#and STILL you feel no remorse or regret because you had to save yourself from a situation that didn't suit you

[whiskeyswifty]

there's something about "you won't remember all my champagne problems" -> "put on your records and regret meeting me" that i can't articulate like... how her music is so littered with wishes and hopes that they'll/we'll/you'll remember her, but here is the rare thread where for once, she wishes they'd forget her. she hopes for mercy from the pain she caused them. it's so much more than an apology for wrongdoing, it's more like an apology for starting something she knew she couldn't finish, for knowing she was going to poison the water first, for how she poisoned them forever in a way they may not have deserved entirely and will never be able to shake, just, you know, for always knowing, if not deep down, how it was going to end and still deciding to say hello in the first place. but more than anything, it's an apology for not feeling any regrets for the pain she caused them, not really, not when it came down to them or her and she knew she would choose herself every time without hesitation or remorse, and for how easy that choice was to make when pushed to make it, and that's reckoning with a colder, darker side of yourself that touches on something i deeply relate to and wish i didn't.

#like it pokes at that thing inside of some of us that can't help hurting other people sometimes #not maliciously just like knowing what they want and knowing you'll never give it #and still going along with it anyway because its easier to give them this small brief happiness now #maybe it's that you hope you'll be different this time #or you hope THEY will make you behave differently because you'll grow to love them in a way that changes how you feel apathy towards them #but deep down you know they won't and you won't and it all ends the same #and STILL you feel no remorse or regret because you had to save yourself from a situation that didn't suit you #even if you're the one who put yourself there #i mean lesbianism is at the core of mine so i can't speak for her but #yeah

[defectivevillain]

this winding labyrinth

chapter 3: reflux

pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Reader (reader is not gendered, race-ambiguous, and no physical descriptors are used)

summary:

You wish you never met Hannibal Lecter. But you yearn for his presence. You want to forget him. But he never truly leaves your thoughts. Now, you’re left to pick up the pieces of a broken design. A battle of instinct rages on in your mind—one of bittersweet relief and cloying grief, fearless resolve and poignant regret; a clashing between affection and antipathy, pride and pain. What will win, in the end? Only time will tell.

this is chapter 3, act 2 of this broken design. if you haven't read act 1 or chapters 1-2, this won't make too much sense.

ao3 version | Spotify playlist

typical warnings apply.

You blink your eyes open to a pounding headache and ringing ears. The ceiling above you is reeling as you’re pushed along in a gurney. Voices murmur and mumble around you, and your vision swims tauntingly. Your arm burns, stings, aches. Your eyelids feel incredibly heavy. You feel a hand on your cheek, prompting you to look into worried eyes. You blink dazedly, your vision blurring and spiraling. It doesn’t take long for you to fall into unconsciousness again. 

You dream of nothing and everything. You dream of winding halls, a labyrinth that never ends. You dream of harsh corners, broken glass, shattered reflections. You dream of glinting metal, sharpened blades, and cruel smiles. You drown in soil and breathe in rot and decay. Through it all, blood sticks to your skin like a vice—a reminder of your sins. 

When you finally wake, after an immeasurable amount of time, you find there to be little fanfare. There is no one for you to wake up to, nothing for you to look at save for a nearly empty hospital room with chipped paint coloring the walls. You take a deep breath and look up at the ceiling. You can hear the EKG’s steady beeps at your bedside. Your arm still hurts, but the pain isn’t nearly as bad as it was before. Upon closer examination, you realize your arm is bandaged. Blood seeps through the white bandages, threatening to mar the white sheets around you. In the still quiet of the evident night, you are gifted a brief reprieve: an escape from interaction and accountability. You’re grateful for it, even if the silence seems to vibrate with unease. 

The nurse comes before long—he’s not the same one you had before. You don’t bother to question it. He reapplies your bandages and sighs. “You are immensely lucky,” he remarks, turning away for a moment. “Just a few inches to the side and you’d be dead.” 

Yes, lucky, you think to yourself.  

The nurse doesn’t say anything else. You have to wonder if he was told about you—told you’ve been here quite a few times within the past year, told not to bother with pleasantries. You’re left to wonder as the nurse leaves the room, promising to return in a few moments. 

Nothing about this moment feels real. Maybe that’s why the guilt of your actions hasn’t quite caught up yet. You’ve felt a hint of remorse prickling along your skin, but nothing as strong as you had expected. It sort of feels like you’re dreaming. Perhaps you’ll even wake up soon. 

Unfortunately, you soon have to come to terms with the fact that you are not dreaming. This is reality: bleak, unassuming reality. The weight of it all is pushing you further into this thin hospital mattress, forcing you to remain bound and silent without confines. Your arm is bandaged, because you stabbed yourself. You stabbed yourself… to engineer a situation where Clark Ingram’s death— murder , a voice in your head coos—would be justifiable. Your arm burns, both from the knife and from the knowledge of your crimes. 

For the first few days of your hospital stay, you don’t get visitors. You suspect the visitors who typically stop by are growing tired of showing up. After all, this is your third or fourth time in the hospital. It’s likely more of a chore than anything else. Teetering on the edge between life and death is a scary situation, but you’ve occupied that grey area for so long now that almost nothing seems to truly surprise you.

Beverly highlights the notion when she arrives one morning. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” she quips, shoving her hands in her leather jacket after closing the door behind her. She leans against the wall. 

You huff. “Hi, Bev,” you say, managing to get past the raspiness of your unused voice. 

“I’m convinced you’re single handedly burning through the injury budget for our department,” Bev says with a sigh. You take a deep breath. This banter with Beverly makes you feel… normal. 

“Hey, someone’s gotta do it,” you shrug goodnaturedly. Beverly rolls her eyes, before crossing her arms over her chest. 

For a few seconds, there is only silence. An unfamiliar tension settles in the air. “Seriously though,” Beverly says. There is nothing but sincerity in the expression on her face. “There’s only so much of this my heart can take.” And that hits you like a knife to the gut. 

You never considered how your friends must feel in these types of situations. You’ve probably caused Beverly so much unnecessary worry and concern.  Selfish. “I’m sorry,” you grimace. The statement doesn’t feel like enough.  

“Just… be more careful, okay?” Bev sighs. “Never thought I’d have to be the one to say that to you.” You’re not sure you trust the weight of your own words anymore, so you don’t respond. You don’t promise anything, because you’re not sure you can. Thankfully, Beverly doesn’t seem to be expecting a response. Instead, she elects to sit in the chair at your bedside. Not for the first time, you wonder how you managed to get such a good friend. 

Beverly stays for a while, before the nurse comes by and kicks her out. She leaves, albeit with a grumble under her breath about unnecessary precautions. After Beverly, there is no one and nothing. Every time you close your eyes, you see Ingram’s face—the genuine fear that overtook his expression when he saw your finger inch closer towards the trigger. You see his victims, drowning in soil and suffocating. Every time you blink, you see blood spilling down your arms, coating your skin in murky crimson. 

You fade in and out. The days melt into one another, stretching out into an indistinguishable, tangled mess. The healing process seems painfully slow, as if your body is forcing you to slow down and come to terms with the consequences of your own actions. These injuries are starting to take a toll. Your abdomen stings—from remembrance or genuine pain, you can’t be sure. 

In the midst of a hazy and dimly lit afternoon, you get another visitor. 

“Agent,” a familiar voice says. You look up and towards the door, only to find Jack Crawford standing in the doorway. He looks the same as ever, save for the concerningly tight pull to his lips and shoulders. Indeed, he looks rather tense—almost uncharacteristically so. 

“Jack,” you remark. “I wasn’t expecting you.” Indeed, Jack has visited you every single time you’ve found yourself injured and confined to this hospital. It’s highly unusual for someone as high up as Jack—the Head of the Behavioral Analysis Unit—to consistently find the time to make hospital visits. It’s as your teacher once said: “When you go out, you go out alone. You will wake up alone…  You will be alone.” There had been a haunting expression on her face as she said that, almost as if she were recalling a past experience. The class had been eerily silent. 

Jack shoots you a disbelieving eyebrow, before his face falls back into stony callousness. The room feels a lot colder. Looks like he’s going to get right to business. “You may be wondering why you were never given another psychological evaluation,” he begins, before taking another step, “After all, Lecter did yours—and there’s no guarantee he didn’t have an ulterior motive.” 

Somehow, despite all the events that transpired recently, you avoided another psychological evaluation. Any other agent would surely have been thrown into a psychiatric evaluation and several mandated therapy sessions for surviving such an ordeal… You received a grip on your shoulder and a murmured remark from Jack about doing well. You’re still not sure how to feel about that.

“Truthfully, I didn’t think you needed another evaluation,” Jack says, his lips set in a firm line. There’s something else coming. Sure enough, he continues. “I find myself questioning my judgment now. You’ve sent yourself to the hospital three times now.”

“Sent myself?” You repeat in disbelief. A shiver rolls down your spine, sending your skin prickling. “Jack, I didn’t intend for any of this to happen.” You don't enjoy the implications of his statement. 

“That may be,” Jack acquiesces. His hands are clasped behind his back and he’s the picture of quiet, calm authority. “But you’ve had extensive training that deals with these kinds of situations, that teaches you what to prioritize in those kinds of moments.” You bite your tongue and keep silent.  

“What disturbs me…” He breaks off once more. Jack always finishes his sentences—this kind of syntax is unusual for him. “ This -” He motions with a hand, “isn’t born out of a lackluster combat ability. You’re a damn good fighter.” You want to be honored by the compliment, but all you can feel is an unsettling apprehension. Sure enough, Jack isn’t finished speaking. “I’m going to book you for another psych eval.” 

The sheets thrown over you suddenly feel far too thin, as goosebumps run along your skin. You’re brutally aware of the expression on Jack’s face—conflict and resolution fighting for prominence in the set of his jaw. “Jack-” You try to say, scrambling for something to say. It’s beginning to feel as if the walls are caving in on you. 

“You haven’t made this easy, Agent,” Jack responds in lieu of an answer. He pulls something from his jacket pocket—a slip of paper with notes scrawled on it. Your heart drops into your stomach as you realize that he had planned this from the outset. “2:00 p.m. next Monday.” It is clear that Jack’s visit had one purpose, and one purpose only. He walks away, leaving you to stare after him in stunned disbelief.

In the wake of your conversation with Jack, your recovery feels nearly meaningless. What does it matter if you heal? You’re still barred from returning to work, unless you receive a signed form from the psychologist. Although, will that really be so difficult for you? A few years ago, it might have been. But since then, you’ve changed. You’ve developed, morphed into a person who has learned to be defensive, wary, covert. Indeed, haven’t you been keeping the pretense of composure this entire time? If you kept your knowledge of the Ripper’s identity hidden from him for so long, surely getting through an hour-long psychological assessment will be easy. 

And, indeed, it is easy. 

The psychologist you’re paired with is nice. That’s all you really have to say about them. Perhaps you’ve grown accustomed to discussions laced with existentialism while seated on expensive leather, a palpable tension sinking into the air. Or perhaps you’ve grown accustomed to answering questions with whatever the person wants to hear. You’ve gotten good at maintaining an illusion of calm and collected rationality when needed.

