as the lights suddenly flickered on. Ushijima stood there in a suit with a cake in his hands.

“Ushijima?” you gasped, “What are you doing here?”

He placed the cake on a table nearby and walked towards you, cupping your cheeks in between his large hands. You were too surprised to react, still shocked by the fact that he was still here and he hadn’t left.

“I am sorry, y/n,” he said, his voice soft as he struggled to convey his feelings. “You mean so much to me and I never wanted to hurt you. I didn’t mean to forget our anniversary.”

You came to your senses once you heard his words and you stepped back, letting his hands fall from your face.

“It’s not just that, Ushijima,” you whispered, “I’m just tired. I’m tired of always being a second choice to volleyball and always putting in all the effort only to receive none in return.”

He thought of all the times he rescheduled your dates or came late because he chose to spend more time practicing and guilt washed over him. Ushijima never realized just how much you did for him. He was blind to your suffering and now he was facing the consequences.

“I will be better,” he promised. There was no hint of hesitation in his voice. He truly meant it and you could feel your walls slowly crumbling once again. “I will be someone who is worthy of you. Just give me a second chance to prove my love to you.”

Your breath caught and time stumbled.

“You love me?”

You didn’t expect him to confess and now that he had, you were completely powerless to stopping yourself from falling for him once again. The ache in your chest was replaced with warmth and you found the smallest of smiles forming on your lips.

“I always have,” he replied, reaching up to rub a thumb across your cheekbone. He leaned down to kiss your forehead before touching his lips to your eyelids. His face was centimeters away from yours when he pulled back, “Can I kiss you?”

You nodded and he pulled you closer. The both of you missed each other and the kiss was soft but desperate. You could feel the familiar butterflies making themselves known as he pulled away and gave you one of his rare smiles, the one he only gave you. “Happy belated anniversary, my love.”

“Happy anniversary, Wakatoshi.”

#haikyuu ushijima #ushijima x y/n #ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #hq angst #ushijima angst #haikyuu imagines #ushijima imagines #hq #hq imagines #haikyuu!!#ushijima x gn!reader #haikyuu x gn!reader

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hoodiewithhorns · 3 years

Note

Hmmm how about and argument scenario with Atsumu or Suna...or both 🥺

━ argument scenario with Atsumu and Suna ✧

ofc aw, also sorry if this is bad and out of character I still don't know much about these two (I'm wrapping up season 2) but I’ll do my best <3.

▲ cw : not proofread, established relationship, fem reader, crying , hurt + comfort, insecurities of abandonment , neglect, angst, slight jealousy, hint of smut at the end(for atsumu), all characters are 18+, MDNI. ▼

Atsumu

- he had been in a bad mood from the start

- he told you ahead of time he wasn’t feeling good so to surprise him, you went to go see him at one of his practices

- you brought him some fatty tuna and a few sports drinks to cheer up your lovely boyfriend

- arriving safe and sound with a bright smile eager to see your boyfriend

- only to find him talking to one of his fangirls, not one but 3 of them. laughing and smiling as they showered him in compliments and praise him for his athletic abilities he even let the girls touch him up for just a bit too long for your liking.

〜 ☆

- you paused only to stare at the scene in front of you

- his brother disappointed in him, making signs that you were here waiting for him.

- he turned around to see you standing at the door frame of the gym a frozen expression plastered onto you as if you have just seen a ghost.

- those girls were pretty. prettier than you and the fact he let them touch up on him made your chest tighten. the gym was silent with only the sounds of volleyballs being thrown left and right.

- you didn't say anything you just walked outside and waited for him to be done.

- he walked outside and drove you back home not even saying a single word.

he opened the door for you locking it once he entered as well. you still felt uneasy wanting an explanation as to why he would let those girls touch up on him like that. the way they touched his built physique left you a little hurt. you were sure if you brought it up to him it wouldn't be a problem right? just talk about it like a normal healthy couple does! right? of course!! you thought letting a few of the negative thoughts vanish from your mind.

you took a deep breath before you walked into the bedroom. Atsumu was sitting on your shared bed with his head against the headboard, scrolling through his phone watching videos to improve his spiking abilities. he seemed to be in a relaxed state, but he didn't spare a glance when you walked in. maybe he didn't hear you? you thought to yourself. the uneasy feeling overwhelming you feeling you'd breakdown at any second.

“hey atsu.” you spoke lightly to him easing your way up to the bed.

“what.” his tone clearly annoyed by you. you took a step back surprised by his tone and how he responded to you. he never replied with “what” it was always “yes?” or “yes my love?” taking another deep breath looking up to try and fight back your tears that were ready to stain your face at any minute now, “y-you okay baby?” you thought it’d be smarter to ask if he was still feeling okay and not bring up the fangirls..but you were dead wrong since it only set him off even more.

“I'm fine.” he grunted back at you still not looking up at you. he tightened the grip on his phone scrolling and staring at the videos more intensely now. “o-okay baby..um..” it wasn’t a good time to bring it up you already knew he was pissed off but you just wanted to get to the bottom of it immediately. if he was In a bad mood why would he talk to those girls all happy and giggly but with you a salty attitude? it didn't make sense you needed to know. “ why were those girls touching you like that.. were they your friends..?” that was the last straw for him he placed his phone down getting up to face you as you took a few steps back.

he was now hovering over you looking down at you full of anger, shivering at his mean gaze. “what's the issue? it’s just some fangirls who saw I was in a bad mood and wanted to cheer me up not like you who just walked away.” your hands were shaking at this point you felt sick to your stomach at how cruel he talked to you. how could you just stand there while girls were touching him and laughing clearly not caring he has a girlfriend?? what were you supposed to do walk towards him as if they weren’t there?

“but a-atsu I wanted to come cheer you up I made you some of your favorites-”

“why do you care so much about some silly fangirls huh? don't we live together?? isn't that enough for you? but nooo you always have to think about yourself don't you?” he was being unreasonable at this point he knows how you get when fangirls are all over him. it was one of your insecurities that he’d reassure you didn't have to worry about since he’d never leave you, but here he was calling you selfish for caring about that.

finally, the gears in your head letting the tears promised to fall, fall down your cheeks. you sniffled rubbing your eyes as fast as you could to not let him see you but it was too late he already did. avoiding eye contact you spoke sniffling up your words.

“i just w-wanted to make you feel better why are you acting like this atsumu..”

you cried looking down as your tears hit the ground. his face switching from annoyance to concern, he messed up and he knows it. reaching out to hug you, you moved away from him and stormed out of the bedroom heading to the living room planting yourself on the couch as you hid underneath the covers to cry your little heart out. he followed you out the bedroom looking over at the meal and drinks you had planned for him. his favorite food and sports drink with a note written in your pretty handwriting he loved so much.

“I hope this makes you feel better baby! I love you so much!♡ xoxo”

- with much love y/n

feeling his heart crack realizing the number he did on you just now. you had every right to be upset he knew you seeing him around other girls would’ve set you off he just wanted to appear as charming as possible. if his fangirls knew he was in a bad mood it would’ve caused his reputation to sink to the ground. still, he knows he shouldn’t have let them touch him like that especially if he had you at home. he let out a sigh walking up to the couch sitting right next to you with his head thrown back on the couch eyes never leaving you, watching and hearing you carefully.

your sniffles did so much damage to him it already hurt him when he saw you cry, but crying because of something inconsiderate he did hurt him even more.

he pulled the covers down to reveal your redden tear-stained faced stilling sniffling but not fighting back when he pulled you into his chest. how could you fight back? you loved him you never want to consider leaving him as an option. you just wanted to fix things and so you let out a soft apology as he rubbed comforting circles on your back.

“no baby I'm sorry...I was being stupid and was in a bad mood but that doesn't give me the right to hurt you like this..” his voice soft yet firm making you ease up more into his chest as you sat in his lap to face him wrapping your arms around his neck.

he looked like a sad puppy he felt bad he really did which brought you to kiss him on the lips he smiled into the kiss feeling relieved. this lasted for what felt like forever. you pulled away and he rubbed the last bit of tears off your pretty eyes.

“I'm sorry baby I really am..I was like..an idiot sandwich you know?” you giggled at his joke making him smile as if he just won back his girlfriend. “it's okay atsu I love you.. please don't forget that okay?” he nodded pulling you in once more for a much more deeper and passionate kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist while his hands roamed your body. letting out a soft moan into the kiss, his hands went under your shirt as he pulled away smirking.

“why don't you let me make it up to you pretty girl let me show you that those silly fangirls don’t mean anything to me yeah?”

Suna

- he was always busy with volleyball

- which meant coming home really late.

- you supported him nonetheless adoring how talented he looked going against teams

- you just felt..empty without him

- he wasn’t just your lover but... your best friend

- you missed his touch and his presence in general

- he kept coming home late from practice each week making you miss him more and more

- some nights he wouldn't even come home and would stay at a teammate's apartment at the very last minute instead of coming home to cuddle you like how he always did.

- this made your head spiral wondering if he even acknowledges how much you miss him.

- you understand his practice and games end really late but still, you were his girlfriend a little reassurance through a phone call or a facetime would be enough for you to sleep alright for a night.

- his texts also caused you to feel more alone back then he would spam you with stupid stuff the twins were doing back in high school and even a little bit now with stuff his teammates were doing with the occasional “i love yous” and the simple but sweet heart emojis he’d send. now it wasn't even like that.

you glanced at your phone and it was 11:34 PM and still no text from him or sign of his arrival. did he even care at this point? you wondered tossing and turning in your shared bed scrolling through Instagram. your eyes lit up when he messaged you. hoping maybe it would be an i love you or an apology for being so neglectful towards you.

“hey. i’ll be coming home at 12.”

“okay tarō be safe. I love you♡”

read at 11:40 PM

you sighed feeling a little happy he at least was coming home soon. still, an I love you back would’ve been nice. you waited for him for a few more minutes trying your hardest not to fall asleep. it's been so long since you two been together or specifically seen each other. part of you was excited to see your boyfriend after weeks of not seeing him but part of you was upset. so many weeks of you being alone sleeping alone without his chest to cling on or his shoulder to lay on when you cried over your favorite shows.

you jolted up when you heard the door open finally, he was home, you happily walked to the front door. Suna took off his shoes before entering placing them at the front door. you greeted him kissing his cheek hugging him tightly, you missed this..you missed him.

“hey y/n. I'm tired do you mind?”

you pulled away looking up at his dissatisfied expression. first, he calls you by your actual name and then tells you to back off after god knows how long you’ve seen him. he walked past you heading straight to the bathroom to wash up. you stood there appalled at the fact he barely acknowledged you only to tell you back off. you couldn’t believe it but you tried to shrug it off, maybe he was in a bad mood? he’ll still cuddle you to sleep so you have that to look forward too!...you hoped.

when you walked back to the bedroom he was already going underneath the covers and you followed, going under them with him, while his back was facing you. you waited a while to see if he’d ask you if you wanted to cuddle. waiting... and still not a word not even a goodnight when he finally turned the lights off.

you missed him so much all you wanted was him to acknowledge you just a little. you moved closer to his back and hugged him from behind.

“god, y/n why are you so needy all of a sudden?” rolling his eyes at you in annoyance. you moved your hands back to you sitting up to face him.

“why I’m so needy?? jeez tarō I don't know maybe I haven't seen my boyfriend in god knows how many weeks!” you snapped back at him causing him to get out of the bed.

“It was 5 weeks it wasn’t even that bad!” he yelled back at you, you felt your heart become heavy looking at his eyes that had not a trace of love in them while your very own eyes felt heavy holding back tears.

“you’ve been coming home late all the damn time suna! sometimes you don't even show up! I miss you so much sometimes I....” you froze the tears finally starting to fall. “I don't even think you love me anymore..”

he froze his eyes widening at your final words. how could he be so blind? his sweet girl had every right to be needy for him 5 weeks must've felt like an entirety to you and now that he finally gets home he's acting like an assshole to you pushing you away as if you were nothing but an obstacle. he sat back down on the bed to hug you. a genuine one full of love and regret. it was silent for a few minutes of just the two of you tight in each other's embrace.

“I’m..sorry my love...I didn't mean to yell at you like that I miss you too I just..I'm sorry” he felt bad he didn't mean to hurt you. he knows he's at fault here and all he can do is mumble apologies while he pulls you close to him as he hides his face in the crook of your neck for comfort. you hugged back of course finally having him in your arms brought you joy.

“it's okay tarō...I love you...we’ll be okay, okay?” he nodded planting soft kisses on your forehead. “I love you too baby..but let's go to bed my love it's getting late..” smiling he pulled you into his chest to cuddle you to sleep wiping the remaining tears you had still left in you. after a while you fell asleep in his chest while he watched you sleep peacefully.

“heh.. you’re such a crybaby .” he smiled pulling you in closer planting soft kisses on you trying not to wake you.

“I love you y/n I promise to make it all up to you.”

#suna rintaro fluff #suna headcanons #suna x y/n #suna rintarou #suna angst #haikyuu angst #hq angst #suna rintaro angst #suna fluff #atsumu #atsumu miya #atsumu fluff #atsumu angst #atsumu miya angst #miya atsumu #suna rinataro x reader #rinataro suna

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komoreangel · 3 years

Text

𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬/𝐨

pairings: childe, zhongli, and xiao x f!reader (separate)

scenario: your past lives never stop haunting you, but your boyfriend is there to comfort you

request: What about Childe, Zhongli and Xiao having a s/o who can reincarnate, but her past lives were really terrible people and she sees herself as one? So they comfort her, telling she isn't one

genre: mostly angst with cuddles and kisses in between

childe

you’ve been lost in your thoughts for a couple days now

you can’t stop thinking about it

the blood staining your hands

what your past reincarnations did

what you did

childe can tell something’s wrong

he can sympathize with feeling guilt for lives taken by your own will

as someone who’s killed countless people, he recognizes the look of searing guilt in your eyes all too well

“y/n, is something wrong?”

you don’t answer

you have your head in your hands, and you’re sitting on the edge of your bed with your eyes facing the ground

he can tell you’re not completely there with him

“y/n?”

“i hurt them.”

he knows about your reincarnations, you’d told him when you two started dating

“hey, are you okay?” he pulls your wrists away from your face

“how did this happen?” your voice is quiet, almost that he can’t hear it

you look up at him and the darkness in your eyes is familiar

too familiar

he promised he wouldn’t let this happen to you too

“y/n. snap out of it.”

no reaction

he grabs your shoulders and grips them, making sure you’re staring straight into his eyes

“i can’t stop thinking about it.”

he pulls you into his arms

“y/n, you are not your past lives. you are someone new, you are someone different. you are brave, you are strong, you are not responsible for what they did.”

