#sorry in advance for the anguish

[vanteguccir]

Lavender Haze | Matt Sturniolo

Matt Sturniolo x reader

Summary: Where Y/N drowns amidst so much criticism and negative comments from the media regarding her relationship, but Matt is right by her side to bring her back to the surface and surround her in a lavender haze.

Warning: Mentions of hate, slightly angst.

Requested?: No.

Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

A/N²: This fic was written for the Challenge for the writers 2024 made by @annamcdonalds67

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Staring at the ceiling with you

Oh, you don't ever say too much

Y/N lay down next to Matt on the double bed that decorated the room. The soft gloom emanated from the corner lamp, painting the scene with orange tones. Their intertwined fingers on the mattress formed a comforting bond, a silent affirmation of each other's presence there. Together, they observed the ceiling as if they were tracing constellations on the white paint in their minds.

The silence that surrounded them was serene, and their synchronized breathing seemed to compose a soft song. Matt knew that sometimes words were unnecessary. There was no need to try to force empty conversations when each other's presence was enough.

Y/N's thoughts, however, were a whirlwind. The sudden exposure that accompanied her relationship with Matt - which they just had revealed to the public some months before - had left her overwhelmed, despite her boyfriend's advance warnings about what followed him with his career. As someone who preferred a low-key life, being dragged into the spotlight of fame was suddenly a big experience.

While her body was physically in the room, her mind felt the weight of these thoughts slowly crushing her. It was an internal battle to maintain sanity amid the media storm that surrounded them.

And you don't really read into

My melancholia

Matt, on his side, noticed the melancholy in Y/N's eyes and the way her brow was constantly frowning, but he respected her silence. He understood the pressure she faced; the crazed fans who used her words against herself and criticized every second of the videos she made a little appearance or was only mentioned, and his heart burned to be able to help her more, but he knew that trying to interpret her thoughts could only increase her distress, his own mind bringing him the mere memory of the episode from some night's before.

To the soft sound of popcorn crackling in the kitchen next door, Y/N anxiously waited for Matt on the made bed, wrapped in the comfort of the fluffy comforter. Her phone rested in her hands, and she slid her fingers across the screen to access her Instagram feed. A notification caught her attention, a tag on a photo posted by the boy.

With an anticipated smile, Y/N opened the post and found herself among the images of a photo dump posted a few hours ago. Her heart filled with warmth when she saw the picture of them together, the girl didn't know how to explain what she felt when she saw him post so openly about them, having gone through difficult situations in this regard in her previous relationship.

However, her smile faded when she swiped down and was met with an avalanche of comments. Thousands of cruel words and cutting criticisms flooded the massive list. Comments that questioned who she thought she was, insinuations that she wasn't good enough, and that Matt deserved someone better. Every word was a blow to her heart, a confirmation of all the fears and insecurities she had kept hidden inside.

Feeling crushed by the virtual pressure, a wave of anguish enveloped her. Tears began to blur her vision as she struggled to contain her overflowing emotions, not wanting to appear vulnerable in the situation, much less worry Matt.

Her head filled with questions, how could she compete with the unrealistic expectations of those who observed her life through a screen?

Minutes passed in a second for her, the sound of the door opening again echoed softly, Matt's figure entering the room following it, the tempting smell of popcorn floating in the air and a childish smile decorating his face. His smile fell instantly when he saw Y/N holding the phone tightly with one of her hands, tears rolling down her face while her other hand pressed her mouth, forcing away the sobs.

"Hey, hey, babe, what happened?" Matt ran over to her, his tone full of worry, leaving the bucket of popcorn on the bedside table and kneeling next to her on the bed.

Y/N sobs as she tries to explain, showing him the cruel comments that filled her entire screen, the device shaking slightly as a result of her trembling fingers.

Matt felt his heart break when he saw the suffering on Y/N's face and the ridiculous words in front of him. Him mind was divided between helping her or posting something obscene, full of insults, and totally guided from his emotional side.

The boy sighs, closing his eyes and wishing to take the bad things away from his girl before sitting properly next to her, wrapping her in his arms affectionately and bringing her head to his chest, sealing her hair line for long seconds.

"I'm so sorry, petal. I didn't know this was going to happen. I should have thought before posting..." He murmured, gently stroking her back as Y/N clings to him for comfort. "I'll figure it out, I promise."

I been under scrutiny (yeah, oh, yeah)

You handle it beautifully (yeah, oh, yeah)

All this shit is new to me (yeah, oh, yeah)

With that, it was known that Y/N was constantly under the relentless eyes of the fandom and obsessed fanpages, her every move being dissected and analyzed minutely by the voracious eyes of anonymous people. But that was the price to pay for dating a public figure.

While facing this incessant storm of unsolicited attention, she couldn't help but admire how Matt, despite his issues with anxiety and certain unnecessary comments left by people who called themselves fans, handled the problems of notoriety with admirable patience and calm.

He seemed so comfortable on camera alongside his brothers, so skilled at ignoring invasive situations that Y/N often found herself questioning how he did it. However, for her, this was all unfamiliar and intimidating territory, too new.

Although she passionately wanted to quickly adapt to this new lifestyle, as she had no plans to leave Matt, she also found herself racing toward an uncertain direction, trying to keep her sanity and identity intact amid the media chaos that surrounded her.

The couch enveloped them in a comfortable embrace as Y/N and Matt enjoyed the peace of the silent living room, the soft sound of a Disney movie echoing in the background. Matt's arms around Y/N were a sanctuary of calm, warming her body and bringing her a comfort that made her feel like she could sleep any moment. It was one of those rare moments when they could simply exist t the interference of the fast-paced world around them.

Matt, with a sigh of contentment, reached for his phone, curious to see how the car video they had posted a few minutes ago was doing, eager to see what the fans thought of the themes brought up.

Quickly, he opened the YouTube app and scrolled through the comments. Among a flood of compliments and kind words, however, some less favorable comments caught his attention. Some criticized the way he was quieter than usual, while others questioned why he was even part of the videos, as he had nothing to add.

Matt rolled his eyes in a dismissive gesture as he turned the screen of his phone towards Y/N, allowing her to read the comments that filled the space.

"Look at that." Matt said, exasperated. "These people have nothing better to do than criticize anything and everything. Immature teenagers who love to point out only negative things." He muttered, shaking his head in disbelief.

Locking the screen of his phone with a brusque gesture, he left it aside on the couch, refusing to let the negative comments ruin his moment of peace. The boy turned to Y/N again, his smile returning as if nothing had happened and wrapping his arms around her once more.

"Sorry about that, pretty girl." The brunette asked softly against her skin, burying his face in the curve of her shoulder. "Sometimes people just need to spread negativity to feel better about themselves. But let's not let that get to us, hm?" He lifted his head from where it was, smiling small at his girl before pressing small seals on the exposed skin of her shoulders and neck, eliciting loud laughter from the girl.

[...] All they keep asking me (all they keep asking me)

Is if I'm gonna be your bride

The only kind of girl they see (the only kind of girl they see)

Is a one-night or a wife

Post after post from the significant number of fans who adored them together claimed that they were "endgame", as they had been in a relationship for over a year and seemed to be going strong.

But the comments that followed were always like a punch to the gut for Y/N. Some argued that she was Matt's future bride, while others insinuated that she was just a "gold digger", there to take advantage of his fame and money, like a one night stand, before eventually leaving him.

Y/N's feelings fluctuated between anger and sadness. How dare they question her true feelings for Matt? How could they judge their relationship based on unfounded assumptions and speculation? They were only 20 years old, marriage was out of the question at that moment, and they both knew that this kind of thing is something planned and thought out together, never done for the emotion of the moment or to meet the needs of others.

A feeling of helplessness invaded her when she read those things, accompanied by a hint of doubt. Y/N felt deep pain due to the lack of trust and support from Matt's own fans. She had tried so hard to be a positive presence in his life, to love and support him unconditionally, and to make the people who meant the most to him and who brought him to the top really like her.

And now, she was faced with the cruelty of strangers who were ready to judge her without even truly knowing her.

I find it dizzying (yeah, oh, yeah)

They're bringing up my history (yeah, oh, yeah)

But you weren't even listening (yeah, oh, yeah)

Y/N felt constantly dizzy with everything that was happening around her. It was as if she was in the eye of a media hurricane, where waves of curiosity and intrusion were endlessly engulfing her. Even with her social networks private, she found herself inundated by a flood of fanatical fans, eager to discover even the smallest detail of her life.

The triplets' YouTube videos, in which she participated, were constant targets of investigation by fans. Every word, every gesture captured by the camera, was analyzed. And the boys' posts, where she occasionally appeared, were scoured thoroughly for any hint of her personal life.

The simple act of even appearing on a TikTok for a brief second was enough to trigger a new wave of speculation and conspiracy theories from fans. Y/N felt like she was looking over her shoulder every moment.

This growing fear began to affect her willingness to participate in the brothers' videos and appear on their social media. She retreated into the shadows, avoiding the curious eyes that surrounded her.

Meanwhile, Matt scrolled through his social media feed, the cruel and mean comments about Y/N flashed on his phone screen at every moment. "She only wants to hurt him", "She's only with him for the money", "She will run away at the first opportunity". The words penetrated like sharp knives, but he faced them with a calm expression.

He could feel the anger pulsing through his veins. The injustice of these accusations made him want to scream. But he forced himself to remain calm, to take a deep breath and remember what really mattered.

Matt knew Y/N better than he knew himself. He knew she wasn't a gold digger, that she wasn't with him out of interest or for any petty reason. He knew that she genuinely loved him, that they shared the same dreams and fears, joys, and sadness.

So he ignored the negative comments, the people who hid behind anonymous profiles to spread venom and hate. Sometimes, he even had the small pleasure of responding to these accusations with an ironic comment or a joke, knowing that, deep down, none of it mattered.

Because he trusted Y/N. He loved her more than anything in the world, and nothing could shake that unshakable trust he had in her.

[...] Talk your talk and go viral (oh, oh, oh)

I just need this love spiral (oh, oh, oh)

Get it off your chest (woah, woah, woah, woah)

Get it off my desk (get it off my desk)

Talk your talk and go viral (oh, oh, oh)

I just need this love spiral (oh, oh, oh)

Get it off your chest

Get it off my desk

But on the other side, the moments of exhaustion seemed to multiply for Y/N, like a lingering shadow that followed her with every step. Increasingly, she found herself sinking into a sea of ​​cruel comments and venomous speculation from the media and fans.

Until a specific moment, where she finally understood that with Matt, she found the strength to fight it gradually. His arms wrapped around her with comforting warmth. His words of encouragement were like a balm to her soul. He supported her in every way possible, constantly reminding her of how much she was loved and valued and that nothing they said mattered.

Y/N slowly learned to filter the noise of the outside world, to block out the negative voices that tried to invade her mind. She no longer allowed the mean comments to get to her, choosing to ignore, block or mute them, allowing them to get everything they wanted off their chest and go viral using her name, and not giving a damn about it.

It was a gradual process, a journey of self-discovery and self-transformation. Y/N still had her moments of weakness, her doubts and fears, like in that moment. But with Matt by her side, she was able to cover her ears and eyes to them.

I feel the lavender haze creeping up on me

Surreal

I'm damned if I do give a damn what people say

No deal

The 1950s shit they want from me

I just wanna stay in that lavender haze

And despite all the bad things, being alone at that moment with Matt in their own haven was comforting. A lavender haze enveloped Y/N gently, like a warm lilac hug amidst the darkness of uncertainty, protecting her from external judgments.

In the comfort of their room, with Matt's presence beside her, she felt as if she could close her eyes and simply let herself be carried away by the constant flow of love she felt for the boy.

Despite the whirlwind of thoughts that danced in her mind along with vague memories of all the futile posts from pages that gossip about artists, demanding surreal things from her as if they had just come out of a time machine to the past, there, in that moment, she allowed herself to sink into the depths of this good feeling.

Matt's presence by her side was like a protective shield, pushing away all her fears and insecurities. His eyes, full of tenderness and understanding, met hers from time to time, conveying a silent message that he was there, ready to face any challenge alongside her. And there was nothing in the world that made him want to leave there.

With one smooth movement, Matt turned briefly to reach for the lavender air freshener that rested on the nightstand next to the bed. He activates the device with a delicate touch, releasing a fragrant mist that fills the room with the sweet scent of the flower. The soft, comforting scent envelops Y/N like a hug, calming her agitated mind and bringing an almost instantaneous feeling of serenity.

The mattress moved with Matt's movements, and he slowly turned around, now lying on his side and facing Y/N. His eyes met hers lovingly, and a smile played on his lips as he moved closer until their bodies were mere inches away.

"You still with me, sweetheart?" His voice was as soft as the cotton beneath their bodies, echoing off the walls that were surrounded by silence for long minutes.

"Uhm." Y/N murmured back, imitating him and turning so that she was lying on her side, facing him, the fog in her mind slowly dissipating.

With soft and delicate movements, Matt wrapped the girl in his arms, bringing her closer to his body, laying her head on his chest, the steady beat of his heart calming hers almost automatically.

"They don't matter, you know?"

Y/N felt a comforting warmth spread throughout her entire being upon hearing the brief and almost insignificant words, but that meant the world to her. She snuggled even closer to Matt, feeling his arms tighten around her waist where they held, allowing herself to sink into them like a safe haven from the storms of the outside world.

Matt lowered his head and gently kissed the top of his girl's head, breathing in the soft scent of lavender shampoo that emanated from her strands. Every touch was filled with love and devotion, a silent promise that he was there.

And so, cradled by the soft haze of love that surrounded them, Y/N and Matt surrendered to the present moment, the girl leaving behind all the worries and fears that haunted her, her heart begging to stay there forever.

I just wanna stay in that lavender haze

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My asks are always open. My requests are closed at the moment since I have many to work in, but you can always send questions or simply talk to me 🩷💋

And remember to treat people with kindness always!

I don't know if I liked it very much, so I'm sorry if it sucked badly 😭😭🙏🏻🙏🏻

~ taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @il0vebeingdelulu @sturniolowhore @mimi-luvzyu @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @domizzzsstuff @sturnizd @hearts4chris @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @leah-loves-lilies @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @rootbeerworshiper @junnniiieee07 @elliesturniolo1 @sstvrnioloo @lightsgore @gidgett11037 @sturniolho @ksskianshd @ccolleenn @sturniolo-lover1317 @soimightlikeoldmen69 @hrtyjy @ldr-sl0t @breeloveschris @its-jennarose @sainzzsturns @ecliphttlunar @thebottledwatersupplier @bellasfavbisexual @soso-scarlettolivia @maryx2xx @sturnolio-luvs @bitchydragonparadise @lvrsturn @iammattswife

(If you want to be added to the taglist, please comment here)

#matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #x reader #sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #fic #imagine #oneshot #fluff #angst #matt sturniolo fic #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo fluff #matt x reader #matthew bernard sturniolo #matthew sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt au #matt fanfic #matty #matt #matt sturniolo x yn #matt sturniolo x reader fluff #comfort #Spotify

[lacollectionneuse1967]

slip of the tongue part 2 - jealous

Theseus Scamander x Reader

“He was all over you,” he hisses. “I am not a possessive man, but I could’ve killed him then and there. He doesn’t know what’s mine.”

summary: after confessing your feelings for (and sleeping with) your boss, theseus, you join his brother newt's team of wizards attempting to thwart the notorious gellert grindelwald. when you're tasked with distracting and seducing a powerful dark wizard on your first mission, theseus gets uncharacteristically and fiercely jealous.

fem!reader. theseus scamander x reader.

category: smut with plot

warnings: 18+ smut, (light) mdom/femsub elements, unprotected penetration, semi-public sex, jealousy/possessive behavior, also the reader suffers brief unwanted sexual advances in a scene

part one / part two

Your dreams are uninventive. Your nightmares are even less so. 

Often you are hounded by dogs: drooling, snapping canines, bloodthirsty past the point of cognizance, they’re more open mouths than animals. Or, you’re standing on the hill where your old orphanage used to sit in North London, barefoot on the roof while the rest of London floods below, water rising, you know you’re going to drown. Or some other tired, boring allegory for your past catching up with you, at last, your blessings, your wand, crumbling to ash—you know what the dreams mean and they don’t scare you anymore. 

But tonight you are perfectly dreamless. The dream dogs, the wintry world outside, the sound of the wind whistling through the empty London streets, it cannot touch you now. The fireplace is crackling and warm orange light spills in beneath the door from the living room.

Theseus’s arm is draped over your body, your head is on his chest. Every part of your body where your bare skin meets his buzzes with contentment. His room is like a sanctuary, his arms a house that holds you. 

You don’t think you’ve slept for even a full hour. It’s still dark outside when you feel Theseus jostling your shoulder. 

“Y/N. Wake up, darling.” 

You sigh in response and are about to put up a fight, but when you meet his eyes they’re full of sore regret, apologetic. He wouldn’t ask you to leave his bed unless it was important.

You emerge from the covers and start to stretch. 

“What time is it?”

“I’m sorry, love, but it’s nearly four in the morning. We have to be going, it’s urgent.” 

You turn to look at him, he’s raking a hand through his hair, sitting up in bed.

“Did you sleep at all, Theseus?” You ask incredulously.

“No, too much to think about. And besides, I knew if I slept I wouldn’t be likely to wake. Better you sleep…”

Your heart wrenched. In a swell of affection, you went to him, crawling back over his body on the bed.

“No,” he groans, but his hands come around you, sliding down to your hips, anyway. You kiss his neck, raking your teeth over the skin there.

“Don’t do this to me,” he anguishes. His grip tightens on your hip, it’s meant to be chastising but it makes you want him more. “Please. We need to leave, Y/N.”

It wasn’t easy letting go of him. You know he would’ve given you what you wanted with enough persistence. 

“Okay, okay!” You relent, kissing his mouth with a smile. “I’ll stop terrorizing you now.” You leap out of bed again without complaint. 

When he stands he’s serious-Theseus again, your boss. And you love him still. 

For his sake, you pretend not to notice his erection in his boxer shorts. It looks painfully hard. 

“Get dressed,” he says to you before turning to the bathroom. “We need to get to Hogsmeade.”

It was wonderfully strange to see him like this—hair in wavy disarray, looking soft and subdued, barefoot and in his t-shirt. You want to appreciate the sight, you want to talk about what had happened between you and all that had been said. But his mind is elsewhere, preoccupied, and it seems you are both running late.

At your insistence, he lets you apparate to your apartment for a change of clothes, but then the two of you are off, running down the stairs of his building into the dark world below.

————— 

Hogsmeade is more of a detour. There is an incognito meet-up organized with none other than Professor Albus Dumbledore. You’d, mercifully, taken a train--the Hogwarts Express. Theseus mentioned that Dumbledore was being watched by the Ministry, and that there were anti-apparition charms put up around the village and the castle.

You were just grateful to see him sleeping, at last, on the way there. 

It was barely daylight when the two of you arrived, the sun bleak and pink over the Highlands, providing no warmth. You were grateful for the coffee you'd nursed on the train, as you were grateful to relieve yourself of the confidential documents from the Ministry. Their weight was an invisible one for you, evidence of your betrayal.

"Some aspiring Auror you are," you thought to yourself, bitterly.

“I tried to organize them for you. I started to, actually,” You supplied sheepishly when Dumbledore regarded the haphazard stacks of parchment, laid out on one of the tables in what you assumed was his brother's inn.

Dumbledore smiled warmly at you regardless and thanked you sincerely. 

When you step out of the inn, you look to Theseus just as he looks over his shoulder at you. You're both more or less sleepless, and cold, and it seems the both of you have betrayed the Ministry and embarked on a hopeless mission, without many allies in the world.

But you were a united front.

It surprises you when he says, so earnestly that the tension in his shoulders seems to deflate, “God, I missed you. I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed you.”

You blush, but don’t break his gaze. You’re not afraid to let him see you anymore. 

“Where to, Mr. Scamander?”

He flexes his jaw like he’s not thinking about the plan at all, like he’s thinking about last night. But then, with a sigh, the moment is broken. 

“Germany,” he says. “It’s time you meet my younger brother and the rest of the resistance.” 

He says ‘resistance’ like it's some inside joke, some funny jab. You don't understand it until you arrive at the hotel room in Berlin. 

-----------

Other than the hair, that uncommon shade of reddish, honey brown, and the apparent kindness and sense of humanity, Newt is nothing like Theseus. In fact, when he comes over to greet you he can hardly meet your eye, his head is half bowed in the other direction, his mouth a nervous, flat line.

"Pleasure to meet you, Y/N. I was sure that you'd do the right thing when Theseus sent you his letter. It was... very brave of you."

You look to Theseus in sharp amusement, eyes sparkling.

"Was there ever a question of whether or not I'd betray you? Did you really think there was a chance I'd turn you over to the authorities?"

Theseus places a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

"Come now, Y/N," he says. "You know if I were to die I'd prefer it to be at your hand anyway."

You want to roll your eyes, but you're not sure to what extent he's joking.

You shake Newt's hand. You're soon after introduced to a muggle baker named Jacob and an astute, somewhat brash Auror from America named Tina. You're not much of a people-person, but you find that you like them both, immensely. They feel genuine, the sort of strong, singular characters that couldn't deceive anyone if they tried. That is why Newt's explanation of your task for the night sends a bolt of dread down your spine.

"We need to need to retrieve a magical object from a German Minister's office. I-I can't say much, it's better you don't know, but it's safe to assume that a large portion of the German Ministry of Magic has already fallen. Helmut, Vogel--and who knows how many others are under the influence of Grindelwald."

"Which German Minister's office?" Theseus says. His hands are in his pockets, he's leaning against the windowsill, the picture of nonchalance, his hair swept back. He's so handsome you could cry.

Newt ignores him. "Now, tonight may be our only chance. There's a diplomatic gala at the ministry itself. I can get us all in, Pickett and I can handle sneaking into the office itself, but there are five people who know about the object being at the ministry, who will be on the lookout and who need to be distracted until we're out."

He doled out assignments swiftly. Theseus was to distract the head of security. Jacob, the two waitstaff who served as the Minister's private informants. For Tina, the German Auror, Helmut. And for you? The Minister himself.

"Which Minister, Newt?" Theseus asks again, the edge in his voice unmistakable, though you don't understand it.

"Baron Dietrich, the Minister of Finance," Newt says at last.

Dietrich. Most of your work for Theseus was domestic, but you try to remember what you can. Dietrich was some Bavarian-born descendent of the aristocracy. Hedonistic, high society. He fought in the war, but gained his reputation in the drinking clubs of Berlin. Even you knew he was ruthless, notorious. A brute of a man without much respect for the law. That was the extent of what you knew.

Newt is rushing to explain before you or Theseus can speak.

“Please, Y/N, Theseus." He looks between the two of you, trying to appeal to both. "Dietrich, h-he likes…he likes beautiful women and he-"

Theseus crosses the room to his brother in a single stride. "Yes, and do you have any idea what he likes to do to those beautiful women, Newt?” He's seething. “Even everyone at the British Ministry knows he brutalizes them."

“I-I wouldn’t ask her if it weren’t absolutely necessary. So long as she’s able to distract him at the party, keep him interested there, at the party, nothing will happen to her—to you!” Newt turns to you now, addressing you directly. “I’m sure of it…”

Theseus sucks his teeth and turns away from his brother, still fuming. “Absolutely not. You will not send her away from my side, that’s final. Not to that man.”

“Theseus, please-"

“She’s muggleborn, Newt! Do you know what men like Baron Dietrich do to wizards like her? If he found out, if any one of Grindelwald's followers did, she'd be killed.” Theseus is speaking with such firm authority, but you know him well enough to detect the barely concealed panic in his eyes, the fracture just beneath the fortress. “Send Tina instead, she’s an Auror.”

“But Y/N is exactly the sort of girl that Dietrich would be-"

“I want to be an Auror too,” your voice sounds strange to your ears when you find it. It has a clear, confident quality, musical and lucid.

Theseus looks to you in shock. You wonder if he knew about the promotion you’d been offered at all, if he knew all you’d sacrificed to stay close to him—your very dreams dashed to pieces. From his expression, naked and open as day, he did not. 

“I can do it,” you make an effort to sound settled. Unshaken.

Being a young, vulnerable girl in the streets of East London, at the orphanage after, and then being a woman at the British Ministry as an adult, you’d dealt with plenty of over-friendly and entitled men. Boorish men were everywhere and were not uniquely monstrous. You hoped Baron Dietrich wasn’t either. 

"It's settled then," Jacob claps his hands together, seeming relieved that the tension between the two brothers has evaporated. Theseus is slumped over, leaning back on the nightstand in apparent defeat. "We're going to a party!"