Plus, the evaluation protocol is extremely outdated. You have to do a Rorschach inkblot test, which makes you both thankful and extremely concerned for the future of the FBI. Safe to say, you walk out of the building an hour later with a signed paper in hand. It doesn’t take you long to decide to head right to the Bureau. Your heart is still hammering away in your chest as you drive there—even when you’re a good distance away from the psychologist’s office. 

When you finally get to the Bureau and arrive in Jack’s office, you place the signed form on his desk wordlessly. For a moment, he seems too caught up in the files in his hands to notice. After a few moments, he blinks and drags the paper closer to him. Jack examines the paper with a critical eye, before turning his attention back towards you. 

“Surprised?” You ask, as he studies your expression. Jack seems to be looking for something. You try to maintain a flat affect, if only so that he doesn’t find whatever he’s searching for. 

He sighs. “Agent, you know this is just protocol,” Jack responds. “No, I’m not surprised. It would be highly unprofessional of me to have expectations of the result.” He finishes. You want to believe him.

But you know deep down that Jack expected you to fail—perhaps even wanted you to fail. “Welcome back, Agent.” You know your mind is conjuring up the tone of resignation in his voice.  

You exit his office and walk back down the halls, an unexpected guilt stirring in your chest. You shouldn’t have lied to the psychologist. On the other hand, you knew that if you were truthful, you would never be able to return to the field. And there are lives at stake. You’re not foolish enough to think that your mere presence is enough to decrease criminality at large, but you know that the Bureau needs as many agents as possible on the front lines. 

There’s a buzzing, humming sound along your skin. “If you truly cared about the lives at stake, you would stay away,” a voice reasons. It takes you a few moments to realize that it’s Clark Ingram. A social worker has joined the group of tormented souls inhabiting the shadows of  your mind. The irony is not lost on you. You shake your head, before taking a deep breath and continuing to walk down the hall, your muscle memory navigating you towards your office even when your attention is elsewhere. “How many have been killed in the wake of your complacency?”  Ingram continues relentlessly. “Your neutrality is just as dangerous as my cruelty.” 

Your head pounds as you turn the corner to get to your office. When you finally find yourself standing in the doorway, you remember that you haven’t used the space in a bit—there’s dust collecting on the edges of your bookshelf and the surface of your desk. You close the door and sit down in your chair, ignoring the chilling recognition that you’re sitting right where Franklyn died. For a moment, you can feel phantom burgundy tears slipping down your cheeks. When you blink, you’re subject to the illusory sensation of someone reaching deep into your eye sockets and tugging, ripping at your optic nerves and tearing your sight away from you. 

Your leg bounces restlessly. The clock’s hand makes its routine journey across the smooth surface of the instrument, and its movements flit before your eyes in flickering flashes. You rub your eyes roughly. Conversations from the hall reach your ears, until they distort and morph into voices that continue to haunt you. Your fingers are twitching. 

Time is a fickle thing. Your office doesn’t have windows to let in sunlight, so you’re forced to take in the noise from the hallway to determine how long you’ve spent fading away in your chair. A rattling breath overtakes you, prompting you to breathe in and breathe out in a shuddering movement. You dig the heels of your hands into your eyes, letting the spiraling colors that manifest overtake your vision. 

When you open your eyes moments later, you’re briefly assaulted with a wave of sharpness and clarity. Then, your vision adjusts and you’re left staring at your unassuming office: the remains of your neat and tidy life. Somehow, deep-down, you know things will not stay that way. 

Your hands itch and you roll up your sleeves, despite knowing you won’t see soil caked on your skin like you’re imagining. Indeed, your arms are bare—save for the bandaged wound that you’re sure will scar. Looking down at it provokes a stirring feeling in your gut as memories of that day reach the forefront of your mind. 

For a while, you had lingered precariously on the edge between morality and criminality. Have you since slipped off that edge? When did your balance first falter? Were the scales already tipped—perhaps from the moment you sleep walked onto the road, finding yourself looking into the darkness and locking eyes with a crimson gaze? When did your grip start to weaken? 

And… where does that wavering leave you now?

next chapter

thanks for readingggg!

TAGLIST: @its-ares @tobbotobbs @xrisdoesntexist @gr1mmac3 @tiredstarcerberuslamb @yourlocalratwriter @kingkoku @kahuunknown @atlas-king1 @pendragon-writes @slipknotcentury @cryinersaved @the-ultimate-librarian @starre-eyes @pendragon-writes @peterparkeeperer @gayschlatt69

#defectivevillain #hannibal x reader #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal x male reader #hannibal x gn reader #male reader #gn reader

[diedbutterflies69]

Obsession - Hwang Hyunjin

Synopsis - fooling the most powerful mafia for almost two years wasn't bad thing , but to get caught by him was.

Word count : 3.4 k

Contains: Hyunjin x fem reader, Dom! Hyunjin, angst, betrayal, smut, fingering, choking etc.

Minors don't interact.

Spying on the cruelest and most dangerous Mafia lord was thrilling, blood tingling and dead impenetrable. 'Cause even if you were a cunning master manipulator , Hyunjin was hundred steps ahead of you .

In your fifteen years career you only made huge mistake two times. Mistake that will lead you to your grave. Getting caught. You were caught once seven years ago by a group of stupid protesters and you had two options, kill or get killed.Again today, after all this years you were caught and you had no choice but to Die painfully slow.

" What even your dickhead boss was thinking when he sent such a delicate doll like you to me? Huh, the men their had no balls or pictured me as a fucking romantic?" Hyunjin spoke sitting on his comfy chair with your phone in his hand, his astonishment increasing more each second as he went through all your messages and recordings . Even if Hyunjin won't show, he was in awe of your immaculate spying skills. You were able to deceive him for nearly two fucking years . Now, the moment your mask fell, you were bought to this place, your nightmare. Hyunjin's warehouse, you wanted to rather die than be here because here you would get your bones relocated, eyes snatched off and fingers cut off .

Hwang Hyunjin wasn't known as cruelest mafia for nothing.

You had no guts nor energy to face Hyunjin. You were restrained on the wooden chair, every single muscle in your body screaming in agony, you were damnn sure that blood in your wrists were freezed, head hanging low , sweat and blood dripping from hair strands. The eyes of people who once adored and respected you now are staring at you with pure disgust, not trying to hide the betrayal they are feeling. You didn't felt guilty but little sad that you won't see your real clan ever.

" I have been framed... I have no fucking realation with those Bangs" you screamed the same shitty lie once again , clearly knowing not even the ants here would believe you but you weren't taught to speak the truth even if all the evidence is against you. Hyunjin stormed off the chair walking towards you, rage visible in his eyes, you know this day was bound to come but now that the small part of your is beating for him, it hurts you to know how much He despise you now. Hyunjin dug his fingers in your cheeks forcing you to look at him, lips pouting uncomfortably with eyes that held no remorse, just few tears from pain , having no emotions and pretending to just see him as opponent.

" Why do you have to do this? Why you too? I never sent my men to anyone's den then why do I have to get backstabbed every single time " Hyunjin screamed his head hurting by bitter reality, his powerful persona crumbling slowly, no where looking as a boss who caught mole in his team but a vulnerable man who got betrayed by everyone countless times and at the end by his lover too.

" I get paid for my job Mr. Hwang I have no grudges over you, you fellow little sad boi . Just kill me and I hope you will stop being stupidly in love with every women who looks hot and gives you a little too much love"

You let out everything with a smirk plastered on your face And that was it. This was where your story ends you thought. You yourself got feed up with proving your innocence, it wasn't worth it, you love Hyunjin and he loves you, but you weren't livin' in fairytales being happy forever is pure hoax . You were aware of the impact of your words, he must be regretting every moment he loved you. It was all coming together in his head, why after meeting you his life felt like rollercoaster and how you were always there to save him when ironically you were the one to throw him in mouth of danger at first place .

" You still smiling? Get out of it you failed your mission , I am still alive here and you are about to die " Hyunjin spoke, coming dangerously close to your face, getting more annoyed by your heartless behaviour while, his heart was tearing apart each second.

" I may have failed as agent Blue's mission but as Y/N your once lover I succeeded in making our love eternal, I may die once but you will be forever haunted by me and love we had"

This was the real you, the one who is sick in the head , the master manipulator and lover who everyone will fear to have. It was you who jumped on opportunity in spying Hyunjin and getting into his house when no one ever dared to even lurk around buisnesses he owns. It was your obsession with him, obsessed with idea of breaking heart with Country's most fearful mafia, awakening the sadist in him for your benefit.

" My regret wasting my emotions on slut like you" Hyunjin muttered from gritted teeth, controlling his anger, fully aware of how much of fool he became in eyes of his people, who was breaking down just because of a girl , the same guy who shedded zero tears on his father's funeral.

" Sushh , don't call me that I will get needy" you whispered loud enough for just Hyunjin to hear, futher fuelling his anger. He yanked your face away, wiping off his hand like you were most disgusting object ever .

" Everyone get out, if i see anyone near this area he will get killed "

Hyunjin howled and everyone scattered towards exit in fear and soon the warehouse was dead empty. Silence thick enough to suffocate one. Now you had no idea what Hyunjin had in stored for you but you knew it won't be anything good .

" So agent blue or I might say my slut, after thinking for awhile I got to conclusion that I love you, I love you more than guns and knifes , you dieing will obviously make me a lifeless man while you will be up there laughing at me So baby let's haunt each other forever " Hyunjin said circling around you and laughing like some kind of maniac.

You don't want to die but you don't also want to live , it was like you dug your own grave with your words.

"What the hell you mean?"you asked, wriggling on your chair and throwing draggers on Hyunjin's face.

" Don't stress about ropes i will untie them for you" Hyunjin said as he got on his knees pulling out a knife from his back pocket and cutting the ropes around your ankles , this was your chance to kick him right on his face, but that would be no use as your wrists were bound by handcuffs. While you were busy thinking of next step, you found all ropes around your body disappeared all at once but your wrists were still in those darn metal cuffs. Hyunjin held you by your arms helping you to stand up , his grip crushing your bones but if it wasn't for him you would have already kissed the ground due to your stuff limp muscles.

Hyunjin pushed your body to nearest surface, hundreds of boxes hitting your back painfully. A whimper making it's way out of your lips .

"Hands up" Hyunjin commanded and you obeyed a little too eagerly, to which he can't help but smirk. As your hands rested above your head Hyunjin undid the first few buttons of your shirt, not having to do much effort as the shirt was already torn from it's end. Your heart felt like it was on fire, his touch burning your skin with desire too powerful, lust visible in both of your eyes. Your black shirt completely undone, displaying your clothed tits . Your boobs were your man's greatest weakness and it looked like they still were, cause the moment he saw them , his hand cupped them in the most sensual, ete rolling way. Hyunjin was able to wake your sexual desires like no other. While his one hand was busy twisting and gropping your clothed nipple, the other one traveled further down below your ribcage, his soft and slow touch tickling your skin. You expected some kind of hard hate sex but Hyunjin was doing exact opposite, being so slow that he was memorizing your body but whatever he was doing you liked it. Maybe he was reminding you what gentle lover you once had because the way now his lips were sucking your neck like it's honey not minding the dried sweat and blood and treating like nothing wasn't there in the first place. Your moans and heavy breathing were the only noise overpowering the dead silence .

"Hyunjin please"

"Please what baby?"