“but it doesn’t change the fact that it was me. i took their lives.”

childe can see he’s not getting through to you

“i know. i know it’s hard. i know you never really forget the look in their eyes. and it’s okay. its fine. just please don’t feel guilty for a death you didn’t cause.”

“but how can i? how did- how did you...”

you stop talking for fear of upsetting him

he wants to tell you that he didnt stop hurting

he didnt get over it

he wakes up in a sweat fearing that the things he did will cause him to lose the good things he has

but that’s not something he can bring himself to say

so he just hugs you as you cry

because he knows you’re not a terrible person

because a terrible person wouldn’t have it in their hearts to love him

and although you don’t feel any less guilty

it’s better having him with you than being alone

zhongli

as someone who knows a thing or two about reincarnation

and also as rex lapis, who hurt people during the archon war

when you sneak into his arms for cuddles he doesn’t protest

“darling, is there a problem?”

you remain silent.

after a while, your quiet voice echoes out into the dark

“i was a terrible person.”

out of context, this would seem confusing

but he understands

“those people aren’t you.” he tries his best to speak words of comfort, but your tears continue to wet his shirt (not that he minds, he just doesn’t like it when you cry)

“i...i killed so many people..”

he holds you close to his chest, so you can hear his heartbeat

“a reincarnation of you, someone who has almost nothing to do with you...you aren’t a bad person, y/n.”

your guilt burns in your chest

you know zhongli is only trying to help

but you still can’t just forget what your past life did

“but that was me...just, different.”

he tries to comfort you in the best way he can: by explaining

“a reincarnation is described as sharing the same soul, but otherwise having nothing in common. you and all your reincarnations are completely different people, with nothing in common.”

you know he’s right

but you just want your chest to stop hurting and those memories to stop coming back

“it might help to get some sleep,” he says.

but sleep is the last thing on your mind right now

“even if you’re not tired,” he continues as if he can read your mind

“just closing your eyes for a bit”

you don’t feel like sleeping, but it can’t hurt to listen to him

you lean against his chest and close your eyes

he looks down at you and wishes he could take all your pain away

he wishes he still had his godly powers

surely there wouldve been some ability that he could use to help you

unfortunately, just hoping won’t be able to do much

so he holds you close and hopes you stop feeling guilty for crimes that you didn’t commit

and when you wake up, he’ll remind you that he loves you because of all the good things you do every single day

xiao

your regret is not all that different from his own

the sight is all too familiar

you’re curled up in a ball in the corner of the balcony at wangshu inn

“y/n, come out of there. i can see you perfectly well.”

you come out and rest your forehead against his chest

he can sense that you aren’t holding up too well

the only difference between your guilt and his own is that you aren’t responsible for the bad things your reincarnations did or may have done

“it’s not your fault. you couldn’t have done anything.”

he does feel sympathetic for you, but he’s firm in the fact that you have nothing to do with the past memories that have come flooding back

he notices that you’re wrapping your arms around him in a hug

he’s not the best at comforting, but he tries his best to return your embrace

he’d rest his chin on the top of your head if you started crying

most likely he would try to calm you down and help you relax because crying for a long time can get you sick

and that’s the last thing he wants

he would also let you sit on the couch in your room with almond tofu

if you wanted he would even let you sit on his lap and eat

(although he’d scold you if you got food on the couch)

he might run his fingers through your hair at an attempt to make you feel at ease

he does like cuddling, but this time you aren’t cuddling out of happiness

it’s understandable why you’d be distressed during a time like this, but he feels like you’re being sad over something you didn’t do

even if he’s unable to convince you that you’re innocent, he’ll still be there for you

the little things he’d do to help you feel better :((

and kiss your nose and forehead hhhh

feeding you almond tofu and whatever other food he can make without burning down the inn

if anyone comes to see you with a commission he would tell them you aren’t feeling your best and to come back later

(and they’d probably pee their pants because of the intimidation levels he’s giving off)

holding your hand and carrying you to bed if you fall asleep

oh god xiao please hold my hand pls jfdksghsla

if you go a bit too long with being sad he might tell you you’re being ridiculous and that your past lives don’t deserve your tears

harsh, but he just hates it when you’re unhappy

he would force you to go outside if you haven’t gotten sunlight in a while

and slowly but surely your guilt might die down

it could take a while but xiao is willing to wait as long as it takes

as long as he gets to see your smile again and hear your laughter because to him those are the most beautiful things in the world

a/n: they were all pretty angsty except for xiao’s...which had a happy ending. it took a bit longer to write but i really like the end product so i hope you guys enjoy! as of february 7, requests are CLOSED while i write the other ones i have in progress. they will open once all pending requests are written and posted! ty <3

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hwascripts · 3 years

Text

Masterlist

WC: Unknown

TW: Swearing, mentions of murder, a bit of angst, I think that’s it!

This is heavily unedited because it’s my Levi simp hours and I need Dad!Levi headcanons. Also your kid and Eren’s kid are gender neutral

Levi as a father

-I honestly don’t picture Levi as someone who planned on having kids but rather someone who ends up having kids by complete accident. Living in the walls during a war is absolute hell and he doesn’t want his kids to suffer the same way he did growing up.

-Whether or not the kid is adopted or his biological kid- it doesn’t matter to him, he couldn’t give less of a shit about the parentage of his kid...if he raises the kid then you better believe it’s his kid.

If your kid is adopted then here’s how I picture you guys becoming their parents

- During one of your expeditions beyond the walls you find (what you think is) an abandoned cabin in the woods. When you point it out Levi just tells you to ignore it and focus on the task Erwin gave you, but you have this weird gut feeling that someone is in there. While Levi is distracted you go off to the cabin and peek inside and to your horror- there is a small child, no older than a few months crying in it’s deceased mothers arms. You run over and pry the crying baby from the mother’s hands and immediately start trying to hush it’s cries

-Levi notices the fact that you’ve left his side after a few minutes of silence and he pinches his nose in frustration- of course you went to check out the cabin he told you to ignore. He flies away from the tree he was perched on and makes his way to the cabin to look for you- upon reaching the cabin his eyes widen from pure shock. Where the hell did you get a crying baby from? he can’t help but be filled with sorrow when he notice’s the child’s dead parents on the ground behind you- bandits had probably murdered them.

-The two of you have a huge argument about what you should do with the orphan child and this results in the two of you not speaking for over a week. But as the week goes on, he realizes that him and that baby are more similar than he thinks. Levi never had a father- the closest father figure in his life being Kenny who abandoned him at a young age, and his dear mother Kuchel who died of sickness when he was just a boy. Both Levi and the child didn’t have parents in their lives, fate cruelly ripping that away from them. He see’s himself in that baby.

-After a week of silence Levi storms into your office only to catch you asleep with the baby on your chest, his heart softens just the slightest bit at the image. He sits next to you and gently shakes you awake- careful to not wake the sleeping baby. Before you can even say anything he quietly states:

-”we’re not abandoning the baby, we can raise them together”

-All the worry and stress you carried melted away after hearing his words.

If your kid was biologically his, this is how I picture it turning out:

-The day Hanji informed you that you were pregnant was quite possibly one of the worst days of your life (sorry to be angsty) how the hell could you have gotten pregnant? the amount of stress, physical strain on your body and sleepless nights is not ideal for fertility- so how the hell did this happen?

-How the hell would you even tell Levi? The topic of children has never once come up and you’re sure he would never want to raise a child in the walls while titans destroy and kill everyone in sight. Besides- the two of you already have enough on your plates as it is.

- You’d tell him straight out that you were pregnant during your nightly tea time before bed, just straight up dropping the news on him. It takes a few seconds for him to fully register what you just told him but once he finally understands he drops his teacup, the boiling hot tea staining his jacket. All he can do is sputter like a fish out of water and aggressively try to clean the stain.

- I’m going to be realistic here- the last thing he would do is jump for joy and kiss you. I hate to be angsty again but realistically he’d probably storm off and go for a walk around the town while he tries to take in the news. I see him unintentionally ignoring you for a few days while he tries to accept the fact that the two of you are bringing a child into this world.

-After about a week he’s finally calmed himself enough to talk to you about the situation and what the best thing for the two of you is. Again, he isn’t happy that you guys are bringing a kid into this- but who the hell would be? but he sure as hell won’t take that out on the kid, he thinks that’s the most pathetic thing you can do as a parent.

-”look, our situation is shitty but I’m not leaving you to raise the brat on your own”

How he is as a father

- I’m not going to lie to you, he is not the type to coddle his kid or show them a lot of affection. To be honest he doesn’t know a single thing about parenting, the only “parent” he had taught him violence and then left Levi to fend for himself- but he does know that most children don’t grow up around violence so he refuses to be even the slightest bit like his uncle Kenny.

- 100% calls his kid brat, ankle-biter, kid...you name it- but he doesn’t mean it in a derogatory way because deep down inside he still has a soft spot for the kid.

-He rarely ever shows physical affection to the kid because he just doesn’t know how, he never knew the affectionate touch of another human until you came along. That’s not to say that he doesn’t love his kid- he would sacrifice his life without second thought to protect them.

-He doesn’t realize how distant and cold he can be to his kid until he overhears them crying to you about how “daddy doesn’t love me” and his heart just shatters into a million pieces because he DOES love them but for the life of him he just can’t find a way to show it.

-Levi ends up sitting down with the kid and having a conversation that was long overdue (for reference the kid is now 7 years old) and he admits that he loves them more than anything for the first time.

-Your kid just stares at him for a second and blinks because this is the VERY FIRST TIME they’re hearing their dad say I love you- Levi nearly has a heart attack when the kid launches themselves into his chest and starts sobbing.

-For the very first time in 7 years this kid is finally experiencing the love from their father (besides awkward headpats) and the feeling is just so foreign to both of them that even Levi sniffles a little bit

-Levi silently rocks them back and forth while he rubs their back, the child’s sobs turning into soft sniffles. But what Levi says next shocks all three of you.

“I’m sorry for being a terrible father. forgive me little one?”

-You don’t know what shocks you more- the fact he apologized or that he called your child “little one” instead of the usual “brat”. The kid looks at him while wiping their tears away.

“you’re not a bad daddy. I love you papa”

-To this day Levi swears he just had watery eyes because of the dust but you know damn well they were fat tears rolling down his face

-After this incident Levi swears to himself that he’ll be a more affectionate father, a father who tells his kid that he’s proud of them, a father who their kid can rely on.

-He’s tough on his kid and never lets them slack off, he scolds them whenever they make bad choices and sometimes your kid says he’s got a stick up his ass (you lightly scold them but the two of you always end up laughing because it’s true) but your husband deeply cares for your child and does it so they can grow into the best version of themselves.

-Did I mention that he absolutely flips the fuck out when your kid brings home Eren’s kid to introduce you to them? You have to sit on him to make sure that he doesn’t strangle the poor bastard.

“If that son of a bitch is anything like his father then they’re going home in a bodybag!” “Levi you can’t threaten them just because they’re Eren’s kid!” “Like hell I can’t! nobody is good enough for our child”

-Your kid quickly learns that they can’t bring their significant other home while Levi is there- unless they have a death wish. The two of you team up to keep Levi distracted for a few hours while the couple chills in your living room

-Your kid swears like a sailor (just like their dad) and Levi swears on his life that he’s not the one that taught them that.

“What the hell do you mean? I didn’t do shit! I don’t fucking know where they picked that up from!” *cue you looking into the camera*

-He’s so damn proud when he see’s his kid graduate at the top of their class. He doesn’t scream at the top of his lungs when your kid walks across the stage but he pulls them to the side after and congratulates them with a small smile on his face

“Good job. I’m proud of you, damn brat”

-Gives them one of his rare Levi hugs and the kid nearly drops the diploma in shock because “wtf dad never hugs me”

-You have to pinch his side multiple times during your kid and Eren’s kids wedding because he won’t shut the hell up with snarky remarks

“Say no goddamnit!” *you pinch him*

“Ow son of a bitch! what the fuck Y/n?”

“Would you shut the hell up and be happy for our child on their wedding day?!”

“I would if our child had taste and picked someone el- OW FUCK!”

“Shut the fuck up already and behave, Levi!”

-He grumbles while the rest of the former cadets and captains laugh at his sour look

Silly headcanons

-God could you imagine Levi and your kid sitting at the dinner table, it’s almost midnight and they’re arguing over a homework question neither of them understand. This is the night both of you hear your kid swear

“What the hell is this shit? Improper fractions are made-up bullshit”

“If you don’t know then how the fuck am I suppose to know?”

-It’s so silent you can hear a pin drop

“Levi come here for a second”

“Shit...finish this while I’m gone, brat”

-Your kid laughs their ass off while you pull Levi’s ear and drag him to your shared room

‘Yeah keep fucking laughing at your dad, brat!”

“LEVI!”

-An absolute nightmare when it comes to cleaning oh my god both you and your kid wanna kill him sometimes

“This shit isn’t clean, you wipe it down six times and then place it at an angle”

“Levi it’s a fucking T.V. Remote”

-The war ended years ago now and he tells your kid about all the titans he killed and the ass he kicked

“And then I sliced that ugly bastard titan’s head clean off!”

“Levi for someone who’s a clean freak your stories sure are gross”

-The noise the toaster makes when it’s done scares the shit out of him. He’ll be in the middle of scolding your kid and then he jumps because the toaster is done and your kid just thinks it’s comedic gold

“I fucking told you not to do that shit but you went and did it anyways, do you know how irresponsi-FUCK! damn toaster- Hey stop laughing brat I’m not done yet!”