Tina places her hand on your arm, leading you towards the closet. She doesn't seem to be terribly affectionate, so you're grateful to her for extending you this small kindness now.

"Here, Y/N," She says. "Let's get you dressed. We have plenty of time to go over the plan. It'll be okay."

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

Your outfit, "disguise" you suppose, is nothing like the subdued robes of your companions. You don't know why you're surprised when they ask you to enter the ministry ten minutes after them, alone.

The skirt of your dress is flowy and short, like a dancer's, ending just above your knee, something that might've been acceptable a decade prior, given the fashion trends. It's made of delicate petals of off-white fabric, adorn with tiny silver and pearlescent beads, glittering. Meant to draw attention. It's sleeveless and the top is breathtakingly form-fitting, pinching in your waist and hugging every curve of your body, but you are gratefully afforded an elegant high neckline. Silk, ivory-colored, wrist-length gloves that do nothing for the cold cover your hands and a fur half-coat is draped over your shoulders. Your lipstick is a deep red.

You understand what it means, these luxury items, your styling, the fact that you were instructed to enter alone. By no design of your own, the implication was that you were an escort, a madame of the night. No wonder Newt had Theseus leave the hotel first, before he could catch a glimpse of you. You didn't dare imagine his reaction.

As you enter the gala, handing the doorman your fabricated invitation without a glance, every head turns to you. Chatter stills as you pass, the women gawk and the men look stricken, hungry as the pack dogs in your dreams. Plates and trays sail overhead and the instruments play on, unattended. The German Ministry of Magic has spared no expense.

Patrons lean in close and speak hushed and anxiously. You assume the upcoming election for the highest office of the International Confederation of Wizards is on everyone's mind.

You head for the bar with your head held high, hoping it doesn't show on your face, your discomfort at being so seen. You were told Baron Dietrich would be at the bar with some of his men. With a trembling, gloved hand you motion the barman over and order a drink.

You don’t dare look for your friends. You assume things are going swimmingly for them, but for you? You are drowning in your finery.

You’re not even alone for a moment before the wolves descend. You should've known a man like Dietrich would come find you.

"Mädchen!" He approaches you partially, but expects you to come the rest of the way, waves you over with a meaty hand. When you raise an eyebrow, haughtily, he switches to English.

"Girl, come here." The timber of his voice is low, gravelly. He has a heavy brow, his hair is thick and peppered with gray. The gray does nothing to diminish the impression of his strength. In a fight without your wand, he could have your neck snapped, broken and rolling around its stem, in a heartbeat.

You walk over, leaving your drink at the bar, untouched.

The gala is housed in a mammoth, marble room, twenty foot ceilings held up by smooth columns, something that reminds you of Gringott's. But around the massive bar at the room's center are half-circle booths and tables, spiraling out like lily pads. You slide into Dietrich's booth and his arm goes around you immeditely.

He smells chokingly of cigars, a perfumey, sickly sweet smell. He is a bloated, thick-limbed man. No, you couldn't have fought him off. There are so many uniformed men at his table that some of the younger ones have to stand. With a sting of shock, you don't see how you could be of any influence on these men at all, they hardly see you as a person, aren't speaking to you. You hope Newt and Pickett work quickly.

Another young man, dressed in what looks like a soldier's uniform, slides into the booth after you, sandwiching you in next to Dietrich. You let out of noise of shock and begin to push him off you when Dietrich grabs both your wrists.

"Don't be fussy. This is my young friend, newly recruited. I plan to make him my protégé."

The other men slap the boy over the shoulder, jostling him in congratulations. He smiles meekly. You could hate him for that meekness. That pathetic deference to power.

"We'll share you tonight, of course." Dietrich is looking at the boy, not you. "In my office."

Dietrich's hand clamps over your exposed thigh and his fingernails jab into the fat of your thigh. You don't react to the bright bite of pain. The other boy begins to lean into you, breath hot over your neck.

Whatever small bird lives in your ribs begins to beat itself against that cage, flailing and thrashing.

"No!" You can't help the edge of panic in your voice. Dietrich is too strong, so you don't bother, but you shove the boy off of you and out of the booth without much effort. The boy stumbles out, dumbfounded.

Dietrich snatches your wrist with real fury, bruisingly.

"What?! You're for sale, aren't you?" He won't hurt you in front of his men, not at the gala, but his face is so colored with anger that it's nearly purple.

"Please," there's a real plea in your voice when you say it, you try to cover it up with a hurried smile, you try to look charming. "Dance with me, sir?"

That seems to sedate him. He looks irritated, but pleased by your attention. At least he won't be able to molest you in front of all his colleagues and superiors.

He leads you to the dance floor and the entire way your mind is racing, scrambling for purchase, trying to figure out how you're going to keep him out of his office. He made it clear he had plans to go there later tonight with his men. With you.

And he was an even cruder man than you'd thought, he'd made no attempt to even flirt with or seduce you. His interest in you was moreso entitlement, the same interest a predator has for a slab of meat.

Your wand, concealed on your person, gave you little comfort. Newt had asked that you did not reveal yourself, didn't make a scene. But if it came down to it, you would fight Dietrich rather than submit to him. He was more than repulsive. He wanted to hurt you.

"Please," you think to yourself. "Please, God, don't make me-"

You startle at the large hand that grips your waist and spins you away, just before you reach the dance floor.

Dietrich, abandoned, turns in flustered outrage and is swallowed by the crowd. You're being whisked away before he can fully react, Theseus guiding you deftly out of the overfull room of diplomats.

You sob with relief. "Theseus-" you start, but he's leading you deeper, still, away from the gala.

It's not until you're in some pitch-dark, gaping mausoleum of a hallway that Theseus finally stops, pressing you delicately against the wall, holding your face in his hands like water, like something precious. He examines your body.

"Are you okay?" He asks, pressingly.

You could cry out in joy, the sight of his face is balm-like, giving you a familiar relief.

"Yes, yes!" You reassure him. "Is it done? Did we do it?"

Theseus nods in confirmation, still looking over you for injuries, turning over your wrists in his hands.

"The others are already out. It was quick. No one noticed a thing, we probably took too many precautions this time around..." He finally meets your eyes. The look in his is dark and indecipherable. When he swallows, it's raggedly. "You're really okay, Y/N?"

"Yes," you answer, hesitant at the intensity of his look. "Why?"

Theseus presses his body against yours harshly, you don't even have time to moan before he's swallowing it with his mouth. Your hands are all over him, but he gives you no room to move, it's as if he doesn't notice, the way he's pushing you up against the wall, kissing you like he wants to consume you.

"You're so damn beautiful," he mutters. "When you walked in I almost blew my cover just to go to you."

"Theseus," you pant. You're needy, you want him to keep kissing you but he's leaning his neck back, pinning you against the wall but holding himself away so he can look at you when he runs his warm hands from the backs of your thighs up to your ass. He hooks his fingers around the waistline of your panties and pulls them down so they're only hanging onto you by one of your ankles.

He leans in for another kiss, just as deep and wretched as the last, just as maddening.

He pulls away again with a pant.

"Your dress is too damn short," he curses under his breath.

"Are you angry at me?" You ask quietly, still writhing against him, desperate for friction, but suddenly self-conscious.

"No, no sweetheart," he soothes. "Not at you. You did so good. Such a good job." His praise has you leaning into his palm, which is cupping the side of your face.

You whimper, "I want you." You realize it's true as you're saying it. You can't ever lie to him. "I want you," you repeat, more insistently.

“He was all over you,” he hisses against your ear. “I am not a possessive man, but I could’ve killed him then and there. He doesn’t know what’s mine.” He punctuates the last word with a squeeze to your backside. 

"Theseus," you breathe out, helplessly. You can't believe this is happening. The wing of the German Ministry that you're in is completely dark, you can barely make out the tapestries and curtains hanging loose from the walls. But there's distant light at the end of the hall, and dim voices and music filter in and out from the gala a few rooms over.

But you want him to keep touching you more than you know better, know you should stop. More than anything.

He starts to hike your dress up, his movements urgent, when he stops abruptly. The spot where Dietrich's nails dug into your upper thigh is small, but he drew blood.

Theseus pauses, loosens his grip and lets you slide down the wall. With a slow-thudding heart you briefly fear he'll be so furious he'll run back to the gala, to find Dietrich, but he only bends down and kisses the wound, just barely, lips ghosting over skin, so gently you could cry. Kneeling before you, he looks like a prince, a knight. He's careful to avoid the wound when he lifts you back up against the wall.

You can't help but stare down at it, in awe, when he takes his dick out. Your body still thrills at the sight of it, there, huge, resting at your entrance. Theseus grinds a slow circle, sliding it against your wet folds, against your clit. You just stare.

He flashes you a lazy smile.

“What? You want me to help you put it in?” 

You moan, audibly. You're not doing a very good job at being discreet, but how can you when he says things like that to you and expects you to answer?

"Yes, please," you close your eyes, too flustered to meet his burning gaze when you say the words.

He grips the base of his cock and guides it into your pussy. Clamps a hand over your mouth to muffle the noises you're making, you whimper dumbly against his palm. Only releases his hand from your mouth once he's fully seated inside of you. The stretch is so big you know it would hardly take any movement at all for him to break that tension and make you come, drive you mad, unravel you completely. Just a few rocks against the wall, a few rolls of his hips and you'd be brainless and spent, crying out his name. You're already dripping around him. But you want to last longer for him this time.

He's looking directly into your eyes.

“You’re taking it, Y/N. You can choose where—in your mouth, on your face, inside. But you’re taking it all.” 

You nod. Then once again he's fucking you dumb, you don't even care that anyone could walk by, you're just thinking about how big he is, how good it feels. He's fucking your body slack now, you don't even have to do anything, he’s holding you up, lifting you onto and off of his cock roughly, debasingly.

His hands nearly circle your waist completely, they’re so large. Your mouth is stuck open, making stupid, feeble noises and he’s grunting small words of encouragement.

"Say my name," he says.

When you don't respond immediately, too blissed out to think, he slams your body down harder onto him and you nearly yelp.

"Hngh, Theseus. Theseus, please-"

You can feel him get almost unbearably hard inside of you, then he’s heaving you up and flipping you around, manhandling you, so your back is his against his torso, his right arm a bar across your chest, still inside. He brings a hand down roughly to your clit to touch you through it, and then you're both coming hard, your loud, jagged breaths echoing through the empty hall.

Your head spins, you're seeing stars.

"Baby," he says, when you don't come back to yourself immediately. "Was I too rough? Are you okay?"

You nod, breathlessly, but stumble when he finally stops supporting your weight. Your body is still juddering with pleasure, your fingertips quiver and feel numb as you smooth down your dress.

He's right, you think with a laugh. My dress is too damn short.

Theseus has the decency to look around the hall to make sure no one was watching, and to help you fix your hair and what's left of your lipstick. Your lips are pink and bitten now, swollen.

"They're probably wondering where we are. We should go." His voice is serious, unemotive, but there's something like devotion in the way he looks over you from head to toe, just one last time, to make sure you're beyond reproach. He hands you his jacket, which is huge on you, and slings your fur cape over his arm, bearing the cold himself like a gentleman.

A flurry of snow has begun to spiral down in the streets of Berlin, white particles curling and dancing in the wind. You've always found this type of snowfall to be so fanciful, the closest thing to magic in the muggle world. You walk back to the meeting point in comfortable silence, Theseus's hand clasped firmly around yours.

"He doesn't know what's mine," he'd said about Dietrich, about you. And last night, not that long ago, he'd said, "I love you."

Albeit, after you said it first. You look over to his oblivious face, checking both sides for cars before leading you across the busy street. His kind eyes, the line of his jaw..

You wonder how he could mean it... You'd so meticulously tried to conceal from him all the ugly parts of your life, your past, your fears, even your wants when they seemed to inconvenience him.

Could he love me? Could I let him?

"I want you," you'd said to him in the hall of the German Ministry. You realize now that you meant more than his body. For so long even just a look from him, just a word, was enough to sustain you.

But now you wanted more. Maybe it was selfish, undeserved, that the magical world was giving way to crisis, the dark forces were closing in around hope, and yet here you were, wanting to ask him for more...

part three here

author's note: hiiiiii! YES i switched to present tense from past tense in the last part, and no i'm not sorry... please let me know if you'd like me to continue this fic! i have a third & final chapter in mind. or i can take other theseus requests. the theseus brainrot is real... some AUs would be fun too! as always, feedback is welcome <3 taglist: @mystic-mara

#theseus smut #theseus x reader #theseus scamander #theseus scamander x reader #hp fic #fantastic beasts

[obsessivevoidkitten]

No Light In The Darkness

Male Moth Fae Yandere x Gender Neutral Firefly Fae Reader Word Count: 1.5k (CW: Noncon, stalking, fear, dissociation, general yandere behavior, kidnapping, mentally broken reader, dead dove: do not eat, biting, crying, dacryphilia)  (I marked this one as dead dove because despite there being no physical pain or violence I tried to make the mental anguish and the rape scene and depression that follows to be a bit more realistic than normal, idk if I succeeded but I hope readers still enjoy this work. Also thank you to the reader who suggested the name for the yandere.) (This was a request in my stack from a year ago. Oops. Sorry it took so long.)

A firefly fae with constantly moving antenna, a chitinous exoskeleton covering your feet, legs, hands, and arms, and a brightly glowing thorax that extended from your back and bobbed behind your bare ass. That was you. Overall, you were a pretty average firefly.

Sadly though, you were of a very rare breed. There were very few other firefly fae out in the world, at least not in the part of it that you inhabited. But that was okay, you still went out every warm night and took to the sky, flashing and signaling in the way that your kind did to show you were receptive to romantic advances. You did, actually, have a suitor or two, but they were unfit. They seemed nice, but they lacked a certain special something. They weren’t firefly fae like you were. They were illumination deficient. How could you possibly be a partner with someone who was utterly unable to communicate and woo you via light? Being able to express yourself via your light signals was just far too essential an aspect of a relationship to be with someone who you could not share it with. No, you would be happier single than you would be relegating yourself to a relationship with such a person. The non-firefly fae men that you had to reject were all respectful about it and seemed to understand. Or so you had thought. But there was one who always watched you, stealing glances at you whenever you were out and about during the day and completely unable to move his eyes off of you as he stealthily watched you every night from the shadows as you did your half of an unrequited mating ritual. Orion, the muscular moth man that could never manage to take his eyes off of you. How could he possibly be expected to when you illuminated the sky with your enticing little mating dance. Especially since, even if you didn’t want to acknowledge it yet, it was all for him. How could it be for anyone else? There was no one else even watching, and those that had tried to court you in the past never stuck around like he did after you denied them. They couldn’t pass your test to show dedication in earning you as a mate. You probably didn’t even realize you were doing it, were probably in denial telling yourself you had to have another firefly fae, but really you didn’t fool Orion even if you had managed to fool yourself. There were no others of your kind anywhere near there. So obviously you were dancing for Orion. But he was starting to get impatient waiting for you to realize it yourself. He needed to be your mate already. To have his roaming hands explore all over your body. Orion was a master of sticking to the shadows, but even so you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched. You had this feeling in the past from time to time but over the past few weeks the sensation had become nearly unbearable. You could not shake, even for a moment, the sensation that you were being stalked. Hunted. Every breeze, every snapping twig, or rusting leaf was a potential assailant to you. It was especially bad in the woods. You surveyed all that was around you, constantly hyper-vigilant. But all you could see were shrubs, trees, soil, and flowers, nothing out of the ordinary. Even your little house, safe above the forest floor, hanging from the branches of a great tree, did not offer the sense of sanctuary that it should have. You even felt at times that you were being watched in your sleep. You even went so far as to get new thicker drapes to make sure no one could peep in. You tried to calm yourself down, tell yourself that you were being paranoid, but you just couldn’t. One day in the forest as you were searching for food things finally came to a head. You were walking along a gently used forest path, overgrown with grass and weeds, when you noticed a delicious looking clump of edible mushrooms at the base of a bush. You bent down and plucked them up, popping them into your basket when suddenly the bush rustled and shook. With a jolt of abject terror you dropped your basket and ran before taking off flying towards your home. You entered the door and slammed it shut and locked it, leaning against it as you caught your breath. Safe, you were safe and sound. An arm suddenly grabbed you from behind making you scream. The glowing red eyes of a mothy fae greeted you. “Are you okay, my love?” You shrieked and tried to get out of the door you had just slammed closed, shaky hands fumbling desperately at the lock. “If something is after you I will keep you safe!” He exclaimed in a voice that could only be described as eager and “trilling”. He pulled you close and held you tight against his abs. You tried to flail out of his grip, to kick and push but he was so strong, you could see and feel his muscles even beneath his lavender fur. One set of arms wrapped around you, squeezing uncomfortably tight, while the other two slowly made trails all over your body, feeling up your rear, gently touching your sides, and finally turning your head towards him as he kissed you deeply, making a sound not unlike a purr as he did so. You struggled against him, fighting the kiss, your pleas and screams muffled into it, but he did not seem to mind. You tasted so wonderful. “Calm down my little light, I am here for you. I know you might be in denial and nervous, but I know you need me.” He gently grinded against you from behind, his large warm erection slipping between your thighs and plainly visible from between your legs. Precum smeared your thighs as he continued thrusting really slowly, like he was afraid he might harm his tiny little victim. His words, obviously, did nothing to console you and his erection clearly showed his sexual intent with you, eliciting the only logical response. “L-let go of me you fucking psycho! Are you touched in the fucking head!? Get your nasty dick away from me you filthy pervert!!! What in the ever loving fuck is wrong with you?” As you said these words with all the anger and venom you had in you you were flashing angrily as well. “Ah you flash so prettily for me my little fire~ Someone’s just grouchy because they don’t know how to admit they want to be my mate and get my cock in them!” He completely twisted the intent of your words until they reinforced his skewed reality. His cock prodded your entrance, lovingly massaging precum into your hole to lube you up while one of his roaming hands found your chest and he began lightly pinching your nipple. “You don’t need to act all tough my sweet flame, I know you’re soft. You have a mate now, no use pretending otherwise,” he cooed. “You’re a goddamn maniaaaaah-” Orion stopped your words by biting into your sensitive neck just as he finally drove his cock into you. You moaned involuntarily and your legs probably would have given out had he not been holding onto you with his powerful arms. “See? I’ll make my mate feel so good~” You felt a growing heat in your stomach as your light started flashing like crazy, your body was betraying you completely but no part of you wanted this. Tears flooded your eyes and sobs broke up the gasps leaving your body. Of course Orion was oblivious to your plight. Another thing he completely misinterpreted. Your frantic light signals were a sign for him to continue, your tears were clearly of joy, and you couldn’t help but sob in pleasure because your big strong mothy mate was taking such good care of you. The overstimulation was way too much. The mouth all over your neck, sucking, biting, licking, and kissing. The fingers playing with your nipples. The arms holding you so tightly like you were the most important treasure on earth. You came hard. You went limp and your mind went blank, as if trying to spare you what was happening to you to some degree. It was, almost, like an out of body experience. He did not stop at your climax, he kept diving into you over and over, licking up your beautiful tears that he was so sure were caused by the pleasure he was giving you. At long last he finally planted one more passionate kiss to your unresponsive lips and filled you with his viscous seed. His antenna flitted over you and he held you even closer than before. He finally got to breed his darling. And when you next rejoined reality you would find yourself in an unfamiliar dwelling, the place he called home, leaning against him with your face buried in his chest, quietly sobbing, as he slowly made love to you again and again. 

#Yandere terato #yandere teratophilia #yandere moth man #yandere moth fae #yandere boyfriend #yandere x reader #male yandere x gender neutral reader #yandere x gn reader #gender neutral reader #gn!reader #yandere monster #monster boyfriend #yandere fae #My OCs #My OC Orion

[milkb0nny]

Hii 👋🏼 Can you do an Ivar x floki daughter? They were raised together and she was his only friend when he was younger because she wasn't scared and he'll always protect her.

Older she become a healer of the village, and one day floki want her to marry ubble/hwitserk and Ivar become very very jaloux..👀

You can make fluff/smut/ angst as you want!

thank u 🤍☺️

Sorry for my English it’s not my first language

Jealous Games

Ivar the Boneless x fem!reader

Summary: One day, your father enters your room, unveiling that your parents want you to marry Ubbe. Though, the past years you grew feeling for another man: Ivar. You never told anyone about your true feelings for the man but now that Ubbe is supposed to be your husband, you feel utterly broken down. Refusing the offer, you leave the scene, only to discover a life changing secret...

Note: Thank you SO much for this request. It was a lot of fun writing it. I enjoyed writing this particular request more than I should've. 🤍 I hope you'll like it!

Warnings: slight angst (nothing graphic), forced possible marriage, mentions of anger issues, detailed kissing scene

Genres: slight angst, fluff

word count: 2.445

Ivar's childhood was shrouded in a tapestry of dark grays and blacks, a period marked by relentless bullying, discrimination, and a stark absence of love. love. Amid this harsh environment, Aslaug, his devoted mother, stood as one of the few adults who genuinely embraced him. Yet, even her unwavering love couldn't quell the relentless growth of his simmering anger. But, within these somber times, there existed a glimmer of hope - a hope that emerged when you entered his life.

Ivar adored Floki, viewing him as his own father and protector. Whenever the cruelty of both children and adults bore down upon him, Floki served as a steadfast anchor, and so did you. Your friendship started with a shy hesitation.

Helga and Floki, your parents, had taught you to always accept others, no matter how they looked like. You watched your father engage with Ivar, teaching him the art of weaponry and regaling him with Nordic sagas. You had shared them whenever you wanted company and as a result, the two of you became friends.

As the years passed, your bond with Ivar deepened. He shielded you from any unwelcome advances, such as nasty men, while you provided solace during his most challenging moments. Together, you embarked on hunting expeditions, sharing meals at Ivar's dwelling with his family.

Fortunately, his mother held you in high regard. She possessed a strict demeanor when it came to the women who orbited around her beloved sons, yet she understood your unshakable bond with Ivar. With open arms, she welcomed you whenever you graced her home with your cherished friend.

Of course you faced discriminating comments and remarks from time to time because of Ivar, though you stayed by Ivar’s side. You were the only woman who glimpsed Ivar's vulnerabilities, the only girl who had witnessed his anguished tears and experienced the gentleness that lay beneath his hard exterior during your shared childhood.

You knew him, cherished him, and secretly, perhaps even loved him. Yet, you concealed your affections, carrying them within your heart, as your father saw you both as siblings. Sure, you grew up together and were basically one person, but you could also love him, right?

You kept your adoration hidden and you honestly were fine with it because you remained close to Ivar but you always faced struggles when a woman tried to seduce him. You were a strong and loving woman, supporting a man whom few understood or respected.

In recent years, you had devoted your time to the study of science and honed your skills as a healer. Your knowledge extended to various herbs and methods to mend any kind of injury. Ivar sought your counsel frequently, valuing the conversations you shared.

The atmosphere between you was one of relaxation, love, and kindness, something that Ivar rarely encountered in his tumultuous life. He harbored deep emotions for you, but fear held him back. Rejection had been his constant companion throughout life, even from his own father, Ragnar Lothbrok. This fear of rejection crippled him, making him hesitant to express his emotions to you.

One day, your father entered your room with an unusual expression. You initially assumed he was about to share one of Floki's eccentric ideas, as was his habit. Therefore a bright smile creeped over your lovely face, greeting your father. However, what he proposed was far from comforting; it shattered your heart in a matter of seconds.

“I've been thinking about arranging a marriage between you and Ubbe,” he said, his words falling like lead..

You raised your eyebrows, believing that he joked at first but his serious expression remained - he meant it.

“Uh, father. I don’t know if I-,” you began, only to be interrupted by his eager explanation.

“I thought you’d remain close to Ivar and find a man who truly treats you right. I know Ubbe is a good man who will respect you,” he continued.

You pondered his words briefly, acknowledging that Ubbe was a compassionate and respectful man who held women in high regard. During your childhood, you had formed a fondness for him, but it was far from romantic.

No, you truly despised the idea.

“Father, I don't wish to marry," you protested vehemently, rejecting Floki's wishes, which he met with displeasure. You couldn't fathom joining hands with a man you didn't love, especially if it were your true love's brother. The thought left you with an overwhelming sense of unease.

“Child, you've reached a point in your life where you need a man to protect you. You're all on your own, and we're concerned," he voiced his genuine worries. While you understood his concerns, this request felt like an intrusion on your own autonomy, a call you couldn't embrace. You preferred making your parents proud and being a memorable member of Kattegat, but this wasn’t your true faith.