" Ruin me please"

"Oh I will" Hyunjin smiled wickedly before moving his hands further down, halting at the button of your denim, you wondered why the hell you had to wear jeans the day you got caught, it would have been better if it was skirt cause that shit will took ages to get removed or so you thought Because before you know, the denims were resting at some corner of room along with your panties. You were almost full naked and already ruined while Hyunjin looked the most elegant and sophisticated mafia ever in his black clothes. It was humiliating but it was exactly what turns you on.

" how the hell you are so wet? I barely even touched you" he palmed your pussy , your juices sticking to his cold palm , his index and middle finger parting your folds ever so slowly. the thing about your body that Hyunjin liked the most was how reactive and sensitive you were , one touch and your breathe becomes unequal and body sets itself in fire. His fingers were going in and out of you painfully slow and it was exiting but you were always greedy for more .

"Hyunjin please, faster" you begged with tears threatening to fall from frustration . You knew Hyunjin himself won't be able to continue his slow pace, cause the tenth in his pants looked too painful to ignore, if your hands weren't bounded you would have grabbed him and give best handjob ever.

" As you wish agent blue" Hyunjin said your codename bitterly, and suddenly his fingers were exactly working at pace you liked hard and fast. Your soft walls were getting the tortured it deserved, thumb circling the clit, before pinching it in most crude way possible. Your moans were nothing compared to the squeaky wet noise your cunt was letting out. Your juices were dripping down your thighs and pooled below on the floor, you were close too close now, and the moment Hyunjin put his third digit inside you, you couldn't control yourself. He was scissoring inside you in most painful and toe curling way possible.

" Hyunjin i wanna cum, Can i please please let me" you begged your words hard to decipher between hiccups and moans. During this two years you spent with Hyunjin, you had rules he made in bedroom tattooed inside your brain. The first never to cum without his permission . His control freak behaviour did nothing wrong but turn you on further. Upon hearing your request, Hyunjin deliberately slowed down his moments before looking at you with evil smile and halting all his moments, removing his digits from your needy pussy, while you look at him with frustration and disappoint.

"Sorry baby, but punishment of betrayal isn't only a ruined orgasam" Hyunjin said before shoving his fingers inside your mouth and you sucked at them without further wait. He pushed his fingers even deeper making you gag uncontrollably while simultaneously pressing them harder on your tongue, spit dripping down from lips to chin, Hyunjin absolutely adored the mess he created out of you.

" Gosh Agent Blue have some manners, stop drooling like some dog , can't you right?" Hyunjin mocked you, his words travelling straight to your cunt , making your another hole drip too. Your head was dizzy, the only thing you wished was to Hyunjin dick you down right this moment , wanting nothing but for him to use your body all over again and again.

Hyunjin removed his wet fingers from your mouth, he smeared your saliva from your one cheek to another, making you looked fully fucked up , actress straight from hard porn . You asked him to ruin you and it was exactly Hyunjin did. He mumbled something like dirty little bitch , while his other hand choked you without any mercy , white. All you can see was white stars .

" Now let's gap you down there, shall we?" The thought of finally having Hyunjin inside you sent shivers down your spine, you had no idea how your knees still didn't gave out but now you sure that you will fall. Hyunjin lowered his pants and boxers, removing his cock, as you expected rock hard and dripping with precum. Hyunjin held you by your waist, while the another one positioned his cock head inside you, pussy already opening up from previous assult . He was just halfway inside you, and it felt like you would burst from the stretch, his size always leaving you grasping for air.

" Baby still can't take me full way in without crying like a little bitch" Hyunjin spoke to himself, grunting silently as your walls squeezed him up, the pleasure already spreading in his veins, with every thrust of his hips, your body was set to fire, his clothes rubbing against your bare skin , making it harder for you to stand still .

" Kiss me please" you said inbetween your hard breathing, just having epiphany that Hyunjin haven't yet kissed you. That was when Hyunjin himself realised how much his lips have longed for yours, he wasted no time before engulfing your mouth hungrily, swallowing your moans whimpers , them moment his lips touched yours, a wave of multiple emotions took over him, flashbacks of your first kiss, dinner kisses, how tenderly you kissed his forehead every morning as the first thing after waking up. Was all that love just for show? Did you ever loved him or used him? The memories of you saving him from grave situations also replayed inside his head, you had multiple chances of killing him in the easiest way but you didn't. His lips pushed harder against yours , tongue exploring each corner.

You felt a single water droplet on your cheek, mistaking it as sweat but after breaking the kiss, you saw Hyunjin crying. You never expected to be reason for his tears , it broke your heart, hating yourself for the person you are. Why can't you both stay happy like in fairytales? Happy forever.

" I am sorry.. I am sorry" you kept apologizing , bringing your cuffed hands lower, in attempt to wipe his tears. Hyunjin cupped your jaw again kissing you harder. Fear of losing you making him go insane. Your sex going from slow and sensual to rough to emotional and just ugly crying.

" You love me right? Please say you do . Please just one time" Hyunjin asked, his voice never been so vulnerable, he was sniffing down his tears but it was impossible for him to now stop crying. He patted your hair affectionately, while searching for answer he wanted.

" I love you, I really love you, it wasn't act I swear.. " you said sobbing uncontrollably. If you knew your obsession can turn something so pure like this, you won't have jumped here in the first place, rather than seeing Hyunjin like this , you will die a thousand deaths.

"I have a plan but let's first finish what we are doing okay" Hyunjin spoke after few seconds , his voice sounding little hopeful and exited like a child. You both were too busy crying that the sexual beasts inside both of you disappeared for few minutes.

" Oh yes" you said chuckling, your hands tightening around his neck. Looking in Hyunjin's eyes before resting your head on his shoulder, lips to close to his ear.

" Make me cum , you asshole" you seductively whispered, Hyunjin sweared, he could get off only by your voice. He positioned his cock back inside you, both moaning at the same time, his grip around your hips tightened as he thrusted all the way inside you.

" You will no longer work for Bangs, you will work for me" Hyunjin said, hatred laced up heavily in his voice, While his hand travelled down your stomach, pressing it down and feeling himself inside you.

" Yes i won't, i promise" you let out , words breaking , due to constant pleasure.

" Agent Blue is dead today from now on you are agent Hyunjin's wife"

#stray kids imagines #stray kids smut #straykids #skz x reader #skz angst #stray kids angst #hyunjin smut #kpop smut #skz #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin angst #hwang hyunjin smut

[sparkbeast20]

Monster within: I would rather not (Mammon X MC)

This is part of this year’s Halloween theme event: Monster Within with Demonic/monstrous forms (Here's the Headcanon of this AU).

Warning: Violence, Killing, Blood, Disembowelment, and Slight Suggestive bit at the end.

It was supposed to be a relaxing trip with your friend- Human friends. It's so ironic, the reason you went back to the human is because you had an heated argument with Mammon, and rather getting angry and might something that you would regret you decide to cool off, away from demons, devildom and anything that is supernatural.

You head back to your hometown where you met up with your friends and one of them suggested that everyone go on a three day trip to the mountains. You felt bad for being an extra head to what seemed to be a planned trip, but your close friend offered to pay you. Which made you grateful.

But oh how this moment and how you view your friends is forever ruined. You should’ve known that one act of kindness from your friend who has been known to scam planned this trip to pay off their debt. Sound familiar? Well at least he wouldn’t sell out his brothers or you just to save his ass. He might consider it but you know in your heart that Mammon wouldn’t go through it.

Now, you and a friend are trapped in a room where in order to get out, one of you will try to get the key which both of you have inside your bodies which they manage to surgically place it in while all of you pass out. Meaning one of you has to die. You were internally panicking, but kept your stir face and you were still dealing with the backstab by your close friend. However, like a trapped animal, your other friend was scared and had no choice but to try and kill you.

They pinned you down and brought a knife to your abdomen. “I’m not dying today!!” At this point you stop seeing this person as your friend and more like an annoying piece of shit. Sure there was a time limit that when set off will kill both of you, but they didn’t give what the situation you two were in even a second thought. They went right into trying to kill you.

You glare at them and with one flick of your wrist you use a spell to turn the knife at them and with one big push of their hand the knife stabs their stomach, you quickly grab their hand and bring their hand down. Disemboweling them.

They soon start to choke on their own blood and cough it up onto your face, while you keep your steady gaze on their slowly fleeing gaze, with one final gasp they slump over and immediately push them off of you. You sat up and looked at their dead corpse then took the knife out before stabbing it back, opening up their stomach even more, you threw the knife away and with your hands you dug into their stomach and found the key. You pull it out and quickly stand up, and head for the door but not before you look up where you spot a camera and flip the camera off and continue on to the door, using the key opening the door, leaving the room.

As soon you step out in the halls to what you assume is a factory, you can hear muffled screaming, yelling and cursing. You sigh while slamming the door behind you before proceeding to walk down the hall where, whenever you walk close to a door, you can hear voices behind them. Safe to say that who ever is inside does rooms are going through the same type of test or you would call it torture. You start to feel remorse for what you did to your former friend, while yes you did do it so you would get killed. But you could do it more humane than disemboweling them.

Now, as you keep walking down the long hallway, you start to let the feeling of dispre flood your mind, and start blaming yourself for what’s happening. If you hadn’t left devildom you wouldn’t have tag along on this stupid trip.

Then your mind went to the whole reason you left devildom in the first place, and that you and Mammon had an argument, and if you die now. That would be the last time that either of you saw each other. And your last interaction would be a stupid fight.

You didn’t realize that you were shedding tears just thinking about it. But your heart shuttered when you saw that you reached a dead end. You drop down to your knees and start sobbing, burying your face into your palms.

But you pause when you see blue gas filling the hall, you try to stand up before you feel a little lightheaded then quickly fall on your side as your eyes slowly shut as the sound of faded footsteps heads towards you.

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

On the night you left. Mammon hasn’t stopped trying to reach you. He tried calling your cell every hour but still no response. Eventually Lucifer had to take his phone away and told him that you and he needed some space and he just had to wait for you to come back on your own.

So he did but he didn’t like it, staying up late laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling and thinking of the right words to tell you once you come back.

However, two days after you left, Mammon suddenly felt uneasy and stood up from his bed and walked out the room and headed to the common room. Where he spots Levi, Beel and Belphie awake with all three having the same worried and concerned look on their faces.

“Please tell me that you felt that Mammon!” Belphie asks before standing up from his seat, but suddenly groans in pain and places a hand on the side of his head.

“Belphie!” Beel quickly rushes to his twin side and helps him back to his seat. Before turning back to Mammon. “All of the sudden me, Levi and Belphie felt a pull with our pact with MC. Like they're calling us…” Beel trails off, turning his head towards the floor like he was trying to understand what’s been going on. 

All the color drains from Mammon’s face and he starts panting heavily. He slowly backs away towards the door before he quickly turns heel and rushes out the room and towards the front door, slamming it open and shifting to his demon form then flies away from the house.

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

The sound of fade chatter was even to wake you up, you slowly opened your eyes to see three people in suits talking or more like arguing. You groan when you try to move and find that both arms and legs are bound to your chair.

One of the people standing in front of you heard your groaning and turned his head to you. “Ah~ You're awake!” which causes the other two to turn their attention towards you.

“Hehe, you did a number on your friend back there” the woman smirked as she said that nonchalantly as if she was just trying to make small talk.

“I didn’t have any choice” you barely talk with how exhausted you are, physically you still have strength but mentally you are barely holding on. You hung your head low.