That’s all I’ve got for now- stay tuned

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dysfunctionalcrab · 3 years

Text

breaking point

pairing: karl jacobs x reader

pronouns: gender neutral

description: karl can’t get over your death.

warnings: pure angst. readers death, description of illness, description of a breakdown.

note: sorry about this fluff lovers. honestly i feel like if karl was getting over somebodys death he would just have breakdowns :/

-> also this is literally just a way to improve my angst writing.

one month.

a month without waking up every morning and seeing your face. a month without hearing your voice.

of course he knew, he knew you were sick. it would be selfish of him to tell himself that you weren’t. that you weren’t in pain every single day. he watched you get up from bed in the middle of the night, rushing to the bathroom and empty out last nights dinner into the toilet. he sat beside you, rubbing your back and telling you everything was going to be okay. you tried your best to believe it, so desperately did you want to believe him

but even karl himself couldn’t believe it.

day by day he watched you get worse, the hope that glistened in your eyes slowly started to fade away. you became pale, the bags under your eyes were becoming more prominent. you were just so tired

you were tired of everyone telling you were going to be fine, because you obviously weren’t. you knew that eventually you’d have to say goodbye to everyone, and leave everybody you loved.

it got to a point that you couldn’t even open up a jam jar. your frail arms couldn’t twist the lid no matter how hard you tried.

you felt like a burden to everyone, you weren’t that cheerful person you were once before. you felt more like a villain. someone who was ruining everybody’s day by just being present.

you weren’t scared of dying anymore, you were scared of living and continuing to suffer the way you were.

so, when you laid in the hospital bed, surrounded by all your loved ones. you felt tranquility. it made you happy that you knew none of these people would have to worry about you anymore.

your vision was becoming blurry, you could barely recognise anybody’s faces anymore. you didn’t want to cry, you didn’t want everybody’s last memory of you to be an image of your tear stained face. instead you smiled at them, karl held your left hand and your mother held your right, you squeezed their hands as tightly as you could, telling them how much you loved them.

your grip eventually loosed, as you took your last breath. you were unresponsive, and everybody was looking at nothing but the whites of your eyes.

your funeral hit him even harder.

karl felt so empty inside. all the happiness was drained out of him. he kept trying to tell himself this wasn’t real, and you weren’t gone. but how could he when he was standing right in front of your grave?

he watched your coffin lower down. all attention turned to your mother. as the coffin sunk deeper into the ground, she collapsed onto the floor, an agonising scream erupting from her. people ran to pull her away, but she refused to let them bury you.

karl walked away. he didn’t want to watch this. this isn’t what you would’ve wanted. you wanted nothing but everybody to be happy

but he couldn’t be, not when he was constantly reminded of you every single. those memories were now making him sad. he would drive past target just to be reminded of your late night trips. when he would see your favourite candy he would be reminded of your awful sweet tooth you constantly complained about, and how he would scold you for eating too many.

“but they taste so good!” you would defend yourself. your voice rang in his ears.

in the first two weeks he would cry himself to sleep every day. his pillow was always soaking from the waterfall of tears. he would grab another pillow from the living room, and spray it in your favourite perfume, and would cuddle it, pretending he was cuddling you, all while taking in your scent.

one night, he jolted awake with a gasp. his forehead was covered in beads of sweat and his breath was shaky and uneven. it was a nightmare. they had become much more frequent since your death.

karl reached his arm out to the pillow beside him, looking for some comfort and warmth.

but he forgot you weren’t there anymore.

he wished that you would just materialise from beneath his fingers and hold his hand. he wished to have you here and have you run your hands through his hair and shush him back to sleep.

karl swallowed the lump in his throat, forcing himself to close his eyes and fall back asleep.

he didn’t like socialising with others now.

yes, he loved his friends, he wouldn’t give them up for the world. he felt so helpless when they saw him. they all gave him this identical look filled with pity. whenever they saw him and they’d always ask him ‘how are you feeling today?’

he was so sick of that question.

when he logged on discord with the boys, they treated him differently, like he was glass, and was about to shatter any moment.

he hated feeling so weak.

in the third week, his family suggested talking to your family. maybe they both could slowly heal by talking about the positive aspects of your life.

he despised the idea at first, but after coming round to your old house, sitting down and talking to your parents. he found himself smiling for the first time in ages, as he ran his fingers over a baby picture of you.

visits to your parents became much more regular, they were much closer. karl felt a sense of pride, because he knew it’s what you would’ve wanted.

four weeks. one month. time was passing by slowly but thankfully it was giving him time to grieve, and time to reflect. he felt like the hole in his heart was very slowly starting to repair itself

music was playing from his phone on spotify, karl was boiling a pot of water for his pasta. when it was hot enough, he threw in his pasta and let it cook. karl sat down and started scrolling through instagram, the music still playing.

he lightly chuckled at a funny meme he read. he went to send it to alex.

the grin on his face disappeared when he realised his finger was hovering over your username.

he wished he could send it to you. his mind started drifting to you all over again.

when the pasta was finally done. karl felt his stomach rumble and he was glad he would finally get some food in his system. he prepared the table, and poured a glass of juice for himself too.

the music changed to one of his favourite songs, he started singing along to it, his body swaying slightly as he turned around with the pot to pour it onto the plate, ready to eat it. only then did he realise his mistake.

he set out two plates.

two forks.

two glasses.

one for him.

and for you

karl gnawed at his lip. he stared at the second set of cutlery like it was an intruder. his lips started to tremble, and without realising, he dropped the pot.

the loud clash against the tile floor brought him back to reality. immediately, he bent down to pick up his mess, but it was all pushing him over the edge.

this was his breaking point

he angrily threw the pot back onto the floor, while the most gut-wrenching scream left his body.

he rested against the door of the oven, his head leaned uncomfortably against the handle. sobs ripped from his throat. his voice was starting to feel scratchy. karl rocked back and forth, his head banging the handle each time, causing his head to get dizzier and dizzier until he almost felt nauseous.

his hands were tugging at his hair as he buried his face into his knees. he knew he had lost control of himself. another wave of tears emerged.

he tried to calm himself, he tried to steady himself. karl was mumbling out loud as his body was quaking, but every few seconds it would be interrupted by a few guttural sounds. sounds of pain and anguish melded together.

“why would you leave me?” he cried, his voice breaking.

karl wasn’t healing like he thought.

you were the other half that made him whole.

and you were mercilessly ripped away from him

he just didn’t know how he could go on living without you.

———

masterlist

#mcyt #mcyt x reader #karl jacobs #karl jacobs imagine #karl jacobs x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt imagines #karl jacobs imagines #angst #karl jacobs angst

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marvellovegalore · 3 years

Text

Death in the Afternoon

Chris Evans

Parte trois - Breaking You

Synopsis: You're having what seems to be withdrawal symptoms and you're dying to see the love of your life - and be with him once and for all.

Word Count: 4,416

Warning: Explicit Language, Extremely Sensitive Issues, Gore, Sexual Content

Author's Note: Refer to previous parts before reading this one. Thanks for making writing so enjoyable - I really love + appreciate reading your comments + opinions! I really hope you guys enjoy this and let me know what you think!

Finale

His letter sits crumpled in your desk drawer, your glance stains its words, the page yellowed by its exposure to the sun.

Every single day that has passed since you last saw him, you have cried.

You forced yourself back to work just to finish the film that you were filming for the past five months; now that it is done you have all the time in the world to stay lying down on your cold bathroom floor - until tomorrow. The contents of your stomach lying at the bottom of the toilet bowl. The world is spinning, and your breathing is ragged and deep.

The email you sent him is still open on your laptop screen, the screen now dim from being inactive for twenty minutes. You can barely see the words you typed out to him through the tears in your eyes.

You hesitantly lift yourself from the tiled floor, your shaky legs threaten to collapse beneath you and leave you in a heap on the ground. The walk back to your bed is tremulous and slow. Your heavy eyes are stuck to the bed, willing your brain to lead you there. You lose track of the time it takes you get to your bed.

The notification sound comes from your laptop, you slowly sit up towards your laptop. You summon the strength to open your eyes wider, he’s replied.

‘I’ll be there soon.’

Your body feels lighter, his acknowledgement and acceptance makes your body float softly.

You don’t know how you’ll go on without him, the sensation makes you sick. You’ve never wanted to depend on another person for your happiness. You’ve been okay being alone as long as you can remember.

The day he left you made you spiral. You sought help from a hotel guest that managed to hear your small pleas for help from the other side of the door. You begged her not to call an ambulance, you asked for her to help to get you into a taxi and you were on your way to a private doctor. You needed utmost privacy. Your doctor saw some small health concerns that affected your heart, he requested you majorly decrease your cigarette and alcohol intake and that you visit him once a month so he could come to a certain conclusion.

On your second visit you received your earth-shattering news.

Pregnant, four weeks along.

It had been four weeks exactly since you had seen him. The devastation that afflicted you made you sick all over again. You didn’t know what to do, you didn’t go back to your doctor. You chose to let life go on as normal for three weeks, but the agony was breaking your heart further the more you did that. You considered several things before emailing him. You could go on to give birth and never tell him that it is his and it could grow without a father; or you could abort it. The last option makes you feel unsettled, though you don’t know why. It’s what your brain immediately went to when you learnt about it.

What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right?

He just read that you really need him, and you miss him in your email. He didn’t have to read it, let alone let you know he’ll be here.

The tightness in your chest is back. Your fingers flit against your tender breasts and you touch the part where your heart is, it beats lightly.

He doesn’t come that night. You spend the whole night watching the dark, rainy streets of New York, alone. You fall asleep to the sounds of sirens and cars, alone.

You wake up on the floor of your room, in front of the floor to ceiling windows.

Your body feels like it’s made out of limestone and that your tears have caused the material on your face to deteriorate. It takes you half an hour to get the strength to stand up from the floor. You try to stretch but every joint feels like it’s screaming. You manage to walk into your bathroom without swaying, the sight of your vomit and its stench greets you as you walk through the glass door. You hold your breath as you pee, and then brush your teeth. You think about the fact that he stood you up once you’ve found the courage to shower. The water feels like its scalding your skin as you let it water you.

You lay on your bed naked, waiting for an hour for a notification from him. He’s forgotten you.

Your brain loops around the image of him laughing at you with the brunette as they sit on the bed you bought for him; their eyes crinkling in mockery, disbelief lacing their laughter. A tear slips from your eye, you barely manage to wipe it away. You can smell the scent of your decaying heart through your skin, its stench burning a hole in your chest, rotting your ribs in the process.

You need to get up, you have stuff to do. Though you feel numbed, you will yourself to get up.

You forgo eating, simply choosing to indulge in an espresso and two cigarettes for breakfast. You allow the tiniest desire you have to simply let it be repulsed by your body and expel itself from inside - come to the forefront of your mind.

You spend the day working like a dog, you push yourself to limits that make your assistant raise her eyebrows high and ask you to calm down. You ignore any concerned glances as you push yourself ten times more than usual at the gym, drawing praise from your companions. You take a moment to yourself in the gym toilet and check your stomach, you glare at the slightest bump on the bottom of your torso. As you fight the temptation to punch your stomach, your phone brightens with a new notification - from him.

‘Meet you at the restaurant round the corner from your place. Booked a table for 9pm.’

You gulp, an uneasy feeling setting into the depths of your stomach. You’d rather be sent an anonymous letter to meet at a hotel restaurant, it had a touch of romance to it. Exchanging emails is what you’ve had to resort to, you are both blocked from contacting each other in any other manner; sometimes you think to yourself that you’re like forbidden lovers - by choice.

You finish working around eight o’clock, you ready yourself by half eight and you hang around the restaurant. Suddenly having picked up the habit of biting at your nail, you watch the patrons of the restaurants and recognise some television big wigs and political journalists. You breathe in deeply, your eyes flitting around the somewhat busy street, you can feel your bladder ready to give way. You rush into the restaurant at nine on the dot and are escorted by the restaurant manager to a toilet. You ease yourself and wash your hands, your morose face plastered with magazine worthy makeup stares back you. Your pupils are shrunken and your eyes that are practically unresponsive to the light stare at you, the sight of yourself makes them well with tears of disappointment.

You leave the toilets; you saunter back to the door and spot him being led to the table by a waiter. Your feet lead you back outside to the street.

You feel like vomiting, your breaths become shallow and limited. Pressing a hand to your chest you feel your heart hammering mercilessly against your ribs. It feels like death. You shakily reach into your bag and pull out a cigarette pack, you stare at it and your mind wanders to the feeling in the pit of your abdomen. You decide you’re not strong enough to fight the temptation, you pull a cigarette to your lips and go to light it. Your phone vibrates in your hand.

‘Where are you?’

It’s been five minutes, you exhale. You put the unlit cigarette with a lipstick mark back in your bag and take two deep breaths. You slowly walk into the restaurant, you raise your head, desperately trying to find the assurance you’re so well known for. You’re an actress, you’re an expert at façades.

You’re led to his table, your strut attracting the attention of most everyone in the room.

His hair is grown out, his stubble creating a flattering shadow on his lower face. You sit wordlessly, the waiter asks for your drink order and you ask for a ‘Death in the Afternoon’. The waiter smiles, you hear him sigh. You turn to him, avoiding his eyes.

You’re pregnant - with his baby. You’re both having a baby.

The sobering thought almost makes your voice shake. “Thanks for meeting with me. Even though you vowed to never see me again.” Your tone is almost mocking, a tinge of pride filling you. The bitter memory of writing that letter stings him - more so because he’s succumbed to seeing you after having written it.

He tries to sense any revealing signs that you miss him, had he not received your email he would have been hurt to believe that you were thriving without him. You’re still so put together, too beautiful for you to be needing him. Your makeup is done flawlessly, you’re dressed perfectly elegantly. He can’t understand why you would send him an email at ten in the night asking for him if you seem to be good. It made him joyful to receive it, and he hates that. Why do you have this hold over him? Why can’t he just leave you and forget you.

“I couldn’t ignore the possibility that you weren’t okay.” He takes a sip of his cold beer; the taste of wheat makes him relax somewhat.

“You said you’d be there soon, what happened last night?” The embarrassment immediately clambers up your system and makes you avert your eyes to one table over. You hate seeking answers from others that make you feel dependent and make you more human - you despise it.

How can he begin to explain that he stood in the lobby of your building for forty-five minutes trying to fight his anxiety? How can he begin to explain that his fingers trembled so badly that he couldn’t get his phone out of his pocket to let you know that you couldn’t be there for you? How can he begin to explain to you that he loves you so much that the thought of going up to your apartment and failing to comfort you filled him with unending fright? What could he possibly say that wouldn’t allow you to ridicule him? He’s failed you twice now.

He can’t really put himself in the mindset he was in when he left you that letter, letting you know how much you let him down. He didn’t leave the hotel until after you did, he instantly regretted leaving you when he saw you doubled over in pain being helped into a taxi.

He’s got so many questions, why is it you need him? What happened to you in Portofino? “Got side-tracked with something.” He gives you a non-committal shrug and takes another swig of his drink, his leg shaking noticeably under the table.

Your heart falls to the bottom of your stomach, your entire torso feels like it made of limestone and your throat tightens. You feel like you’re choking, your drink couldn’t be here any sooner. “You in a rush to be somewhere?” You look at him questioningly, noticing his leg movements, you try to hide the sadness that’s padding your body like sponge.

He shrugs, “Kinda,” the disillusionment is almost impossible to disguise on your face, he feels some satisfaction from it. “But it can wait.” He watches the waiter approach with two glasses, he places your drink in front of you motions the beer towards him. Accepting it gratefully he continues once the waiter has left. “I thought we weren’t to speak to each other anymore, what made you contact me?” He narrows his eyes, the blue of his eyes twinkling with a glimmer of curiosity.

Your body shivers and you glance away from him, you attempt to will your waiter back towards you. “We can talk about that later, no?” You motion towards him and he rushes over, you ask for two dry martinis. You both wait in silence.

The words that could release all the tension from your body spindle over your tongue incessantly, they almost materialise but you choose to rope him into small talk and pull updates about his life from him. He lets slip that he’s considering the possibility of being serious with the brunette; you remember her sweet features that harshly contrast your own. You make a biting remark that he’s always liked a plain Jane over your third glass; it’s met with a biting remark regarding your character.