You were bound to none other than Ivar the Boneless, a man whose depths you knew better than your own skills as a healer. As you sat there, Floki's hand swept across his weary face, his gaze avoiding yours as he delivered the unimaginable truth.

“Ubbe has asked for your hand in marriage, and we've already agreed with Aslaug. The decision has been made, my dear," he disclosed, a heavy burden of heartache settling upon you. Tears welled in your eyes, and your cheeks flushed with the ache of this revelation.

“No, Father,” you protested, your voice quivering from the shock of their decision, made without your consent.

“We only want you to be happy," Floki tried to bridge the emotional chasm, but his words fell on deaf ears. You were consumed by fury, your emotions tearing at you, digging a chasm within your heart.

“I’m not!” You cried out, finally allowing your pent-up emotions to pour forth. "I'm not happy, Father. You have a woman you love, and Mother loves you too. Why can't I?” You shouted while tears ran down your soft skin, falling onto the ground. You sobbed uncontrollably.

“No, don’t think that,” Floki tried to console you, his heart aching as he witnessed your distress. After all, you were his beloved daughter, a sweet and loving child he cherished. Right now, you feared the fatherly connection was breaking apart.

“I’m not marrying Ubbe! I’d rather die,” you declared, your voice barely a whisper but loud enough for your father to comprehend. With those words hanging heavily in the air, you rose and fled the room, leaving your father behind. As you left the building you came across Ubbe, who of course knew about the idea before you did, though you rage signalized that you weren’t enlightened.

Floki followed closely, calling your name, but your steps quickened with each utterance. Ultimately, you ran away, seeking refuge in the familiar embrace of the Kattegat forest, a place you knew intimately. You spent a lot of time in the forests and fields to collect herbs and plants, sometimes even staying overnight in summer. With your father, mother, Ubbe, and the impending marriage fading into the background, you retreated into the solitude of the woods. Little did you know your secret significant other just found out about the marriage through Sigurd.

“You’re telling me, y/n is going to marry my brother?” The crackling fire of the fireplace represented Ivar’s slight rage as he received the information.

Sigurd understood that you were Ivar's soft spot, and while he relished the opportunity to tease his brother, he also conveyed the truth. Aslaug had kept this secret from Ivar, knowing precisely what she was doing.

“Yes. Ubbe is the eldest among us brothers, so it only makes sense for him to claim one of the town's most important women, Ivar,” Sigurd explained while deftly carving a sculpture from wood.

Ivar despised the idea entirely, his lips chewed raw as he gazed out the window. It was not Ubbe's right to simply take any woman, especially not you. He believed Ubbe was not meant for your delicate being, no matter how loving, respectful, and kind he might be. At least in the eyes of the Ragnarsson, Ubbe would never be worthy.

As the evening progressed, Ubbe and Floki entered the brothers' home. Ivar remained silent, seething with anger and disappointment. However, he was not Ubbe's primary concern.

“Ubbe, she ran way. I cannot force her,” Floki implored Ubbe to reconsider.

“Floki, it’s not your fault. I love her though, and you know it. I’d treat her with everything she desires and I’ll love the children she will bear,” Ubbe explained, greeting Sigurd and Ivar with a small nod.

“You don't love her if you'll force her to marry you," Ivar's words were cold and stern, his anger barely contained.

“Excuse me?” Ubbe was taken aback by the accusation.

Finally, Ivar’s jealousy piqued and he looked up to his brother, “You heard me. She doesn’t love you. She never will!” His words struck like a shock.

Sigurd, joining the conversation, couldn't resist a taunt, “Oh, are your little feelings hurt because she won’t hop in bed with you? Poor Ivar.”

Oh, how much Ivar hated these people, these cruel brothers who always take his hope away. They rob him of his freedom, his excitement and love. They always seemed to achieve everything, while Ivar was left with nothing but solitude and heartache. As the tension simmered within the dimly lit room, Ivar's words hung heavy in the air, causing a palpable rift between the brothers.

“Ivar, you have no right to dictate her heart. She's a woman with her own choices," Ubbe retorted, his voice carrying an air of defiance.

Ivar scoffed as a response to this unsolicited statement. It wasn’t Ivar who was trying to force himself upon you, it was Ubbe. All his life Ivar did nothing to pressure you or force you to do something. You had been safe around him, no burdens dragging you down when you had spent time together.

Sigurd, needing to provoke Ivar further, leaned in with a sly smile, "Is that so, Ivar? Or are you just afraid she might choose someone else over you?"

The youngest among them decided to not react to the jokes Sigurd made as he intentionally tried to fuel Ivar’s anger. While Ivar was torn between his immense longing for you and the realization that he might never be able to offer you the love and protection you deserved, Ivar couldn't help but feel that marrying Ubbe was wrong. The young Ragnarsson decided to leave the situation, searching for you.

They didn’t, but Ivar did.

Meanwhile, you had found safety in the forest, away from the prying eyes and expectations of your family and the town of Kattegat. There, you wandered aimlessly. As you reached a small, shallow river, you placed yourself on a rock. The silence and peace gave you enough room to reflect on the horrible decision of your parents.

You couldn’t deny your love for Ivar anymore. Whenever you thought about becoming Ubbe’s wife, Ivar’s face popped up on your mind. He was the fragile yet strong man you truly desired with your whole heart.

Tears still covered your face, seeking their way down into the cold water of the river.

It was in this melancholic moment that you spotted a familiar face among the shadows. Ivar’s presence unveiled itself on the other side of the river. His intense blue eyes, filled with a mixture of longing and despair, locked onto yours.

“Y/n,” he called your name out, his voice heavy with emotion.

You blinked a few times and a broken, yet warm smile rushed over your lips. You stood up, jumping over the small width of the river, getting closer to Ivar.

“Ivar…,” you whispered, seating you down next to him.

Even though you appreciated his company, your heart couldn’t bear to look into his loyal eyes. Alone the fact others think you and Ubbe would be a suitable couple made you feel dirty.

Ivar’s eyes remained locked on you, his voice filling the silence between you, “You… you don’t want to marry my brother, right?”

You frantically shook your head as an answer.

Ivar came a little closer, his eyes never leaving yours.

"I can't stand the thought of you being with him," he confessed, his vulnerability laid bare. Jealousy or not, his emotions were genuine and Ivar thrived for your love. Yet, he never told you.

“Ivar,” you whispered, contemplating whether you should reveal your intimate feelings. “Ubbe isn’t the man I want to call husband. Of course he’s intelligent and a wonderful fighter, though…”

Ivar’s soothing voice interjected, “I want you to stay by my side.”

Finally, a massive amount of weight released the both of you, and you widened your eyes in surprise. His confession lightened a fire inside you that you had guessed was already banished. A smile lingered on your lips while you replayed his words again and again in your mind. He asked you to remain his, not to become Ubbe’s woman or anyone else’s.

His eyes expressed his fear of rejection, since you two had shared a unique relationship he couldn’t put together. Your beautiful smile warmed his mind though, letting his hope grow little by little.

Your heart quickened in response to the significant magnetic pull between you. Softly, you said the words you had longed to say the past years.

“Ivar, I love you.”

Without a further word, Ivar reached out, his hand gently cupping your cheek. His touch was both tender and possessive, as if he wanted to memorize every inch of your face. He never held you like this - a whole new level of trust and intimacy unveiled itself. His passion and your admiration mixed together.

Slowly, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, tentative kiss. You didn’t know how a kiss normally feels like, but you knew his kiss was the right thing. His lips were warm and inviting, and his breath mingled with yours, creating an intimate connection that defied the existence of everything but your shared love for one another.

It was a kiss filled with unspoken promises - the weight of unexpressed emotions that were kept hidden for many years. It was a kiss that spoke of a love that had always been there, just waiting to be acknowledged, waiting to bloom, waiting to emerge.

When he gently pulled away, your hearts were racing, and a breathless silence hung between you.

Ivar's eyes stared into yours, filled with a raw intensity that left no room for doubt. He loved you too.

“No one will take your hand, except for me, Ástvinur.”

#vikings ivar #ivar ragnarsson #i'm crying #ivar the boneless #vikings x you #vikings x reader #vikings #ivar lothbrok #ivar x reader

[sunniskyies]

𝐈 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 || 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐎𝐝𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: - 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You've been missing with no trace, run away from Finnick in an effort to protect him. After years of searching, he unexpectedly finds you again 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Finnick Odair x fem!reader 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Talk about the Victor Trade and all that nasty Capitol stuff, cursing, argument 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: Angst with a fluffy wee ending („• ֊ •„) 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.5k 𝐀/𝐍: Writing all this self-loathing in the 2nd person feels like I’m just bullying you I’M SORRY FSFBWEVGJ

At the edge the pulsating beats and vivid neon lights of the club, you sit at the end of the bar, trying to stick to the shadows. The air hums with bassy music, all around you patrons clink glasses and laughter weaves through the crowded space. The bartender, expertly bustling around the various taps and counters, slides a colourful concoction across the polished counter to you.

“Thank you. Who’s it from?” You ask over the loud din, examining the drink. Definitely spiked.

“A man called up, sent it forward to you. A Mr. Harrington-Smythe.” The man says, already wandering off to squeeze money out of a group of tipsy, underaged girls. You sigh to yourself. Mr. Harrington-Smythe, your client for that evening.

You scoff. Of course the pompous git thinks you won’t be able to tell the presence of substances in the drink, the man thinks higher of dog shit on his shoe than he does a woman. You’ve had him before, and this isn’t the first time he’s tried to drug you in advance. In the past, you’ve just pretended to be high so he wouldn’t complain to Snow.

You slide off the stool you are perched on, about to go to the bathroom to tip the vile stuff down the drain, when your eyes catch on someone across the crowded room.

You know he’s staring straight at you, even through the flickering lights and writhing bodies. How could you not, you can basically feel his waves of surprise and anguish rolling over you. There’s something else there too, another emotion that you can’t place, one that makes your stomach churn and your heart skip a beat.

You quickly rip your eyes away from his, setting the cold drink back down on the bar with shaking hands, and then disappearing into the dancefloor. He’s no doubt already walking after you, hopefully you can lose him in the crowd.

Once at the other side of the room, you slip through a side door that will take you up to the roof. You can stay up there for a while, lay low until you have to make your way back down for your appointment. You’re almost through when you realise you’ve made a mistake.

Finnick hadn’t lost sight of you in the crowd like you'd counted on, and now he’s headed straight for you. You’re cornered, with only the roof to go to now. So as quickly as possible, you hurry up the stairs with a pounding heart, behind you you hear that voice you never thought you’d hear again.

“Y/N! Wait, stop. Hang on.” He calls up the stairs, following after you.

You burst into the cold night air, and stumble around looking for a place to hide, but you’ve had a few drinks and are blinded by the raw emotion coursing through you. You haven’t prepared for this! Still reeling, you’re completely caught off guard when Finnick appears in the door after you.

“You don’t have to run away, Y/N. I just want to talk.” He says cautiously, a nervous hand running through his golden curls.

Even after all this time, he still takes your breath away. You wish you could forget knowing every freckle on his body, every scar that dots his skin. You wish you could lock away the memories you have, the knowledge of where he blushes and what he laughs at, the feeling of his warm hands on your hips, your face, your lips…

You must look like a frightened animal, cowering and shivering before the man, because he takes a hasty step back, unwilling to scare you off. Of course he’s still a gentleman to you, even after all you’ve done.

That somehow makes this harder.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just can’t let you leave again, not without talking to you. Not when you’re right here.” He says, his voice edged with shock. You can’t blame him, you’re feeling the same exact way, the man you never thought you’d see again standing here before you.

“Finnick,” You say hoarsely. “I’ve got to go. I’ve got an appointment.”

Hurt and anguish flash through those green eyes of his, but it hardens into something more. “So that’s it? That’s all you have to say to me? After all of this? Don’t you realise how much I’ve been worrying about you?” He says incredulously, his voice raised to a cry.

You open your mouth wordlessly. You haven’t planned for this. You haven’t planned for this.

“I have to go. I’ve got an appointment,” Is all you can muster.

Finnick’s eyes widen, shock and anger now all you feel radiating off him and it makes you wince at its abrasive touch.

“Y/N, you’ve been gone for four years! I haven’t seen you in four years! I woke up one day, and you were gone, no warning!” His voice catches, whether it’s from grief or anger, you can’t tell. “The only secret I have been asking from my clients all this time is if they know anything about where you are. Where I can find you again.” He laughs, cold and hard-edged. “Apparently you’ve been moving around a lot.”

You have been, it’s true. You move house every few months, living in small towns across District 4. When you're in the Capitol, you've had your manager scheduling all your appointments on weeks when Finnick wouldn’t be in town, and in establishments where you wouldn’t run the risk of bumping into any of the other Victors.

You take a shaky breath. The shock of seeing Finnick has subsided slightly, and you're managing to formulate full sentences now

“I’m sorry I’ve worried you, Finnick. But I’m not sorry I left,” You croak. The hurt in his gaze is strong, but it doesn’t rival the 4 years worth of dark shadows that sit under his eyes. Has he not been sleeping well since you left?

“You’re not sorry,” He repeats, disbelief rolling each word around in his mouth, trying it out. His face goes stony again.

“Right. Well, who is he then? This guy you’ve left me for?” He’s out of the doorway now, standing just a few feet away. You can just about feel the heat rolling off him. He still runs hot, you whisper to yourself.

“Do you love him? Does he love you?” He steps closer, but not menacingly. He could throw a stone at you and you would still feel safe around him, you think you always will.

“Does he kiss you how I used to?” He murmurs, his voice has gone deep and gravelly.

You swallow the lump in your throat. “There is no guy, Finnick. There’s no one.” You breathe shakily. No matter what, you cannot let him see you cry. You can’t let him think you were wrong about all of this. “There’s only Snow.”

“Snow?” Finnick repeats again. You nod slightly.

“Snow. The Trade. Being a Victor. That’s all there is for me.” You feel the familiar wave of disgust roll over you, but instead of pushing it away, you hold it close. That’s what you do. You coat your mind in these feelings, never wanting to forget what you are. Who you’ve killed, what you’ve done. “It’s destroyed me, Finnick. The only thing left to take away is those I love. So I removed it.” Your voice has gone quiet again. Finnick’s staring at you like you just shot him.

“So that’s why you’ve done this to me? You’re frightened of Snow? Y/N, I’ve never been scared of Snow, I’ve been scared for you. I thought we’d talked about this, that we would face this together! But you've just been trying to deal with this yourself? Y/N that's completely ridiculous, do you hear how ridiculous you sound right now?" He’s shouting now, and even you feel anger stirring in your chest. Why isn’t he getting it?

"But it worked, you’re still safe,” You scowl. "Everyone else is buying it, I don't see the problem."

"Buying it? Y/N there's nothing to buy, you've been completely absent all these years!" Finnick cries, hands once again tearing through his curls.

You scoff. "Whatever, Finnick. I can't do this right now. Just, go back to that stupid party" Push him away. Push him away.

"Stop trying to escape this situation, Y/N. You're still doing it, even now. Running away." He’s gotten even closer, his voice simmering with anger, a scalding quality that leaves painful brands on your heart. Hold it close, you tell yourself. 

"No Finnick, I'm not running away. That implies I've got a place to run to. I don't. I have a house in Four, and a room in the Capitol. That's it, that's all they are. Buildings. I don't have a home." You seethe.

Finnick closes the gap between you and grasps your wrist firmly, but not painfully. "You had a home. With me."

Though it makes your heart clench, you pull your wrist from his hold. "So go home. Get married, have kids. Live your life. That's what I wanted for you."

The angry waters in his ocean eyes have sunk into a dull swell. "It doesn't feel like a home anymore. Not without you." Your throat tightens.

"You have to let me go, Finnick,” You whisper. He straightens up fully, taking a step back. His hand is back in his hair, and the way he grasps threatens to pull it out completely.

"I can't! Don't you know how it eats me up inside? The abruptness of it all?" He cries. The dull ripples in his eyes have grown again to a crashing shoreline of emotion, waves of unsaid words finally breaking on the sand.

“If I knew that peck would be our last kiss, I would've never pulled my lips from yours. If I had known that time I held you would be the last, I would've wrapped you up in every bit of myself, show you the enormity I feel for you inside. But there was no closure with you, there was just the end.” His voice is heavy. “I would do anything for you, Dove. Did I not show that? Did I not make it clear?" His voice cracks.

It feels like every breath you’ve ever taken has left your body. "You did,” You murmur thickly.

"But you still left. Was it not enough?" He croaks. "Was I not enough?" Hurt flares in your chest. "You were more than enough, Finnick." Your voice is shaky but resolute. "You were everything."

But Finnick isn’t satisfied. He scoffs.

"If I was your everything, how could you leave me like that? You're my everything too, and I couldn't ever bring myself to do that to you. So one of us is lying, and it sure as hell isn't me." He growls.

He continues, filling the silence left in the wake of his harsh words. "But that's the pathetic thing about me, isn't it? I would still have you even if you didn't love me the same. I would choose you every time, even if you left me again and again. I'd still love you. I still love you."

The knowledge that you made him feel this pain- the feeling you get is indescribable. "You mistake my actions for unloving, Finnick. They come from a place of love.” You choke.

"It fucking felt unloving, Y/N.”

The ache worsens. You make a mental note to tattoo it to your brain later. "I did it for you. You just... don't understand."

"So make me understand, Dove. I used to understand you, at least I thought I did. It kills me to not know what you’re thinking anymore." He sighs, the fight left from his eyes. All that remains is a sheen of… grief.

"What I'm thinking? I’m thinking about how I couldn't live with myself if Snow hurt you to punish me, if he knew how I feel about you. I've spent my whole life loving you, Finnick. And I'll spend the rest of it loving you. I wake every morning to find my lips mourning yours, my heartbeat grieving its other half.” The tears are really threatening to fall now. “But I live with it, live with that debilitating ache in my chest because it would hurt more for you to grow to see me as the monster I am. For us to live together, and to one day know for sure you don't love me. I deserve that ache, a reminder every second I spend apart from your touch that I deserve it, for all I've done."

"So I leave, and I leave, and I leave. Because trust me, Finnick, I am not the one you deserve. A murderer, yes. A Capitol tool, yes. But someone deserving of your affections?" You close your watery eyes and shake your head.

His hands unexpectedly seize your face, sending a shockwave through you. His mouth collides with yours, the kiss that ensues is desperate and fervent, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that rolls through you like a storm. Soon, you're lost in the familiar feeling of his touch and the way he knows your body so well. Your heart races as he traces clumsy fingertips along your spine, his lips remembering the sensitive spot on your mouth that always makes you shiver.

"You claim to know me," He speaks against your lips, fiercely kissing you over and over again. "But you’re blind to anyone’s faults but your own. You forget I am those things too-"

"You’re nothing like me! I killed that boy in the arena!-" Your protest is cut off by another kiss.

"You did what you had to to get yourself back to me. How could I ask for more? I still love you." He murmurs with that smooth voice that makes you melt.

"I'm evil,” You whisper.

He just kisses you again. "So be it. I still love you"

"The Capitol, they've ruined me." You breathe, the wind knocked out of you.

"Then let me pick up the pieces; I still love you,” You see his eyes between bouts of him trailing kisses across your skin. The oceans within them have finally settled for the first time in years.

You’re not fighting him anymore, letting your body move where his hands move you, letting you lips chase his and your breathing sync. He has this unique ability to wipe clean the coating of pain on your heart and mind that you’ve spent 4 years building up with one touch.

“We have appointments.” You murmur to him. He doesn’t stop his exploration of you, too long has he been unable to show his affections.

“Who cares? If we both don’t go, there’s no one for him to hurt. We only have each other.” He replies. You smile softly, relishing his heat and his touch. You were wrong earlier, home isn’t the bed you left that day. It’s him, his touch and his love. Home is where Finnick is, in the space where his lips touch your skin.

"Stay this time." He whispers, so quiet you could’ve lost it in the wind.

"But would you still want me?" You ask. He pulls back at that, eyes syrupy and intently focused on you.

"I can't imagine a universe where I wouldn't want you."

© sunniskyies 2024, do not repost or translate my work

#ph☆ebe's scribbles #finnick odair x reader #hunger games fic #one shot #finnick odair fanfic #finnick x reader #finnick x you #finnick x y/n #finnick odair #the hunger games #blurb #fanfic #fanfiction

[musingmeaninglessly]

Heyy!! I hope you are doing great!!

I wanted to know if your requests are still open cause I have this really cute trope that has been on my mind!!

If you are ready for a new request here it is:

Sunshine human reader X neteyam or loak

she comforts everyone around her who seem upset ,she helps them if they need it and hype them up etc.

And just neteyam/ loak just admire her from afar when she does this. Thank you In advance!<33

Neteyam & Lo'ak x Sunshine Human! Reader

I'm so sorry, anon, that this took so long! I hope it's worth the wait💙

Neteyam;

⭐️There are times when Neteyam is a little closed-off, a little shy. His sense of duty can, at times, create distance between him and others. He is always striving to be better, always thinking about everyone else, wanting the best for them. Being the best for them.

⭐️It's these traits that drew him to you.

⭐️You both could have been cut from the same cloth. You’re so intent on checking in with everyone, Na'vi and human. He'd never beheld such a kind soul, and something about you spoke to him.

⭐️But he didn't miss that tiny glint of tiredness in your eyes. How, at times, you looked about ready to crack from the arduous chores asked of you. Yet, you always willed your little human body on. And did so with a smile that rivalled the sun itself.

⭐️Often, the only thing to snap Neteyam out of his own people-pleasing tendencies was the sight of you. As soon as his eyes locked onto you, he'd find it hard to look away. One time, Lo'ak even had to wave his hand in front of his brother's face to bring him back to reality, but Neteyam didn't even care about the subsquent teasing one bit.

⭐️He wants to pluck up the courage to find out about you. There's no question of him being head-over-heels for you. That was set in stone the very first time he saw you indulge in one of Tuk's tediously childish games. But, you did it with that same smile you always did.

⭐️He vows to one day find out more about you, and with your permission, see every side of you, not just your sunny smile.

Lo'ak;

⭐️Lo'ak was first made aware of your sunny disposition after he'd withstood yet another scolding from Jake. Stomping over to the lab, he'd ran into you by accident, assuming that everyone was out collecting samples. Yet, by reason of fate or some other unexplainable force, you were the only one left behind.

⭐️You had soothed his anguish with an expertise he couldn't quite believe. He'd seen you around before but the two of you really hadn't conversed that much. It wasn't for lack of want on his part. He had just never been able to get you alone; until now.

⭐️As though this were your thousandth time comforting him, you had said all the right things. And not just the usual cliches, either. You had listened to him pour his heart out and actually heard his words of hurt. You had seen him.

⭐️Now, he can't help seeking out your sunny persona at every opportunity. He can't help it. Even in the dark, your smile lights up any surrounding space, stretching until it reaches your eyes. And that's enough to make him feel healed again. Feel whole again.

⭐️He sees you as a gift sent from the stars. No doubt about it. And every day, he finds himself wondering how such a tiny, perfect being could have such a plentiful heart.

#neteyam #avatar #neteyam sully #avatar 2 #atwow #neteyam x reader #neteyam x human reader #avatar neteyam #lo'ak #neteyam x human #neteyam imagine #neteyam hc #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam x y/n #lo'ak sully #lo'ak x human reader #lo'ak x reader #lo'ak te suli tsyeyk'itan #lo'ak avatar #lo'ak x fem!reader

[gretavanlace]

Welcome To Hell

Jake Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, angst, degradation, praise, impact play and illusions to impact play, unprotected sex, language, dirty talk, oral sex, alcohol consumption, etc.

This one spun outta control like I wrote it on black ice. My apologies for length and shitty editing in advance xoxo

Jake hates a scene. Loathes raised voices that might demand the hushed attention of a room. Despises eyes hungrily devouring, unblinking, staring, consuming. The morbid curiosity of it all is abhorrent.

What’s going on here? Those eyes ponder, raking over the situation in devilish glee. It’s human nature, he knows, like when you struggle to look away from something gruesome, but he doesn’t have to like it.

Unless he is strutting his way across a stage, soaking in the anguished, desperate need and admiration of those who buy a ticket to take the ride, he doesn’t want it.

Wrapped in an embellished suit and spilling his soul into the universe from behind a sword made of frets and strings - that is the only time his stoic nature allows him to step into the light when he so often yearns for the shadows.

Jacob is a libertine of the finest sort, but only once the curtain has dropped. Or, with you wearing the marks of his teeth, legs spread wide and inviting, beneath him.

You know of this particular aversion, this detest of observation. Of course you do. You know it now, and you knew it last night. You just hadn’t been able to find the will to give a damn.