“Yes, it was interesting to say the least. From what we gathered from data about all of you. You wouldn’t have beaten much, least kill your friend. So we are here to ask, how? You are smaller than your friend and they had the upper hand with the whole scenario but here you are. Barely a scratch on you.”

“Who wouldn’t have a jolt of adrenaline when they are being threatened. I did what I had to do.”

“No. But Adrenaline didn’t make the knife turn towards your friend without you holding it to begin with. You did something” The woman in the middle walked towards you, she stood there for a moment before grabbing your face forcing you to look at her. “We saw everything with the cams! You did something, and we are here to know what-” All of a sudden the whole shook and immediately the sound of sirens filled the room. “What the hell is going on!” She pulled away and turned to the one way mirror of the room. Then a voice from the speaker spoke.

“Something burst through the front door of the Facility!!! Security describes it as a white raven-dragon!”

Mammon!?! You immediately thought of, but he wouldn’t be this reckless and turned into that form, right? But more importantly how did he find where you were?

All three of your torturers quickly rushes out of the room, closing the door behind them. You sigh in relief. Then you lift your head and begin to look around the room for anything and find nothing. You sigh, with left no other option you use somewhat little magic you got and cast a spell to bind on your wrist and legs. But due to using a verbal spell and not a gesture spell you didn't have the benefit of aiming the spell. Which the spell did break the binds but it did your left arm and right leg leaving two gashes on them.

You groan in pain for a second before stealing yourself and push yourself off the chain and head for the door where you found it unlocked with one of the few luck in your favor. You opened the door and saw the hall was lit with red light from the alarm of the Building. Then you heard a faint sound of a demonic shrieking. Now for the fact you know that’s Mammon. 

You followed the shrieking which led you to an elevator, you looked around and saw the emergency stairs and used that to get up to wherever Mammon might be.

As you descend up the stairs the building shook a couple of times and the sound of gun fire can be heard. You whimper of the thought of Mammon getting hurt.

Soon you reach the floor where you can see him and gunfire. You open the door to see that you were at the main entrance of the building. There you saw him in his feral form, his size is ⅓ of the whole room, covered with white and gold feathers, head shape of a crow or raven, his wings are attached to his arms making him look more like a dragon or wyvern especially when he is standing on all fours. 

Mammon shrieked as he swung his arms, wings and tail at the security of this facility, even using his beak to peck one poor guard’s head out and devour it with one gulp. You look and saw two of the three scientists are now dead on the floor with the last one laying on her stomach with her leg completely crushed to a pulp.

Then you turn your attention back to Mammon who is completely out of control, you know that he’s not used to being in their form. And now that he's angry you don’t if he’s even there? But you had to try.

“Mammon!” you cry out which quickly grabs his attention. He turns his head and his eyes widen as soon he lays his sights on you.

But you were so distracted that you didn’t notice the last remaining scientist crawl towards a gun, grab it and aim at you then she pulled the trigger. The sound of a gunshot then you felt the bullet hitting you right on your side going through you. 

Mammon shrieks before using his tail to slam the scientist’s head into chungs. Then he quickly rushes and catches you before you fall onto the floor. Nestled in his wings, you lay on your back and clench your side as blood seeps through your fingers. You look up to see Mammon’s blue-yellow iris and black sclare staring at you.

“Hey Mammon” You gave him a weak smirk before your face twisted because of the pain on your side. He lets out a whimper-like squawk before turning around and runs out of the building. Unable to fly due to you laying on his wings. Mammon had no choice but to run down the road where incoming cop cars were driving towards him. He let out a warning growl-squawk before he uses his powerful legs and tail to help him jump over the oncoming cars and head straight to the closest area that can hide him. 

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

When you started to wake up, you found yourself in Mammon’s arms snuggled into his chest. You look to see that he's back to his human form “Mammon?”

Your quiet mutter was enough to stir him up, he grunts and lifts his head and looks down. “MC… I’m sorry” his voice is hoarse and raspy.

“Don’t be… you came right on time-”

He let go, pulled away and sat up. “How the hell did you get there in the first place!”

You try to sit up, but stop when you feel a sudden pain at your side, you look down to see your lower abdomen is wrapped in your ripped t-shirt. You just notice that you're half naked, while Mammon is completely naked. You sigh and lay back on where you felt feathers, you glance on the floor to see white feathers are scattered around you two, guessing when Mammon shifted back he shed his feathers all over the place.

“A friend sold us to these psychos and place us in these horrible test where in order to get out of it alive one of us has to die”

“What!” he turns to you with wide eyes “And the fucking stitiches on your left side?!?” Stitches? You looked down and there you saw a clean surgical stitch on your left side.

“Right I completely forgot that they surgically place a key inside of me-”

“MC…” He grabs you by the shoulder pulling you up enough to have you sit up, you look at him into his eyes and see tears starting to collect. “I- I… Can’t lose you! What happened back there made me think about our stupid argument and how when I said those words… Wouldn’t get a chance to say I’m sorry if I didn’t make it on time.”

You quickly leap and wrap your arms around Mammon’s neck with your head in the crooks of it. He was taken aback before he wrapped his arms around you hugging you tight. “I love you.” You whisper into his neck.

“I love you too”

 You pulled back enough so you could lean in and kiss him on the lips, he led into the kiss. But suddenly you come back and look at him. “Hey… how did you know that I was in trouble?”

“Last night. Me, Levi, Beel and Belphie felt your distress through the pact.”

You blink before running your hand on where your pact marks of side brothers are located, before moving your hand over to Mammon’s chest. “You sense me?”

“Of course! I am your first demon after all”

You sigh in relief before laying your head on Mammon's shoulder. “I thought I was your mate?”

That magic words was enough for Mammon to cool before quickly pinning you on to the floor. “Yer right” His eyes changed into his demonic and smirk “I am yer Mate!”

You smile and place yours on his cheek caressing it and he leans in as feathers start to sprout from the side of his face. “Then clam me” He let out a low growl before capturing your lips into his the first sign of an exhausted day.

Rumor has it, people who drive by a woods that day can hear the shriek of a monstrous raven.

Note: Okay this took longer than expected :'D

This had to be re-written four times because I keep making the story to complicated. This was the close I wanted this story to get. This fic is inspired by would you rather (2012) hance the title, but more on horror-sub genre (Torture Porn)

Now a little fact about Mammon's demonic/feral form. I wanted him to be different from Lucifer's feral Form. Lucifer's form resembles more like a Griffin while I decided to make Mammon's form a Raven/Crow with dragon like element in it's shape.

He's more Crow-like with his body frame is that of a Wyvern and his wings is connected to his arms the pic below is close to what I intended

Where this pic is from

If there’s grammar or spelling error, please let me know and don’t be shy to leave a comment or reblogging with cute tags. I just love to see you guys thoughts on this :3

#obey me #omswd #obey me mammon #obey me mc #obey me mammon x reader #obey me monster love #obey me demonic/monstrous au #obey me: monster within oneshots #obey me horror/fluff

[yandere-sins]

Hello! I wonder what would be yandere Scaramouche reaction if s/o say :

"If I know this thing will happen, I shouldn't be too nice with you"

Basically, readers say that they regret being nice with scaramouche cuz technically he fell for them because of that in first place.

I remember this had a connection to this story from before. Thanks for requesting it! :D (Since we know more of the truth now, this is even less canon than before but you know, ignore it and just enjoy it xD)

»»———————— ♡ ————————««  

Inconsolable, you crumbled to the ground, weeping.

The guard had put you down much gentler than you expected, in a room with no windows and only one exit. And yet you punched them in the chest, away from you, falling backwards into a corner as you sobbed uncontrollably. Loud, painful screams left your throat, not echoing in the room filled with meaningless amenities. No one heard you, saved you, but you gave your surroundings no mind, curling into yourself, the pain and grief overwhelming you.

You had a feeling that this wouldn’t end well. The whole setup was too good to be true, especially when Kunikuzushi offered your partner’s life in exchange for your submission. But there was a spark of hope that the boy you played with as a child was still the same gentle and kind soul he was back then. Of course, the kidnapping should have been indication enough that he wasn’t.

Kuni didn’t seem to understand why you were so upset as the screams of your lover rang out, turning into gurgles until there was no sound left to leave him. You had to hear all of it, from the beginning to the end. Knowing it wasn’t a merciful death. Knowing it was all your fault, even if it wasn’t. But your body’s reaction to it was violent, an anxiety attack rattling through you, your lungs barely filled with enough air to supply your brain with. Tears flew everywhere, as did your limbs while you deflated on the floor, stricken with the loss of your love and the regret of not being able to save him.

Heavy footsteps were exchanged with lighter ones as the guard left you. If they felt any remorse for what they did to you, they didn’t show even a little bit of sympathy. Then again, knowing who their boss was, maybe they were just trying to survive. Just like you.

“Hey, get up.”

A command sounding as crude as it was threatening. You only just lost the person dear to you, but here he was—sitting down on the edge of his bed, much too big and out of place in this run-down mansion he had made his home in—demanding to get rewarded for it. For a moment, your brain was too stunned to release all the negativity that had you squirming on the dusty floor. But the burning in your eyes returned soon enough, and you returned to bawling instead of listening to his orders. Not like the deal was still on. It died with your love.

Annoyed, he rolled his eyes, getting up and marching over to you, roughly grabbing a fistful of hair and pulling you from the ground. The pain was nothing compared to the one you felt in your heart, but enough to shift your focus to Kuni for a moment, your screams getting stuck in your throat. “Listen to me! It’s over. No need to get so worked up about it now. You promised me you’d do whatever I want.”

Pulling you along mercilessly, Kunikuzushi made you scramble to your feet, urging you over to the bed where he sat down once more, spreading his legs for you to fit between them. It was so ridiculous, his body still that of a young teen, but his cruelty right out of a monster. And maybe he was, having not aged in years, a former puppet boy, now a puppet monstrosity. It was like a nightmare you were unable to wake up from.

Moving your head around as he pleased, he laid it to rest on his thigh, finally letting go but not allowing you to lift your head on your own. His palm pressed down on top of it, simulating the gesture of petting you, running his fingers through your dirty, unkempt hair with a hint of awe in his eyes. “You’ve gotten so old,” he mumbled, his expression turning conflicted, but not even one wrinkle on his youthful face. Unable to hold back a huff, you glared at him as best as you could through your blurred vision, your brain deciding this was rude enough to give it attention.

“I’m only in my late twenties. That’s not old at all.”

Kuni made a contemplating hum as he kept brushing back strands of hair. In all your reunion, he hadn’t been as gentle as he was now, not a hint of the cruelty he ordered just minutes ago, and nothing like the villain that kept mistreating you. Affectionate, kind, comforting. He was all of that and nothing at the same time.

“I’ve been searching for you every day since you left.” He muttered, his eyes glazing over as he was deep in thought of the past. “I went through every country, every terrain. Climbed every mountain and wandered the depths of the sea to find you. I don’t think you know what it’s like to have you back now. I’ll give you a life you could only dream about until now.”

“I don’t want it,” you choked out, instantly overcome with dread. If it wasn’t with your chosen partner, the family you cared about, then what kind of life could he offer you?

“Don’t test my generosity,” he warned you, a dangerous smile dancing over his lips. “I am merely repaying you for your kindness and letting you live with me because of the goodness of my heart.”