You refuse his request to eat dinner with him after his comment; but you do ask him to accompany you to your building.

“I’ll walk you to your elevator.” He mumbles as you exit the restaurant. You nod in agreement; he lights a cigarette and offers you a drag. You smother your temptation, “It’s okay, actually.” You shiver as light pelts of rain shower you. The city is vibrant and lively, but the small bubble you find yourself encased in with him is dark and tempestuous; an unspoken tragedy clouding your day.

The contemplation of being in your apartment alone another night stabs you deep in the back.

You reach the lift of your lobby and you turn to each other. “Please come up with me,” your lip trembles with the weight of the unspoken truth. His eyes flash with concern and surprise. You make your way up to your apartment wordlessly, his hand brushing against you every time you move next to him.

Finding yourself with him in your bedroom, you lay on your bed, taking your shoes off with him watching silently at the end of your bed. He’s highlighted by the setting sun, orange hues paint him golden and blush. He invites himself onto your bed, sensing the melancholy in the air. There’s an odour of cigarettes that permeates the air near your bedside table.

Your back is to him, you feel his arms slink themselves around your waist. His chest presses against your back and you melt slightly into his touch. You missed him so much and the smell of him hauls you to the doors of paradise. How could you have possibly messed this up so much? Two tears slip from your eyes and you sniffle, his arms tighten around you and he comes impossibly closer. His face inches on top of yours, “Tell me what’s wrong?” His whisper is as tender as the wind and the soft touch of his voice makes you moan quietly.

You stare of into the horizon, your eyes being overwhelmed by the rays of sun. “I—” you hesitate. Your breath leaving your body, you pay attention to the movements of his hands, they stroke your stomach making you tremble. You stop in your tracks, alarm setting into your bones.

You turn to him; you can see the questioning look in his eyes. He doesn’t know.

You crash your lips into his, he barely has time to register your passion before he’s responding with his own heated response. His hands mould around your body with a newfound purpose. You want deep down to breathe him in and keep him with you forever. You roll on top of him, and your hands memorise every fibre of his face, his skin is smooth underneath your palms. He slips your dress off of your body, his fingers dance with your skin as he caresses your back.

He wants to stay like this forever. You tear his clothes off of him with an eager gentleness, his hands enclose your hips as you begin to ride him, your hips dance over him, your fingers slip in between his lips and he sucks on them. He pulls you closer to him, hugging you as you ride him. He thrusts into you from beneath and you almost crumble in his arms. “I love you so much—” you hear the words slip from in between his ajar lips, you lift your head and kiss him. Your martini saturated tongues waltz with each other in a feverish heat that leaves you both lightheaded.

You two play with each other’s bodies slowly, untangling each layer of each other’s guard. He slips on top of you with the grace of a gymnast. He nestles himself inside and you your noses rub together as he drives into you slowly, and deeply, with his hand clutching at your throat. You feel your insides liquifying with pleasure, your hands clasp onto his arms for help to grip onto reality. He’s here. Just here - with you.

“I love you, so, so much, Christopher.” You cry out as he increases his speed, the intensity of his movements making his hips meld with your clitoris. His spare hand moves from your breast to your face, he grips onto your throat with more firmness and you let out a sigh of content. Your eyes don’t leave his and he refuses to slow down, you feel yourself go into sensory overload. You feel waves of pleasure shower your body, stars ripple in between your fingers and toes and your eyes roll back into your skull. Your body is floating above your bed.

Chris pants as he maintains his speed, chasing his own maddening orgasm. “You’re so beautiful when you cum.” He breathes out as he lets go of himself inside you. His thumb traces over your bottom lip, he lowers himself down and plants a kiss on your lips. He breathes in your air and gives you a tight hug.

“I have to tell you something.” You whisper into the room. He’s laying next you, his arm draped over your waist. His lack of response for ten seconds is explained by the soft snores leaving him. You purse your lips, “I’m pregnant.” You utter into the atmosphere and turn away from him, you pray that maybe he can hear you; you pray in vain.

A newfound determination settles into your aching chest. You’ll let him know, for real - you’ll work something out; you’ll have your baby and be parents. You’ll be better than your own parents, you’re sure of it. Your hands settle over your stomach, you give your baby a silent apology for mistreating your body - your baby’s temple.

You’re lulled to sleep by the silence.

You wake with a start; the world is dark outside. You can’t feel his arm anymore, dread fills you to the brim as you sit up, your back towards the side he was sleeping on. You feel your heart hurting, you feel weak. You swallow your tears as you look out at the skyscrapers outside your room. Taking a deep breath, you turn slowly to the other side.

He’s still there.

You let out a deep sigh of relief, tears welling into your eyes and dropping out without caution. You let out a soft sob, you throw your arms around him and hold him tightly. He stirs as your tears fall onto his pectoral.

“Hey, everything okay?” He grumbles, worry saturating his voice. “Yes,” you breathe out slowly. He pulls you up to him and his eyes caress yours. You refuse to let him know what’s bothering you, there’s a silent understanding that you need him more than anything right now. You cover yourselves in a blanket, your half naked bodies are melded together as you walk across your apartment towards your terrace.

Chris lights the fire pit, you let your eyes roam his body freely. He sits down next you and you cover yourselves with the large blanket, his hand rests on your thigh.

“Why did you just leave me in Portofino?” Your whisper is carried by the wind and the noise of the three am traffic.

Chris sighs, his eyes lowering down to the fire pit in front of you. “I couldn’t bare the fact that after what you did to me, I still reached out to you, I invited you back into my life.” Your eyes well up with tears again, you want to be swallowed into the ground and dragged to the pits of hell. He looks back at you, his eyes searching for what’s in your own. “I know you’re sorry. But I just couldn’t understand why you did what you did; until I came across this quote that reminded me that hurt people, hurt people. I figured some digging into your past couldn’t hurt at that point. I’m sorry about what you had to go through.” His fingers leave whispered touches on your thigh.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” You interject tearfully, he pulls you in, your head resting on his chest. The sound of his fast-beating heart grounds you into this moment.

“I know, I know.” He coos softly. His fingers stroke your cheek, simultaneously wiping away your tears. “I just wish you trusted me enough to let me into your little world. I wanted to know all of you, even the tiniest parts you didn’t even know, I guess you sensed it and you left me. So, I’m sorry for that, too.” You sniffle and let your head fall onto his lap. You look up at him with tears flowing out of your eyes slowly.

“You’re my everything. You’re— you’re my moon and my stars, I—, I—, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to live without you.” He chokes over his own unshed tears.

“I love you.” Your words make a tear slip out of his eye.

“I love you too.” He thumb traces your lips softly, his touch gentle as if he were afraid you would turn into mist if he were not tender enough.

You slip into a dreamless sleep, the noise of the world encasing you into carnival of relaxation.

You open your eyes to the ceiling of your bedroom, illuminated by the afternoon sun. A cramp numbs the bottom half of your body. You clench your teeth and sit up, the sharp agony whirling around your system. Something’s not right. You clasp weakly at your stomach; you fail to ignore the pool you feel forming underneath your legs. You lower your fingers slowly, dread thickening in your heart, red darkens your fingertips. You choke back on a sob as another cramp solidifies itself in your stomach, you crumple over, tears streaming out of your eyes. “Chris…” you choke out. Fear paralyses you in your bed.

Chris is nowhere in sight. You gather the little strength you have left in your arms and will yourself towards your bathroom. You drag your bleeding body towards your toilet, blood smears trailing behind you. Small whimpers leave your body as you finally reach the toilet, you pull some tissue towards you and pat the blood away. More leaves you, a heavy flow that makes your insides feel like they’re being pulverised. You’ve gone and done it; you have killed your baby.

You sob loudly, blood smearing over your half-covered body, “My baby—". Your body is racked with the undulating guilt that attacks your system. Tears pour uncontrollably from your eyes; you fight to take in breaths. Your heart feels like it’s breaking - literally. The stiffness in your chest spreads across your ribs and constricts your airflow.

You desperately clutch at your chest, wanting your fingers to tear into your skin and fix your heart. It feels like you’re on fire.

You’re dying.

Darkness blankets your vision; spots of clarity allow you to merely reach the door of your bathroom.

Chris sits at your desk, his phone pressed to your ear. Your doctor’s words feeling like stones in his stomach - he’s diagnosed you with severe depression and fears that a mildly stressful event may be enough to cause an onset of more severe physical problems. You entrusted Chris as your next of kin, in case your doctor believed something awful had happened to you. He listens intently to the information that is relayed to him - you have an inflamed artery. It could lead to your death. The doctor’s words make his stomach sink.

The call ends with Chris promising to accompany you to your appointments and he notes down the number of the referred psychiatrist.

A small wail comes from far away in the apartment, Chris sighs and stands up. He strides quickly to your room, the sight that greets him almost makes him retch. Your blood soils the room. Your body is still, your breaths are shallow and fast. Your hand is clutched over chest, your face distorted with pain riddled in the pores of your skin.

“Baby,” he calls out immediately and crouches down towards you. He feels for your pulse and panic lines his stomach; he grabs for your phone quickly and calls for help. He barely registers what he does in the next two minutes but all he can do is clutch onto you with all his might.

“Tell me what’s wrong, huh?” he whimpers, he pulls you onto his arm. He cradles you, his face pressed against yours. “Come on, you’re supposed to be my favourite girl, you can’t play with me like this…” he chokes out a frantic chuckle.

You’re barely responsive. “B—Baby, stay with me. Stay with me, okay,” he taps your face as his tears roll onto your skin, “don’t leave me.” He begs as his hands tremble. “What am I going to do without my moon and my stars, huh? How can my world go on without you?” His sobs shaking you lightly, your eyes flicker. “Don’t leave me.” He implores, sobs ripping his throat apart.

He can hear the door opening, the flurry of movements that happens around you two separates your bodies away from each other. He grips onto your limp hand desperately, tears blinding him as the paramedics rush you away from him.

He can’t feel his body as he falls to ground, watching your limp hand hanging from the side of the gurney.

The lift doors shut behind the paramedics.

He never sees you again.

Nevertheless, he still loves you, he'll always love you.

Fin.

@chvntelle-99,@harrysthiccthighss,@tessa-bl

#chris evans imagine #chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans x reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans series #chris evans angst #chris evans x you #steve rodgers x reader #steve rodgers imagine #steve rodgers #andy barber #andy barber imagine #andy barber fluff #chris evans fluff #marvel fanfiction #marvel #marvel imagine

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gryffindors-weasley · 3 years

Text

Promises

Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!Reader

Summary: After you have an unpleasant encounter with Lucius Malfoy, it leaves Draco in fear of losing you. Though he can’t seem to keep himself from you.

Requested by @kiiramalfoy : “i would like to order something with Draco where the reader is Slytherin, and they date, and Draco’s father hurts the reader, and Draco cries a lot for fear of losing her.”

Warnings: mentions of injury, scars, anxiety, fluff

A/N: Thank you for the lovely request!

You exhaled a quiet sigh, one of many that afternoon though the sun was beginning to dip lower into the sky and turn over to evening. It’s golden rays still cast its beauty, however, coloring everything it had landed on in varying hues of a warm orange the more time that goes by. It had always been your favorite time of day for that very reason, that and it was when you could spend most of your time with Draco.

His midnight black blazer had long since been discarded in a crumpled heap in the grass next to you, the top two buttons of its matching dresshirt undone and its corresponding tie loosened around his neck. The light breeze caused a ripple in the water of the Black Lake, the edge not more than a few feet from where the two of you resided against the same old tree you claimed as your own.

This very location was one the two of you had claimed as a whole for that matter, a place that was secluded and nearly unfrequented by most. Despite that fact, Draco had always felt he’d been a target for prying eyes as of late, but he couldn’t seem to keep himself away from you for very long. He’d tried. He’d tried so hard to withdraw himself and keep you away, if only to keep you safe was his reasoning. But his reasoning quickly became overshadowed by his desperate need to be near you, to be with you. So he broke the promise he made to himself not long after it was made.

He lay in the grass with his head in your lap while you sat there, tucked comfortably between the thick roots of the familiar old oak tree. Unseen grass stains litter his black slacks but he couldn’t bring himself to care about such trivial things, instead focusing on the warmth of the sun on his skin or the sweet smell of your perfume wafting his way every time the wind blew. A few stray stars had begun to twinkle directly above the two of you as evening slowly crept in, lightning bugs flickering like glowing yellow dots along the waters edge as they flutter aimlessly through taller blades of grass.

Your hand had been absentmindedly running through his hair as you read a new book, making sure to miss the few sections where a wildflower or two was carefully woven into it. They offered a burst of color in contrast to the iciness of his hair. It took everything in him not to fall asleep at the comforting feeling, because he wanted to take in every single second he had with you in fear that there wouldn’t be more. Though sometimes the task of staying awake wasn’t very difficult when his hair pokes in his eyes or you gasp upon reading something surprising in your book, your hand pausing its movement right over top of his face. Still, he wouldn’t trade these moments for the world.

“Are you going to talk to me, Love?” He asks softly, peeking one eye open to look at you.

“After this chapter, Draco,” you say, though you weren’t entirely sure what he’d said, your eyes focused on the tattered pages as you run your hand down his cheek gently.

“You’ve said that three chapters ago,” he huffs, though he isn’t truly angry.

He sits up quickly, the sudden movement causing the delicate petals once tucked in his hair to tumble lightly to the ground like feathers. You laugh down at your book and shake your head, turning to the next page. He leans over and presses a soft kiss to your cheek, another to your jaw, smiling softly when he sees the pink blush beginning to appear on your skin. However, your attention doesn’t seem to falter from the pages you read from, so he kisses your cheek once more before settling his head on your shoulder with a sigh.

His smile widens a fraction when he feels you rest your head on his though, the small action appeasing his need for your attention momentarily. He takes in his surroundings, the reflection of the pointed rooftops of the castle not too far away, rippled and distorted on the lake. The puffy clouds colored with pinks and oranges and yellows, and the grass swaying gently in the breeze. Yet with all the beauty set out right in front of him, it all paled in comparison to you. And surely someone had to have been wondering where the two of you had been all day, but that wasn’t of any importance to him.

Truthfully, he’d abandon any and all things just to be with you.

His attention is soon focused on your hand, more-so the scar that rests atop it. His fingers brush over the pale scarlet splotch on the back of your hand, one that blossoms slightly further up your arm. One that he’s cast numerous Episkey spells on, and several healing potions gathered from Madam Pomfrey. But not even his rather vast knowledge on healing could permanently fix it. He doesn’t think it makes you any less radiant, never, but he remains horrified by the means of how it’d been put there. His very own father. The thought still taunts him with each day that passes and he fears it might never go away.