So, rather than taking a few deep breaths to center yourself and maybe making the switch to water, you had fumed, allowing frustrated thoughts to stoke the bonfire of anger within you - and you drank. And drank. And drank. Ordering rum and coke after rum and coke until you could feel the bartender clocking you carefully, attempting to decide if he’d overserved you. He had. He most definitely had.

As is so often the case with angry drunks, it suddenly seemed such an ideal time to pick a fight. A good time to pitch your voice loud enough to bring the conversation at your table, in a tucked away corner of the bar, to a grinding halt.

A great time to accuse him of wanting to fuck the bubbly little raven-locked beauty, with the tiny skirt and anything but tiny tits, that had been fluttering around him at the pool table. A sex dripping hummingbird flitting about in his personal space, while he donned a soft, welcoming smile.

A wonderful time to invite him to go fuck himself as you stormed through the crowd dramatically.

A fantastic time to rage against the situation concocted within your inebriated haze, complete with sloppy tears and dramatic overreactions, until Danny had finally wrangled you into an Uber…riding along beside you while you dozed, head heavy on his shoulder. Exhausted from your drunken tantrum.

When you woke this morning, you did so with no memory of how you had ended up in bed, or who had removed the complicated, strappy heels from your feet. Or who, like some great god of mercy, had left the tall glass of water waiting on your bedside table. But you had your suspicions, and they were paired with small flashes of memory that proved you were correct. Daniel. Who else?

Another elusive bit of information was when Jake had finally made it home. You’d found him, splayed across the couch, hair tangled against a throw pillow, boots kicked off, but otherwise fully dressed. He was home, but you were unsure of how long that had been so. He might have collapsed onto the cushions five minutes after Danny tucked you in, or he might have stumbled in with the sun, cock still warm from her mouth.

Though, without the alcohol clouding your judgment, the very idea seemed ridiculous. Jake, with his sleepy eyes and gentle heart could never, and would never, even if he could.

He’d rolled off the sofa while you quietly rummaged around in the fridge, yanking out the ingredients you’d need to create a ‘terribly sorry for being an embarrassing mess last night’ BLT…a peace offering stacked high with peppered bacon and remorse.

When he found you once more, he was showered and looking no worse for wear. He looked so softly domestic in his hard worn jeans and long sleeved T, and you had longed to make amends, but he declined your breakfast of apologies. Even waving off the steaming mug of coffee you held out to him, while muttering something about the studio.

Never one to withhold affection in twisted punishment, he had kissed your forehead and strode out the door, assuring you he’d call if things began to look as though they might run late.

But his irritation with you was evident. Tangible in a way that sent a sharp pang of guilt flashing through your heart. He hadn’t forgotten, and he hadn’t yet forgiven.

You’d spent the rest of the morning ambling through the market. Piling your basket high with carefully selected root vegetables. Bags stuffed full to their brims with parsnips, turnips, and sweet potatoes. Onions, carrots and fennel, nestled in beside the broth and spices that would soon create the base for Jake’s favorite stew.

Veggies, lovingly sliced and diced, were rolling lazily this way and that, dancing in a slow simmer, when the first spits of rain began to pebble at the kitchen windows…

And now, here you sit, waiting patiently at the bottom of the stairs, legs tucked to the side and hidden beneath the hem of his favorite outfit. A worn and tattered, thrifted sweatshirt, at least three sizes too large, displaying the name of a university neither of you have ever heard of.

Inexplicably drawn to it at a flea market the two of you had stumbled upon, you plunked down a five dollar bill and immediately made it yours.

That same night, he’d watched you hack away at the sleeves with kitchen scissors, then hem the jagged edges with a needle and thread, tongue clenched between your teeth in concentration. And as he watched, he sank even deeper into the pool of his love for you.

That unskilled tailoring had resulted in sleeves that were uneven, but no longer swallowed your hands up. You wear that stupid sweatshirt around the house as a dress constantly, hair a mess atop your head in a bun, legs bare, and he doubts he could love it more if he tried.

You don’t know a thing about his little love affair with this particular article of clothing. Sometimes he says nothing at all when words threaten to fail, which is so very often the case between his heart and the tiny things that make you, you.

He finds you there, biding your time until he slips back into your orbit…waiting for his return with hopeful eyes glittering with love. That love softens his resolve and he feels the annoyance that has tried his patience all day, lessening.

“Hi.” You sound quiet, your one-worded greeting weighed down with contrition.

“Hi.” He takes his time leaning his guitar case against the door jamb, meticulous in its placement to be sure it won’t shift and hit the floor, and then adds a somber, “Something smells good.” as he pulls off his water sodden boots.

“I made stew.” You’re avoiding his eyes now that you can feel his energy. “Your favorite.”

“S’good weather for it.” He nods, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Chilly.”

You want to rise to your feet, to close the gap of space between the two of you. It feels cavernous. But, you prove rooted in place with the uncomfortability of it all. Are you actually discussing the weather? Like strangers on a train?

At last, you gather your bearings and stand, no longer a deer frozen in the headlights of his disappointment. “Jake…”

“Let’s just forget about it, alright?” He turns away, though you’ve reached for him. “Maybe it was a little much. It’s understandable that you’d be jealous, she was pretty. Beautiful, really.”

He’s said it to be cruel, to be hurtful, and the low blow has successfully landed, but you pretend it hasn’t. On with the show. He won’t remember she ever existed to begin with by the end of the night.

“But you’re still upset, baby…” you breathe the words gently and nuzzle your nose along his jawline. “You’re still angry with me, underneath it all. I can feel it.”

Relaxing his stance in your arms he huffs a tiny sigh. “I just— I don’t know why you have to—“

Your teeth graze over the delicate scar that lives just below his cheekbone. The spot that never fails to render his heart soft and his cock hard. “Why I have to what, Jake? Misbehave?”

A smoky ‘fuck’ slips of his lips when your fingers curl into the waist of his pants, tugging the linen with just enough force to remind him of where your fingers are.

“You should make me behave.” You kiss your way along until you find his mouth, licking into it with a quiet and obscene hum.

“I was mouthy and so mean,” your palm slides across his warm, soft stomach, fingers inching further downward just to hear the breath in his lungs catch. “and you’re always so good to me, Jake. So sweet. I don’t deserve it.”

Deeply perturbed though he may be with you, his love runs deeper still, “you do deserve it, sweetheart. Even when you’re drunk and terrible, you’re still my favorite girl.”

The pad of his thumb trails across your bottom lip, string-worn callous catching the velvet skin that scrubs and masks keep silken. “Careful with my lips, Jakey,” You lightly scratch against the sparse, downy hair that trails his navel. “I work so hard to keep them soft for your pretty cock.”

His hand runs up the nape of your neck and, with his fingers wrapped around the base of your bun, he snaps your head back with a deft flick of his wrist. The searing sting makes you hiss through your teeth and he calls back with a groan through his own clenched bite. “I didn’t ask for your smart mouth. You’re in trouble and I think a bit of respect would be a wise decision on your part, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir.” You arch forward, longing to press yourself against the sturdy warmth of his body.

Rather than allow it, he loosens his hold on you and steps back, studying your flushed face as though he’s never laid eyes on you before. As though he’s heard tell of what you’re capable of, and is deciding whether or not it might be worth his time to fuck the brat out of you.

“You want to be punished?” He walks his fingers down the outside of your thigh, barely making contact with the trembling muscle you’d give anything to feel him bury his grip into. To watch him spread you open wide and claim his prize.

You nod, cock drunk on him already, though you’ve yet to see it, touch it, worship it.

He tilts his head, as if weighing the possibilities “What if I take you outside, hmm? March you to the gallows?” His touch remains far too light, too gentle. “Make you pick a switch…put you over my knee right there on the front porch, show the whole neighborhood what a nasty fucking handful you are.”

“Whatever you want, Jake.” And you mean it. You probably shouldn’t, but you do. God help you, you mean it.

“Call me Jake one more time and I’ll wash your mouth out with soap.” He warns, pressing a finger to your lips. He doesn’t want a response. Watching you play by the rules for once will do just fine for him, thank you.

In a breath, his hand is warm between your thighs, fingers toying with you, taunting, teasing, withholding. “Upstairs. Now.” His demand comes gently, but it leaves no room for discussion all the same. “Everything off. I’ll be up when I feel like it.”

~

You wait without patience, but he isn’t in the room to scold you for fidgeting this way and that, nor is he close enough to hear your tiny huffs of annoyance…

…until he is.

You never hear a sound. Not a creak on the stairs, nor footfall in the hallway…he simply appears in the doorway like a specter. An apparition, bathed in darkness and sex, sent to ruin you.

Your black phantom moves closer, eyes never landing on you, though you wait on display for him. Nipples pebbled and aching, sitting on your heels with your knees parted so that he might catch sight of his favorite place to play.

He ignores all this and instead, focuses on the soft lengths of rope you have laid out beside you at the foot of the bed.

Jake knows this rope. His thoughts skip to the white rose bushes you planted out back one sunny morning, in homage to his band. You’ve cut it from the spool you use to tie the bushes to stakes, ensuring they grow straight and strong. He will never look at those white roses again without remembering this moment.

“And what is this for, baby girl?’ He runs a length of it through his fingers thoughtfully. “Are you expecting to be tied down? Would you like that?”

“Yes.” When did your voice grow so meek? “Tie me down and punish me…any way you’d like.”

He drops the rope, entirely disinterested, “Spread your legs and touch yourself. Love on her for me. She must need it bad by now.”

You obey instantly, earning a lazy smile in reward. But as quick as that smirk appears, it vanishes, when he leans in close enough to brush your nose with his own, while you circle your clit with faint pressure, careful not to get greedy.

“I don’t need rope, sweetheart.” He hushes like a secret “You will stay where I put you. You will lie still when I say so, and you will move when I say so. You will do as you’re fucking told, or you will suffer the consequences. Are we clear?”

Leaning in, your tongue laps over his lips, desperate to taste him…he takes momentary pity on you and offers the tip of your tongue a gentle suck before straightening.

Wandering over to the dresser, he begins digging around in your top drawer, shuffling satin and lace around, searching. “I’m thinking of filling your pretty mouth up. You look so lovely with my cum dripping off your lips.”

A sound of wanton anticipation whines out of you. “You like that? You want to get down on your knees and ask forgiveness? Prove how sorry you are with a cock in your mouth?”

He’s fucking obscene, and you plan to relish every second of his condescending filth. You sigh shakily in confirmation and lick the lips he spoke of so indecently, eager to get on with it.

“Well, it sounds like you want it, so I suppose that isn’t much of a punishment at all, now is it?” At last he turns, and you drink in the beauty of his face.

“Put these on.” A scrap of fabric lands on the duvet beside you.

Fingers clasped around white silk, your eyes squint in question. “You’re asking me to get dressed? I thought we were moving in another direction here, Kiszka.”

He is across the room in a blink, grip locked around your chin. “Watch your tone, miss mouth. You’re toeing a line you don’t want to cross, I promise you.”

The brat in you shoves up her sleeves, ready to get to work. “Or what? Are you going to bend me over and spank my ass until I beg you to stop?”

The light in his eyes snuffs out, leaving only a menacing darkness that sets your pulse to racing as he slowly leans in. Lips caressing the shell of your ear, he strokes a thumb down the swell of your breast. “No, Sweetheart, I’ll bend you over and fuck your ass until you beg me to stop.”

A sigh of a gasp escapes you, fluttering his hair.

He straightens and casually pets your hair, “But we don’t need to worry about that, do we? Because you’re going to be a very good girl for me, aren’t you? You’re going to be the best girl - all for me, isn’t that right?”

Your response comes immediately, and without thought. “Yes, sir.”

“You see?” He smiles, booping your nose with the tip of his finger. An innocent, cuddly act that doesn’t match the tone of the room “My baby girl has such manners. Now,” he swats a finger at your cheek, “put your panties on.”

“Why?” You’re doing as you're told even as you question him.

With an off handed air, he answers, as if bored with your inquisitiveness. “Because I’d like to taste your cunt on them, that’s why.”

“Please?” Oh, how fucking pathetic you are - and oh, how little you care.

“Please what?” He is so quiet, so tender, as he sinks to his knees before you, you can almost trick yourself into believing he’s going to give in.

“They’re on.” You snap the elastic at your hip and fall back on the bed, nestling into the cool cloud of blankets and sheets beneath you. “Taste me on them. I want your mouth.”

He hums softly, the back of his knuckle trailing over your clit as it aches in desperation. “You’re beautiful everywhere, aren’t you? My pretty, pretty girl. Don’t you wish for a kiss, baby? Wouldn’t that feel nice? Soft and slow? Right here on this perfect clit?”

His fingers wander with just enough intent to make your hips rock as he gazes down between your thighs “Sweet and swollen. Just wants to be spoiled a little, doesn’t she?”

Nodding eagerly, you fist at the blankets, grounding yourself. “Please,”

“You want my mouth?”

Suddenly, you have it. His tongue, like warm, wet satin, laps over you through the scant material you’ve already soaked. “Like that, baby?”

He sounds so smug “is that how you want it? Or do you want it like this…” his fingers peel your panties aside to allow his tongue to wander along freely.

A muffled hum chokes it’s way out of your chest “Yes, baby, please. Don’t stop…” your hips thrust up to meet him “More...”

“Aw, sweetheart…” he taunts, landing a cruel smack against your center that makes your thighs snap together “and you were doing so well, too. Bossy gets you nowhere, little girl.”

Shoving your legs apart, the pad of his thumb circles over the dripping material that is, once again, concealing your clit. “Think you can cum like this?” He sounds so casual, as though he’s asked you for the time. “If I touched you and licked you just like this?”

As his face draws nearer, you begin to pant…breathing lust heavily into the room. “Yes! Yes! Please, Jake…”

His eyebrows raise, mockingly pondering your face as you stare down at him, silently willing him into action “But I’m not even really touching you. I’m touching your panties, that’s all. Are you really that pitiful? Needy little pussy, dripping and begging.”

“Fuck!” Your fist tangles in his hair, tugging at it urgently and without care.

He hisses at the burn of the sting - the flash of pain he has never hidden his affections for - and then there are both of his hands, wrapped around your throat carefully. Ever mindful to never hurt you in a manner unintentional. To never get carried away and leave a mark he hadn’t thought out, coaxed a tear he didn’t anticipate.

You’re left to whine under his wicked glare until, at last, his voice comes…guttural and threatening, yet still glazed in velvet, lush and rich. “Fucking behave yourself. I won’t tell you again.”

His grip tightens, locking you in the warm vice of his hands. He sees the insubordinate gleam in your eye, and he’s warning you, though he knows it will do no good. “And if I don’t?”

The second you speak, you wish you hadn’t. He isn’t the only one who can read the thoughts behind your eyes, and a poisoned malevolence is darting about in his.

“If you don’t,” he offers you a cruel tip of his brow, like he thinks the answer should be obvious. “If you don’t, I’ll make you watch her preen, pretty and sweet, with my cock down her throat.”

You ought to be ashamed for the way your body writhes and throbs at the very idea of it, but you’ll worry about that some other time.

“You’re evil,” you breathe.

He seems amused as his thumb begins to stroke over your pounding jugular, “Am I?”

“Yes.” You’ve never wanted him more.

“Well then, pretty girl…” his tongue snakes up the side of your cheek, “welcome to hell.”

~

Hours may have ticked away, or perhaps just minutes. It’s entirely plausible that time stopped its monotonous shuffle all together, and you’re now floating in limbo.

There is no way to tell. There is only Jake.

Jake, as he moves above you slowly, deliberately - tangled waves of silken chocolate gently swaying, creating a hazy curtain of his scent around you as your vision blurs.

“Harder, baby…” your words are quiet, barely a whisper, and pointless. “Please.”

“Shut up.” He hushes back as if confessing his love. “I’ll fuck you harder when I decide you deserve it.”

You shouldn’t do it. It’s manipulative, and underhanded. You do it anyway. “Did you really want her?”

You know he didn’t, you’re simply aiming to weaken his resolve. It backfires in a way you’d never expect.

“How do you know I didn’t have her?’ He taunts mercilessly, slipping his thumb in your mouth to pry it open. He speaks into it, licking and sucking at your lips and tongue between vicious words, still sliding in and out of you at a maddeningly slow clip.

“How do you know I didn’t go home with her?” He eases his thumb into your mouth for you to suckle comfortingly “Maybe, while Daniel was tucking you into bed, I was tucking my cock inside her?”

“Liar.” You choke out through a moaning clench around him.

A feral sound growls out of his lungs as you squeeze up tight. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t think about it. You were being so mean. Maybe I wanted her because she looked at me like I hung the moon and made her little pussy all wet and messy.”

Your teeth bury themselves into his flesh, but he merely curls his thumb and pries your bite open.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” With a blissfully swift snap of his hips he fucks into you a little harder. “You don’t wanna play in the kitchen anymore now that the heat’s caught up with you?”

Your hands move to latch onto his shoulders through the shirt he has refused to remove, his pants are only unbuttoned and shoved down far enough to slip inside of you, he says it’s all you’ve earned.

Yes, your hands reach for him, but he puts a stop to it with a harsh, clipped, order. “Hands down. Now.”

Palms once again flat against the bed at your sides as you’ve been instructed, he carries on fucking you, filling the room with your desperate moans and whines, and his bullshit lies.

“I wanted to put my hand on her waist right here,” he tucks into the dipping curve just above your hip and grips tighter and tighter, tugging you closer. “Yeah, right here, just like this. Just the way you like. Right where I grab you when you’ve been a good enough girl to take it hard.”

He can feel the muted fury seize your muscles up tight while your heart begins to pound a hyper-beat of fiery madness, and he jabs at you further with a taunting grin, smoothing his palm flat up your trembling skin sweetly until the globe of your breast is cupped in his hand. “And I’d have done it, baby girl. I’d have fucked her, but I knew you’d smell her on me…perfume that wasn’t yours, the scent of her skin, of her pretty cunt…”

“Fuck you,” the blow comes out of left field, even to yourself, and lands hard upon his cheek.

He fights the recoil and nuzzles into it, body humming with electric lust. “You’re so mean, sweetheart. Do it again.”

“Please!” The sobbing need turns your plea into a prayer, fraught with the desperation he has grown completely addicted to.

It rips a carnal, raspy groan out of his chest. He is full of lies, and he knows it just as well as you do. He needs what only you can give. You’ve rendered him a man willing to do anything to get even just a taste of the way you love him.

But, Jake loves the game, as well.

His warm clutch, rough from the unforgiving metal of strings, closes around your throat once more, eyes fluttering when a moan chokes out of you.

You sound like angels sighing, but he doesn’t allow himself to be lost completely, lest you win this round.

“I said, do it again.” Teeth clenched, his demand comes with authority that leaves no room for defiance.

He steels himself to absorb the blow, but his cock twitches wildly inside you upon the cracking impact and you can’t help yourself. “You like that? You sick fuck.”

A grin, flashing and gorgeous, settles upon his beautiful lips. It steals the moment, shaping it into something new, something softer.

“You fucking love it. You want me to hit you back, I can see it in your eyes.”

You can’t hide anything from him - never could. He reads you with astonishing ease; fingertips racing deftly over the tiny blips of braille that map your thoughts. The rushing thump of your pulse spoken word poetry whispering secrets to him.

“I do.” Your confession slips off your tongue with quiet confidence. You are safe with him.

He caresses your face gingerly, adoring you with a feather-light touch you haven’t asked for, “I’d never hit you, baby. I don’t want to.”

A frown that you try to fight pulls at your lips, eliciting the softest chuckle from him, baptizing you in his love. He is your sweet Jakey again. Just that quickly. You don’t know whether to rejoice or mourn. “She pouts because I refused to mar her lovely face. Scandalously filthy, sweetheart.”

You take advantage of that pout he can’t seem to resist, “Fuck me harder now, sir. I need it, baby.” Sir and baby intermingle strangely, but something about it works.

“Yeah? You need it?” He begins moving faster, roughly jerking his hips back until only the silken tip of his cock rests inside you before driving back in, punching a cry of relief out of your lungs each time, over and over and over.

“Let me touch you…” you’re panting and struggling to speak.

“Go ahead, baby,” he sounds so gentle, but he dips down and bites into your neck viciously, releasing only to groan your praises as your fingers lace into his wild tangles “there’s my good girl, there’s my good fucking girl.”

He sweeps airy kisses over the apples of your cheeks, each in turn. “Pretty little piece of heaven, just for my cock. All snug and soft, aren’t you, sweetheart? My girl.”

Nodding in frantic agreement - you are his girl. You couldn’t be anyone else’s - you raise your head and press your forehead to his shoulder, wailing against the cotton of his shirt as you bite into it…so close you can nearly taste the grainy, sugary sweetness of your long awaited release.

“Cum for me pretty, baby.” His demands are breathing out of him tenderly now…gentle as the rain that’s still tapping at the windows. “And say my name, it sounds so beautiful on your tongue. Makes my heart hurt.”

You know what he means, sometimes there is too much love between the two of you. It batters itself against the cages of your hearts. Enormous and overwhelming, threatening to split you wide open at the seams of your very souls…it is too much, and it is never enough.

And you do; you call his name. Chanting it like the chorus of your favorite song, pressing it into the cracks in the wood, etching it into the glass with your cries, so this room, this house, never forgets the love it once held.

The house will remember him as well, the pained sounds that claw out of him wildly as he fucks you through it, and lets go, sinking into you as though he’d like to disappear inside you completely.

This is all that matters. Jake. You. Love.

You’re both breathing up at the ceiling, hands clasped between you as you hunt down some semblance of calm.

“The stew.” You remember, too tranquil to really care.

He sounds just as serene as you do, “Took it off the heat before I came up.”

You squeeze his hand in silent thanks. “We’ll go down and eat soon. I’ll heat up the bread I picked up and…”

Trailing off, you don’t finish your sentence, but he’s crossed over into half-sleep as well, so there’s no one to notice.

Some time later, you blink slowly awake, confused by the darkness in the room. He stumbles his way back to consciousness soon after, and the night settles in with you curled in his lap on the back porch, sharing a bowl of stew - the rain, now nothing more than mist, dancing on the grass.

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightjaketastic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @lvnterninthenight @paintmyhouse @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard

#greta van fleet #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet smut #greta van smut #greta van fic #gvf fic #jake gvf #fanfic #jake kiszka #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka smut #gvf jake #jake kiszka imagine #jake greta van fleet

[hughesluv]

Broken Trust | Luke Hughes

luke hughes x fem!reader in which Luke ruined your relationship in the worse possible way. (words: 0.8k)

request: could u do a angest with luke! “are you fucking serious” “we built so much together, and you threw it all away…for her?” plz☺️♥️

a/n: not proofread! my first writing in forever! finally found the time to sit down and write, and of course it had to be so angsty😭 this broke my heart to write and i apologize in advance.

The time on your phone displayed a brutal 3:00 am, a merciless reminder of sleeplessness as you lay in your dimly lit room. The image was etched in your mind—the image of the man who had once been your entire world, his lips pressed against another woman's.

Ten missed calls, sixteen text messages, all from the very person responsible for this. The phone lay there, silent yet pulsating with the echoes of a love that had been shattered into a million irreparable pieces.

You placed your trust in him, more than anyone else in the world, only for him to carelessly toss it aside for a stranger he met in a bar? The front door slammed shut, reverberating through the house, and heavy footsteps echoed up the stairs. Yet, you remained seated, hunched over, tears streaming down your cheeks, each one hitting your phone. You watched the minutes on your phone's screen tick by, yet it felt like everything was standing still. What did you do to drive him to do this? You’d been nothing but a faithful and loving girlfriend.

Luke swung the door open. It forcefully smashed against the wall. But you couldn't summon the energy to care. Nothing mattered anymore.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice pitiful. “I swear it meant nothing. I love you more than anyone else.”

"Are you fucking serious?" The words, heavy with disbelief, escaped your trembling lips. “It meant nothing? Luke, if you loved me, you would’ve never done that. You would’ve never touched that girl!” You spat his name like poison on your tongue.Your blood ran cold as he frowned. What did he have to be sad about? He ruined your relationship. He ruined you.

“I’m just so-” he began, but your laughter cut through the air, devoid of any humor.

“You’re just what?” you retorted. “You’re just sorry?! Oh my god, that means so much to me, Luke!” You spat, sarcasm dripping from your voice. "We built so much together, and you threw it all away…for her?” The anguish in your voice reverberated through the room, mingling with the breeze that rustled through the curtains.

Outside, the world remained oblivious, stars glistening with beauty. But inside, your world was crumbling, crumbling like the fragile trust that had been shattered.