Grinding your teeth, you felt anger rise from your stomach. It was as if you were seeing red, your mouth speaking before thinking it through. After all Kuni did, how preposterous was he to talk about generosity? “Had I known this would happen, I wouldn’t have been so nice to you.”

This made his hand stop abruptly, his eyes turning darker as neither of you averted your gaze. How unfortunate that you were human, much more in need of blinking than he was, losing this fight while he kept watching you intensely. “What a shame,” he eventually replied, his expression unreadable even as he smiled.

His fingers sliding back into your hair, he gripped it hard, forcing your head to bend backwards while he leaned down. Inches away from you, you wanted to stay strong, not be intimidated by the closeness of this psycho, but your survival instincts forced you to try and escape from him, not fight him. Subconsciously, you knew it was a fight you couldn’t win.

“It’s a shame, really, that you’ll have to be nice to me now. I won’t give you the freedom to leave me again or deliver a swift death to you like I did to your little plaything. You can suffer with me in peace or chaos, but you’ll never get rid of me. What will it be?”

“Fuck you,” you ground out from gritted teeth, and his grip got even tighter, tearing the hairs from your scalp.

“I see. Chaos it is. Don’t tell me I didn’t warn you.”

The next thing you felt was a sting in your neck, a burning cold liquid shooting through your veins, and you started to lose the feeling in your limbs as it spread through you rapidly. Even the pain on your head vanished, despite Scara standing up, dragging you on top of his bed with strength his small body shouldn’t have.

“I told you before, you’re mine. Mine to do anything I please,” he reiterated, climbing on top of you and straddling your waist as he flopped down, having no regard for your body that couldn’t feel anything. Reaching behind him, you recognized the gag from before, Scara dangling it in front of your face now, only your eyes able to move and follow it. “For now, I think I heard enough from you. This will help you to be good and shut up.”

Wrapping the gag around your face, he made a tight, double knot before leaning back and admiring his work. “Oops, I almost forgot,” Kuni chuckled. “Not like you’re in the state of doing anything right now, no matter what I do. But don’t worry. At least one of us will enjoy what I’ve been planning to do for years.”

You wished you had control over your body back, at least enough to close your eyes. Undoubtedly, Kuni would have forced them back open regardless of what you wanted but drugged and entirely at his mercy, you only wanted to forget. Not see, not hear, not feel anything, a wish you weren’t granted from the universe.

If only you could have at least avoided seeing the grin on his face no matter what he did.

But he wasn’t the nice boy you once knew.

Only the nightmare you’d get to know more than you wanted.

#Scaramouche #scaramouche genshin #yandere scaramouche #genshin #genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere!genshin #yandere genshin impact #yandere!genshin impact #yandere #yandere!scaramouche #kunikuzushi #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere oneshots #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW

[x-ladyathena-x]

In the Shadow of His Memory

Ch.6–Unforgiven

Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Warnings: graphic violence, morally grey sebastian, morally grey reader, angst, fluff, alcohol

Word count: 971

Summary: It's been 10 years since you were faced with that awful decision: turn Sebastian in for casting an unforgivable curse or lie for him.

You chose to lie for him and take his secrets to your grave, but that wasn't enough-the authorities found out soon after and Sebastian went on the run.

You never stopped loving him and when an unexpected visitor arrives in your home in the dead of night, you realize he never stopped loving you either.

—————

You awoke with a jolt to the the smell of smoke and the sounds of crashing glass.

"Expeliarmis"

"Petrificus Totalus"

"Stupify."

Spells shot through your windows flying in every direction. They narrowly missed you as you rolled to the floor and reached for your wand on the bedside table. You gripped your wand tight in your hand as you fired back an unending torrent of attack after attack.

The smoke was thick and making it hard to breathe. You coughed and wheezed while you frantically looked around for Sebastian, scared to call his name for fear of giving away your position from inside the cottage.

Who was out there? Why were they attacking? Was it because of Sebastian? How would they have known he was here, that you'd been housing a fugitive? Maybe the neighbors saw him?

It didn't matter. All you knew was that you were both fighting for your lives and that you'd do anything to protect yourself and him.

You grabbed a heavy cloak that'd fallen on the floor in the chaos and threw it over your shoulders along with a pair of boots that could stand up to the cold outside. This may be your only chance to dress for the weather before you had to run.

"Flipendo!"

Your heart soared. The flipendo spell wasn't cast by some random somebody outside. That was Sebastian's voice through the smoke. He was okay. He was still here with you.

You crawled across the floor toward where you heard his voice while shooting a few stray stupify spells over your shoulder and out the broken windows.

When he saw you through the smoke he reached for your hand and looked visibly relieved. He gripped your hand tight. You felt a pull behind your navel but nothing happened.

"They've warded the cottage against apparition," Sebastian whispered, unable to hide the panic in his voice. "It's gonna be okay," he tried to reassure you, "I'll get us out of here."

You nodded and kissed him, "I know you will."

The spells exploding all around you rained even heavier now.

"When I say go, we run." Sebastian told you in a low, confident voice.

"Bombarda!" He blew the door open.

Everything happened so fast it felt like a blur.

"Go!" Sebastian pulled you by the hand through the crowd of attackers. They all wore Ministry robes. Aurors.

You cast protego after protego blocking the oncoming torrent of spells while Sebastian cast a combination of purple and yellow blurs.

You worked off of one another, perfectly in sync, it was as if a magical current was flowing between the two of you where your hands were joined making the two of you more powerful together.

"Diffindo!"

A red spell shot by so close to your left shoulder, you could feel the heat coming off it. A spell like that so close to the left side of your chest could've killed you.

In an instant, the fear on Sebastian's face was replaced with the dark shadow of rage and hatred. He turned to your attacker.

"Avada Kedavra."

The words were spoken with conviction and resolve. Spoken absent of regret or remorse. There was a blinding green light and the auror dropped where he stood.

You and Sebastian disappeared into the woods and ran because your lives depended on it.

The first chance he got, Sebastian stopped and pulled you into his arms, "are you alright?" He asked. "Did you get hurt?"

"I'm okay," you told him, taking in his frantic expression. He was positively wild. Feral. "You saved me."

He pressed his forehead against yours, "we saved each other.

Voices and distant shouting echoed closer.

"What will we do?" You asked Sebastian feeling yourself beginning to panic.

Sebastian gripped your hand tight and brought it up to his lips. He pressed a soft kiss onto your knuckles, "we fight. To the death if we have to."

You felt a sense of resolve, "to the death." You agreed.

A red spell hit a tree just barely missing Sebastian. The two of you turned on the spot and began casting spells back.

The green light of the unforgivables mingled with the red, yellow, and purple of the other spells that Sebastian had been helping you with all these weeks.

You were skilled and so was he but it wasn't enough.

It quickly became very apparent that you were outnumbered and out matched. The two of you wouldn't be able to get out of this one.

Til the death

The phrase rang in your head.

Something came over you. You mustered up as much concentration as you could and a blue ring began growing around you.

"Don't do this." One of the aurors called to you. "Just step away from Sallow and we'll see to it you aren't tried by the Ministry."

You ignored the plea from the auror as the ring of power continued growing around you.

"If you do this, you'll never stop being hunted." The aurors warned one last time.

So be it.

Ancient magic burst out of you in a blinding white blue glow.

The aurors were leveled. As were many trees in the immediate vicinity.

"Which way do we go?" You frantically looked around you.

"This way." He pulled you by the hand, but you were dazed after expelling your ancient magic. "It's safe this way." Sebastian called to you never taking his eyes off the ground. Then you saw what he was looking at... footprints.

Tiny footprints. Tiny cat footprints leading you to safety.

Carrot.

The two of you jogged hand in hand down the path searing for safety.

You didn't know how long you'd have to run before you found it.

It would be okay though, as long as you and Sebastian were together.

And you'd fight together always.

Til death.

#x-ladyathena-x #angst #fluff #hogwarts legacy #reader #sebastian sallow #in the shadow of his memory #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x you #Sebastian sallow x reader #morally gray reader #morally gray Sebastian sallow

[plaguery]

the topic of abuse has a tricky catch where nothing about it is black and white, but those most apt to speak on it--those affected by it, past and present--are typically wired through the experience to think in those terms. it is fair for an abused person to, on a personal level, view their abuser(s) in a completely negative light. it may not be the healthiest or most well-rounded route about it but no person who has experienced abuse is then bound to owe the rest of the world complete health in their journey forward. yes, progress should be the prospect and you are forever responsible for your actions towards others but if hating the person who broke you down and possibly nearly destroyed you is what keeps you moving forward and being kind to yourself and others, then by all means continue.

however, if we are to be holistic about the topic of abuse, which is necessary in order to prevent and heal these wounds on a societal level, it is required to address the fact that something so deeply tangled and insidious cannot be viewed with such an extreme lens. an abuser is someone who by most odds was likely abused themself, it is not an excuse but a crucial note of how the cycle is perpetuated. without the proper efforts, anyone can be abusive. even if just for a short while, a passing moment.

i have been abusive to people in my life as a teenager. it was directly tied to my own abuse that i had experienced and was experiencing. i think if a lot of us look back at our younger years, we can identify moments like this in ourselves and/or in our peers at the time because it was at such a vulnerable age. was i fully aware of what i was doing? no. but i still did it, i made active choices to hurt people in the ways that i did. and stereotypically, i did them because i was hurting, being hurt, and learning the worst to get my basic social needs met in response. i saw the world in black and white, at any moment a dream could become a nightmare. i wanted to save myself. it happens often that the easiest solutions will require manipulation and exploitation. and i don't know if i will ever answer for myself exactly how much that younger, utterly unrealized version of myself is to blame.

notice that i have not used the word victim once so far. in this context, i don't believe in using this word, not for the helplessness it implies, but due to the dichotomy it presents of victim/perpetrator. it is typical that once someone is labeled or labels themselves as 'victim' that this vision of the blameless and innocent sticks with them from then on: an inherently false, but easy attribution to lean on. it speaks to a wonderful aspect of people, that they want to believe and be believed. a child in all of us still wants our wounds coddled. but it ignores the insistent fact that every 'victim' is capable of violence on another. it ignores the fact that i--someone who experienced many, many forms of abuse--was and still am capable of violence. it ignores the fact that those who abused me--people who also experienced varying forms of abuse--were and still are capable of violence.

i don't speak to my father. i haven't willingly heard a word from him since i was twelve years old. and i have never regretted my choice. a part of me will always hate him and always forgive him. i can never seem to make my mind up on that. but i do hope he is out there being a better person. because i want the world to be better. and ultimately, that is still a world with him in it.

i still live with my mother. she isn't perfect, but she's tried and done a lot to rectify our relationship. she doesn't realize everything she did but with what she has realized, she has shown the capacity for remorse and change. she will keep changing. a part of me will maybe always hate and forgive her too. but i see hope in her. i don't think i could condemn her with the progress i've seen.

neither route included easy decisions to make: on how to move forward, on how to feel, on how to cope with the mere state of things. i carry the weight of my own abuse and the abuses that i know they suffered. sometimes i dream about a world where i could still have a relationship with my father. and i, from the bottom of my heart, hope i never see or hear from him again. sometimes i figure there may come a day where i cannot move forward with my life without letting go of my mother. and i sincerely hope we keep loving each other until we die.

i decided that i never want to risk trusting my father again and that i will continue to trust my mother to work on the pain that she has caused and may cause in the future. and all these conflicting realities within myself are simulateously true. coming to the point of reconciling these realities is never easy. i wouldn't even say that i have exactly done just that. and this may never happen. but i have learned to embrace juxtaposition.

understanding juxtaposition is perhaps one of the core facets to understanding how abuse functions and how to heal from it, how to prevent it. we have to identify in ourselves the capacity to inhabit both roles of victim and perpetrator and how these may sometimes, and often do, blend. we have to actively build a world where absolution or condemnation for either on a social level is rejected, where it is recognized that blame and forgiveness are fluid.

the people i hurt when i was younger may never forgive me. i would never ask them to. i may never completely forgive either of my parents. but we can all change. i try my damnedest everyday to be a better person to others. it may seem contradictory, but to use concrete labels of victim and perpetrator is to inflict passivity. it is a prescriptivist lens of the world that denies change. to move past these, creating a world with less abuses, requires us to be constantly active, vigilant with ourselves. we may always default back to thinking in that passive black and white. this is not a fault in itself. but we can always act differently.