7 Months Ago

You walked through Diagon Alley in search of the few items left on your list in preparation for your seventh year. It wasn’t as extensive nor did it feel as important, but you still wanted to go. The pathways were crowded with excited young students experiencing this place for the first time. Though you weren’t as worried this time around because you had taken this trip by yourself now that you had been old enough to.

You were startled by the firm grip placed heavily upon your shoulder, your gaze quickly and dreadfully meeting icy blue eyes when you look to your left.

“Mind if I have a word?” Lucius asks, his smile far from friendly.

Of course he knew you’d be there, and you were starting to regret coming here alone.

You swallow thickly, though you remain calm as you try and control the spike in your heart rate. You barely have the time to give a nod in response before he veers off into an unfrequented alleyway, the sneer on his face now completely gone in favor of a more hardened expression.

“Do you think I am blind to what you have been doing?”

Your eyebrows knit together in faux confusion. “Blind to what?”

His jaw clenched at your apparently clueless words and he took a step closer. His stare was intense as he seemingly towered over you, as if he was reaching into the very depths of your soul to pull out whatever secrets you may have been keeping. Ones you fought desperately for him to be unaware of. “Whatever it is you think you have with my son must come to an end.”

Your heart had froze in your chest at the statement, and you clench your fists at your sides to keep your trembling hands from becoming obvious to the man in front of you. “I don’t believe I know what you’re talking about, Mr. Malfoy.”

He laughs bitterly, his eyes scanning your expression as if he could detect the very fact that you were lying. You took a step back from him. “You are merely a distraction and nothing more, you would only bring disgrace to the contuation of the Malfoy name and you know it. You’ve already brought shame to yourself.”

You try not to let his words have any affect on you, though the task is proving to be far more difficult than expected as stinging tears press just behind your eyes. But still, you were becoming angry at his taunting words as he tried to antagonize you. “How so?”

You’re startled by his sudden grip on your wrist, and he tugs it up to eye level. “You might have the purest magic running through your veins, but that does not make you worthy of anything at all. You and your family’s infamy and regrettable choice to defy the Sacred 28 have no place here, you don’t belong,” He says, teeth gritting, “Either you listen to my words now or I’ll just have to do something about it. Won’t I?”

You flinch at his harsh words as you try and pull yourself from his grasp. It only tightens, unrelenting as his nails dig into your skin and you suppressed the urge to cry out. However, it still hadn’t stopped you from speaking your mind.

“Regrettable? My families morals and their ability to defy your terrible ideals and not frown upon individuals you deem to be less than you is not regrettable. At least my family knows what love and kindness is,” you quip, narrowing your eyes up at him.

You watch the anger twist his face into a threatening glare, the pressure on your wrist almost becoming too much to bear. It felt as though it’d snap in two if it got any tighter and you couldn’t suppress your tears as one rolls down your flushed cheek.

“What are you doing?” A voice sounds behind you.

You glance over your shoulder to find Draco, having difficulty masking his surge of emotions as he catches sight of the tears lining your eyes. Then his eyes bounce to his fathers face, furious and so full of venom he couldn’t bring himself hold his stare. Then his eyes landed on your arm.

His worst nightmares seemed to have been coming true right before his very eyes, and he mulled over his next actions quickly. If he protects you from his father, it’d confirm the relationship the two of you held in secret and he would more than likely lose you. If he doesn’t, he’d singlehandedly destroy your trust and lose you that way. The thought made him sick to his stomach and his head spun with worry as he made up his mind.

“Relashio!” Draco utters, his fathers grip on you faltering. You tug your arm away and rush to his side, though your attempt isn’t all too easy.

A searing pain scorches the back of your hand, the sensation traveling up the top of your wrist as you recoil your hand to your chest and peer out from behind Draco. The flames extinguish from the wand in Lucius’ hand just as quickly as they appeared, the very flames that kissed your skin in his spiteful attempt to hurt you. To scare his son with the consequences of his love for you. The horror was apparent on Draco’s face as he drops his wand, looking at his father through glossy eyes.

“Draco, you’re doing it again,” you sigh quietly, marking your page before closing your book and setting it aside for the first time since you’ve been out there.

“Doing what, darling?”

“You’re thinking about it again. You’ve got that look you always have when you do,” you say, knowing he’d try and convince you otherwise. “I know that look.”

His thumb brushes ever so gently against your hand despite the tension in his jaw as it clenches. He closes his eyes and takes a breath to steady his emotions. “Sorry.”

You sigh lightly and press a chaste kiss to the corner of his jaw, lingering there for a few moments before you spoke up softly. “I’ve dealt with worse, you know.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” He asks, more so a scoff, the idea of you experiencing anything worse than that moment making his stomach churn and twist in knots. He turns to look at you with furrowed brows and a slight frown, though you remain positive.

“Ideally yes,” you say with a soft laugh, one that makes his heart flutter in his chest as you take his hand in yours, “though I take it it’s not working.”

He’s quiet after that, frustration simmering in his stomach as he tries to control his temper for your sake. His gaze shifts to the sky above him once more as he rests his head back on the crumbling bark of the decades old tree. It’s not his fault, not entirely and he knows that. You knew that. It was his fathers doing and if he had been there sooner he wouldn’t have let it happen. You knew he’d protect you, right?

He could only hope that you knew he’d endure a lifetime of pain just so you never had to experience a single drop ever again. It was risky of him to defy the promise he made to his father, never to see you again. It was a deal he’d made before storming back to his room in a bout of angry tears that persisted for the entirety of the night. He doesn’t believe he’d cried over anything at all quite like this. But you’ve etched yourself in every part of him so much so it’s made it impossible to deny the profound love he feels for you. He could only last three weeks without you once your final school year had started again, barely that, his lingering stares only increasing his longing for you until he cracked.

He’s pulled from his thoughts by the feeling of you twisting the ring around his finger, the cold silver band sending a shiver up his arm. It’s a habit you’ve picked up, he hadn’t been sure of where it came from, but you did it. Much like the way you often button and unbutton the cuffs of his dress shirts; he can’t remember how many he’s had to replace because they eventually fall off.

Regardless, he doesn’t mind the habit, but the very ring you’re playing with is one he’s grown to dislike considerably. The swirling metallic snake only reminds him of his father, his family, and the mistakes he’s made up to this point. Most notably, what it’s put you through. He’ll get another ring for you to twirl, but he cannot bear wearing this one a moment longer.

He slips it off his finger and stands to his feet abruptly, walking over to the waters edge.

“What are you doing?” You ask curiously, getting up and wandering to his side. You watch as he examines the ring, running his thumb over the silver snake curling across the front.

He lifts his hand and throws the ring, watching as it bounces once across the shimmering water before disappearing with a small splash. His lip curled up in anger as he grabbed his tie, hastily plucking the matching house pin from the black fabric and throwing it with more vigor. It goes farther than the last, though the action does very little to release the animosity towards his father.

“Draco stop,” you say, grabbing his arm and turning him to face you. It wasn’t until the water calmed again that he looked at you again. His chest heaved slightly, cheeks tinged a soft pink as he stares down at you.

Tears line his eyes as he stands before you. “I don’t want to stop. I want to rid myself of everything that has to do with this place.”

“Would you just calm down? For me?” You ask quietly, offering a patient smile as you grabbed his hands gingerly. “Being angry and upset isn’t making matters any better, Draco. You’re only souring your mood.”

You reach up and wipe a frustrated tear before it could fully roll down his flushed cheek, your thumb tracing over it in a way that set him at ease almost immediately. He closes his eyes as he finds himself leaning into your touch, trying to focus on the warmth of your hand on his skin rather than the anger pressing insistently within his chest.

You have a way of doing that, he realizes. He feels you could take any situation, no matter how miserable, and make it brighter. You could take his sorrows and change them to utter happiness. Perhaps that’s why he was so attached to you. You’d always be there to keep him from sinking, it didn’t take much effort on your end. He could get through anything if you were there to pull him through it.

“How are you so care free? About all this?” He asks once he’s calmed down a bit, both intrigued and envious as he brushes your hair behind your ear. The tips of his fingers trace down your neck, grasping the green tie dangling from it softly as he sighs, his hand running down your arm until it envelops your own tenderly.

You smile up at him, the contours of his face becoming more apparent the lower the sun sets in the sky. “I’ve spent the entirety of my life under scrutiny for my family’s choice one way or another,” you start, brushing the blonde strand away that dipped in his eyes. “It grows tiring after a while, and you learn to tune it out.”

His crease between his brows deepens slightly as you wrap your arms around his neck, his arms quick to hold you close to him with the intention of keeping you there for a long while.

“Words only hurt you if you allow them to, Draco. It’s not always going to be easy, but it’s true,” you say, reaching up to smooth the worry between his dark brows before your hand slides down to rest on his chest, the other tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. “I’m scared for the future, I think we all are. But I want to focus on what’s here right now. With you.”

A soft smile pulls at the corner of his mouth as he pulls you closer, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, another to your jaw, and perhaps the softest just below your ear. Your perfume was sweet and enchanting as it flooded his senses and left him lingering there for a few fleeting moments, his remaining anger subsiding completely.

“Tell me we’ll be okay,” he asks, barely just above a whisper. His reluctantly pulls away from the crook of your neck, pale blue eyes bouncing around every inch of your face in search of doubt.

You smile sweetly at him, gaze flickering up to his eyes before you lean on your toes and press your lips on his, gentle yet firm as your hands settle on his cheeks. Any traces of tension he had left dissolves in that very moment, his arms caging you tightly against him as your shirt crinkles under his grip. It’s as if nothing else mattered, and to him nothing ever mattered more than you. When you parted, he chased after your lips for another kiss, soft yet full of love as he smiled softly.

“We’ll be okay.”

—

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy fic #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #harry potter fic

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astraltrain · 3 years

Text

hey so

we all know tommy doesn't accept pity gifts. that's why he was so willing to simply steal from techno; because he's gathering this stuff for himself, even if he's not doing it honestly. they're his items now. he doesn't owe anyone anything for them, doesn't have to thank anyone, doesn't have to endure being mocked. tommy hates pity gifts. we all know this.

techno knows this too. and tommy's not subtle with what he's doing. techno knows he's been robbed from the second he sees his broken sign, his missing stacks of food and weapons, the gaps where his potions should be. he can hear, can see traces of tommy within the house. tommy isn't subtle. never has been, with anything. techno knows this. they're brothers, after all.

but techno... techno's gave up on violence and betrayal. he's no one's weapon anymore - he's not a tool use to win wars, he's not an in between man, he's not a pawn for people to get what they want. so when dream asks him if he knows where tommy is, he lies without hesitation. and dream believes him, because techno is a monster, isn't he? wouldn't he find it amusing to see tommy broken and alone again? "fine," he says, turning to leave. "let me know if you see him, technoblade. he has to learn his lesson. learn his place. learn who he needs to obey."

and techno quietly simmers at hearing his little brother being spoken about in such a way.

tommy goes upstairs the next day to find a loaf of bread and a diamond pickaxe casually left on the table, along with a pair of netherite boots that he, in his excitement, doesn't realize would have been too small for techno. he takes the items. of course, techno doesn't comment on it. he simply sighs and turns on the ovens downstairs to generate enough heat to keep tommy warm while he smelts some iron.

he stays out longer during the day and walks loudly when he returns, banging doors and whistling so that tommy will hear him and hide again. he leaves out small items day after day for tommy to take. he watches dream furiously hunt for the child, and stays silent and out of the way, like he's supposed to.

he leaves a music disc in the jukebox. he's not surprised to hear it playing very faintly when he returns home that night, although it stops immediately, and resumes early in the morning when he supposes tommy thinks he's asleep.

it's later that techno realizes he maybe should have alerted phil to the situation, on the day where the older man walks into techno's house and finds a terrified tommy sitting at the table with a piece of bread in hand. and while techno has continuously heard tommy through the walls for weeks, while he's heard him talking to himself and ringing his bell and playing his disc when he thinks techno can't hear, he hasn't yet seen him. and fuck, if his littlest brother isn't a mess. his eyes are a dull grey, nearly the same colour as the bags under his eyes. he's bruised and pale, hastily sewn tears in clothes that have permanent stains from soot and mud in them. his hair, previously so golden and fluffy, has lost its colour, and is long and wild, hanging in front of his eyes. and he's terrified. the kid is fucking terrified. techno has never seen tommy shake so hard, has never seen his eyes so wide, has never seen him curl into himself and shrink back to make himself smaller. it's like all his fight and spark has gone out immediately at the sight of his father and his older brother standing before him. like something about them drained all the life out of the kid as soon as they saw him.

when tommy speaks, his voice is so small and broken in a way that techno's never heard from him, not even when he was younger and kids tried to push him off the slide at the playground. "please," he says, too quietly, without any of his usual fire. "don't kill me."

and suddenly he's begging, and he's thrown himself out the chair and flattened his back against the wall, grey eyes darting back and forth frantically, desperately searching for an exit even as he empties his pockets to the floor and holds up both his bandaged, burned hands in front of him. "please, please, fuck, i am so, so sorry, i'll leave you alone, i'll never come back, you can take my armour and blow it up but i don't want to die anymore, i don't want to die please just let me go don't kill me i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry -"

and phil's speechless, one hand hanging half in the air helplessly, though what he was planning to do, no one knew. his gaze lands on techno, and his eyes immediately widen when he sees the look on his son's face. techno isn't surprised. isn't upset. in fact, he simply looks exhausted, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing as he looks upon his cowering baby brother, still babbling with his arms raised as though to protect himself. and it seems both their hearts have shattered a little, seeing the fiery, loud, tommy innit so broken in front of them.

"i'm not mad," techno says, and the words ring throughout the entire house. his tone is flat, and he closes his eyes for just a moment, trying unsuccessfully to calm the yelling voices in his head. he's getting a migraine. "i'm not mad, tommy. i'm also not an idiot. you're not subtle at all, kid, and you're very lucky that i actually don't hate you, and never have."

at this, tommy dares to peek through his fingers, though immediately flinches back when phil takes a step forward to look at the various items tommy's thrown on the ground in front of him. he picks up two things; a photo, and a compass. the photo is of tommy and tubbo, from when they were a little younger, before any of the wars, before everything had gone so wrong. the compass has the words "your tubbo" engraved on it, and shines with a soft purple glow. and phil says "tommy, my boy. what happened to you?"

and this is what makes tommy lower his arms and stand fierce, though his mouth trembles, and he doesn't look either of them directly in the eye. "what would you care?" he spits shakily. "what would you care? you didn't visit me in bloody exile. you didn't give a fuck then. and he -" the boy nods viciously in techno's direction. "he only came to see me so he could mock me. bastard. what the fuck do you care what happened to me?"

techno speaks before phil can, because he knows how angry tommy is, how confused phil is, and how tired he himself is, and he wants to end this before it begins. "you can yell at us later all you want. for now, we all need to sleep. i take it you took the apples i left for you, tommy, but if you need more, i assume you know which chest to find them in. and you can play your music to help you sleep, i don't mind. the sound is kind of nice." a small smile plays on his lips, despite the serious situation. "reminds me of when we all shared a room and you had to play your discs to get to sleep every night. i take it you still do, even now."

the room is silent, briefly. "you knew i was here the whole time," tommy murmurs, stunned, and his eyes finally meet techno's. they're not blue at all. they look more like storm clouds than their old summer days. "and you didn't kill me or kick me out."

phil makes a noise. techno places a hand on his shoulder, gentle, steering him towards the door. "get some rest, tommy," he sighs, and he wishes his head could be clear and silent for once. his temples throb with pain. "we'll talk tomorrow. just get some rest."