He stayed silent, his gaze fixed on the wooden floors, avoiding your accusing eyes. He looked like a child that got caught lying after breaking his mother’s vases.

“I shouldn’t even be surprised.” You muttered, your voice slicing through him like sharp knives. “Because everyone told me this was going to happen. Everyone said that you’re just another hockey boy with a lot of talent and a small brain.” The hurtful words rolled off your tongue so simply. You paused, breath hitching in your throat. “But I didn’t believe them. I didn’t believe them when they would say you were going to cheat. No, my Luke would never! He’s too sweet, he’s too kind.”

Soft sobs escaped both of your lips.

In the heavy silence that followed, Luke's shoulders slumped, weighed down not just by your words, but by the guilt he couldn't escape.

As your soft sobs filled the room, Luke finally found his voice, but it was shaky and hesitant. "Y/N, I don't know what came over me. It was a mistake—a terrible mistake. I can't even explain why I did it." He took a step toward you, but you backed away, your trust destroyed.

"You can't explain it?" Your voice wavered between anger and sadness. "That's not good enough, Luke. You owe me an explanation, a real one. Why did you ruin what we had?!”

He raked a hand through his disheveled hair, his eyes pleading for understanding. "I'm not making excuses, but I was confused, Y/N. Things were going wrong, and I made a stupid decision. I was weak."

A heavy silence hung in the air of the room.

Finally, you whispered, your voice filled with exhaustion, "I don't know if I can ever trust you again.”

His face contorted with anguish, and he fell to his knees beside you, tears glistening in his eyes. "I'll do anything to make it right, Y/N. I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you. Please, give me a chance to prove that I can change."

You stared at him through teary eyes. “I really want to forgive you. I really want to give you another chance,” you swallowed harshly. “But I can’t. Trust is what relationships are built on, and you ruined it. It’s never going to be the same.” Your soft tone tore through him.

What had he done?

Through choked out sobs you whispered, “I’m sorry.” Except you weren’t exactly sure what you were apologizing for.

The room echoed with the sounds of your broken hearts. You walked closer to him, pulling him into your chest. He didn’t have the strength to stand up, so he comfortably sobbed into your sweatshirt.

And that’s when you both realized it was over. It was truly over.

#hughesluv #taylor’s writings 📷 #taylor’s beach bash! #luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes blurb #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes imagines #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #new jersey devils #nhl x reader

[lesbian-kyoru]

something i love so dearly about yuzumako is how the lesbian coding of their relationship is so healing, rather than self-destructive?? by that i mean, so much queer coding is filtered through the lens of, here is this character whose queer identity is so fraught that it often leads them to lashing out and misery, & you always think how much happier they'd be if they could make peace with themselves..... but with yuzuki and makoto, the safety and peace they feel around each other always serves as the anecdote to their struggles, ESPECIALLY with boys.

in ch 20 yuzuki is disappointed with boys endlessly complimenting her painting w/o looking at it—seeing her as a romantic conquest rather than caring abt her as a person. the same chapter, it's makoto who actually cares about her painting & yuzuki's artistry EXACTLY how she hoped. the loneliness & resentment yuzu experiences is directly tied to heteronormativity, with boys assuming that they can disrespect her boundaries since she's a pretty girl to be "won over"—only for makoto's actions to parallel the same set up BUT she always demonstrates a truer understanding of yuzu as a person & friend throughout the process, and every time it brings yuzu such a sense of safety & comfort that she NEVERRRRR feels around boys pursuing her!!

there's such an intense lesbian coding to yuzu's avoidance of male romantic advances as opposed to how she leans into not only female friendship but specifically to makoto's own feelings for her shining through—and again, i love this because it's so positive & warm. rather than queerness being a source of anguish, makoto brings yuzu more joy than heteronormativity ever does.

next, after mako's date that she calls a battle, it's yuzu who says she looks cute & cheers her up! mako ALSO decides she doesn't care about being boyfriendless bc yuzu makes her so happy which is sooooo baby lesbian like are you serious! the same as the scene with yuzu's artwork, makoto's date with a boy that only brought her discomfort & feelings of unworthiness is followed by joy & affirmation found in yuzu's company—again, queerness & female connection shown as the anecdote to comphet/mako forcing herself to present hyperfeminine to fit what's expected.

also of note is makoto's recurring jealousy of yuzu's beauty—even though this is a negative emotion, i love how it's ultimately overpowered by her affection for yuzu. also the lesbian pipeline from i want to be her -> i want to kiss her is alive & well for makoto. so so obviously.

then finally, probably the crowning example of my point is yuzu's arc of being set up on a date w her new classmate against her will! as an aside these chapters depict such a common lesbian experience, where to avoid being socially isolated, we give into comphet & just go along with boys' feelings for us, thinking it's best if we don't cause issues & eventually we can get ourselves to reciprocate, giving them what they want at the expense of our repressed identities—yuzu is taught that her feelings don't matter; her beauty was made for male consumption.

now in high school, yuzu decides to speak up for herself & reject the role she's been placed into, again as a beautiful prize to be won—it's common for closeted lesbians to think they can convince themselves to like men back, but yuzu won't go along with this forced set up again. after she rejects this boy, her classmates make yuzu feel like SHE'S the one who has done something wrong & don't take her discomfort into account—it's hard for them to understand why, as a pretty girl, she isn't willing to just go along with men's attraction. ENTER MAKOTO!!!

sorry makoto is frankly so smooth for this. when yuzu leaves school early & makoto hears about her date, she brings yuzu pudding & tells her that she wants yuzu to be honest with her about when she's feeling down, even though their experiences are different. when reading both characters through a queer lens, it's very interesting to see how they've had different experiences w heteronormativity & gender up to now—yuzu is constantly fighting comphet demons whereas makoto feels less than for not being as feminine or gorgeous as yuzu.

but even though their experiences with lesbianism & girlhood have been different, makoto wants to hear how yuzu truly feels and comfort her. once again, after seeing the horrible pressures & pains yuzu has experienced through heteronormative dating & misogyny, it is her incredibly queer-coded friendship with makoto that makes her feel safe enough to cry openly in front of her!!!!! yuzu's peers, but particularly boys, show a disregard for her emotions, and then we see makoto fill that role of support & care so easily. like the dream boyfriend she is :)

there's a lot more i could say about yuzumako & their individual arcs, but to tie everything up, it is so common in lesbian (or queer coded) media for a character's lesbianism to be something that brings them nothing but pain and suffering, either in its repression or awareness—so i absolutely love how skip & loafer showcases (through yuzumako but also the ENTIRE cast) that embracing your queer identity can be so healing & positive. the story doesn't shy away from presenting a lot of the pain that closeted lesbians go through, like struggles with their gender & how socially ingrained heteronormativity is—but these struggles are always followed up by such intentional examples of yuzumako's connection (+ lesbian yearning) being so comfortable & happy to them! i love angst too but seeing them, time and time again, know exactly what the other needs & be able to be that for each other is soooooo rewarding!!!

happiness in queer media does not need to erase the struggles of our lives, but rather showing authentic queerness not as the problem but as the SOLUTION is unbelievably impactful. long live yuzumako

#skip and loafer #sukirofa #yuzumako #yuzuki murashige #makoto kurume #skip and loafer meta #my meta #from now on my excuse of why i can spend hours writing meta about gay people is because its just brainstorming for my senior capstone LMAO #zoe.txt

[desidov]

The Structure of a Successful Game Changer pt. 1 - Make Some Noise

An analysis of the stages comprising an entertaining and innovative Game Changer episode, explained by breaking down the episode Make Some Noise.

Stage 1: Our contestants have no idea

With prompt "cow," Josh responds "cow." Sam replies, "I'm sorry, that is not the answer I was looking for."

Often only a turn or two, this first stage is comprised of the players identifying the core mechanic of the episode—getting a basic understanding of what each question will ask of them and how they might earn points or advance further. Other examples: the first forays into navigating the Jeopardy board, or Sam’s opening instructions for “Sam Says” demonstrating an instruction not preceded by “Sam says” should not be followed.

Stage 2: You all understand

With prompt "duck," Zac responds "quack quack" and receives a point. Josh comments "Okay I see, I see what this is about, okay."

Here the players realize the structure of each question, and witness some behaviors receiving points while others do not (excluding non-point-earning episodes.) Sometimes, this is all the players need to understand the fundamental premise (mimic the sound produced by the prompt) while sometimes unraveling the mystery of the premise is the overall conceit of the episode (tell us about yourself, yes or no.)

Stage 3: Escalation of Rules

After Zac's response to "frog," Sam says "I'm gonna toss it up to the other two contestants [to steal the point.] Brennan, give me your best frog."

An expansion to the initial rules is revealed, allowing players to further advance/gain points beyond the initial bounds of the premise. Here, the escalation is that players may steal prompts from each other—others include incorporated phrase bonus points from The Official Cast Recording and the hidden immunity loop-de-loops from Survivor.

Stage π: Departure

Sam says "We are now headed into our first mini game." Each player attempts to recreate a melody on an otamatone.

This optional stage, typically presented as a “mini game,” is thematically connected to the premise but operates on its own rules. Make Some Noise iterations typically include a mini game where contestants are provided a prop and must mimic a given sound with that prop—no spoken entries qualify. Similarly, A Sponsored Episode and its continuations feature a mini game of providing commercial voice-overs for stock footage (where non-commercial interpretations are not rewarded,) and a mini game of identifying brand taglines/logos.

Stage 4: Escalation of Concept

Sam introduces the next prompt, "Your word is jack hammer." Josh makes a jack hammer sound, bouncing with a hand above his head and explaining "that's him keeping the hat on."

While Stage 3 adds on to the rules of the episode, Stage 4 applies the same rules to something new—here transitioning from animal calls to all manner of sound effects. Escalation of concept can be clearly demarcated, as this example is, or more gradual, like the escalations from common animal calls to obscure animal calls or from physical prompts to intangible prompts like “anguish.” What matters is that escalations continue to push the format to new heights and prevent the conceit from stagnating.

Stage 5: Expansion of Concept

The prompt is a stock photo of a smiling young adult white man. Brennan roleplays the man arrogantly describing his improv group, ending with "This date's going well."

Though similar to Stage 4, I characterize this stage as a dramatic alteration to the format of prompts—here from text prompts to image prompts. This can be for several turns, as it is for MSN, or just one, such as “go” from Sam Says or the cockroach union from “Do I hear $1?” This builds a finale that presses the bounds of the format to their limits, capping off the episode.

#dropout #game changer #make some noise #txt #more to come?!

[gunraekae]

having an off day

Ophelia - Friedrich Heyser

>ikemen vampire

>mansion residents x reader

>a/n: so sorry for the weird formatting in advance. i hope it makes sense. enjoy! 

You woke up with the weight of an oppressive dread. A black hole in you seemed to suck the vitality out of you. Usually your spirit was at least alive and willing to get you out of bed, but this morning, it was only dead static in your chest. You could chalk it up to feeling homesick or hopelessness with your predicament, but nonetheless, you were not up to it at all today. 

Still, you willed yourself out of bed, afraid to let Sebastian and the residents down (though you knew they wouldn’t fault you for being off, you still felt the obligation because Le Comte is letting you stay for free, after all.)

On that note, the residents would fs feel a disturbance in the force if you weren’t out in the mansion today. You not being there would set off a chain reaction and have them be grumpy and having off days too. 

While setting up breakfast with Sebastian, you asked for the cleaning tasks for the rest of the day. You loved the residents but unfortunately could muster up no energy to talk to anyone today. Sebastian's obviously the first to catch on, and as the mansion’s biggest gossip, will spread this notion to any and every vampire he encounters. Thankfully, he didn't question it and hesitantly granted you permission. He usually doesn’t give you the heavier tasks like cleaning, but seeing your dour mood, he caught on that you wanted the solitude. 

While passing out breakfast for the morning vampires (Arthur, Vincent, Theo, Dazai, Isaac, Mozart, Comte) you were unusually quiet. Usually, you would bashfully respond to Arthur’s flirty remarks or retaliate to Theo’s teasing, but today you only acknowledged everyone with a slight (and very forced) smile.

Dazai Osamu

I'm of the belief that Dazai has a sadness antenna that catches on to everyone’s emotions as soon as they feel them. So best believe that as soon as you woke up, he could already sense a disturbance in the force. 

So when you very quietly poured tea for him, he placed a gentle hand on your arm and gave you a silent “are you ok?” look. He could tell that you didn’t want to bring attention to yourself, but also didn’t want to leave you like this. 

The deal he made with you when you first arrived came to mind. He proposed that whenever you felt even the slightest inclination of sadness, that you came to him to confide in (because you know he gets it fs). 

You acknowledged it with a solemn nod, wanting to communicate that you remembered the promise but couldn’t do it just yet. Dazai pursed his lips in quiet uncertainty, but allowed you to continue your chores. 

Later in the afternoon, while tending to the gardens outside, Dazai nonchalantly sat by your working figure. He settled for watching you work before piping up, “how fortunate the flowers are to be cared for by you.” You may have jumped a little bit, having been lost in your thoughts. 

Dazai’s gentle smile seemed more genuine this time; not quite the clownish mask he usually wore. “Unfortunately for you, I may be the only one who understands your predicament the most.” He walked next to you, a serene silence in the air.  

You confess as much of your melancholy as you could put into words while Dazai remained contemplative and respectfully quiet. Whether it was your mental wellness being disturbed, thoughts of home, or even just a broad exhaustion, Dazai will listen and understand. Sometime during your tirade, tears seeped out from your eyes unnoticed, except by his golden eyes. He softly cupped your cheek and wiped your tears away; his touch never more than gentle. 

At that moment, Dazai touched your face as if it was a delicate flower petal about to fall to its demise. His heart clenched in both tender affection at your vulnerability around him, and deep anguish that it was you who suffered and he couldn’t take that burden instead. How was it that a beautiful angel like you was tormented at this moment and not him, the sinful monster who was deserving of your burden and more. Still, he kept those demeaning thoughts quiet and yearned that his love could be felt in his gentle touches to your cheek. 

Dazai is the most sensitive to others’ emotions and will be the first to catch on to any of your mood changes. He'd rather die than leave you toiling in your own sadness, so he’ll follow you around until you confide in him. As tragic as it is, it’s his responsibility to make sure no one else, and especially not someone he cares about so deeply like you, feels the same torture he does. 

Arthur Conan Doyle

The writers are perceptive and sensitive to people’s emotions and characters, and usually you love them for that. Today, it made you the slightest bit frustrated. With only a meek “thank you” to Arthur’s compliment of, “your beautiful face is the perfect start to this day, love” he knew something was wrong. 

You poured his coffee quietly, hoping no one would pay attention to you. Arthur placed a soft hand against your back and asked lowly, “are you alright? Did something happen?” you shook your head and gave him an appreciative smile. 

You moved to pour Theo’s drink next, but Arthur’s arm wrapped around your waist. He motioned for you to come closer and so you leaned down.

“I've got to run errands in town today, but I'll find you once I get back. Do you think you can talk to me then?” he whispered. 

“I'm not sure.”

“I hate to leave you like this, love, really. At least promise me you can hold out until later and you can take all your frustration out on me, yes?” you find yourself laughing a little at his suggestion. He smiled in victory and gave your waist a small squeeze before letting you go.

Once Arthur returns from his errands, it’s just nearing lunch. True to his word, he finds you in the mansion (good luck evading his genius mind) and vows to take you out for a meal. You can refuse all you want, but it truly does wound him seeing you the slightest bit upset. Maybe his past influences that, but nonetheless, he wants to make you happy. 

He’ll do everything in his power to make you laugh, and if that doesn’t work, he’ll try and pester you so that you take your anger out on him. 

He treats you like a princess during the date, hooking his arm under yours, pushing your chair in, paying for everything, and if you were up to it, taking you shopping afterwards. 

He’ll try and seek out a case nearby as those tend to cheer you up and serve as a welcome distraction. 

Whether you choose to confide in him or not, he might have already caught on to what made you upset and will subtly offer a word of advice or comfort, depending on whichever you needed. And he’s perceptive enough to catch on to what you need. 

Nevertheless, the author’s darling attempts of alleviating your mood will likely be a success. Arthur is one of the tragic ones who would rather suffer than even endure the thought of his cared ones being upset. And you’re the one who brought new light into his revived life, so admittedly, he enjoys being there for you. If you allow him past your walls, Arthur would do just about everything to prove it was worth doing so. His care may be hidden under layers of deceptive and cliché flirtation, but a little unravelling shows just how tenderly he cares for you. So while his attempts do reflect that playboy life, the warm hand on your back proves there is no one in this new life he treasures more than yourself. 

Theodorus van Gogh

Still feeling Arthur’s and Dazai’s worried looks on your back, you moved on to Theo, who was unfortunately, less perceptive than the two. 

“Took you long enough, hondje. Dogs aren’t known to be so slow.” he huffed, having already placed a generous amount of sugar in his cup. You could barely register the small, “sche uit, Theo,” from Vincent. Still, his comment served to sour your mood even further, a sinking feeling in your heart suddenly blurring your eyes. 

Your spatial awareness being off, you almost overfilled Theo’s cup. This time, he took notice of your shaky and meek manner. He was about to complain, but when you turned to him to apologise, he saw your teary eyes.

“You hurt? What happened? Who hurt you?” Theo immediately asked in concern. You shook your head in alarm. His handsome face scrunched in concern, and he reached out to seize your arm to steady its shaking. He set down the coffee pot and checked if your arm got burnt. 

he gruffly passed the coffee pot to his brother, and when he was faced with questioning looks from the rest of the table he simply said, “you pour your own damn coffee.” He motioned for you to leave, wanting to relieve you of your duties for this morning as a small mercy. 

Theo is unfortunately one of the busier men of the mansion, so he can’t do much until the evening when he returns. So despite the tense morning, there’s no resolution until after supper. what his words can’t deliver though, his actions do. 

Regardless of how many residents have comforted you, you remained silent and thoughtful. Their efforts were greatly appreciated, but your energy was still depleted. 

Theo catches you right after cleaning up with Sebastian. He hid a large box behind his broad back, strangely timid from his usual bold character. He cleared his throat, “hondje, I brought you something home from work. you told me you liked this last time I took you out for a walk.” 

He stepped aside to show you the large and very sweetly decorated cake in the box. you knew how expensive it was, and for a man like Theo, who was quite savvy with money, you felt a tinge of guilt for making him waste money on you. 

“Theo, thank you. I don't know what to say, you really didn’t have to.”

“Hush hondje. A master’s supposed to take care of his puppy. And you’ve been working hard lately—you deserve a little treat.” 

Of course, Theo indulges in the dessert with you, he may have bought it partly for himself too. But when he saw you enjoying something he gave you, it warmed his heart. Perhaps your smile is sweeter than any dessert he’s had before—and he’s got quite a sweet tooth. 

Theo can be brash, and not nearly as emotionally perceptive as the others. So initially, he’ll be his usual gruff and teasing self. But he’s a good man (savannah), and will always serve you, regardless of the master-puppy dynamic he’s got going on. He’s weak to you, and would hand you the world just to get a glimpse of your sweet smile again. He can’t have his pretty girl sad, that makes him a terrible master. 

Vincent van Gogh

You shook your head, insisting that you stay to help Sebastian. Theo disapprovingly shook his head and tried to stop you from doing more work, but you’d already moved to Vincent’s side. 

Vincent already caught on as soon as Theo asked if you were okay. He poured his coffee himself, so you passed him the small bowl of butter and served a plate of sliced fruit to help. Vincent gently stroked your back, “Schatje, we’re just fine here, you can sit down. Have you had breakfast yourself yet?” knowing you never liked to put yourself first. 

“I'm just fine, Vincent. thank you.” you stuttered out. He hummed in concern, “Sebas told me you were doing laundry outside today. I'll come help you, if that’s alright?” you shook your head, touched at his kind offer, but dreadful over having a companion. As sweet as Vincent was, you were afraid of being too brash with him, with how short your patience was today. 

“We don't have to talk or anything, I'm offering because I want to, mc. please?” Vincent’s pleading eyes were too precious, so you gave him a hesitant nod. 

Vincent brightened up, his angelic smile lifting your spirits up slightly. with a warm day like today, he usually painted outside anyway. at least you wouldn’t have to be with him the whole time. 

He gave your arm an appreciative squeeze before you left. you weren’t sure how to thank him exactly. 

True to his word, the moment you stepped foot outside, you were greeted with his “could heal any and every problem in the world” smile. He was extra handsome wearing his simple, white, button-up shirt with his sleeves rolled up. 

You gave him an appreciative nod, a bit flustered with having someone help you with such a simple task. Still, Vincent pleasantly hummed with no complaints, hanging the clothes you washed. 

It’s true that his hands were blessed by god, but his somewhat clumsy work with clipping the clothes on the line was a contrast to his paintings. Still, his determined expression dispelled any frustration you had, with how hardworking and adorable he was. 

With Vincent’s help (and the soft melody of Mozart's distant piano playing), the laundry was hung in sufficient time. other than having tea with Comte, you really didn’t have much left to do this early afternoon. Vincent cutely tilted his head in curiosity at your zoned out face. 

When he giggled, you snapped out of your stupor and glanced questioningly at him. “sorry! you’re just so cute staring into space like that.” Flustered, you faced away from him. 

“Don’t just say things like that Vincent. you’ll give me the wrong idea.”

“I mean it though. you’re adorable even just breathing.” He was doing that thing where he innocently compliments you, but just like his brother, actually wants to see you flustered. 

“Vincent!”

“and now you’re even lovelier when you’re all embarrassed!” Vincent chuckled, finally relenting when your hands fully covered your burning face. 

“Sorry for teasing you. I was just hoping I could make you smile. I know I'm not nearly as funny as Napoleon, or as dependable as Leonardo, but it hurts me to see you in pain, mc.” Vincent gently pried your hands away, holding them in his bigger and warmer ones. He stroked your palms in gentle circles. 

Really, he wanted to just wrap you in an embrace and hoped that you would let out your emotions to him. But he knew you needed time and patience before confiding in him. If you allowed it, he would stay all-day with you, just comforting and listening to any of your vulnerable confessions you chose to indulge him to. 

Eventually, you did relent to receiving a warm hug from him. you couldn’t see his face, but he was overjoyed you felt safe enough with him to do so. 

Angelic Vincent wishes he could take any and every pain you feel and take it all himself. It truly breaks his heart seeing your usually bright spirit so down, so he’ll do everything he can to comfort you. He’s patient and gentle; never crossing any of your boundaries and allowing you to take whatever you need and however long it takes you to find that out. He’ll help you with your work, sing you to sleep, feed you treats (that you hope he didn’t make), and give you as much or as little as you need. He cares about you deeply and only hopes he can be enough to cure at least a little bit of the pain you feel. 

Comte de Saint-Germain

Comte's face was already scrunched in worry from the moment you entered the dining hall. his calm and elegant demeanour belied it, but he was eager to finally talk to you. Once you reached his side, you swore you could almost hear the sigh of relief. 

“I speak for everyone when I say that no one can start their day right without seeing your face, chérie.” Ever the romantic, Comte wants to reassure you that you’re wanted (needed actually), and that he appreciates your being there. 

You’d be hard-pressed not to feel flustered by his words. “You’re exaggerating, Comte, but thank you.” Your usual routine consisted of having tea with Comte in the early afternoon, but you weren’t sure you’d make good company. “about later today comte—“

“I'll have the tea and desserts set up. i’ve found this new patisserie in the city—“

“comte, i’m really sorry—“

“You don’t have to do any work, mc. I want you to take a break.” He was clearly well-intentioned and the break did sound tempting. so with much hesitation, you relented to comte’s demands. 

Perhaps a little part of you dreaded it, knowing how protective Comte was over you. He’ll pry, and if he found out that it was another person’s doing that caused your mood, he’ll cause a riot (gracefully and elegantly, mind you). He was already waiting at the garden’s gazebo, a spread of various sweet pastries and steaming tea set up for you. 

He perked up upon seeing you, pushing your chair in as you sat down. He poured you tea and placed one of each pastry on your plate while you hopelessly tried to stop him. 

“I'm simply ecstatic you could join me today, ma chérie.” he hummed, sipping his tea. 

“It's not anyone’s fault, it’s just me.” You wanted to clear up what you knew he was itching to find out. his shoulders sagged down in relief for a brief moment before settling back into his perfect posture. 

“That's a relief, but I still want to make sure you’re okay, mc. Come, have some tea.” 

You could feel Comte’s golden eyes watching your every move, but otherwise, the tea was excellent and he was certainly generous with all the pastries. 