#abuse

[littleoddwriter]

I'm sorry if this is extremely specific but can you do some hcs of Dan Torrance with a transmasc metalhead s/o who just cut his hair because of the dysphoria but now he feels really unattractive? I completely understand if you can't do it

Remember to drink water! Take care 💗

Dan Torrance x TransMasc!Reader | Headcanons

Hey there! No need to apologise, I live for specific things. :') Thanks for the request, I really hope you like these and they can bring you some comfort! <3 Aw, thank you!!! Remember to drink water as well and take care of yourself. <3 <3 <3

notes; Trans Masc!Reader; Gender Dysphoria; Haircut; Insecurities; Comfort; Fluff.

When you cut your hair it's almost an impulsive decision because your gender dysphoria kept telling you how feminine you looked, despite that not necessarily being the case at all, and you just want that voice to go away.

You do it while Dan is still at work and once you're done you feel very insecure, like you're the most unattractive person on earth. It makes you scared of Dan coming home to seeing you like this, quickly putting you in a different crisis.

While you're still alone, you keep trying to save your looks and feel better about it, but to no avail. The longer you attempt to fix things and look in the mirror, the worse you feel.

It's too late anyway when Danny comes home soon enough, immediately knowing that something is wrong - he's felt it ever since it started and it only got stronger the closer he got to returning home.

He asks what's wrong, stopping when he sees you. Of course it's a little jarring to suddenly see you with short hair after having been used to your long one, but he knows it was the same for you when he was suddenly clean shaven.

You hide your face with your hands and shake your head, telling him to not look at you because you're ugly and you regret cutting your hair now, but you had to do it. You're nearly hyperventilating at that point.

Dan uses his shine to calm you down a bit, until you take your hands away from your face and he wraps his arms around you. He brushes his fingers through your hair with a soft smile on his lips and tells you that you're gorgeous. You always are. Handsome, gorgeous, beautiful, everything.

He does his best to quiet down this voice in your heard that's saying it's all lies, that he doesn't like you anymore. He kisses you breathless, peppers your face in little kisses as well, all while playing with your short hair.

It helps after a while. You feel better. Less dysphoric, less unattractive, less remorseful. You may have always liked your long hair, but perhaps it was time to find a different hairstyle that would give you gender euphoria and still serve as a signature for your liking of metal music.

#the last sentence is so awkward sorry idk how to phrase that well in English rip #sorry for suddenly disappearing i was working all week and always came home super late with zero energy rip #transmasc reader #trans masc reader #dan torrance #dan torrance x reader #ewan mcgregor #doctor sleep #headcanon

[gurugirl]

To the anon who sent the ask about finding out her fling/man has a gf… girl, I’ve been in your position several times and I know how hard it can be! It’s awful & conflicting especially when you have a good connection to the person. I will be straight up & admit that one time I decided not to care so I can’t judge at all! I had just turned 19, had just been broken up with over text by the guy I was dating for 3 yrs because he said he had been cheating on me for basically the last year of our relationship, shortly after his friends told me it had been for longer than that. So I was hurt & angry at everyone & decided I didn’t care and I just gave in to one of my coworker/friend’s advances. And I had so much fun & no remorse at the time for what I was doing after a while. We did this for about 4 almost 5 years. He & the girl got married shortly after I told him I couldn’t do it anymore & he still called me drunk on his wedding day (we hadn’t spoke in a year by then) saying that he needed to know how much he cared about me for him to be calling me on his wedding day. That fucked me up because I thought maybe I should’ve fought harder for him? But thankfully, I blocked him, let it go, & him too. I am now 28 & just barely healed from that relationship. I finally talked about it in therapy I was too embarrassed to admit it before but it was like a burden had been lifted. After that I told a mutual friend & she was so loving and supportive, & non judgmental about it. It helped me stay strong & prompted me to work on forgiving myself.

Anyway…Obviously, I deeply regret it all & wish I hadn’t done it but not because of him or her. I wish I had not done it for me & all the damage I caused myself. The thing that was hardest to recover was my self love & my respect for myself. I loathed myself for allowing myself to do that & hurt someone else the way I had been hurt. Even if they had a happy ending, I just couldn’t forgive myself for a few years & finally did this year. Like you, I had those icky feelings at first but I ignored them and they stopped happening so fast. It’s a slippery slope! So my only advice for you, after going through all that is to choose yourself. Don’t think about him, or his gf, think about yourself and how this will impact you. Think about how you deserve someone’s whole love. Not just pieces of spare time. I know it’s scary & hard to put your foot down, but you will save yourself a lot of heart ache & shame down the line. You deserve all the love & care in world! So please be gentle & kind to yourself for the one slip up, we all make mistakes! The important thing is to learn from them. Wishing you all the best 🩷🩷

I love this advice! Thank you for sharing your story about this situation. It really puts things into perspective. It’s not a simple as just saying stop doing it because you know it’s wrong already. It’s more about - think of how this will make you perceive yourself later on. Doing what’s right for yourself and staying true to your own moral code is going to be more important in the end.

I’m sorry you went through all that. Matters of the heart are so so tricky. It would be nice if things were black and white but emotions are rarely nice enough to put into a tidy box and say that a, b, & c are going to happen if you do this or that. It just doesn’t work that way unfortunately.

Xoxo

#ask

[superhero--imagines]

A/N: Sorry, but this has been living in my brain rent free too, my commission info is here

* Honey if you’re tall with a big butt-

* You’ve got his heart the second he lays eyes on you

* Like everything he is and everything he will be -

* Baby you can have it all if you’ll agree to be his

* If you’re not tall with a big butt, well don’t worry Yuuji’s still going to adore you it just takes a little time

* It’s not so much because he doesn’t think your smoking hot or anything-

* It’s just, well, Yuji’s kinda dumb

* So anyone outside of his immediate go-to type, it just doesn’t register in his brain

* You can bet your ass he’ll say dumb crap like-

* “Friends can hold hands right?”

* Or

* “Friends kiss sometimes, no big deal!”

* But don’t worry babe, it might take a little while, but eventually he’ll notice all these feelings he’s been categorizing as “friendly” feelings and “positive” feelings are actually Romantic feelings

* Once he finally figures it out, you won’t have to wait long-

* “Oi, (Y/N/N), want to be my lover?”

* Like seriously, not even a second after he has this ‘monumental’ realization

* After that things are pretty easy between you two

* It’s not like much has changed, he’s still your friend, and he doesn’t act any different-

* You guys were holding hands and, apparently, kissing before you were officially dating

* It’s not even that he’s greedy with the way he touches you or anything-

* I think the only thing that does change is that Yuji makes an effort to spend more time with you

* “Oi, wanna go to Shibuya this weekend? There’s a Taiyaki store I’m dying to go too”

* He makes an effort to spend time with you even when he’s not around, like sending you texts and voicemails when he’s away

* Part of the reason he’s so insistent on spending as much time with you as possible is probably because he’s not sure how much time he has left

* I think, Yuji is a really simple guy who sees the good in everyone, so he’s also kind of attracted to anyone given the right circumstances

* But I think, he especially wants someone compassionate

* Someone who will hold him during depressive episodes where he’ll wonder- what if I hadn’t joined the occult club? What if he had played track like everyone wanted? What if he had just minded his own business

* What if Megumi hadn’t followed him to the hospital that day, how different would his life be right now

* And it’s the same regret and remorse that fuels his cursed energy, but for some reason it feels like it’s magnified right now

* It feels like he might drown in this despair

* During those days you just hold him, whispering good things about the world.

* Soft things that’ll help him right now-

* Something to give him hope

* “Hot tea on a cold day” you whisper

* “The feeling of basking in sunlight after a cloudy day”

* There’s a moment of silence as you think of something else to say

* “The smell of rain, and fresh cut grass” he’ll mumble back, and you grin

* “Getting Taiyaki in Shibuya with someone you love” you reply with a grin

* “With ice cream filling and boba?”

* You laugh, what a weird combination

* “Anything you want”

* Yuji’s not the one that’s hard to get along with tbh, the one you have trouble with is Sukuna

* “You know you’ll never save him, I don’t know why you’re trying so hard”

* You would hit Sukuna if it didn’t mean slapping Yuji’s cheek too

* “Shut up what do you know”

* Honestly Yuuji’s a little surprised at the hatred Sukuna shows you

* “Shouldn’t you be happy they’re around?”

* For one because you’re around there’s been more *clears throat* romantic incidents, which of course always leave Yuji in a pretty vulnerable state

* He’s only an orgasm away from having Sukuna take over tbh

* And besides-

* You’re his weakness

* They say the sun is 92 million miles away, but he swears his sun is walking in front of him on the in Shibuya, his hand held firmly in yours

* If anything ever happened to you-

* He wouldn’t be able to live with himself, he wouldn’t be able to go on anymore.

* And that’s when the curse that lives inside him wins

* So he really doesn’t get why Sukuna’s acting like this is the worst thing to ever happen to him

* Sukuna opens an eye on Yuji’s cheek

* “I hate their kind most of all, even more than Jujutsu Sorcerers” he grumbles

* He really does hate you-

* He hates that you’re kind

* He saw your type all the time at his harem, some lowly thing relatives had sold off for money and honor-

* Or a prize from a nation he conquered

* Some dumb creature that thought you would get a reward for sacrificing yourself

* Truly idiotic

* The worst part is he’s starting to like those little fantasy’s you spin for Yuji

* He can feel the sunlight warning his skin after a cold day

* He can taste the heavy condensation of the steam that wafts off of his cup of tea, brushing against his face. The heat in direct contrast to the cold winter air

* And it hurts him to know he probably won’t feel like that again, not for a long time

* Not with you helping Yuji work through his negative feelings like you do

* So he hates you

* He hides his contempt in general, it only leaks out through an occasional insult

* “Where’s your kindness now?” He’ll jeer when you’re having a bad day

* Only for Yuuji to smack his cheek to get him to shut up

* “Ah, don’t pay any attention to him. He’s just grumpy”

* For the most part it’s nothing you can’t handle

* Really you kind of forget he’s there most of the time, until one day you see Sukuna pop out and take a bite of your Taiyaki as you hold it out to Yuji who said he wanted to taste the flavor

* “Oi that was mine!” Yuji screeches, slapping his own face while Sukuna smiles from his hand

* “You just like torturing me don’t you?” He weeps, and you offer him sympathetic pats on the back, giving him another bit of your Taiyaki

* He continues on about how Sukuna just loves to torment him, and honestly why can’t they get along when they share a body

* But your mind is elsewhere

* The next time Sikuna see’s you is when Yuji’s sleeping, the damn brat snores so loud he’s considering throttling him just to get some peace and quiet

* That’s when he hears the door creak, seeing you curling inside around it, a plastic bag in hand

* Great, the perfect end to the perfect day

* “The brats sleeping” Sukuna grumbles from Yuji’s hand-

* He would have spoken from his face but the only thing more annoying than having to deal with Yuji’s snores is having to hear the lovey-dovey crap tumble from his lips when he talks to you

* He figures you’ll leave, or maybe curl up against Yuji on the bed but instead you kneel down, your hand dipping into the plastic bag

* “I’m not here for him,” you start pulling out a Taiyaki.