"you're not going to sell me out to - to d-dream, are you?"

and it's the way tommy's voice falters on dream's name, the way his sudden brief confidence immediately slips, the way his gaze falls to the floor and he looks like he might be sick that completely solidifies the decision techno had made weeks ago in his head.

"no," he says softly. "i'm not."

#mcyt #dream smp #tommyinnit #technoblade #ph1lza #yeah god this is all bullshit i am so sorry #trauma aftermath tw

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hopelesshawks · 2 years

Text

Ash and Dust Part 13- Some Bitch

18+ Dabi x fem!reader (MINORS DNI)

Summary: You first meet Dabi on the worst night of your life after unwittingly walking into the very bar the League of Villains made infamous. That should probably be the end of the story. You stumble on the remnants of one of the most infamous terrorist groups in the history of Japan, get viciously murdered or call the cops and get them arrested, the end. Except that’s not the end of the story. It’s only the beginning.

Warnings: Dom/sub dynamics, dacryphilia (crying kink), degradation, oral (m!receiving), cumplay/cumshot, alcohol related dubcon (not with reader), heavy petting (f!receiving), praise-ish? it's very brief, one (1) use of the word daddy, heavy alcohol use

Link to change y/n to your actual name (not mobile compatible)

Masterlist Kofi (Help Lulu)

“I’m sorry Dabi, I’m so sorry,” you sob, tears racing down your face.

“Sorry for what?” Dabi all but growls, towering over you as you grovel on your knees for his forgiveness.

“Sorry for neglecting you for Shouto. Sorry for painting your useless father. I’m sorry for everything. They don’t matter to me, only you!”

He reaches down to grasp hold of your chin, yanking it up so he can look into your pitiful eyes, red and puffy from sobbing. “I don’t know if I believe you,” he says icily, sick pleasure burning in him as the response makes you sob harder. “Please, I’m telling the truth, you have to believe me. I’m so sorry.”

“Prove it.”

“Huh?”

“I said prove it. Unless you don’t really mean it.”

“I do! I do, please, I’ll do anything for you.”

He smirks as his grip on your chin tightens a fraction while his free hand moves to the zipper of his jeans. He draws it down slowly, gaze never breaking from yours even as he pulls his straining erection out. “Show me that pathetic little mouth of yours is good for something other than whimpering and begging,” he commands, his hand moving from your chin to the back of your head as you nod eagerly. You obediently wrap your lips around him, tongue dipping into his slit and swirling around the head of his dick before you sink down further. A shiver runs down his spin as you begin to suck him off in earnest, head bobbing up and down as you moan around his dick like it’s the most delicious thing you’ve ever tasted. The tight, wet heat of your mouth is intoxicating and it’s hard to resist moaning and letting his eyes roll back in his head. He doesn’t want to give you the satisfaction of knowing how good you’re making him feel though. At least not yet.

“That the best you’ve got? I’m falling asleep up here Doll,” he goads and the look you give him is so sad. It’s exhilarating seeing you so genuinely upset that you're disappointing him that it causes a fresh wave of tears to spill from your eyes even as you double your efforts, determined to show just how sorry you truly are. One of your hands suddenly comes up to tug his jeans and boxers further down until they’re past his thighs. That same hand then moves to his balls, rolling them as your cheeks hollow around his sex. He can’t hold back his moans then, pushing your head down to take more of him. Your throat spasms around his dick but you don’t complain or try to squirm away for even a moment, letting him abuse your throat to his heart’s content. He feels himself nearing his climax so he roughly pulls you back just as he finds release, painting your tear-stained face white with his cum.

“I should’ve known you’d be a cum slut,” he smirks as he brings one hand to your cheek to further smear his cum across your face.

“Just for you,” you rasp, voice still raw from the abuse.

“Good. You’re mine.”

“I’m all yours, Touya.”

Dabi snaps awake, bolting up right from the blankets he’d settled on the ground with his heart racing and his dick still twitching as cum cools in his boxers. He curses as he stands and heads to the en suite bathroom. He’s stripped bare and stepping into the still cold shower in seconds.

A dream. It was all just a dream…

For some reason he can hear Toga’s voice, the version of her from before Twice’s death, asking him if he y’know likes anyone and all it does is make him scowl harder.

Clearly it’s been way too long since he got his dick wet. He cranks the dial of the shower the other way until the water is scalding hot, focusing on the way it burns what little unscarred skin remains on his body. He doesn’t need you. He doesn’t want you. The only reason his fucked up brain conjured up your image is because you’re the last naked person he’s seen, his mind flashing back to that moment in your stupid bougie new apartment when you’d started to get in the shower before realizing he was there. He growls again when he feels his dick twitch at the memory.

His body is confused. That’s all this is.

He quickly exits the shower and gets dressed, giving himself no time to think before he walks out of the door for the first time since he broke into your old apartment a week ago. He needs a drink and a hole to stick his dick into and then you’ll be out of his head for good. So he lets his feet carry him to the seediest parts of downtown, the moon high in the sky as the streets themselves seem to thrum with bass from the bars and clubs in the area. He’s got his hoodie up but no one cares who anyone is around here. He ducks into a familiar hole-in-the-wall club, pushing his way past the bodies packed in until he reaches the bar. When the bartender spots him, they immediately roll their eyes but reach for a glass for him anyway, already knowing what to pour.

“Aww, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you weren’t happy to see me Izumi,” Dabi grins.

“And here I thought I’d never have to see your beef jerky lookin’ ass again. Thought you’d ditched me,” Izumi chuckles. There’s no heat to their words as they pass him a large pint of beer, dropping a shot of sake into it. “I’ve been busy,” Dabi smirks before quickly chugging down his drink. He raps his knuckle against the bar to indicate he wants another and Izumi doesn’t hesitate to comply. “Of course Mr. Big Shot League of Legends was too busy,” they tease. Dabi doesn’t bother to correct them on the name.

“You make it sound like I don’t care about my good childhood friend Izu-chan.”

“Fuck off, we’re not childhood friends, we’re childhood acquaintances.”

“You wound me Zu-zu, really. I consider you my best friend.”

“Nah, nah, nah ‘cause friends care about each other and you, Dabi, don’t care about anyone. It’s cool dude, I’ve always known that was the deal with you.”

A few months ago Dabi would’ve agreed without hesitation, but for some reason he can hear your laugh in the back of his head and it makes him scowl slightly before chugging his drink down again.

“Woah there, you good?” Izumi asks, brow raising.

“Obviously. Why the fuck wouldn’t I be?” Dabi scoffs but Izumi isn’t fooled.

“Look dude, I remember when we were just a couple of lost kids doing stupid shit on the streets to get by. Against my better judgment I care about your stupid ass and I know you well enough to know that what I said should not have warranted that reaction. So you gonna explain or what?”

“It’s nothing, just some bitch I’ve been living with. You gonna give me another drink or not?”

Izumi whistles lowly, the sound barely audible over the sounds of the club as he reaches for a shot glass and a harder liquor. He pours a very generous shot and starts to hand it over but jerks it out of Dabi’s reach at the last second, causing the other man to roll his eyes again.

“You’ve been living with someone? And you care about her?” they ask.

“I’ve been living with her but I don’t give a shit about her I was just bored. She was easy entertainment,” he shrugs.

Izumi gives him the shot but when he asks for another, they once again pull the shot out of his reach.

“Ah, ah. One shot per answer. If you were so bored, why'd you leave now?”

Dabi’s starting to feel the buzz of the alcohol but it’s not enough. He can still feel you dug into his skin like a tick so as much as he would like to tell Izumi to fuck off he needs that next shot and no one else is gonna give him shit for free.

“She was interesting when she was a fucking mess but then she started getting fucking paid and moved us to some stupid, shitty fucking place instead and was spending all her time working and shit. So I moved on. We done here?”

Izumi gives him a considering look but does relinquish the shot. They watch Dabi knock that one back and pour just one more.

“One last question,” Izumi cautions.

“What?” Dabi asks, patience wearing notably thin.

“Where are you staying? You some place safe right now?”

“Yea, yea, I’m squatting in an apartment, I can take care of myself,” Dabi gruffs.

The last shot hits hard and the world starts to swirl around him. He can see Izumi’s concerned look out of the corner of his eye but before they can ask any more questions Dabi shoves away from the bar. “Always a pleasure Zu-zu,” he throws over his shoulder, words slurring just slightly, before disappearing into the crowd of people where he knows Izumi won’t be able to follow.

His eyes scan through the crowd for a pretty face, trying to find someone to shake off the dream that he refuses to admit is still burning at the back of his eyelids when he blinks. He moves throughout the crowd, not really dancing but allowing himself to be swept through the tides of people. Then suddenly out of the corner of his eye he catches a glimpse of (y/h/c) hair. He spins wildly in that direction just as it fades from view and immediately starts shouldering his way through the crowd after it. When he catches sight of it again he’s sure it’s you. Even under the strobing club lights he can tell it’s the right hair color, right skin tone, right height. It must be you and the alcohol sends him surging forward to grasp your arm. He spins you around but then his eyes meet yours and it’s wrong, so wrong, because that’s not the right color of your eyes. Close but not quite. As he takes in more details of the face he realizes the facial structure is all wrong and that definitely isn’t you which makes sense because why the fuck would you be in a shitty little club like this anyway and he’s about to just fade back into the crowd when it hits him.

This girl is not you.

Which means she’s exactly what he needs right now.

He twists his face into a seductive smirk as he invites Not You to dance and he tells himself she’s perfect because she’s hot and not because she kind of looks like you but a small, tiny part of him that he stubbornly ignores knows that it’s a lie. So he lets her grind on him with his hands gripped tight on her hips, whispering what she wants to hear in her ear. As he feels himself starting to harden he purrs “Why don’t we head somewhere a little more private?” right into Not You’s ear.

He pays no attention to her response other than the fact it’s a yes before dragging her towards the club bathrooms. It doesn’t take much to scare out anyone else inside and soon enough he’s got the door locked and his tongue halfway down her throat. He pushes her back against the counter, spinning her around so she’s facing the mirrors as he bites down on her neck. She keens and the voice is all wrong so he wraps a hand over her mouth to silence her moans even as his other hand moves to the hem of her skirt and starts to slip underneath. “Be a good little whore and keep nice and quiet for me Doll,” he commands lowly, moving his one hand away from her mouth while the other begins to stroke her over panties. “Of course, Daddy,” she moans and the easy acceptance feels wrong somehow. His eyes drift to the mirror against his better judgment and find hers there. When he sees them, sees the eyes that are definitively Not Yours, he suddenly feels nauseous. He jerks away from her immediately and Not You turns to him with big wide confused eyes and asks if she did something wrong. He ignores her entirely, turning away and storming out of the bathroom, his chest feeling tight.

Dabi rushes to the bar and Izumi can immediately tell something is wrong. Before they can say anything Dabi leans across the wooden surface, snatches up one of the bottles and proceeds to leave the club without a word. He’s quick to unscrew the cap, putting the bottle to his lips and taking a long pull as he starts the walk back to your old place.

“Hey what happened are you-”

Dabi wrenches himself free from the hand that had tried to slow his progress, whirling around to find Izumi putting their hands up in surrender, stunned to silence by the anger radiating off every inch of him. The hand not clutching the stolen bottle of liquor ignites in warning and Izumi’s eyes fill with fear. Instilling fear used to give Dabi such a power rush but when he looks in Izumi’s eyes it feels too much like seeing the fear in yours.

So he turns away and clutches the bottle even tighter, hoping it’ll save him from thoughts of you.

A/N: I realized as I was writing this that as much as we know about Dabi we don't know anything about the time between him faking his death and joining the LoV other than the fact that he was murdering people sometimes. So Izumi was born because even though Dabi probably doesn't care about any of the people from that period of his life, it doesn't mean there was no one that cared/cares about him from that period. I find it hard to believe that there's no one who would remember and/or still worry about him. It's like 10 years at least of unaccounted for time and I refuse to think there are zero notable people from that period in his life

Also fun fact: Izumi calls the LoV league of legends bc I legitimately fucking zoned out in the middle of writing and ended up typing legends instead of villains in a wild moment of word association 💀

Taglist: @thechroniclesofawriter @simpsfortodoroki @ahtsuwu @oliviasslut @larkspyrr @oikawaandkuroostan @tina-98 @vibesdontlie @clubfairy @oddball215 @myfavoriteficsandsuch

#hopelessad #hopeless.thirst #dabi x fem!reader #dabi x y/n #touya x fem!reader #touya x y/n #touya todoroki #bnha dabi

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inagetawaycarxo · 3 years

Text

In A Blink Of An Eye | Jay Halstead

❛❛ Local psycho running around breaks into Jay and yns house. Shes alone and he's just getting off work and comes home to find yn hurt really badly...you choose the ending; And connor takes care of her in the ER❜❜-IsaacLaheysAnchor

Pairings: Jay Halstead x Reader, Connor Rhodes x Reader (Ex fling)

Featuring: Jay Halstead, Y/n (Reader), Connor Rhodes, Unnamed Psycho, Maggie, April, Will Halstead, Unnamed nurse, Ava.

Summary: Jay comes home to find y/n all bloody and goes into panic mode.

WARNINGS: angst, jealous!Connor, worried!jay, worried!Connor, hospitals, blood, injured!reader, comfort, plot twists, errors.

Word Count:2591

A/N: Got a Jay Halstead or One Chicago request? Send it in!

The sound of a loud thud and the floor creaking made you look up from your book. Eyes going wide. Shaking in fear. You quietly put your book down, taking the throw rug off your legs as quietly as you can. Standing up quietly. Turning not to make a sound. You cautiously walked towards the kitchen. Grabbing a knife out of the knife block. Cringing at the sound as you took it out.

gulping as you walked out of the kitchen, peeping out behind the wall. You felt relief wash over you as you saw nothing there. Taking a step out from behind the wall. You felt a wave of courage as you took small steps. The knife held out in front of you. Heart rate increasing by the second.