The real surprise was later in the night, after dinner, when comte asked you to meet him in his office. He was on the balcony, gazing out to the Parisian landscape (he would have been smoking then, but he tries not to). 

“You called for me, comte?” 

“Ah yes. mc.” The way he said your name was admittedly a bit seductive when accompanied by his golden eyes. he had this excited air about him, unknown if it was for innocent or more sinful reasons. He motioned towards a concerningly large box on his table. you opened it, and to your surprise (not really let’s bfr), there was a beautiful silk dress in your favourite colour. 

Comte moved close from behind you, and with a quiet “may i?” he delicately  put a necklace on your neck, the light brush of his fingers dizzying. 

He trailed his hands down to your shoulders and squeezed them, before descending to your arms. “ma chérie, i want to make you feel better. how can i do that for you?” he rubbed your arms up and down before wrapping around your body altogether. 

In this position, you could cry in peace, ramble in frustration, or be silent and enjoy his embrace without fear of judgement. He couldn’t see your expression, to save any embarrassment on your end, but he’s still there. 

Comte will definitely be protective and try and figure out if it was anyone made you upset. He would commit a murder to whoever did, but if there wasn’t anyone, he’d focus on making you feel better. His love language is gifts, quite obviously, but I also like to believe that he’s an acts of service guy who’d want to make things at least a little easier for you, like giving you a break. He'd want to reward you with gifts, expensive, but the kind that he knows you like. and if that doesn’t show you he cares about you, he’ll stay long enough to help you recover; in a way, he feels proudly possessive, knowing you could show your vulnerability to only him. 

Napoleon Bonaparte

As one of the late risers, you were tasked with waking him up in the morning. you did your usual routine of ripping the blankets off him and blocking his kiss with your hand. this time though, you left the former emperor be, once you caught sight of his half-opened eyes. 

He took a minute to catch on to your disappearance (forgive him, he’s half-awake) but as soon as it registered in his sleepy brain, he zoomed out of his room to catch your retreating figure. 

You knew he was one of the persistent men of the mansion, unable to leave you alone even when you weren’t upset. so this time around, he was hellbent on following you until you’d answer his inquiries. 

“Nunuche? what’s gotten into you?” he would quickly catch up to you and grip your arm until you show him your teary face. And only then would he relent and hold your hand instead.

You could confide in him and tell him about all your problems, because after all, he was the man who saved you and vowed to protect you all this time. However, even if you didn’t at that moment, nothing would stop Napoleon from making you feel better. 

He would briefly venture into town to absolve him of any of his guard duties so he could remain at your side the entire day. Perhaps a bit of an overreaction on his part, but owing his new life to you, he wanted to prioritise you above all else. 

Unlike a certain lazy Italian, this Italian will politely request that you be relieved of your tasks, and though you insisted on at least completing the laundry with Vincent and having tea with Comte, you relented to his demands. 

His usual routine was to take you to the stables and run as far as you can on his horse. It was often what helped him dispel the ghosts from his past; the coolness of the afternoon wind was a soothing balm to your face that was drenched with hot tears. He would childishly ignite a race between the two of you through the vast woods surrounding Comte’s mansion, if only to ease your heavy mind with a far less laborious task. 

He’d lead you to a small meadow on the outskirts of the fields, far from prying eyes and ears. There you can let any emotion out: whether that was a yell of frustration, a scream of rage, or harsh sobs, Napoleon will do it first, if it removes any embarrassment on your end. 

Whether you choose to confide in him or not, (which you likely would, considering how unyieldingly supportive and protective Napoleon had been for you thus far) Napoleon will willingly listen to anything you say. You could wax cheesy poetry, ponder about the origins of the universe, or just recall mundane moments in the mansion, but Napoleon will respond in kind to any silly statement you make. 

Napoleon of all people wouldn’t be opposed to having a nap on the soft, dewy grass, under the blanket of the warm setting sun. Once it gets cold though, he’d take you back to the mansion. 

If you still felt overwhelmed, he would bring you up to the attic that overlooked the Paris skyline. 

Napoleon, as he hopes that you consider him one of your closest companions, would do everything in his power to ease your pain. He’d begin by alleviating your work for the day, and whether that entailed him undertaking those chores or simply helping you with them, he’d do anything. Then, he might try what works best for him when he has his off days, usually in regard to the past, but allow you to dictate what he can or can’t do. Really, he hopes that whatever he does dispels those clouds of anguish and replaces it with some good old Napoleon humour. As the evening closes in, he’d take you to the attic. With only the stars and the moon as your witness, Napoleon would do everything in his power to bring you comfort. 

sorry that i wasn't able to write for everyone in this post, but I'll feature the rest (Leonardo, Isaac, Mozart, Jean, and a few bonus characters) on the next post. i just wanted to get some content out now.

if you made it this far, thank you so much for spending your time on my writing. lmk if you enjoyed it (or didn't, but pls be nice abt it I'm sensitive). have a great day, my dear <3

#ikemen series #cybird ikemen #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikemen vampire arthur #ikemen vampire napoleon #ikemen vampire x reader #ikevamp x reader #ikemen vampire comte #ikemen vampire vincent #ikemen vampire theo #ikemen vampire dazai #ikevamp theo #ikevamp comte #ikevamp vincent #ikevamp napoleon #ikevamp arthur

[foundheavenly]

Hello I wanted to ask about a fic with a dying SO in the arms of Geto,Gojo and Nanami?

If that's too much characters then I choose Gojo.

Thank you in advance

Slipping through my fingers

Disclaimer: English is not my mother tongue so please be nice

Words:

Pairing: gojo x reader, geto x reader, nanami x reader

Theme: heavy angst

Masterlist

Thank you for this requet but who hurt you??? I guessed I'm relieved that I like writing angst because I would have been a complete mess right now. <3

Nanami -

You were weak and battered, every breath feeling like a struggle against an invisible force. Kento held you in his arms, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"You can't leave me" Kento pleaded, his voice breaking. "I can't do this without you."

His heart was heavy with fear.

Right at that moment, his mind brought him back years ago. He saw himself back when he lost his only friend, the only person who had ever been his solace. He saw himself back when he lost Haibara. And right after this tragedy, he promised himself to protect those around him. He promised himself to protect you, to prevent anything from happening to you.

Yet here he was. His hands shaking and covered in fresh blood.

Your blood.

You reached up, cupping his cheek with a trembling hand. "You're strong, Kento. Stronger than you know. You'll carry on, and you'll make the world a safer place, just like we always dreamed."

Tears welled in Kento's eyes as he pressed his forehead against yours, your breaths mingling in the cold air of the room. "I can't imagine a world without you in it" he admitted, his voice barely audible over the sound of his own heart breaking.

"Remember when we first met?" you whispered, a faint smile tugging at your quiver and cold lips. "You were so determined to save the world from curses, and I was just a stubborn girl with too much curiosity for her own good."

Kento chuckled softly, the memory of your first meeting flooding back to him. "You were always getting yourself into trouble" he recalled fondly. "But you had a heart of gold, and I knew from that moment that I couldn't let you face the dangers of this world alone."

Your tired and dull eyes met his and you took a sharp breath. "Kento.." you whispered, your voice barely a whisper. "I'm sorry."

"Don't talk." He said firmly and choked back tears, his hands trembling a bit as they pressed against the wounds, trying to staunch the flow of blood.

You managed a weak smile, feeling a surge of warmth from his voice.

His thick fingers gently moved to your face and brushed against your cheek, his touch tender yet laden with sorrow. "You're going to be okay. You have to be."

You shook your head faintly and a faint chuckle escaped your lips, knowing the truth even as you clung to the last vestiges of hope. You weren't ready yet. You didn't want to leave him, not right now. Not when you were close to get married.

"You always were the optimist." You said, your voice barely a whisper. "But even you can't deny the truth forever, my love."

Your words got him.

Simply.

Quickly.

Terribly.

Tears spilled over his lashes, trailing down his cheeks in shimmering rivulets. "Nonsense." Kento insisted even though he was in pure panic, his voice cracking with anguish. "We will find a way. We always do."

It was the very first time his stern mask was breaking.

Your eyes fluttered open, the light within them dimming with each passing moment. "I don't want you to blame yourself." You murmured, voice slurred with deep pain. "This was my choice, my burden to bear."

You acted wtihout thinking. Wave of curses was attacking you over and over. Not sparring you nor him. You just shielded him with your body as he was getting exhausted.

"You are not leaving me." He said, desperation lacing his words. "I won't let you."

Your hand suddenly lost its grip on his cheek, the touch growing weaker with each passing second. "Remember me" You whispered, labored breathing. "Remember us."

"Always." Kento promised. "I will never forget you."

Gojo -

In the dimly lit room of an abandoned warehouse, the air was thick with tension and the scent of blood. Satoru, his normally blue vibrant eyes covered by his blindfold were now filled with worry, cradled you, his best friend, whose life was slipping away with each passing moment. The mission against the curses had taken a disastrous turn, leaving both of them battered and broken.

He was repeating himself that he couldn't lose you. No, he couldn't. Not you. Not after losing his best friend a few months ago.

With trembling hands, Satoru pressed down on the wound, trying desperately to stem the flow of blood. "Hang in there," he whispered. His voice choked with emotion. He was trying hard to keep in control. "We will get you to Shoko."

You managed a weak smile, the effort visibly draining you. "I'm not sure I can hold on much longer, Toru" You rasped, each breath a struggle.

"Don't talk like that" The white haired man pleaded, his heart clenching at the sight of your pain. "You're stronger than this. You've survived worse. Way worse."

A faint chuckle escaped the your quiver lips, tinged with bitter irony. "Guess I used up all my luck on those past missions, huh?"

Tears welled up in his eyes as he shook his head. "No, you're not allowed to give up. I won't let you."

In the distance, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the empty warehouse. Satoru's grip tightened around you, a mixture of fear and determination etched on his face.

"I wish I could have protected you better. I let my guard down." Satoru murmured, his voice barely a whisper. "I'm sorry."

You reached out, weak fingers brushing against his cheek. "You've always been there for me. That's more than enough."

Your conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Shoko, rushing to your side. Satoru watched helplessly as she worked frantically to stabilize you, her efforts a blur against the backdrop of your fading consciousness.

Shoko looked at Satoru and he understood.

Darkness closed in around him, he leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "I won't leave your side" he vowed, his voice trembling with unspoken emotions. "I promise."

And in that heartbreaking moment, amidst the chaos and uncertainty, Satoru whispered words of love to the one person who had always meant everything to him, even if he had never found the courage to say it aloud before.

Geto -

"I'm sorry, my love" whispered Geto, his voice trembling with sorrow as he pressed his lips to your forehead. "I never should have let you take that risk."

Lying on the cold stone floor, gasping for breath, a weak smile graced your lips as you struggled to speak. "It was our job, Suguru. Our job to protect the world from the darkness that lurks in the shadows."

Tears welled in his eyes as he held you tighter, as if trying to defy the inevitable. "But at what cost, my love? At what cost?"

He couldn't lose you. Oh, he could be selfish and cursed you so you could stay by his side. But he won't do this. Not to you.

Your breaths grew shallow, each one a painful reminder of your condition "Some sacrifices are necessary. For the greater good."

His heart clenched at the words, a mixture of pride and despair flooding his soul. "I cannot bear to lose you," he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion.

"I'm sorry. I don't think I have much time left." You said.

"Don't say that.” He murmured, his hands trembling as he tried to stop the blood. "We will get you out of here."

"It might be too late for that." You whispered, your voice barely above a whisper. "The pain...is too powerful. It's consuming me from the inside."

Geto's heart clenched with despair as he realized the gravity of the situation. They had embarked on this mission together, determined to rid the world of the malevolent curses that threatened to engulf it. But now, faced with the prospect of losing you, his resolve wavered.

He was going to lose his mind.

He won't be able to live without you.

He can't lose you.

"We should never have taken this mission." Suguru murmured, his voice choked with regret. "I should have protected you."

You winced and reached out, grasping his hand with a strength born of sheer willpower. "Don't blame yourself. We knew the risks when we got to this school. And besides, we've met each other and I am happy I got to spend time with the love of my life."

His eyes glistened with unshed tears as he gazed down at you, his heart heavy with sorrow. "I love you. I can't bear to lose you."

"I love you too, my love" You replied with a genuine smile, her voice barely audible now. You were close to the end. "But you have to promise me something."

"Anything," Suguru vowed, his voice breaking with emotion.

"Promise me that you'll keep going." You whispered, your grip on his hand weakening with each passing moment. "Promise me that you'll never give up and lose yourself, no matter what."

Suguru gulped and nodded.

"I promise" He vowed, his voice filled with determination.

You smiled faintly, your strength fading with each heartbeat.

Your eyes fluttered closed, Geto pressed his lips to your forehead, whispering a silent prayer to whatever gods he didn't really believe in might be listening.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #gojo #geto #nanami #gojo x reader #nanami x reader #geto x reader

[fluorescentadolescent1]

❝𝙈𝙖𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙮𝙖❞

Nanami Kento x f!reader.

:What else can a person do with their life, if they believe that the person they love does not love them back, or do they?

warnings: a little anguish, mahito, reader's traumatic adolescence etc.

2018.October 31

You shouldn't be here, you should be far away in Malaysia drinking wine and relaxing. But being a jujutsu sorcerer, you didn't know peace.

Your ears hurt from the noise around you, your head felt like it was going to explode and the blood in your nose wouldn't stop- everything felt so familiar, the desperation, the fear, the taste of death on your tongue.

Using your expansion domain had really tired you out but at least you were able to help, now you just needed to find your husband.

Your husband, the father of your daughter, your best friend, your partner, your Kento.

Running through the rubble, you heard Itadori Yuuji scream and your heart stopped for a moment.

Everything felt so familiar, suddenly 28 years of your life began to flash before your eyes.

10 years before the Shibuya Incident.

2006. November 5

Spending your time with Shoko Ieiri was more common than unusual, you were almost always a group of four with your two male friends, but you and Shoko simply completed each other.

"Oi Y/N, are you listening to me?"

Sitting on the patio stairs, you watched the two idiots who were your second-year friends and the two young first-years. But your gaze remained on one in specific.

"Sorry, I got lost in my thoughts" you murmured, looking away, Shoko raised one of her eyebrows and pointed her lollipop at you.

"In your thoughts or in the first year? I didn't think you liked people younger than you."

You rolled your eyes, it was useless to deny Shoko anything, you knew each other like the back of your hand.

" He's cute, I'll give you that, it's kinda serious but I think it's because I'm used to Gojo's immaturity." You joked, making Shoko laugh, a throat clearing made you turn around, it was Yaga-sensei.

You both jumped to your feet quickly, you were supposed to be training with the rest.

"Ladies, I'll pretend I didn't see you. Y/n, i will wait for you and Nanami in the classroom in 15 minutes. Don't be late" Yaga said walking towards said place, Shoko and you sighed, you were saved from a scolding.

Shoko nudged you and smiled mischievously, "Looks like he got you a date."

You rolled your eyes and sighed, it was going to be a long day.

Yaga assigned you a mission, quite easy really, you assumed he was testing Nanami's abilities. Usually the first years had fairly quiet missions, so you assumed you were just there in case things got out of your control.

"I'm sorry you were assigned to me. I know that you are more advanced than me, after all, you are a special grade." Nanami murmured, surprising you, the entire trip to the desolate forest he hadn't said much.

You smiled and shook your head, you continued moving forward, being attentive, "Don't worry Nanami, a mission is never completely easy, it's always useful to have extra experience."

Nanami didn't say anything, he just stared at you. You were very kind and precious in his eyes, but he couldn't help but assume that your feelings belonged to someone else.

""So tell me, would you have preferred to come with someone else?" you asked turning around, you felt the cursed energy emanating from many sides but you couldn't know for sure, being close to Nanami really distracted you.

The first year just denied, he was about to respond but out of nowhere a cursed spirit appeared climbing a tree and attacking you.

Honestly, you could use your cursed technique and it would all be over soon, but you decided to let Nanami act.

Nanami quickly pushed you to the ground, preventing the spirit from hurting you, he took out his cursed object and activated his technique, managing to hurt the spirit but not fatally as it managed to dodge the blow a little.

"Good job Nanami! Finish it now" you exclaimed, standing up from the ground smiling.

Nanami couldn't help but feel a little euphoria knowing that he was able to protect you, he followed your orders and this time he didn't miss the precision blow that killed the spirit.

You ran towards him and hugged him tightly, you were excited to see the confidence in his fight and you let yourself be carried away by the emotion. Nanami tensed for a moment making you release him.

"Sorry Nanami, the euphoria of the moment, but you did very well!"

Nanami again just nodded and followed you back to the car. As he watched you walk in front of him and talk about what you wanted to eat for dinner, he touched his cheeks as he felt them hot.

He assumed it was just because of the fight.

Months later, Nanami learned that he hated seeing you cry. He never thought that a mission with Gojo and Geto could go wrong, but that damn mission ruined everything.

Haibara and Nanami watched as the three of you arrived with a serious and cold countenance, but Nanami could only watch you. Haibara stopped to talk to Geto but you kept going, not bothering to talk to them.

You were heading to your room, the whole mission was a disaster. Riko's death, seeing Gojo "dead" on the ground full of insects on him, Geto's fury, a guy didn't hesitate to stab you in the stomach.

If Geto didn't find you on the ground bleeding, it was almost certain that you would die.

You were barely 17 years old, everything felt very unreal, all the scenes were playing in your head, tears filled your eyes.

You couldn't help but relive the smell of Gojo's blood, the sharp pain in your stomach, how the light faded from Geto's eyes after seeing Riko dead.

You crouched down with your head in your hands and began to hyperventilate, you heard footsteps behind you and activated your cursed technique in paranoia, if you had done it last time, maybe it would have been more useful.

Your cursed technique could alter the mobility of any being, with the condition that they became slower and you became faster, the weaker they were the better, the stronger they were it cost you a little more.

Nanami stayed still, he didn't want to upset you any more than you already were. Upon recognizing him you deactivated your technique.

"I'm sorry"

Nanami's words were silent, you wouldn't have known he spoke them if you weren't looking at his face. Your face was full of your tears, the pain evident in your eyes, and your silence scared him.

Usually between the two of you, you were always the one who brought up topics of conversation and it didn't bother you that he didn't talk much so when he didn't hear a response from you, he approached slowly, careful not to scare you.

You closed your eyes as you felt the heat of his body surround you, you rested your head on his chest and cried harder. Nanami just held you tighter to him, it really hurt him to see your broken spirit.

"I was so scared Nanami, seeing the one who is supposed to be the strongest so hurt and miserable, it made me believe that I would have no more chance to live. Then the damn son of a bitch hurt me, from one moment to the next I was lying on the ground."

Nanami nodded and was a little stung by your comment about Gojo, he understood your crying as fear of losing him.

"I'm so sorry y/n, you're too young to have experienced that. But you said it yourself, every mission is an experience, and you will be stronger now."

Nanami's words calmed you a little, he grabbed your face in his hands and wiped the tears from your cheeks, "Better?"

You looked at him for a moment, and the temptation to kiss him was great, but not enough, "A little, thank you, Nanami."

Nanami hugged you again and you didn't need him to tell you anything else, in his hug he communicated many things.

The main one was "you are not alone"

You realized that you also hated seeing Nanami Kento cry.

After Riko's incident, you became much closer, Nanami getting along more and more with you. You didn't know whether to blame it on Haibara's personality rubbing off on him or it was simply because he liked you.

You were in your room reading when Shoko entered your room pale and agitated from running to you, you closed your book and looked at her with concern, you knew that the first years had gone on a mission.

'It's Haibara, he..." Shoko couldn't finish the sentence and bit her lips, you got up and hugged her, feeling her sob, Haibara Yu was a very warm person and his loss was felt between you.

You couldn't help but ask about Nanami, Shoko smiled wiping her eyes, "He's fine, he's in the morgue with Geto, go see him, im sure he needs to talk."

You made sure Shoko was okay, leaving a kiss on her cheek you ran to the morgue, when you arrived you saw Nanami Kento close the door behind him.

Your heavy breathing caught his attention and he turned to look at you, you noticed his red eyes.

"Nanami, I'm so sorry, Shoko already informed me."

You approached and Nanami looked away so you stopped, you noticed his face was serious as always but this time you felt hostility towards you.

"I'm so sorry Nanami, he didn't deserve that, Shoko told me that Gojo finished the mission, it should have been a mission for us, not you."

Your words made Nanami look mocking, he rolled his eyes and looked at you coldly, "You're right. It was supposed to be an easy mission but it wasn't, maybe if your stupid boyfriend acted when he was supposed to do it, he would still be alive"

It was evident that Nanami was saying those words to hurt you, you understood that each person had a grieving process, but you were not going to let him crush your feelings.

"First of all, I don't know what boyfriend you're talking about. Second, missions are supposed to be assigned according to rank, it's not my fault you guys weren't up to the task."

You were being unfair, and you knew it. But your feelings were hurt, you supposed you had to do the same.

Nanami approached you and looked you straight in the eyes, you didn't feel scared because you knew he would never hurt you, "Don't stand here and talk about survive to a mission when you experienced the exact same thing, you survived that mission thanks to Geto according to you. You're no better than us y/n, we're all trying to survive here."

With those words you saw him walk away from you, and this time you didn't follow him.

2007. April 24

You lasted exactly five months without speaking to Nanami, and he didn't do anything to speak to you either. You were both very stubborn, but you were still his weakness.

You were again on the stairs that led to the patio, you bit your lips waiting for news from Geto, according to what someone reported, he had massacred a village and even murdered his own parents.

You couldn't understand that your sweet friend could have done something so cruel and inhumane. Gojo had called and announced that officially, Geto Suguru has deserted.

Your friend Suguru, who told you to confess your feelings to Nanami, who let you comb his hair, who was such a good person.

You didn't understand.

A few steps made you turn in another direction, wiping the tears from your face, you were tired of people seeing you cry. That someone sat next to you and you were silent. You didn't need to look to know who it was.

"I guess you already know. 112 deaths were reported in the village he visited" you bit your lips and nodded, you had nothing to say.

""I'm sorry for what I said to you that day, it was inappropriate and you didn't deserve that."

You honestly didn't have the head to process Nanami's apology, you just nodded again and looked to the side.

"It's okay, we're fine, I'm also sorry for reacting like that, I had to be more understanding."

Nanami didn't say anything else, he just grabbed one of your hands and held it, startling you. You had forgotten that he was already more trusting with you, making you blush.

You looked at him and knew that a question that needed to be spoken rested on his tongue.

Nanami opened his mouth but a voice and footsteps silenced him.

"And what is this supposed to be? Don't tell me Nanamin that you proposed a date to y/n."

Gojo Satoru stood tall in front of them with a mocking smile, next to him was a boy with a serious face.

You didn't understand how he of all people could be so well off.

"Now you also kidnap children?That's low even for you" you said releasing Nanami and standing up to approach the boy.

"Oh yn-chan, don't say those things in front of Megumi-chan, you'll leave him with a bad impression of me."

"Don't worry, I already have it"

You laughed and Gojo gasped indignantly.

The blonde also stood up and had a grim face, he didn't appreciate Gojo's arrival.

He supposed it was for the best that you didn't know about his feelings, after all, you even had your little family without him.

2009. February 18

At twenty years old, life had a bittersweet taste. You were still a sorcerer, you helped Gojo raise the son of the man who gave them immense trauma.

God knows that Fushiguro Megumi had no sin, he was a stubborn and sweet child, he needed help in life. And also Gojo.

But you knew that you weren't Geto's replacement.

You and Shoko were still as close as ever, except now she was working as a doctor and you were still going on missions.

It had been a year since you had seen Nanami, he had left the world of jujutsu and you understood his reasons.

You know well that Haibara's death hit him deep, like everyone else, and you heard from Gojo that he now works in an office, how pathetic.

It was an ordinary and bright day, rarely you didn't have a mission but Gojo did, so he asked you if you could take care of Megumi and his sweet sister Tsumiki.

The children were in their respective classes, so you decided to stop by a bakery to buy sweets. Their school was close to the central area, thanks to the money Gojo spent on them. You had to admit, Gojo really tried for those kids.

You entered and a girl helped you, it was the first time you were there on Gojo's recommendation. The girl was very sweet and friendly, she reminded you of people from the past.

When you were about to pay the bell at the door announced a new buyer, the girl greeted him with familiarity, curiosity got the better of you and you turned around.

You were surprised. Nanami Kento had definitely grown in a year, he was taller and his once thin body was now more muscular, you liked it.

Feeling your gaze, you noticed how his eyes were surprised and you smiled. Some things remain the same.