* “You wanted one right?” That’s why he took a bite, because he wanted to try it too

* Though, annoying Yuji was probably an added bonus

* You hold up the Taiyaki to Sukuna’s ‘mouth’

* And he’s overcome with emotion

* It’s not like he hasn’t had concubines from his harem feed him a great number of things before -

* Like he hasn’t ever felt the tender act from one of his many lovers -

* So he hates that you’re the one that’s bringing out all these emotions in him

* And as he takes a bite from the Taiyaki he finally admits it-

* If you were in his harem, a moronic kind fool like you were one of his lovers

* You would be his favorite

* And that’s why he hates you so much

* Because just like Yuji, you’re his weakness

* “It’s not the same flavor” he mumbles

* “Sorry I couldn’t get the ice cream, it would have melted on the way here-“

* Sukuna wouldn’t have minded one bit licking the cream from your fingers, maybe he would even catch that embarrassed face you always make with the damn brat

* “So I got you a custard one, and a chocolate one, and on the off chance you weren’t in the mood for something sweet I got you a curry filled one too”

* You stumble, hand flying into the bag to pull out the other two, holding them up to him

* And despite himself, Sukuna finds the sight quite...cute

* “Well, I suppose these offerings will do for now wench” And his words are harsh, but you smile like the kindhearted fool you are.

* And that’s how Yuji starts getting pestered for “just five minutes alone with their baby”

* “Scared I’ll show them a better time than you can?” Sukuna grins

* Of course he is! Sukuna had a literal harem of lovers. Who knows what kinds of techniques he knows

* But Yuji’s pride won’t let him admit it

* Yuji scoffs

* “I’d rather die again then let you come anywhere near them”

* It’s kind like you’ve got two boyfriends

* One pink haired one that’s the literal personification of sunshine

* And another, more dark and sadistic one

* And it’s sort of a funky little relationship

* But it’s yours

* “I wouldn’t trade you for anything in the world” you whisper.

* Your lips brushing against his

* Yuji wouldn’t trade you for anything either

* He loves you ❤️

#jujutsu kaisen reader insert #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu sorcerer #yuji itadori #yuji itadori imagine #yuji itadori x reader #itadori imagine #itadori headcanons #itadori yuji headcanons #yuji itadori headcanon #sakuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen sakuna #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen headcanon #superhero—imagines #sukuna imagine #Sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen #sukuna ryoumen x reader #Sukuna ryoymen imagines

[x-childish-x]

(part 1) i am loving these anakin x mother figure concepts 😄 could i also request one haha, after order 66 reader survives and becomes a grey jedi. while on a mission, she runs into darth vader. they fight for a little bit, but soon stop after they recognize each other through the force. surprisingly, vader isn’t hostile towards her while they talk, but he’s not calm either. reader refuses to keep calling him vader. after their convo reader slowly approaches him and

Something You're Not

Pairing: Darth Vader x fem!reader

Fandom: Star Wars

Warnings: Darth Vader, female!reader, mother figure!reader, crying, mentions to feeling like a failure, fighting, mentions to Order 66

Word Count: 1,352

A/N: Hello lovely! Wow I loved writing this request! First Darth Vader request, woo! It was so fun to write because the entire time I felt I could see this all playing out! Thank you for the request and support! I appreciate it so much! Feedback is always welcome and appreciated, I really hope that you all enjoy this one!!

Summary: You finally reach the force signature that had been reaching out with you for weeks, only to realize it's none other than Darth Vader, the boy you once raised.

PART TWO, PART THREE, PART FOUR

(gif! not mine!)

"Rex, take care of Ahsoka for me... I know how badly she wants to be on this mission. I can't risk it," you mumbled through the holo-comm as you carefully landed your ship.

"You know I always will. She's busy with Ezra right now anyways, so hopefully, he'll keep her mind occupied. Just be safe. If this is Maul, we need to know why he's been reaching out to you," Rex replied, his voice sounding tired.

You sighed, clicking everything off before standing, "Don't worry, Rex. It'll work out. I'll be home within a rotation."

"You better be," Rex joked lightly, "Be safe (y/n). May the force be with you."

"And with you."

Clicking off the holo-comm and leaving it on the ship, you quickly set off outside. Pulling up the hood on your grey cloak, you looked around cautiously, taking in your surroundings and using the force to reach out.

You could feel the dark side of the force more prominently now that you were here. It was almost strong enough to make out a force signature, but not completely. Despite the fact you still seemed far away from the dark force energy, it felt incredibly familiar, and that was what lead you to believe it was Maul. After all, he was the only Sith whose force signature you were familiar with.

It didn't take long for you to find the correct path leading to the Sith. Following the dark force signature proved to be an easy task for you. You trekked through the forest for what felt like hours. You carefully avoided all unknown plants and made sure to keep your presence as obscure as possible. You were using the force to the best advantage you could, mapping out your path while still trying to identify the oddly familiar Sith signature.

Finally breaking out into a clearing, you held your breath at the sight of Darth Vader's back. His cloak swooshed in the light breeze as you watched him, quickly thinking over everything you'd ever heard about him. You felt like you were in a holo-film, at the big climax moment when you face off the main villain. Fog would be piling in, surrounding you and Darth Vader as you prepare to fight.

Undoubtedly he knew you were there, and despite the fact, the two of you had never encountered each other before, your force signatures were incredibly familiar. Dancing around each other like fawns, trying to figure out why the unknown was so incredibly welcoming, like coming back to an old friend.

"I did not know you'd survived Order 66," Vader's ominous voice broke through the silence, venom, and hatred surrounding each word.

Slowly you stepped out from the faint protection of the trees, "It wasn't of my knowledge that you even knew me."

"I don't," Vader replied curtly, allowing a pause as your signatures moved around one another, "You're a Jedi unaccounted for."

"I prefer it that way," You snarled.

Dashing forward at the same moment Vader's force signature delivered a harsh prod to your own, you unsheathed your lightsaber. Leaping into the air and slashing down on Vader's back, you made contact with his lightsaber, sparks of grey and red dancing in the calm aura of the planet. He was quick to spin and send a counter swing at you, but you blocked it quickly. You locked sabers and spun him around, doing your best to throw him off.

Despite the situation of your fighting, you found each other still dancing within the force, trying to identify each other's signature. Your fighting was incredibly familiar to him, and his defense was familiar to you. Akin to a thunderstorm, you both fought quickly and powerfully. Neither obtaining the upper hand, you matched perfectly clash after clash, block after block.

Your fierce fighting was like a tornado destroying a small town. The planet around you was calm and peaceful, undisturbed by the fight for life you'd engaged yourself in. It certainly wasn't Maul who'd been trying to connect with you over the past weeks, and you found yourself wishing that it had been the Dathomirian instead. You'd overcome enough and lost too much to not give up now.

Finally flipping away, your hood fell as your force signatures connected, a gasp tumbling from your lips, "Anakin?"

"Master (y/l/n)," Vader responded softly.

A silence fell as you stared at one another. Of course, he was familiar. You trained Anakin, helped Obi-Wan raise him. You'd been Anakin's mom ever since he'd joined the Jedi, and he, your son. You'd assumed he'd died in Order 66, as Obi-Wan refused to talk to you. But now, staring across at Anakin in Vader's armor, you felt more like a failure than you'd ever had.

"You traded the purple for grey," Vader noted, causing you to look down at your blade.

Looking up at Anakin, you fought to keep your voice strong, "You traded blue for red, Ani."

"Anakin's dead," He snarled, turning off his lightsaber.

You mocked his actions, tilting your head slightly, "If Vader was here, he would've killed me already, Anakin."

"I am Vader! My name is Vader," The man huffed, "I killed Anakin myself!"

You shook your head, "I will not call you something you're not, Anakin. I trained you to be honest... true to yourself and your emotions. I will do the same now."

Vader seemed to falter, his hands repeatedly clenched and unclenched. The soft whir of machinery filled the air as you stared at the man in front of you. You took a step forward slowly, your eyes filling with remorse as you used the force to search through Anakin.

"What'd they do to you, my sweet Ani?" You whispered, "Why didn't you come to me? I could've helped you."

"Nobody could've helped him!" Anakin raged, yelling in anger that seemed directed at himself, "He was lost! Gone! Anakin would've died regardless! I, Vader, would've killed him regardless!"

"No," You mumbled, looking around at the planet you'd been called to, "You wouldn't have died, Ani. It would've been like any other mission, any other obstacle before. I would've helped you get through it, like always."

"Anakin is dead!" Vader cried out, his voice breaking, a hint of desperation sneaking through, "He's gone."

Slowly, you stepped forward, watching the way Anakin's chest rose and fell with each mechanical breath, "No... you're not gone, Anakin. You're not gone, and like all the times before, I'll be waiting to help you."

Taking in a deep breath, you anxiously wrapped your arms around Anakin, noticing how much taller he was. His arms remained by his side in shock, trying to sort out his emotions. Anakin's mechanical breathing filled your ears as you squeezed the boy you raised. Tears fell down your cheeks as you held him to your chest, wishing you had been able to help him. Wishing you'd stayed by Anakin more during the Clone Wars. Wishing that you could turn back time and save the little boy you loved so much.

Squeezing tighter for a brief second, you whispered, "I love you, no matter what, Anakin."

Letting go of the man, you stepped back quickly, hoping that the powerful Sith Lord hadn't seen your tears. But you knew that you'd been too slow, and you knew Anakin knew you better than that. Watching as you walked back and disappeared into the trees you'd come from, Darth Vader wondered if he would ever see you again. He'd reached out to you for weeks, and he wondered now if you would ever reach out to him, remind him you were still alive, waiting for Anakin to return.

Boarding your shuttle, you let out a cry as you reached for your comm. There were so many regrets you held and so much you wished you would've done. But the past was not something you could dwell on. You could only hope that you'd been able to reach Anakin quickly enough.

"Rex?" You called weakly into the comm. You waited patiently for Rex's reply until you heard your name called worriedly, "I'm coming home."

Taglist: @nowthisisdark

#x-childish-x #Darth vader x reader #Darth vader x you #Darth vader x y/n #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x y/n #anakin skywalker x mother figure!reader #Darth vader x fem!reader #anakin skywalker x fem!reader #darthvaderxyou #darthvaderxreader #darthvaderxy/n #star wars #starwars #sw #star wars the original trilogy #darthvaderxfem!reader #anakinskywalkerxfem!reader #anakinskywalkerxyou #anakinskywalkerxy/n #anakinskywalkerxreader #anakin skywalker #anakinskywalker #Darth vader #darthvader

[admiringlove]

congrats on 1k followers! this event is so cute!!