You were so focused on in front of you that you didn’t realize something was sneaking up on you until it was too late.

You felt a strong grip on your hair. Squeezing their hand hard against the back of your head. Slamming your head against the wall hard. It startled you enough to let go of the knife. Making the knife fall to the ground.

They let out a deep grunt. Slamming your head against the wall again and again. They let go. Hastily Taking out a gun from the band of his jeans. You reach up to your forehead, feeling it is sticky with blood. Making you let out a whimper. Bringing your hand down to your eye level. You let out a whimper as you saw blood. Your head pounds.

You crane your neck towards your attacker. Giving them a pleading look. Lips trembling. Eyes welling up with tears. The guy pointed the gun at you. Making you shake in fear.

A tall, disheveled man looked down at you, with a sinister smile. Observing you.

“Please, don’t.” You begged. Scooting away from him.

He ignored your pleas. Lunging towards you, you quickly scrambled up. Only for him to grab a hold of your hair. Yanking you back to him. Then pushing your face into the ground. You tried to crawl away from him, but he grabbed a hold of your ankles. Pulling you back towards him. Rolling you over onto your back. He climbed on top of you.

You tried putting up a fight. Trying to grab his gun but to no avail. He elbowed you hard in the nose. Making you gasp. He took the opportunity to shot you in the shoulder. A sharp pain shot up and down your arm. More tears pouring out of your eyes. Your vision blurring. He shot you, again and again, all in different places, your hands going up in defence. Trying to fight him off.

He kept going till you weren’t fighting him anymore. The pain as unbearable. Blood was covering your clothes. Your body spasming. Your blood was all over him, as well as the ground. He got up putting his gun away. He stood over you looking at you with a satisfied smile. While you just looked at him through glazed eyes. Your breathing labored. Your eyes getting heavy. The guy then turned away from you, leaving you to bleed out on the floor while he exited the home. Spots danced in your vision. Darkness soon surrounded you as your breathing got slower. Heartbeat pumping slowly. The sound of your phone ringing getting distant, as your body slowly shut down…

Jay let out a sigh, as he got into his truck. Putting the keys ignition. Turning the truck on. Blasting the heat, taking out his phone. Unlocking it. Jay tapped the phone icon app. Dialing your number. The sound of the phone ringing. Jay felt an unsettling feeling form in the pit of his stomach, as your voicemail played.

“Hey, babe, I’m coming home now, I will see you when I arrive.” Jay spoke. Ending the call. He looked down at his phone. Dread washing over him.

Something just didn’t sit right with him. You always picked your phone when he rang you. His eyebrows furrowed into confusion.

He quickly put his truck into gear. Putting his seatbelt on. Pressing his foot hard on the accelerator. Speeding out of the parking lot. Going through red lights.

His mind tried to think of excuses as to why you didn’t answer the phone. Maybe you were asleep or taking a nap. Or in the shower or binge-watching or lost in a book. The more he came up with excuses the more anxious he felt.

Jay quickly parked in front the of the house he shared with you. Turning the truck off, yanking the keys out of the ignition. Unbuckling the seatbelt. Getting out of the truck, he locked it in a rush. Rushing over to the front door. Unlocking the door in a hurry. He opened the door. Just as he walked through the threshold he stopped in his tracks. His heart plummeting to the pit of his stomach. Going pale, as he saw you lying limp on the floor. Blood staining your shirt as well as the floor around you.

Jay quickly rushed towards you.

“Babe.” He cried. Tears welling up in his eyes. His heart aching.

“No.” He sobbed. His body shaking with sobs.

“Y/n.” He gasped out. His hand shakingly extending towards your wrist, picking it up and trying to find a pulse, he felt his heartache, even more, when you couldn’t find one. He then moved his index and middle finger to your neck. Feeling slightly relieved when he found a pulse, but it was weak.

“It’s okay, baby, I’m going to take you to the hospital.” He cooed. Reassuring you, but himself more than you.

“Stay with me.” He pleaded as he slipped his left arm behind your knees, his right hand resting on your lower back. Pulling you towards his chest, as he cradled you to his chest. Standing up rushing out of the door. Shutting the door behind him. His eyes were on your face the entire time. his heart beating faster by the second. He felt like he was going to be sick. He couldn’t lose you.

Tears fell rapidly from his eyes, as he unlocked his truck, doing his best to open the backseat door near the driver’s side without dropping you.

“It’s going to be okay, your going to be okay.” He reassured you. Gently laying you on the backseat. He looked at you with a pained expression. Before closing the door and getting into the driver's side without hesitation.

He put the keys in the ignition, struggling to put them in since his hands were shaking. Cursing under his breath as he cried harder. He finally got them in. Turning the key, as the truck roared to life. Putting the truck into gear. He pressed his foot hard against the gas. Making the car speed off, not even bothering to put his seatbelt on. Speeding to Gaffney Chicago Medical Centre, breaking all the road rules. Looking at you in the rear-view mirror now and then. He wiped his tears away, but it was no use they still fell from his eyes.

Jay felt slight relief as he made it to Gaffney Chicago Medical Centre. Jay didn’t bother finding a park, he went straight to wear the ambulance park. Quickly opening the door and rushing to open the backseat door. Grabbing you gently. Carrying you to the emergency area.

“HELP.” He yelled desperately. April and Maggie looked up. Rushing over towards Jay who was holding a limp, bloody you.

“Baghdad.” Maggie instructed Jay. Jay rushed over. Putting you gently down on the gurney. Grabbing a hold of your hand, as Maggie hooked wires to you. While April cut your shirt open.

Jay stared at your chest and abdomen in horror. Lips trembling.

“Jay, you need to leave so we can help her.” April spoke. Giving him a sympathetic look. But Jay wasn’t listening to he kept staring

“Page Dr Rhodes.” Maggie spoke, as she continued to examine you. April nodded her head complying.

Will noticed the commotion happening. Coming over to his brother. His hand grabbing Jay’s shoulder. Giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Jay.” Will spoke. Looking at him with worry in his eyes. As they bagged you.

“She…” Jay barely gasped out.

Jay felt someone rush past him. Which happened to be Connor.

Connor felt his heart leap to his throat. His heart racing. He rushed over to you. Bumping into Jay in the process.

“Y/n.” Connor gasped, putting the disposable gloves on. Taking his stethoscope from around his neck. Putting the ear tips in his ear. Then putting the diaphragm in the middle of your chest.

“She’s been shot, multiple times, her pulse is weak, she isn’t responding.” April told him, as he listened to your heart pump slowly. This made him panic even more.

“Her hearts weak.” Connor sighed, taking the diaphragm away from your chest, and pulling the ear tips out of his ear. Putting the stethoscope around his neck.

“Let's do a scan, see if the bullets are still in there.” Connor ordered. Taking out his flashlight. Turning it on.

“Y/n, can you hear me?” Connor asked as he shone the light in your eyes. But you were unresponsive.

“Dilated pupils.” He sighed. Feeling more dread wash over him. Connor took a step back, as April slid a black pad underneath you, another nurse tilting you, then gently putting you back down.

All of them looked anxiously at the screen. Maggie stroked your hair.

Connor felt like his heart was being squeezed way to tight. As he saw five bullets still in you one in your shoulder, two near your stomach, one near your abdomen and the other one slightly near your heart.

“She needs to go to the OR now.” Connor spoke.

Jay stared at the screen in horror. His face was ghostly white. He felt lightheaded.

“Oh my god.” He gasped out. As Connor, Maggie, April and a nurse pulled the rails up.

Will pulled Jay out of the way as they wheeled you out.

“They are going to help her.” Will reassured Jay, guiding him to the waiting room.

“They are going to save her.” Will spoke. As Jay sat in the seat. Will crouched in front of him.

Jay raised his hands in front of him. His body trembling as a sob left his lips. His hands were stained with your blood.

“It’s okay, Jay, hey look at me.” Will spoke. Putting his hands on Jay’s hands and putting them down.

Jay looked at his brother through tear-filled eyes.

“What if she dies?” Jay sobbed out.

“She won’t, she’s a fighter.” He reassured his brother.

“I can’t lose her. I don’t think I could survive losing her.” Jay sobbed. Will gave him a pained expression. Wrapping his arms around Jay and hugging him. This made Jay break down.

“I can’t.” He sobbed….

Connor, Maggie, April and the nurse rolled you out of the elevator, rolling the gurney to an operating room.

Connor let go, going to scrub his hands. he heard the door open. Ava stormed in.

“You can’t treat her, you’re her ex.” She shouted. Making Connors jaw clench. He continued to scrub his hands.

“I’m the best option.” He spoke. Turning his head to look at Ava. She let out a sarcastic laugh.

“I’m her best choice, you’re her ex, what happens if you make a misjudgment, then what is her boyfriend going to think, that you did it out of spite because she is with Jay, not you.” Ava hissed out.

“You don’t know her as I do, you aren’t close to her, so yeah, I’m her best shot, and you're wasting my time and her time by talking.” Connor growled out. Moving towards the doors.

“Bastard.” She muttered to herself. As he turned his back to her. Opening the doors with his elbows…

“She should be out by, now right?” Jay asked his brother. Jay was pacing restlessly. While Will was sitting down. Jay’s eyes were red from crying. His cheeks stained with dried tears.

“I’ll go check.” He responded. Getting up. He gave Jay’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze when he walked past him.

Will got in the elevator. Going up. He exited the elevator going over to the desk.

“Have you seen Dr Rhodes?” Will asked the nurse at the desk.

“He’s over there.” she replied. Pointing her index finger to the room behind him. Will turned around to see Connor sitting next to you. Holding your hand to his lips. While you laid on the hospital bed asleep.

“Thanks.” He spoke. Walking over towards the room. Sliding the door open then close the door.

“So, where you going to tell Jay, she is out of surgery or were you just going to keep it from him? After all, she is his girlfriend.” Will spoke. Making Connor’s jaw clench. He untwined his fingers from yours. Delicately putting your hand down.

“She lost a lot of blood, I had to give her a blood transfusion, there were some complications during surgery, I nearly lost her. I had to put her in an induced coma.” Connor spoke, ignoring what Will said.

“She isn’t yours anymore Connor, you blew it.” Will spoke. Defending his brother.

“I know that.” Connor spoke. Standing up. His eyes were red from crying.

“I don’t think you do.” Will spoke again. Glaring at Connor.

“Have you ever thought that when she came in it affected me too? That I felt like I made a huge mistake letting her go. That the love of my life was dying.” Connor shouted. Fresh tears welling up in his eyes.

Will gave Connor a deadly glare. Connor let out a sniffle. Shaking his head.

“Jay can see her.” Connor spoke, as he gave you one last longing glance before leaving the room.

Will took out his phone. Sending Jay a quick text with the room and floor you were on. He would have gone and got him, but he didn’t trust Connor at the moment, not with what he saw.

Will looked up at you. An oxygen mask covering your mouth. The monitors showing your heart rate. Letting out a sigh. Just as he took a step, the door opened. Then shut. Will craned his neck seeing his disheveled brother.

Jay rushed over to you. Sitting on the chair Connor sat on. He grabbed ahold of your hand. Bringing it up towards his lips.

“My baby.” He sobbed. Kissing your hand repeatedly.

“She had to have a blood transfusion. She’s in an induced coma.” Will spoke. Making Jay cry.

“I promise you; I will find the person who did this to you.” He promised you. Looking at you as he kissed the back of your hand.

“I love you so much.” He sobbed.

“Please don’t die on me, please wake up.” He pleaded…...

#jay halstead x reader #chicago pd x reader #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead angst #chicago pd imagine #chicago p.d.#chicago pd #jay halstead

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d0llpie · 3 years

Note

can you do 47 with kiyoomi or tsukishima?

“I lost the baby”

Tsukkishima x reader

warnings: miscarriage, blood mention

a/n: after the last one with this prompt i decided to make this one more comfort than angst to make up for how angsty i made the last one, hope you enjoy, thank you for the request <333 okay i just finished writing this it’s still angsty i’m sorry

wc: 1.2k

Tsukkishima was a doting partner, he always made sure to show you how much he loved you to make up for the comfort he couldn’t bring you with his words. He made sure to clean up your desk when you fell asleep early from exhaustion, tidying your room when you were too busy and even taking the time to make you meals if you were too forgetful. You showed your own appreciation through words of affirmation and touch. You were different in that capacity but you fit together well, always in sync, your senses of humor allowed you both to rarely fight and always get along.

You recently moved in together, it suited your schedules better so Tsukkishima could see you more since his hours at the museum changed. He started working later hours to make more money but having you move in allowed him to save up. He told you it was for convienence but you knew he just wanted to see you more, you could tell by the way he pulled you against him at night, the way he insisted on showering with you to ‘save water’ and the way he had your mug out on the bench before you even woke up. You loved living with your boyfriend, how domestic and safe you felt. It made you hopeful knowing he wanted to move further in his life with you.

Tsukkishima was planning out an anniversary date, it was your fourth anniversary and he was planning to propose, you were recently out of school and his job was stable and providing him with enough money. He had been saving up for a ring for a while now, but decided it was time to finally ask you, worried you’d find the ring now that you were under the same roof.

You were also planning a surprise for your anniversary date, you were pregnant. You were worried about his reaction but you knew if he was ready for a child you both could financially support them. Still, you were swarming with nerves, you’d never really discussed kids before but he’d never reacted negatively to seeing a child in public so you were slightly optimistic.

The date rolled around and you slipped on a black spaghetti strap dress and an oversized blazer. Tsukkishima entered your shared bedroom and smirked “you don’t look half bad” you would’ve taken offence if you didn’t notice the blush “hmm you too baby” you leant up to kiss his cheek before taking his hand “you ready to go?” you nodded and grabbed your purse, heading out to the car.

The car ride was a comfortable silence, gazing out at the setting sun and trees passing by, Tsukkishima humming softly beside you every now and then. “Alright, before we go in i have one of my presents for you now” you turned to face him with an expression of awe “tsukki you spoil me” you gave him a kiss again, he pulled out a small black box, a beautiful necklace inside with a tiny moon charm at the bottom “kei” you looked up at him smiling before wrapping your arms around his neck “yeah i know, c’mon turn around” he smiled when you giddily turned around, brushing your hair away from your neck to clip the necklace behind you. He pressed a kiss on your exposed shoulder before opening his door and leading you inside the restaurant where you had your first real date.