"Well well, but who do we have here? the second deserter" You joked, elbowing him, up close you could notice how wide he became.

Nanami shook his head and adjusted his tie, feeling nervous out of nowhere, "I've never seen you here. Only Gojo, do you do his shopping now too?"

Ok Nanami didn't want to sound so bitter, the comment slipped out and you could tell his regret so you let it go.

"Actually, I buy for the children, today I take care of them" You said paying, you waited for him to finish his purchase watching the girl's smile towards him and you couldn't help but frown.

You both left the store and stood there, once again your curiosity got the better of you, "So, do you come here often for the sweets or for the girl?"

Nanami was surprised to hear your question, were you jealous of him? It doesn't make sense, after all you were the one who got engaged to someone else.

"If you must know, both."

You nodded, smiling with an undeniable ardor in your heart. You couldn't blame him for moving on with his life, after all, everyone had.

'That's good, I see you moved on from your past life quickly" your comment shouldn't have sounded like that either, it just did, but Nanami didn't let it go.

The blonde man approached you with a frown, this time you couldn't help but feel intimidated by his large figure.

"Which past life? Y/n, i remember all the days, all the missions, all the pain. They took our adolescence from us." You bit the inside of your cheek, and Nanami continued, "You can't blame me for trying to build a new life when you did it first."

Nanami turned to leave but this time you didn't let him, you went around him and stood in front of him. "What the hell are you talking about? Explain yourself"

Nanami snorted and crossed his arms, he looked kind of funny with a baguette in his arms, "You know what I'm talking about."

If there is any god who gives you patience, why were you going to kill this man.

"Stop talking shit and explain yourself, you always do this, say something and walk away. Not this time, tell me what you mean" you said getting closer to him and Nanami didn't back away.

Nanami set his jaw and let out a stressed sigh, "Oh you don't know what I'm talking about, of course. You've cried for Gojo Satoru all your life, you were the one who now has a family with him. You never even considered me and now that I'm moving on and forgetting you, you decide to judge me for it. It's not fair."

You were speechless, you always had the sneaking suspicion that Nanami thought you liked one of your friends, but you never believed that the idiot was capable of thinking that.

"Nanami Kento, you are an idiot."

Nanami was ready to respond, but your lips on his silenced him. Surprised, it took him a second to respond to the kiss, but he quickly followed it, showing how much he wanted you.

""Wait, I can't do this, Gojo is an idiot but he doesn't deserve this."

You couldn't help but laugh, "I never liked Gojo, I always liked you. And I adore the children, but our relationship with Gojo is strictly about them. Our friendship and Shoko's is the last thing we have left, I don't like him. nor me to him"

Those words were a cool summer breeze for him, this time Nanami hugged you, lifting you off the ground, making you laugh.

You separated from him a little and asked about the girl at the bakery.

""I helped her free herself from a curse, her spirit reminds me of him."

You understood who he was talking about and you smiled sadly, hugging him again.

His hug communicated many things. This time he said, "Please be mine."

2017. December 18

Peace reigned in your comfortable home, you were preparing homemade dough to receive your husband with pizza.

Your 3-year-old daughter was sleeping soundly in her room, every so often you checked on her on the monitor that your controlling husband needed. You have to admit that it also helps you do things around the house.

You are still a jujutsu sorcerer, only now you worked more as a teacher since d/n was born.

You usually spent your mornings with the students, d/n in kindergarten or sometimes accompanied you, and your husband worked until it was time to pick her up.

Your husband. It had been 5 years since you got married and it still tickled you to call him that.

In 2013, after being together for 4 years, he surprised you with an romantic dinner and asked you to marry him. The wedding was also very intimate , only the people close to you.

In 2014 you received your little daughter, who was an identical copy of your husband. Everything seemed to have finally fallen into place, you were happy and lived as peacefully as you could.

You smiled, lost in your thoughts, so much so that you didn't feel arms surround your waist, startling you. Behind you, your husband laughed.

"Don't worry, love, I didn't want to scare you." Nanami Kento placed a tickling kiss on your neck, "Is everything okay?"

You sighed contently into his arms, "Yes, I'm sorry, I got lost in my head."

Nanami nodded and went to check on d/n who was starting to wake up. You turned off the pan with your sauce and followed him.

In your daughter's room, there were plenty of toys courtesy of her uncle Gojo and her aunt Shoko, both of them always took care of her on the days when you and Nanami went out to eat.

You opened the door slowly and found your husband with your daughter in his arms, she was always a daddy's girl, and you wouldn't change it for the world.

"How did you behave with mom, honey, okay?" d/n nodded smiling and Nanami left a kiss on her cheek making her explode with laughter, "Of course you behaved well, if you're an angel."

You laughed, denying, making your presence known, d/n saw you and stretched out her arms for you to pick her up, to which you agreed, "An angel who already broke his uncle's third pair of sunglasses"

Kento laughed, "Gojo is literally rich, his only expense is Fushiguro but that kid doesn't bother him"

"Uncle Gojo!! He promised he would bring cookies" D/n said, remembering her uncle's promise.

You and Nanami looked at each other disapprovingly, it was inevitable that Gojo secretly gave the little girl sweets, thousands of times you scolded him for it but he never learns.

"How about after dinner, you finish all your vegetables and I'll see if I can find something sweet for you, how does that sound?" Nanami knew that d/n would never pass up an opportunity like that, he laughed when he saw her celebrating with you.

He approached and hugged them. Something you shared with your daughter was a love for Nanami Kento's hugs.

He placed a kiss on your foreheads and smiled, looking at you warmly, "Thank you."

2018. June 16

Shoko Ieri loved playing with your daughter, she always said that she was very smart for her age, now that she was 4 years old she was more perceptive and you suspected that she could already feel the cursed energy.

You were in Shoko's office until you received a call from Nanami, worrying you since it was work hours.

"Hi baby, everything okay?"

"Gojo called me, offered me a job again."

You talked to him about it many times, but he never wanted to come back. You always knew that the office bored him to death and that his heart was in Jujutsu, so you assumed that Gojo Satoru also perceived the same.

"Well, I don't know what to say, you left me speechless" there was no response from the other side, "Listen Kento, I will support you in whatever you decide. Do what makes you happy, you are an excellent sorcerer and a good person. These children could use a little of your stoic character."

Even on the phone you could feel the smile forming on his lips.

"Thank you my love, we will talk at home. I hope everything turns out well."

2018. October 31

Hearing Itadori's scream was like seeing Gojo lying on the ground again, blood pouring out of his body.

You were quite far away but you could see well.

Nanami Kento, with half of his body burned, without an eye, looked towards where Itadori was, in front of him was Mahito touching him.

The tears were stuck without coming out, you saw Nanami's lips move towards Itadori and your heart crushed.

And what you feared most happened.

You saw it all in the front row, blood splashing, his body destroying itself under Mahito's command.

This time you didn't scream, nor did your tears come out, you were already tired of crying.

Your soul was on fire and there was no one to quench the hatred you felt inside you. Was this what Geto once felt?

You stood still before the scene, you heard Itadori scream again and that was when without realizing it you began to move forward.

Mahito saw you coming after Itadori and smiled macabrely, as if he was proud of what he had done.

"Itadori"

The boy turned around and you could see that the scene had also affected him, you felt his body tremble with anger.

""Together" you announced and the young man nodded with determination, both began to run towards the curse that awaited for you with a smile.

You really didn't know what you were going to tell your daughter, or if Gojo had a plan to stop this madness, or if you were even going to come out alive.

You just knew that you weren't going to let your husband die in vain.

And after finishing Mahito, you were going to travel with d/n to Malaysia.

n/a: I hope you like it, I'm going to make a version for Geto and Toji for sure.

#jujutsu kaisen #nanami x reader #nanami smut #nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x fem reader #nanami kento angst #nanami angst #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk spoilers #kento nanami #jujutsu kaisen smut

[itsjunear]

"Hidden Feelings" Part 3

Hello everyone! Here is the last and third part. I'm sorry for taking so long, this time there are no excuses, I just ask for forgiveness 😭😭Thanks to everyone for the reblogs and likes ❤❤❤ I really appreciate it. I hope you like it, sorry if there are any mistakes, English is not my first language. I love you all ❤❤❤

Warnings: Mentions of violence, mention of misogyny, if you squint you'll see a slight mention of nudity

Psdt: I'll advance that it has a happy ending. I hate sad endings, sorry. There's a bit of anguish, but everything gets resolved.

Part 1 Part 2

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By the Cauldron, perhaps my foolishness had led me to this situation.

Maybe I should have let Cassian or Az accompany me, after all, they knew their people better, and that would have avoided the whole mess I found myself in, knee-deep in crap.

I gasped for air as I tried to make my limbs obey, too tired to achieve any result. The cold pierced my bones, and I was sure I would freeze if I couldn't manage to move even a little. But everything hurt, my arms felt limp, my legs too weak to stand, and I could even feel my face starting to swell, bruises becoming more pronounced with each passing moment, and a stabbing pain in my side with every breath.

Where was Rhys? He said he would come to take me home in our last communication.

I tried to move a bit, flexing my knees with great effort as I groaned in pain, almost crying out from the ache on my right side, but only managed to end up with my face buried in the snow. Gods, it didn't feel so bad, it burned a bit, but the cold would help reduce the swelling. Immortal blood should already be doing its job trying to heal the wounds, but the pain didn't diminish in any way.

I closed my eyes as I tried to gather strength in my arms to push myself up when I heard footsteps approaching me. Then, my brain started working to alert me, and I forced myself to lift my head a little, assessing the threat. A tall figure, filled with shadows and wings, was running towards me. I almost sighed in relief when I distinguished Az's figure, getting closer and closer.

"Y/N" he shouted.

He knelt beside me, looking worried and as beautiful as ever, with his nose and cheeks flushed from the cold.

"What happened? By the Mother" His eyes scanned me up and down, assessing all the damage. He touched my face gently, and I winced when he brushed against my right cheek and withdrew his hand automatically, throwing an apologetic glance before icy anger took over his face.

Did I look that bad?

"I'm… fine, Az" I replied haltingly, struggling to speak but trying to keep the fog out of my head.

"Rhys said you would be here, and when he felt…" he cut himself off halfway through the sentence, gently moving me so he could bear my weight. "I came as fast as I could, I'm sorry" his shadows swirled around us, restless.

"It's okay, Az. You're here" I repeated as I rested my head on his chest, allowing myself to savor the moment as I closed my eyes. He wrapped both arms around me, careful not to hurt me further, and enveloped us both with his wings.

"I'll take you home," he whispered lightly in my ear, and I nodded, unsure if he could see me or not. He gently carried me in his arms, and I buried my face in his neck, filling myself with his scent. However, I could feel his tense body, the anger he emitted was palpable even though he was trying to be as gentle as possible with me.

"I'm fine, Az, relax" I told him in a low tone. A little lie. Fatigue was killing me.

"You wouldn't say that if you saw the same thing I'm seeing" he grumbled.

If I could roll my eyes, I would have, but sleep began to invade me, and I no longer had the strength to argue with him. I was safe, and that was all that mattered. Az had come for me.

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

I woke up with a terrible headache.

Damn. I slowly opened my eyes, aware of where I was. In my room at the House of Wind. Alive. I sighed and touched my face, pain-free. Good. I took a deep breath and sat up, feeling that slight twinge in my side again. I lowered my gaze and found bandages.

Great. I should have been healed by now. If they were just scratches, why was I still in bed?

"Because it weren't just scratches, you had two broken ribs and a contusion" Rhys leaned against the doorframe.

"Stop spying on me" I grumbled hoarsely.

He raised his hands in surrender and walked towards me, sitting beside me on the bed.

"How do you feel?" he asked with a concerned voice.

"Like I've been beaten up" I simply replied, sighing "Cassian will kick my ass for letting myself get beaten like this."

"I'd say he'll leave you alone until you're fully recovered and then drag you out of bed at dawn to train again," he replied with a gentle smile before returning to his distressed tone "You should have seen his face when he saw you unconscious in Az's arms. He was worried. We all were."

"I know, I'm sorry," I looked at my nails "I… I was ambushed and caught off guard, Rhys."

He took my hand, and I met his violet eyes "What happened?" he asked without pressure. I knew he wouldn't force me to tell anything, but I wanted to, so I squeezed his hand in response and opened my shields to let him in.

I showed him everything. How I had to pretend to be a female who only wanted to drink until unconsciousness and how I had to flirt with other equally drunk males to get them to tell me something, anything. I showed him how the night before I had obtained information from an Ilyrian soldier about those females, how they had been killed, and why. When I almost vomited because their only justification was: "They couldn't be tamed anymore. We had to root it out before it spread to the others" as if they were just simple animals. And even when, in the middle of the night, I was packing my things to get out of that dump and several Ilyrians surrounded me, realizing I had been discovered. Every blow they struck me with, in the stomach, the head, the face, the back, how I felt pain everywhere, they had beaten me almost into unconsciousness as a warning, so that I wouldn't snoop around again, they had said. And the moments before Az found me in the middle of the snow.

When we returned to reality, Rhys's body was so tense that I could feel all that contained rage, so I just touched his arm in a gesture to calm down. It worked, because he shot me a guilty look, and I raised my hand to stop him.

"Don't do that. This wasn't anyone's fault. You didn't send me there, I volunteered to go, and it just didn't turn out as we hoped." It seemed to calm him a bit, but not entirely, and I continued speaking. "Anyway, they didn't know who I was, maybe they suspected a bit, but they didn't have a chance to ask me."

Rhys shook his head.

"I haven't received any notification from the camp, you're probably right."

I nodded. "I'm fine, Rhys. This wasn't anyone's fault, it could have happened to anyone, even to you or Cassian and Az. Relax."

Rhys sighed before his gaze turned serious. "Azriel will definitely enjoy hunting them down."

I opened my mouth to respond when the shadow singer walked into the room with bandages in hand. A look of understanding passed between Rhys and he stood up from where he was.

"I'll leave you alone, rest," he said before getting up from my side. "Take a few days off, nothing will be deducted from your salary," he joked with a small smile, and I laughed.

However, the laughter turned into a groan when that twinge attacked again, and I had to bring my hand to that spot.

"Majda said that in a few days you should be good as new, just with rest and medication, but it'll hurt until it's fully healed," Az said with a raised eyebrow.

"Great" I groaned again.

He walked to the bed and sat down, taking Rhys's place as his shadows roamed the room, one wrapping around a loose strand of my hair. I smiled and felt Az's intense gaze on me.

"I need to change your bandage" was all he said.

I nodded as I took off the oversized shirt that wasn't mine, probably his from the scent of cedar infused in it, when I remembered I wasn't wearing any underwear to cover my breasts, but honestly… it didn't matter, after all, he had already seen me vulnerable, bleeding, and almost dead.

His intense gaze never wavered from its target, which seemed to be me. So I let him do his work and just covered my breasts with the shirt.

"Thank you" I said as his hands touched me gently, hands full of scars that I loved so much, and I felt my skin tingling in every place he caressed "For coming to find me."

He looked at me and stopped. Taking my face in his hands, his hazel eyes filled with gentleness "You have nothing to thank me for. I'm sorry I arrived too late."

"Azriel, I'll tell you the same thing I told Rhys, this isn't anyone's fault"

I shook my head, feeling my heart racing. It meant nothing more, Az was obviously worried, if the situation were reversed, I'd be the same. I had no reason to think this was something else, I wouldn't let my heart get carried away.

"I shouldn't have let you go alone, I had a bad feeling" he said as he leaned his forehead against mine, and I felt tears welling up in my eyes.

I shouldn't let him do this, how would I recover from this? How would I feel later, when I saw him with the beautiful and sweet Elain?

I blinked to clear my vision and pulled away from him. I couldn't… I just couldn't.

Az looked at me with hurt eyes, and his wings fluttered behind him the same way his shadows did, but he kept talking. "I'm sorry, truly. Seeing you there in the snow… By the Cauldron, I've never felt so much fear, and when you fell asleep…" He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it up a bit "I was so terrified you wouldn't wake up again that…"

"Stop, Az" I interrupted him as my throat trembled and my heart ached "Don't say those things, okay?"

I couldn't let him continue talking. No. Because it would make me give in and tell him I've loved him for centuries.

"No" he challenged me, determined. "Let me finish. I can't imagine… Seeing that I almost lost you made me panic because I couldn't imagine being immortal and living without you. And realizing that reality…"

"Az" I cut him off again as I grabbed one of his shoulders desperately and shook him slightly. "Stop, please" I let out a pained whisper.

I wanted to cry so badly, and I guessed his shadows sensed it because they ran over my arms as a form of comfort.

Azriel ignored me.

"I love you" he confessed then. "I have for a long time, so long that spending time with you was a sweet torture. However, you don't have to feel the same, I just wanted to tell you. I know we haven't been completely right for a few weeks, but we can fix it…"

"What?" my body trembled as I realized what he was saying, and the lump in my throat grew bigger.

He took my face in his hands and kissed my forehead gently. "I love you, I'm sorry it took me so long to tell you."

My heart, my poor heart that had been so hurt, filled with hope… and maybe… Yes. Maybe all of this was true, but… What about Elain?

"What?" Az's face filled with confusion. Damn, had I thought out loud? I sighed and realized I had already opened that door I had been so afraid to explore before.

"Elain… I've seen you with her, you know? You look comfortable with her, Az, and I don't want to get in the way…" I said without any reproach.

"Haven't you heard anything I told you before?" he responded with desperation. "I love you, only you. I'm completely yours." He sighed, and his wings drooped a little. "Elain is nice, I think she's great as a friend, nothing more. If I've spent more time with her lately, it's because I thought you needed space from me, because I saw you distancing yourself from me and I thought… Damn, I've been an idiot."

By the Mother. This was real.

"Do you love me?" was all I could ask, completely forgetting about Elain.

"I do. My heart and my soul are yours," he replied.

"Az…" I said his name in a sigh "I love you too, I have for centuries, probably since that time you ate the carrot cake I tried to bake and no one else wanted to try."

Az chuckled softly before leaning in and capturing my lips in a slow kiss, filled with years of longing, and the shirt that barely covered me left my breasts exposed as I raised my hands to tangle them in his hair. His lips felt soft against mine, and I opened my mouth in an invitation he gladly accepted, sliding his tongue in. I wanted to move a little more to feel him, but I let out a moan when that damn rib hurt me again. Az laughed in the midst of the kiss and pulled away.

"You shouldn't move too much yet," he said as he stroked my hair.

"I know, it's very annoy…"

"You look pretty good, actually. Rhys told me you're still not ready to train, but I think I'll see you in the ring tomorrow," Cassian's voice made an appearance in the room, startling us and interrupting us, so Az quickly raised a wing to try to cover me.

I let out a laugh that made me ache, and Cassian followed suit with a laugh.

Az handed me the shirt, and I put it on as we shared a amused look. There were still things we needed to figure out, but we would do it later. Together.

@going-through-shit @isa1b2h3 @willowpains @mariahoedt @charlotteintumbleland @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife @otherworldly-creatures-blog @sirens-and-moonflowers @i-am-infinite @kalulakunundrum @jenniferpendragon @randomperson1234sblog @abysshaven @coolepowersthings @fxckmiup @boygeniuses10 @fightmedraco @prettylittlewrites

#acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #i dont know what im doing #bat boys

[daisynik7]

Rush

Chapter 10: Too Late

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x f!reader

Rating: Explicit

cw: angst, mild violence at the very end of the chapter

Summary: You end it for good. Eren realizes something a little too late.  

Notes: Only one more regular chapter left! Can’t believe it’s almost over 😭. Song is “i don’t wanna fall in love, it’s too late now” by Chase Shakur.

Important Announcement: I will be taking a short break this weekend! I have a wedding to attend and it’s also a long weekend for me, so I will not be posting Chapter 11 until the following week (Sunday, February 26th, 9 PM PST).  Sorry for the wait and thank you in advanced for your patience! 

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I’m ending this. It’s over. You and me. We’re done.

Eren stares at her, dumbfounded, brain short circuiting trying to comprehend what she said.  

“What?” he sputters, sitting up on the bed, still naked, gleaming with sweat and slick from their love making just twenty minutes ago. 

“This is the last time. I’m done.”

He jumps off, adrenaline rushing through his body as he quickly slides into his briefs. “I don’t understand. Why? What did I do?” 

She drops her heels and purse onto the floor, crossing her arms. “Wow. It must be so nice living with this level of ignorance. Or maybe it’s selfishness, I don’t know anymore. But if you want me to spell it out for you, I can.”

He swallows hard, caught off guard by her flippant demeanor. “Is this because I didn’t take you to formal? I didn’t even dance with her – ”

“It’s not about formal, Eren!” she snaps. “It’s everything! The sneaking around, the manipulating, the disrespect. I can’t take it anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“You make me feel ashamed of myself. Make me feel worthless. You didn’t even want to be friends, you had to pretend that I didn’t fucking exist. All you want me for is sex, that’s the only way you acknowledge me. I’m not a fucking sex toy. I’m a human fucking being.”

He’s never seen her so angry. There’s a lump in his throat, making it difficult for him to speak. In a quiet voice, he explains,  “I didn’t mean for you to feel that way. I told you, I’m just not ready for people to know about us yet.” It’s a half-assed excuse, he knows that. He never thought about how she was feeling. Or maybe he was too selfish to think about it. 

“So you’d rather ignore me than have people know we’re together? Do you realize how fucked up that is? Are you that embarrassed of me? Am I only good enough to fuck and that’s it?” Tears well up in her eyes. She wipes them away before they fall down her cheek. There’s a tightness in his chest engulfing him watching her cry like this.

“No, I –“ he starts, incapable of articulating what he wants to say into words. Instead, he begs, “Can we please go to bed? I promise, everything will be okay in the morning.”

She takes a few deep breaths, responding, “I’m sick of waiting around for everything to be okay. Waiting for you to get over yourself. It’s a waste of time. It’s not fun anymore. I’m unhappy. When I’m with you, I feel gross and dirty. I don’t feel like myself.”

The realization hits as she bares her all to him. She’s hurt. She’s been hurting. And he’s responsible for it. He’s the cause of the pain and anguish that she’s been forced to endure until it became overwhelming. Until her delicate heart couldn’t take it anymore. It’s all his fault. 

He reaches out to hold her, console her in the only way he knows how. She flinches away from him, disgusted. “Don’t touch me. You don’t get to touch me anymore.”

In his mind, he only remembers the good memories. The ecstasy, the euphoria, the thrill of sneaking around and indulging in his carnal desires. He turned a blind eye to her obvious apprehension when he first suggested they keep it all a secret. Perhaps he wasn’t blind at all; he saw it but chose to disregard it. Convinced himself that he was doing what was best for himself, and not for the both of them. He’s always been aware how selfish he can be; this is a new low that even he didn’t think he’d stoop to.

She bends down to retrieve her belongings from the floor. Without looking at him, she asks, “Do you even like me, Eren?”

The question stuns him. He’s frozen, voice caught in his throat. Every part of his being is yelling at him to confess what he’s been too afraid to say. Has he even admitted it to himself? His overbearing ego won’t let him. He’s too much of a fucking coward. Jaw tight, staring at anywhere except her, he remains silent. Too fucking scared to face the truth. He’s still trying to tell himself that the feelings he has for her are lust, nothing more. So why does it hurt so much knowing she’s ending it?

“That’s what I thought. I get it now. It was all pretend just to fuck me. To use me. Well, congratulations. You got what you wanted. I hope you’re happy.”

Eren stays in place, feet rooted to the carpet, listening to her walk away and undo the double locks on the door. Before turning the handle, he hears her take a staggered breath. The door shuts with a loud thud and she’s gone. 

~~~

You exit the room, taking in a deep breath. It’s over. You did it. 

A few minutes later, you find yourself in front of Room 310, laughter audible through the walls. After several knocks, Hitch opens the door, dressed in her pajamas. In the background, you see Annie, Connie, and Armin, also in their PJs, playing cards on one of the beds.

Hitch looks at you, worried. “What are you doing here?”

Annie rises from the bed and stands behind her, staring at you intently. 

“It’s over. I ended it.”

Both of their eyes widen. Annie pushes you into the hall, Hitch following, shutting the door. 

“Are you okay?” Hitch asks.

“Yeah, I think so. Can I stay in your room for the night? I don’t really want to be alone right now.”

“Of course. Let’s go get your stuff.”

You nod, leading them down the hallway into your room, where Mike is sprawled out on the bed, having the best sleep of his life. After refilling his nearly empty glass of water, you quietly grab your bag and tiptoe back into the hallway. 

Back in Room 310, you change into comfortable clothes and lounge on one of the beds, emotionally exhausted. Armin and Connie don’t question your sudden presence, which is appreciated. The next few hours pass, letting yourself get distracted by card games and idle gossip amongst your friends. At around 2 AM, the boys fall sleep next to each other on one bed while you, Annie, and Hitch snuggle together in the other. Once they’re snoring, Annie nudges you, whispering, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You’re bundled between them, comfortable in their warmth and concern. “Yeah. Actually, I think I’m good.” 

She snorts. “God, I would kill to see what that asshole’s face looked like when you told him.”

“He seemed pretty shocked,” you mention, recalling the way he started sputtering at you. Your body was surging with adrenaline that you didn’t have a chance to process his reactions properly. “He didn’t really say much though. Maybe he’s relieved that it’s over.”

“I don’t think so. I bet he’s more heartbroken about it than you think,” Hitch says, giving your hand a gentle squeeze

“I doubt it.”

“Either way, it’s done. No more sneaking around, no more drama.”

“Yeah,” you smile. “Good riddance.” 

Around 9:00 AM, you wake up and sneak out of the room, sending a short text to Annie letting her know you’re leaving. At the café downstairs, you order a breakfast burrito and coffee to-go. In your room, you find Mike awake, lying on the bed, scrolling through his phone. His face brightens when he sees you walk in, goodies in hand.

“Hey,” he greets, voice hoarse from his hangover.

“Good morning, handsome. Here.” You set the breakfast burrito on the nightstand, where he peers at it, smiling. 

“You remembered,” he grins, eyes twinkling with delight.

“Of course. Also,” you reach into your pocket for a small pack of painkillers. “Some aspirin, in case you’re hurting.”

He chuckles, accepting it. “Thank you. I’m sorry I was such a bad date last night.”

“You don’t have to apologize. I forced you to bring me.” You sit at the edge of the bed, grinning at him.

“Well, regardless, I’m happy I brought you.” He places his hand on top of yours, brushing his thumb gently against your skin suggestively. “Can I make it up to you before we check out?”

“Mike, you are the sweetest. But I need to focus on myself for a while. I think I need to be alone for a bit to figure some stuff out.”

He sighs. “I get it. As long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters.” 

You gaze at him affectionately, almost wishing you had a time machine to go back and re-do your entire semester with Mike instead of Eren. Mike deserves to be doted on one thousand percent, and even if you could reverse time, you’re not sure if you could give that to him.

“Can I at least get one last kiss?” he asks, that charming smirk on his face. 

Giggling, you lean forward, kissing him. “You definitely need to brush your teeth,” you tease.

“Yep, I just got a whiff myself. I am so sorry. I’ll shower and brush first, then I’ll dive into this delicious burrito.” He gives you a quick peck on the cheek, skipping to the bathroom to start the shower. 

Falling against the bedsheets, you stare at the ceiling, pondering. Did your words leave any effect on Eren? He stood there, gawking at you, a dense look on his face. Was it shock? Or does he really not give a shit?

While it was satisfying to let it out, you can’t help being a little heartbroken. You wanted so badly for it to work, for him to like you back. For it to turn into something real. There were moments together that gave you that rush of falling in love. It was electrifying. Exhilarating. To experience it first-hand, even for a few fleeting moments, makes you not regret it entirely.   

Confirming that it was all a sham is a difficult truth to swallow. It’s your own fault for disregarding the red flags, ignoring Annie’s warnings, pretending everything was fine when it never was. The only other peace you can gather from all of this is learning from your mistakes. You’re determined to never give yourself to someone who isn’t willing to accept all of you. 

When Mike is clean and fresh out of the shower, he devours his breakfast in a few large bites. Once he’s done, the two of you pack your belongings and tidy up, checking out of the room to catch the first bus. Downstairs in the lobby, you spot Annie and Hitch, sipping on their iced coffees next to Armin and Connie. You part ways, leaving him with the other upperclassmen so you can join your friends. 

Hitch offers you the remaining drink on the tray. “Morning,” she smiles. 

You thank her, sipping on your second coffee of the day, listening to them chat with each other. It could be the caffeine rush, or the adrenaline from last night. Either way, you feel rejuvenated and refreshed. A new beginning. A clean slate. 

It doesn’t last long, however. Halfway through your coffee, distracted by your phone, you hear Annie ask in a stern voice, “What do you want now?”

You tilt your head up to investigate, finding Eren standing in front of her.

~~~

Eren wakes up at the end of the bed, legs dangling off the edge. Body slouched against the sheets, feet settled on the carpet flooring. Ready to open the door if she ever returns. She never does. 

He fetches his phone off the floor, which fell from his hand overnight. Scanning his notifications, he sees no responses, no call backs. He reviews the series of text messages he bombarded her with, several minutes after her departure:

Eren: Hey

Eren: Please come back

Eren: Let’s talk

Eren: I don’t want this to end yet

Eren: come back

Eren: I’m sorry

Eren: Please talk to me

It doesn’t seem like the messages have been delivered; she must have blocked him. None of the calls he made went through, sending him straight to the generic voicemail that informs him that the number he has dialed is unavailable. He attempted at least ten calls to her last night, desperate to regain control of a situation that exploded in his face. One that he was severely unprepared to handle.

When the sun rises and a stream of daylight shimmers past the curtains, he gets up, having barely slept. He feels like shit. Mentally, physically, emotionally. Is this how he made her feel whenever they were together? After disappointing her time and time again? 

Moments before she left him, he had a breakthrough. He was willing to commit to her, after being indecisive for so long. He allowed himself to be vulnerable, declaring I’m yours, I’m all yours. But it was too late. The contempt on her face as she exposed him for all his filth is cemented in his mind. The tears falling from her eyes, the disgust in her face when he reached out to her. The guilt eats away at him, knowing he’s the whole reason behind it. 

Groggy and exhausted, he stumbles into the shower, the hot steam not enough to fill the emptiness consuming his insides. It’s obvious now what he did wrong. He dangled the promise of a real relationship in front of her, toying with her emotions until she finally snapped. He thought he could get away with it, keep her around while he figured out what he wants to do. Not once did he consider her ending it first. He seriously underestimated her.

Maybe it’s better this way. He always planned to end it eventually. He never could bring himself to do it, though. There’s always been a small part of him that wanted to hold onto her for a bit longer. 

Packed and ready to check out, he heads downstairs to the hotel lobby, waiting for the first bus to arrive. Armin spots him, waving him over to the couch he’s currently lounging on. “Eren!” 

“Hey Armin,” he greets, sitting beside him. 

“God, you look awful,” Armin blurts, studying his face. 

“I didn’t get much sleep last night,” Eren admits, conscious of the dark circles under his eyes. Trying to change the subject, he asks, “What did you do last night? After formal?”

Smiling, Armin replies, “We hung out in our room. It was fun.”

“Who was all there?”

Armin lists names, the last being hers. Eren lifts his head up, alert. “She was with you last night?”

Confused, he answers, “Yeah, she was.”

“Do you know where she is now?”

“Um, probably checking out of her room with Mike. Why?” 

“I have to talk to her. I need to see her. Do you know if she’s riding the first bus with us?”

“Uh, I have no idea,” he responds, still perplexed. “Why do you have to talk to her? I didn’t realize you two talked.”

Connie appears and places himself next to Armin, sipping on a coffee cup. “The girls are waiting for the iced coffees. Oh hey, Eren! What’s up man? You look like shit.”

Annoyed, Eren stands and walks away, heading towards the café at the other side of the lobby. He sees Annie and Hitch, waiting for their order at the other side of the register. 

“Annie.”

Both girls turn around to face him, Hitch surprised, Annie pissed. “What is it, Jaeger?”

“Where is she?”

Annie smirks. “Who?”

“Stop playing dumb. Armin told me she was with you last night. Where is she?”

Hitch chimes in, “Why do you want to know?”

“I need to talk to her.”

“It’s over, Eren. Leave her alone,” Annie says, glaring at him. “She doesn’t want anything to do with you anymore.”

“You don’t know what she wants.”

“And you do? Are you fucking kidding me?” She steps towards him, ready to fight. 

Hitch holds her by the shoulders, whispering, “Annie, don’t.”

He moves back, waving his hands. “Look, I just want to speak to her. Make this right.”

She scoffs. “It’s too late for that, Jaeger. It is way too late for that.”

The barista calls out a number and Annie heads to the counter to retrieve the drinks, leaving Eren alone with Hitch.

“She liked you, you know,” Hitch says quietly. “She really liked you.”

He stares at her, unsure how to respond.

“And she thought that maybe you liked her too.”

“I – ”

“You shouldn’t treat people you care about like that.”

Before he can say anything else, Annie returns, a tray of drinks in her hand. “Let’s go, Hitch. I can’t stand being around this loser any longer.” They both leave, heading for Armin and Connie on the couch. 

Eren scratches his head, feeling worse than he did just a few minutes ago. He’s not exactly sure what his plan is. All he knows is that he needs to do some damage control. He never wanted them to be on bad terms. With the way he acted, he realizes now how he set them up for failure. How could he think casting her aside as his dirty little secret would ever end well?

He discovers another couch to sit at while he waits, checking his phone to see if she somehow miraculously unblocked him. No luck. A beacon of hope arrives when he spots her coming out of the elevator, making her way towards Annie and Hitch. Desperate, he makes his way to them, praying that somehow, she’ll find it in her heart to listen to him. 

As he approaches them, Annie sneers, “What do you want now?”

He cranes his neck to peer past them, trying to get a good look at her. She faces him once Annie speaks, blinking as if she’s not seeing him correctly.

Hitch and Annie huddle closer together, blocking her from his view. “What do you want, Jaeger?” Annie repeats, tone more threatening. 

“I need to talk to her.”

“No.”

“Just leave her alone, Eren.”

Armin and Connie observe them, bewildered. “What’s going on?”

Ignoring his brothers, he repeats, “Please. I need to talk to her.”

“Eren, stop. There’s nothing else that needs to be said. It’s over,” Hitch reiterates, standing firm in place. 

“Jaeger, seriously. It’s getting creepy.”

“I just want to talk to her, okay?” He tries to push his way past the two girls, reaching for her. “I need to talk to you, sweetie. Please.”

“She’s not your sweetie anymore, Jaeger. Give it up!” Annie shoves him, causing him to back up against Armin. 

Suddenly, Reiner appears, walking towards them, Bertolt close beside him. “What the hell is going on? Why did she shove you, Eren?”

He stands up straight, clearing his throat. “I…I need…It’s nothing. It was a misunderstanding.”

Annie scoffs. “Oh, now you’re afraid to talk? Weren’t you just harassing us about how much you need to talk to her – ”

Reiner interrupts, “Shut up, Annie. Let’s go, Eren. The bus is here. Leave these fucking losers.” He clutches Eren by the scruff and drags him outside towards the bus, watching her eyes follow him out the door. 

~~~

Stomping her foot on the floor, Annie growls under her breath, “Fucking assholes.”

Hitch faces you. “Hey, are you alright?”

You swallow hard, replying, “Yeah. That was…weird.”

“He was looking for you earlier too,” she mentions. “Said he wants to talk to you and make things right.”

“If he really wants to make things right, why didn’t he say anything yesterday?” It’s a rhetorical question that you don’t expect anyone except him to know the answer too. You’re not sure if he knows himself. 

For a moment, you pity him. You’ve never heard him so desperate. The moment passes once Reiner comes into the picture. And Eren is back to his usual self, too scared to show weakness in front of his big brother. It’s pathetic. 

Armin and Connie whisper to each other, understandably puzzled by what just occurred in front of them. Thankfully, they don’t go directly to you asking any questions, letting Annie and Hitch conjure a story to appease their suspicions. 

You’re tempted to wait the extra half hour for the other bus to avoid another awkward interaction, but you ultimately decide to board with the rest of your friends. Eren is already sitting in his own seat, the hood of his sweatshirt on, headphones covering his ears. He gives you a swift glance before focusing his attention to his phone. You let out a sigh of relief, hoping the rest of the trip goes smoothly, and he doesn’t decide to do anything erratic.  

You sit near the rear, occupying a seat to yourself. You notice him sneak peeks at you every few minutes. The whole ride, you’re anxious about him getting up and ambushing you. Thankfully, he never does. 

Back on campus, you dawdle, waiting for him to leave first. Outside, waiting for your bag to be unloaded, Eren doesn’t approach you, deterred by the overbearing presence of big brother Reiner. This might be the only instance in your life that you’ve ever been grateful for that asshole’s company. Once you get sight of your bag, you quickly grab it and hustle out of there, straight for your dorm room. 

Why is he still trying to speak to you? Is guilt eating away at him? Does he want to apologize? Could it be that he finally realizes he has feelings for you? Whatever the reason, you tell yourself not to reflect on it too much. If you continue to hope that there’s something there, you’ll never be able to move on from him. 

The warning signs were always present. Mikasa addressed it earlier in the semester. He’ll do whatever it takes to get what he wants, and sometimes he doesn’t think about how his actions can hurt people. He can be a little selfish. At the time, you brushed it aside, convinced that there weren’t enough feelings involved to get hurt. Now, as you climb your way out of the deep pit you dug yourself in, you wish you took her words seriously. 

She arrives to the room about an hour later. “Hey, roomie. Want to get lunch with us? Jean and I are getting burgers.”

You’re in bed, lazy, lost in thought, and quite frankly exhausted. “I’m not that hungry, so go without me. Thanks anyways.”

“Are you okay? You look sad.”

You sit up, putting on the best smile you can. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired.”

She seems skeptical, but relents, saying, “Well I can’t wait to catch up later. I didn’t see you at the end of the night.”

“I went back to the room with Mike and ending up falling asleep,” you lie. 

“I see. Anyways, let’s talk later. Jean’s waiting for me outside.”

When she’s back from lunch, you and Mikasa chat about your formal experiences, purposefully omitting any and all details about Eren. Now that it’s officially over, there’s no reason to tell her about it. After all that has happened, you don’t hate him enough to tarnish his reputation to his childhood friend. You don’t have it in you to hate him at all. 

~~~

The following week on Sunday night, Eren finds himself lying in bed yet again, belly full of his third instant ramen of the day. Too miserable to leave his room and eat a substantial meal. 

The first part of the week, he was okay. Classes and three-hour workouts at the gym served as a proper distraction. He pretended to be fine with it. Tried to convince himself that it’s better this way. He’s free to do anything and anyone he wants, like he always planned. 

It only lasted a few days until he started getting in his own head again, feeling sorry for himself, missing her immensely now that he no longer has her. Thursday, he retreated to the comfort of his own bed, the one place that still smells like her, just barely. 

He fucked it all up; he knows that. Her words echo in his head constantly, reminding him how awful he’s been the past few months. How selfish he is for not thinking for a second how his actions hurt her. He’ll never forgive himself for making her doubt her worth, for being the cause behind her heartache. 

It’s too late to take it all back. Too late to rewind and do things right. He’s living with the consequences of his decisions. Suffering the punishment that the universe is dealing him, and rightfully so. He deserves this. 

It was never in his plan to fall for her; even with this, it’s too late. It wasn’t evident to him before. Now, as he buries his nose into the pillow, desperate for any trace of her, it’s clear as day. He likes her. 

Has it been building up this entire time right under his nose? He was so confident he had control of his emotions; thought he could play it cool. Keep it casual, no strings attached. All while he kept ignoring the pleasant swell in his chest every time he was with her. Downplaying how utterly attracted he was to every part of her.

Eren despises clichés; however, the phrase you don’t know what you have until it’s gone keeps popping up in his mind. He took her for granted. He was so sure she would never leave, certain he had her wrapped around his finger. Confident that he had total control of the situation. How wrong he was. 

Armin notices his sudden change in behavior. For the most part, his roommate leaves him alone to wallow in his own self-pity. Tonight, he doesn’t.

“Eren, are you going to chapter tonight?”

“No,” he responds, remaining under the covers.

“You can’t miss two chapters in a row without a formal excuse. You skipped last week already. Pledges who miss two chapters in a row will be reprimanded.”

He’s annoyed having to hear Armin explain the rules to him. “Make up an excuse for me.”

“Eren, seriously. What’s wrong? You’ve been moping all week, ever since formal. What happened to you?”

The truth is at the tip of his tongue. I’m a fuck up. A major fuck up. I fucked up everything. He wants to spill it to his best friend, seek advice and find comfort that he knows Armin can offer him. Instead, he stays silent, wrapping himself tighter in his blanket.

“Please come to chapter tonight. It’ll be good to get out of the room. See some people.”

It takes a few minutes, but Eren reluctantly leaves and takes a much needed shower. In order to redeem himself, he has to be honest with her. No more lies, no more manipulation. He has to wear his heart of his sleeve, as she did for him. It’s still not enough, but maybe it’s a start. She still has him blocked in all forms of communication. And nobody else in his life knows about their secret affair, aside from Annie and Hitch, who he is certain will not lend a helping hand. Getting out of bed seems like the first step to putting this new plan into action.

His roommate waits for him to walk to the Alpha Tau house together. There, he is greeted by his pledge brothers, to which he tries his best to appear normal. 

At chapter, he sinks into his seat, barely listening to the agenda. Racking his brain for any inspiration on how to fix the mess he created. Near the end, Erwin announces something that does spark his interest. 

“Next semester, we are going to elect a new sweetheart for Alpha Tau. For those of you who don’t know, a sweetheart is a woman who represents the fraternity and all of our values. She will become an honorary member of our organization, partaking in our many events, including fundraisers and social gatherings. We want someone who is friendly, kind-hearted, and involved on campus. Historically, they are affiliated with a sorority, though not required. Unfortunately, due to last semester’s troubles, our last sweetheart withdrew from her position, which is completely understandable. Now that we are back in the good graces of the university and the other organizations, I believe it is a great time to elect a new sweetheart.” 

Levi adds, “Girlfriends are allowed to be nominated. Keep in mind, we as a fraternity will be voting on who will be the sweetheart, majority rules. Please don’t take it personally if your girlfriend is not selected.”

Erwin shuffles through his papers, ready to jot down some notes. “Alright. Any nominations?”

Immediately, Jean rises from his seat to nominate Mikasa. Armin grins, seemingly supportive of this suggestion.  

Slouched in his seat, Reiner yells out, “Sandra, from Delta Mu.” 

Erwin notes this. “Anyone else?”

Sweetheart. The only person Eren can think of who encompasses that title is her. On impulse, he sticks his hand and nominates her.

Armin turns to stare at him, baffled. Reiner cranes his neck to leer at him, repulsion and confusion etched on his face. 

Mike whoops and yells out, “I second that nomination. I didn’t know you two were friends, Eren. Good shit.”

He ignores Mike’s comments and bows his head towards the floor, avoiding the stares from his best friend and big brother. A few more women are suggested before the meeting ends. 

Armin follows Eren down the stairs, whispering, “Why did you nominate her? I didn’t even know you two were friends.”

They stand in the living room, slightly away from the crowd of brothers gathering near the TV to watch the end of a basketball game. In a soft voice, Eren responds, “Well, we aren’t friends necessarily. It’s complicated, but I can explain. For the past few months, her and I have been – ”

“Eren, what the actual fuck, man?” Reiner interrupts, his tone loud and obnoxious as he descends the stairs, Bertolt tailing him, per usual. “Have you lost your fucking mind? You picked a Sigma Nu Kappa? What the fuck?”

Armin intervenes. “Reiner, calm down – ”

“I’m not talking to you Arlert, shut the fuck up. Eren, why did you nominate that Sigma Nu Kappa?” 

He doesn’t respond, annoyed and fed up with Reiner’s constant hostility and outrageous behavior, especially now. Bertolt stays behind him with the same pathetic expression, always hovering his best friend like a lost puppy dog.  

“I knew it. You’re fucking her aren’t you?”

Eren glares at him, muscles tense, fists tight. He grits his teeth, keeping silent.

Reiner continues. “I saw you two at formal, outside the bathrooms. Think you’re slick, don’t you?”

“Formal?” Armin interjects, the pieces starting to align in his head.

“Figured you were too drunk to care, so I let it slide. Then all that shit happened with Annie. Then I knew something was going on.”

Armin twists his head back and forth between the two brothers, unsure how to alleviate the situation. Eren still doesn’t respond, cheeks hot, eyes narrowed, fingertips tingling. Listening with disdain as Reiner continues to berate him.

“And tonight. Jesus fucking Christ, Eren. You disappoint me. Of all the girls you could have fucked, you had to choose her. What a goddamn shame.”

He clenches his fists tight, disgusted by every word this comes out of this fucking prick’s mouth, as if he’s hearing this type of shit talk for the first time. However, it’s worse now than it’s ever been before. It’s personal.

“All these hot sorority girls and you choose an ugly Sigma Nu Kappa bitch – ”

Bam.

Like a crack of thunder, Eren’s knuckles connect with Reiner’s jaw.

~~~

You’re in pajamas browsing the Internet on your laptop when you hear Mikasa gasp in bed across from you. You watch her, concerned, as she hops off, hastily changing into sweats.

“I have to go,” she announces, scrambling to collect her keys.

“Are you okay? What’s happening?” you ask, sitting up.

With a somber expression on her face, she says, “Armin just texted me. Eren got kicked out of Alpha Tau.”

----------

End Notes: See you back in two weeks for the finale of Rush! 

----------

Tag List:

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[ghcstao3]

oh my god i literally just checked a second ago and they were not, but thank god i have notifs on hehe. ok for starters im so sorry abt the absolute spam i just gave you. second as i was going thru literally everything i was thinking abt ghoap and narcissus and echo, but like happy ending... bc it really is a tragic tale and ghoap deserve better :')

the happy-ending, ghoap-ifying of greek myths is so real honestly

-

Maybe John hadn't been completely blameless, but it wasn't—he wasn't at fault for someone else's advances. He wasn't—he didn't deserve this.

To have his own voice stolen. His own expression. John never meant so much harm as to be cursed with such a cruel punishment.

Forced to only ever be able to speak when spoken to, and even then only to repeat those words back. For John, it's a worse fate than death—particularly when he finds himself having fallen for a mortal man.

Of course, the man—Simon, as John has overheard in spying on a group of hunters, as John has repeated quietly to himself every chance he had gotten—doesn't know of his existence. So when he gets separated from his group, lost in an endless forest, John wants to feel bad, but he doesn't.

Because it means just maybe he'd finally have a chance. If Simon could love him back...

"Hello?" John hears Simon call out. "Is anyone there?"

Unable to help himself, John calls out with the same words. He still hides, has to—but he'll call attention to himself anyway, in the hopes Simon might pursue him.

There's a drawn out pause. John thinks Simon has already caught on.

"Show yourself!" Simon shouts, and John parrots.

The crunch of foliage beneath Simon's steps gradually sounds closer to John, but not close enough. John wills Simon to speak again, and before long, he says,

"Whoever you are, come with me this way."

It's the final pull for John. With Simon's words on his lips he reveals himself to the man, a bright smile on his face.

Simon startles with John's appearance, but he doesn't back away, or go on the defensive. He just stands with his head tilted in curiosity, brow furrowed with a confusion John wishes he could smooth out with his thumb.

"Who are you?" Simon asks.

John hates that all he can do is pose the same question.

Simon's frown deepens. "Are you doing that on purpose?"

His smile all but fallen, John shakes his head. He's beginning to realize with great anguish how foolish he'd been to believe Simon could love him back at all, let alone with his affliction.

But Simon steps forward, toward John.

"Has it been this way for a long time?"

John nods. "...a long time," he sighs. He hangs his head, gaze falling to the forest floor—but not for long, as Simon grows ever closer and tilts his chin up with a hooked finger.

This close, John can see just how pleasantly warm Simon's eyes are, as dark in colour as they may be.

"Could I possibly help?"

John blinks up at Simon, wide-eyed. He'd never known mortals to be so generous, not to a complete stranger. "...help?"

Simon nods.

John gapes. After a moment he shrugs, then pauses—nods back.

The corners of Simon's lips twitch upward. He shrinks away from John, but takes John's hand as he steps back.

"Help me return to the group first," Simon says. "Then we'll... we'll see what we can do."

Simon begins walking, John trailing along beside him, but suddenly stops in his tracks to turn to John for just a moment.

"Thank you," he says.

And as John repeats the words, he knows the sentiment isn't from Simon—it's for John to use.

It may not be reciprocated love just yet, but... it's a better start than John has had in a while. He'll gladly follow Simon anywhere, even if he's never relieved from his hex, because despite his frustration at not being able to form his own words—it's the first time he's felt properly heard, properly understood since he'd been cursed.

#ask #a little communication goes a long way #so many problems solved just like that #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghost x soap #ghoap #alternate universe #writing