During dinner you both had a beautiful time, recounting memories and making snarky comments about the other couples eating together. He never failed to make you laugh, watching as your face scrunched up in joy, he could watch you laugh for hours. “Y/n, i have something i’ve been meaning to ask you” did he know? you wanted to come clean before he could ask so you cut him off “wait let me tell you first, i know we didn’t plan for this but i love you, i want to spend my life with you and i know we’re young but i’m ready...i’m pregnant..” you looked up to see him with tears in his eyes “kei?!” he chuckled before wiping his eyes “i want to spend the rest of my life with you too y/n..” he dropped down to one knee and took your hands into his own you sucked in a breath feeling tears brimming your eyes too “yes yes yes” he laughed again “y/n let me say it” you giggled, trying to calm yourself down “y/n l/n, i can’t imagine being with anyone besides you, i want to wake up everyday and see your stupid snoring and ridiculously adorable laugh, i want to be there when you’re sick and i want you to be the one i grow old and gross with, will you do me the honour of being your husband ?” you nodded tearily smiling at him as he moved up to cup your face and slam his lips against yours in a searing kiss.

The rest of the night was filled with soft sex and cuddling, talking about your wedding and children. It felt like a dream come true, and it was, until reality woke you up. It was only a week later, you woke up in pain and immediately grabbed your stomach, groaning out in pain, alerting Tsukkishima next to you. “Y/n? shit.” he lifted you into his lap and felt the blood on your pants. He could feel his heart breaking and his chest tightening but his priority right now was you. He rushed to put you in the car, speeding to the hospital hoping it wasn’t what he was thinking.

After the miscarriage you passed out in the hospital bed, tear stained cheeks and an anxious Kei by your side, squeezing your hand tightly. He stayed awake most of the night, crying softly, running his hands through your hand, holding you in his arms and trying to ground himself in any way he could. When you woke up in the morning Kei kissed your forehead. You snuggled up closer to him until you felt the pain return and remembered what had happened “i lost the baby...” you whispered quietly, feeling tears well up in your eyes again, Kei’s eyes were puffy as he pulled your head against his, shushing against your hair and whispering against you “i love you so much, it wasn’t your fault, baby you’re so strong, it’ll be okay.” you cried softly in his arms as he continued to rub comforting circles on your back, kissing your forehead “we’ll have a family eventually baby, please don’t cry, i love you so much..”

It took a while for things to get back to normal for you both but Kei was there every step of the way, helping you like usual. You dedicated your time to preparing your wedding instead, focusing on how much you loved Kei. It wasn’t meant to be, eventually you would start a family, it just couldn’t happen this time. You were coming to terms with your loss, Kei was so proud of you, reminding you everyday just how much he loved you.

He was your home and family for now, and that was more than enough for you.

#haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu comfort #hq fluff #haikyuu angst #soft tsukki #tsukki fluff #tsukki angst #tsukki x reader #tsukkishima x reader #tsukkishima kei x reader #tsukkishima comfort #tsukkishima fluff #tsukkishima angst #tsukkishima kei #tw: miscarriage #tw: blood #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you

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spicykoreantatertots · 3 years

Text

Fractured Hearts & Floral Lungs - Part One

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader x Jungkook

Genre: hanahaki, angst, established relationship

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 2400

Warnings: blood, choking, coughing, vomiting, hanahaki disease, relationship issues, fighting, mentions of cheating, mentions of sex, mentions of hospitals

A/N: this is my first fic in a while and i’m happy to finally be able to share something again. i’m determined to finish this series by the end of may and finish my soulmate series this summer.

thank you to @shadowsremedy for this banner and to @thesoftsoobin for beta reading for me.

this was meant to be a gift for @dee-ehn, well it still is a gift, but it should’ve been posted a long time ago. i’m happy to finally be able to present you with this gift, i hope you enjoy part one of Fractured Hearts & Floral Lungs!

~~~~~~~

[Thursday Night]

Tonight isn’t the first night that you’ve shown up at Jin’s door sobbing. At this rate, it probably won’t be the last. He still hasn’t read your texts about needing a place to stay, so he’s probably asleep.

You knock loudly a few times, careful not to disturb the floral wreath hanging on the center of the door. And after a few moments you can hear some footsteps inside the apartment. There’s some more silence and then you can hear hushed whispers.

The door creaks open and Jin’s boyfriend Namjoon is standing before you.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” Namjoon sighs sleepily.

“You scared us! I even got my old tennis racquet out of the closet!” Jin complains before he pokes his head around Namjoon’s broad shoulders. The tear stains and redness of your face instantly catch his attention. “Oh no, what happened?”

For a moment, you can’t say anything. Your chest fills with emotions. Pain, frustration, sadness, heartbreak. The words can’t get past your trembling lips, and soon you feel Jin’s arms envelop you, his sweater absorbing your burning tears.

Somehow, through all your blubbering, Jin has been able to understand what happened with Yoongi. He’s rubbing soothing circles on your back, guiding you to the couch that will be your bed for the next few nights. Namjoon has brought over a pillow, blanket, and a glass of water for you.

“Why don’t you lay down and try to sleep now? This isn’t going to be resolved tonight, unfortunately,” Namjoon interrupts Jin’s comforting whispers.

“He’s right, Y/N, I can tell you’re exhausted. Try to get some rest.” Jin helps you get settled in bed before following Namjoon into their bedroom.

Jin was right. You are completely exhausted, emotionally drained. But every time you attempt to close your eyes, all you can see is him, the flowers, and the blood.

~~~~~~~

[Thursday Evening]

Something is off. He’s been coming home late everyday for the past few weeks. You hoped that today, of all days, he would make an effort. But here you are, alone, surrounded by a table full of his favorite foods. From the moment you got home from work, you’d been on your feet cooking. As if your job waiting tables wasn’t strenuous enough.

Lately it feels like you’re the only one making an effort in this relationship. He leaves for work before you wake up, returns after you’ve gotten into bed for the night. He doesn’t even take the lunches you pack for him to work anymore. You never would have suspected Yoongi of cheating on you, but his behavior is making you question everything you thought you knew.

Today will be the final straw, you told yourself. If he didn’t make it home in time for dinner on your three year anniversary, it would be time to confront him. But as six turns into seven and seven into eight, you decide to pack the meal into tupperware.

You expected tears to come, but they didn’t. Your cheeks are bone dry while you pile the rice into a slightly warped plastic container. You’re in disbelief, or perhaps you just expected this all along. The containers of untouched anniversary dinner stack neatly in the refrigerator.

The sound of keys jingling against the door signals his arrival before he opens the door. You lean yourself against the kitchen counter, grounding yourself.

“Hey babe, happy anniversary!” Yoongi’s smile shines, like it always does, but his eyes aren’t as bright. He’s carrying a bouquet of small sunflowers.

“Happy anniversary.” A faint smile crosses your face as he hands you the bouquet. He looks a little puzzled by your lack of gratitude. But then he notices the pile of dishes in the sink.

“Oh, did you make dinner?” You nod silently as Yoongi shuffles the pots and pans around in the sink. “I made us reservations at The Table. Did you eat already?” Your eyebrows shoot up.

“No!” You try again, this time suppressing the surprise in your voice. “No, I haven’t. That sounds really good.” Maybe things aren’t as bleak as they seem; at least he didn’t completely forget.

The ride to the restaurant is nearly silent, some tacky radio advertisements playing quietly. He’s holding your hand, but you’re looking out the window, focused on everything but the uncomfortable quiet. Yoongi breaks the silence and mentions something about the project he’s working on at the studio.

The studio, you think to yourself. Of course that’s all he can talk about. His passion has always been music. You were both thrilled when he got an entry level job at a music studio, and at the beginning things were good. But Yoongi always strives to be the best, and he moved up the ladder to Assistant Producer in less than a year.

Whatever album he’s working on now has kept him away from you for far too long.

“So when is that album releasing anyway?”

“Later this summer, but our work on it is almost done.” He says, and you breathe a sigh of relief.

“So you’ll be back home at normal times?”

“Well...” Yoongi glances over at you. “Jungkook wants me to work on another project with him when this one’s over.”

“I’m glad your boss likes your work, but hasn’t he ever heard of a work-life balance?”

“Jungkook is NOT my boss. He's-” Yoongi starts.

“Well he’s not your girlfriend either!” You shout. “You’re never home anymore Yoongi.” Your hand slips from his and you cross your arms.

“This is my career.” Something catches in his throat, he coughs a little. You knew he loved his job, but you never heard him get emotional about it.

“So I just need to accept that I’ll never get to see you again?” Yoongi pulls up to the front of the restaurant, in line for valet parking.

“Do you want to go home and keep fighting or do you want to get dinner?” He asks, still trying to clear his throat.

The restaurant is very nice: a robust wine selection, a pianist playing in one corner, and a sleek menu. The other tables are talking in quiet voices to retain the romantic ambiance of the place. You and Yoongi are doing your part by not speaking at all.

He’s making it tough though; he keeps coughing. You hope he’s not getting sick.

“Are you okay?” You ask, passing him a tissue from your purse, trying your best not to sound angry.

“Yeah I’ve just got something stuck in my throat, excuse me.” Yoongi snatches the tissue from your hand before walking toward the restroom.

When he returns, he looks a little worse for the wear. His skin looks paler, his hair mussed, and a wet spot on his shirt.

“Are you getting sick?” You have to ask him now. “What’s that?” You point to the wet spot just below his collar.

“I got some spit on my shirt. I do think I’m coming down with something, but I’ll be fine.” Something doesn’t seem right. He looks more than sick, almost paranoid.

Through the rest of the night he coughs here and there, but he seems to regain his composure. His long dark locks get tucked behind his ear, and for a moment you can forget how hard things have been lately. He asks about your work friends and hobbies and seems to listen intently. The curve of his smile draws a smile out of you too.

Between dinner and dessert, Yoongi reaches across the smooth table cloth to take your hand in his. His thumb gently strokes your fingers.

“You know that I love you, right?” He asks, his smile faded to a straight line. You squeeze his hand.

“You’re going to have to do a better job of showing it.”

~~~~~~~

You’re not sure if it’s the best move, but you want to show him that you haven’t given up yet. When you step out of the bathroom, wearing a revealing chemise, Yoongi is sitting on his side of the bed, facing away from you.

“How are you feeling?” You ask, climbing onto the bed. He sighs, and you reach for his shoulders. You begin rubbing his shoulder muscles, feeling the tension in them slowly releasing. Kneading his back muscles with your fingers, you lean forward to lay kisses along his broad shoulders.

“Baby, can we not tonight?” You freeze, not sure you heard him correctly. “I know it’s our anniversary, I just don’t feel good.” You remove your hands from his body.

“Yeah, of course. There’s some cough medicine and painkillers in the bathroom if it will help.” You reply, leaning back against the headboard, scrolling through your twitter feed so you can hide your embarrassment.

“I’m going to take a shower. You don’t have to wait up for me.” He gets up from the bed and enters the bathroom without glancing your way. You settle into the blankets and try to relax.

You can hear him coughing again once the shower turns on. You turn over in bed, his sudden cold demeanor reminding you of the trouble your relationship is really in. It’s hard to fall asleep to the sound of your boyfriend coughing violently, but you manage to drift away.

~~~~~~~

[Friday Morning]

The sound of Namjoon leaving the apartment wakes you. It must be around 7:30 or so. Jin is in the kitchen quietly making coffee, still in his pajamas.

“Jin, are you not going to work today?” You say in a half-whisper, not wanting to startle him.

“I called in sick. I wanted to stay with you today,” Jin explains, walking over to the couch with two mugs of coffee. He made yours just the way you like it, almond milk and a little bit of sugar. The warmth of the drink momentarily soothes your sleepy body.

Jin reaches across the coffee table and picks up the tv remote. He turns on a morning talk show, some washed-up celebrity talking to slightly less washed-up celebrities about what projects or life events they have going on.

“And later on in the show we will be joined by Jackson Wang, who will share his story of heartbreak and unrequited love that ultimately lead to the creation of his latest single, 100 ways.” The audience cheers for a moment before Jin switches the channel.

“Sorry.” He sighs.

“I don’t think that’s what the song is about...” You joke, sarcasm seeping through the pain in your chest.

Jin chuckles at your remark, but he sits uncomfortably at the end of the couch picking at his fingernails.

“Listen I wanted to say something...” He starts.

“Jin, do you think I could shower before we get into anything? I just need a minute to wake up and I feel kind of gross.” The mascara stains from the night before are beginning to irritate your skin, and a hot shower could do wonders for you. But truthfully, you just aren’t ready to talk about it yet.

“Sure, I’ll grab some sweats you can borrow.” Jin sighs, getting up from his seat.

The hot water melts away the tension in your muscles, but the tension in your mind remains. It’s difficult to keep the images of Yoongi coughing up dozens and dozens of yellow and orange petals from flooding your mind. The drops of blood on the petals and the floor just showed you how far the disease had progressed. How long he’s been in love with someone else.

The floral scent of Jin’s lavender body wash is a little too reminiscent of the smell from the night before. Sickly sweet flowers with a hint of acidic bile and metallic blood. The clean water rinses the suds but the scent remains on your skin.

When you close your eyes to rinse shampoo from your hair, the scene from the night before plays out in vivid detail.

~~~~~~~

[Thursday Night]

You had been awakened by the sounds of Yoongi retching in the bathroom. You called out for him, but he didn’t answer, so you let yourself in.

He is doubled over the toilet. A dozen or so brightly colored petals scattered around him, some smeared with watery blood. The moment you burst in, he tried to hide the extent of it, tried not to let you see but he knew it was useless. He let himself lean against the wall in defeat.

The violent episode he was experiencing seemed to come to a halt.

“Are you...” You pause, there are too many questions to ask, but you know there is only one you can ask in the moment. “Are you okay?” He closes his eyes and nods slowly. You take a moment to examine his face. It’s red, and there are tear streaks clear down his chin. There’s drops of blood and sweat on his bare chest. His heavy breathing is slowing back to normal.

And then you have to leave. You can’t stay and look at him and his flower petals any longer. It looks like he’ll be okay for the night, so you grab your purse and phone and walk straight through the door.

~~~~~~~

[Friday Morning]

Bumps rise across your skin as you exit the shower and step onto the cold floor tiles. You wrap a towel around your body and sit on the edge of the bathtub. Your phone, face down on the counter, buzzes again, and you decide to face the messages you ignored last night.

You scroll through the usual email and social media notifications to get to the dozens of texts and missed calls from Yoongi, still unsure if you should even hear him out. How can he still be in love with you when he’s been growing flowers for someone else?

A phone call interrupts your thinking. The number has a local area code. A sudden feeling of nausea tells you that something is wrong.

“Hello?” Your voice echos against the tiled walls.

“Hello we are trying to reach Ms. Y/L/N Y/N.”

“This is her.”

“You are listed as an emergency contact for Mr. Min Yoongi. He has been admitted to the ICU at Grace Regional Medical Center, how quickly can you get here?”

~~~~~~~

A/N: thank you so much for reading. check out my master list here, and check back in for part two. it will be posted by the end of april 2021!

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