“you can never walk away from someone if your soul has decided to stay.” shefali dang

may i please get sakusa, gojo or kaeya, whoever you feel comfortable with! 🤍 possibly hurt to comfort, but whatever you decide! 🥰 thank you!

epiphany.

i decided to do gojo! hope you don’t mind, and thank you for requesting :)

you can never walk away from someone, if your soul has decided to stay.

— shefali dang.

it's been so long since the gojo satoru felt helpless and regretted his actions. 

as he watches you force out a small smile and look away so you don't end up crying or something, he wants to take back what he said to you. your eyes are glassy, you're trying your best to show that you're okay(even though he knows that you probably aren't). his eyes can't take it anymore, so he looks away. he doesn't like seeing you hurt. he removes his sunglasses and shoves them into the pocket of his pants, his throat tightening as the event that just occurred replays in his mind. 

"oh come on, just tell me who you're in love with!"

"no, satoru. stop, this is why i didn't want you to know."

"please? come on, i'll pay for lunch for the next month or something. just tell me!"

"no-"

"why not?" he'd asked, trapping you against the wall, both his palms next to the sides of your head as your eyes widened. the tip of your ears and cheeks turned almost red, as you mumbled out something incomprehensible. he teased you, saying how cute you looked, being whipped for someone turned you soft—or something along the lines of that. you furrowed your brows, pushing his chest as you called him stupid and started yelling at him and continuing to say mindless things until you said it. 

"i don't even understand why i love an insensitive moron like you!"

everything came to a standstill. his blizzard blue eyes widened to the size of saucers, lips fumbling to find words as you stand there, shocked at yourself. you don't say anything, clenching your fists as tightly as you can, you stare at your feet as your lips almost thin into a straight line. he then apologized to you in almost a whisper, "i-i'm sorry, but i don't feel-"

"save it," you grit your teeth, "i know, already."

of course, you knew. it's not like this was the first time someone had confessed to gojo. this happened like thrice a week; a random girl would come up to him, ask him for his number, or if he was single, and he'd politely reject them. then, he'd turn to you, cockily smirking as he said, "look at that. how many does this one make?"

how many did this one make? those words rung in your ears as you pushed through him, walking away as your steps echoed in the hall. when you reached your dorm, you glance at him—and he's still standing there. he's looking at you, his eyes locking with yours and filled with remorse. he hates that he can't love you. he hates that you, his best friend, have to be put through something like heartbreak because of him. you can't recall the last time he was shaken this much to the core. had this been under different circumstances, you'd have said something along the lines of, "satoru, pick your jaw up from the floor before i take a photo and blackmail you for food."

you close the door, back against it as you slide down. your eyes finally water, your hands trembling as you hug your knees and close your eyes as tightly as you can. you feel as if the water is finally catching up now, rising to the ceiling until you don't have room to breathe anymore. your throat almost closes up, as you feel almost disgusted with yourself for being put through that interaction. 

the word 'sorry' seems so meaningless now, doesn't it?

you sniffle, wiping away your tears as you walk to your bed and plop down. closing your eyes, your heart beat pounds in your ears as you let out quiet sobs. 

gojo still stands in the hall. he's unsure of what to say to you. he's unsure of what to say. he's unsure of how to speak to you. what was he supposed to do after exorcising a curse with you? how was he supposed to have lunch with you, geto and shoko without feeling that bitter taste on his tongue whenever his eyes locked with yours?

a few days pass, and you don't necessarily avoid him, but you don't spend any time with him either. you don't show up to have breakfast together or to the vending machine outside the dorms to get icecream. you continue on with your day, but alone. and whenever you do talk to him is when geto drags you to lunch and dinner with them. 

you can't meet his eyes, but you pretend as if everything's okay. satoru's grateful for that—he doesn't want you to be uncomfortable around him, but how is he allowed to get a say in what you do and what you don't? how is he supposed to talk to you?

"hey, we're gonna go to that shop ieiri wanted to visit. see you guys back at school, okay?" geto yells out as shoko drags him away. you stand there, shifting your weight from one foot to the other as you walk to the train station with gojo tagging behind you slowly. he's usually the one to start conversations, but he's quiet now. his eyes glued to his walking feet as he thinks.

the sorcerer looks for any source of awkwardness at your end—and he fails to find any. you're just quiet and you keep to yourself most of the time. you'd been great at hiding your feelings, and maybe that was because he was always the more talkative one. he doesn't find anything other than maybe the occasional twitch of the corner of your mouth, or the slight furrow of your eyebrows. 

he wants you to show him some sort of emotion. something that tells him you're just as affected as he is. something that tells him that you feel just as suffocated with him as he is without you. his voice almost gets stuck in his throat as he stands there at the platform with you, waiting for the train to arrive. your eyes don't meet his, and you tap your foot impatiently. he notices the small things about you now, the way you chew away at your lip and hum smally when you grow impatient. or the way look out the window from your seat on the train, smiling whenever some place of your interest passes by. 

it starts to rain by the time you've walked into your dorm. satoru stays outside by the vending machines, sipping on a cola as he stares at the pouring of the sky. he's reminded of all those times when you used to run into the field whenever it rained, your hair sticking to your face as he ran after you and pushed you into a puddle to get your shoes dirty. you'd laugh; oh, how melodious it was to him. and when the two of you walked back to your rooms, getting something cold to drink from the vending machines as you cracked mindless jokes(the ones that came from him most of the time contained sexual innuendos). 

the way your eyes lit up whenever you ate udon noodles at that restaurant near the train station, the way you smiled toothily when you flicked his forehead, the way you teased him for being an insensitive jackass—oh no. 

it hits him like a ton of bricks as his eyes widen like saucers once again, the can of half-finished soda forgotten as he chucks it to the bin and runs towards your room. puddles splash beneath his feet, his hair becomes unbelievably wet even though he only had to run for a few hundred meters, and he pants as he knocks heavily on your door. 

it feels like such a weight on his shoulders as the heavy seconds pass by. you open the door, wearing a tank-top and sweatpants as you stir a cheap cup of ramen in your hands. he lets out a heavy breath he didn't even know he was holding, as he sputters out, "i love you too."

you look at him like you've seen a ghost as you mumble, "w-what?"

"i love you too."

"satoru, you can't just say that. it sounds like you pity me or something," you roll your eyes, walking inside as you leave the door open. he takes off his shoes haphazardly and leaves them be outside your dorm, trudging in after you. you place the cup on the table, and then he grabs your arm and turns you to face him. you let out a gasp, narrowing your eyes at him as you begin scolding him, "stop, you're wet-"

"i love you," he says, "and i promise this is different from the people that confess to me while we have lunch and then i say something douchey to you like how hot i am or something."

"i can't just throw everything away for you and your half-hearted promises, satoru. you know that," you say, your eyes softening. he shakes his head(some droplets of water flying at your face and everywhere else too), "no, i mean it. just... trust me."

you sigh, and you're chewing on your lip again. your brows furrow as you hold the bridge of your nose—he's noticed you do this whenever you're lost in thought. then, you look up at him after a few seconds, "you mess this up and i never talk to you again, deal?"

"deal."

© all works belong to admiringlove on tumblr. plagiarism is strictly prohibited.

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru angst #gojo angst #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk angst #jjk fluff #gojo satoru fluff #gojo fluff #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk gojo angst #jjk gojo #jjk gojo x reader

[cherienymphe]

How is Serpentine Reader doing?

You awoke to the sight of Peter tending to his hand. He stood by the window, the first rays of sunlight catching the side of his face and hair, casting the most interesting glow around him. You ran your eyes over his bare back, face heating up as you recalled your wedding night. It was not your first coupling, but something about last night was different.

You had long resigned yourself to your fate as Peter’s future wife and the future queen of this land. Virginal or not, many women would kill to be where you are, and you found yourself thinking that you should be grateful for your fortune. But then you thought about that day in the woods. Peter’s confession, the crazed look in his dark eyes, the way he’d chased you down. What he had done was wrong...right?

You knew more than anyone that the same rules did not apply to royalty. You had seen kings and princes demand the most heinous things of those they saw fit, and you had witnessed the same from their female counterparts. Royal men laid claim to whatever woman, or man, caught their eye. It was the way of the court...but you had thought that Peter was different.

Part of you would argue that he was different. After all, the young man had not taken you in a bout of lust nor did he deceive you and abandon you. Your heart clenched when you thought of Loki, and while logically, you knew that what Peter had done was worse...Loki’s actions were the catalyst for Peter’s. Loki had ruined you, and if it were not for Peter, who knows what your fate would have been.

God, how could you both hate and be grateful to Peter at the same time?

His movement pulled you from your thoughts, and you only just noticed the knife in his hand. Your brows furrowed, alarm filling you as he set it down, brown eyes meeting yours.

“They will want to confirm that you were indeed a virgin,” he murmured.

He glanced at the bed, and you followed his gaze, taking in the blood on the white sheets. The blood that was not yours. You swallowed, understanding dawning on you. The silence was suffocating, and you felt tears kiss your eyes for multiple reasons.

“Thank you,” you shakily whispered.

Peter noticed your tearful expression, and he hurried to join you on the bed. He pulled you into his arms as you shook, shushing you as he held you to him.

“Am I really that horrible?” he quietly wondered.

Yes...and no. You did not know.

Your feelings about Peter were far more complicated than you wanted them to be. He was your best friend, but he had forced himself onto you. He had forced you into this marriage...but solely to protect you. Every horrible thing that he had done to you was paved with good intentions. Surely that did not make it right though.

Why could these things not be simple?

You pressed your face into his chest as you cried, clutching the sheet to you as Peter rocked you back and forth. Soothing sounds left his lips, an attempt to calm you, something he had done a lot over the years. You were reluctant to admit that it was working.

“You hurt me,” you cried.

“I know,” he softly replied.

“...and you are not remorseful...”

“...no. I am not,” he confirmed.

You knew it was true, but hearing it broke your heart anyway.

“You were my best friend,” you sniffled.

“I am still your best friend. I am still the only one who truly knows you, who you can talk to, run to. You know that I will do anything for you,” he told you, lips brushing your ear.

“You hurt me,” you repeated.

“I saved you,” he said, an unfortunate truth.

You pulled away.

“Peter, you-!”

“Because I love you!”

His eyes looked as they did that day, dark and wide and crazed as he huffed. His fingers pressed into your arm while his other hand ran itself through his hair.

“I know that I should not have done that. I could have waited. I could have done things differently but I did not! Do you know what it was like?”

You stared at him, frozen and fearful as he gazed into your eyes.

“Do you know what it was like to love you my whole life and not do anything because...because I did not think I could? Because I was not sure it was what you wanted? Because I wanted to be a good friend?”

You did not respond.

“Do you?”

You slowly shook your head.

“Every day it was harder and harder to breathe. You stole all of my breath away every time I so much as looked at you. I truly believe that I was put on this earth to protect you...and I failed. I could not protect you from him...”

Peter’s hands were on your face, thumbs brushing your jaw.

“I could not protect you, and I wanted to die. I was so desperate to make up for my shortcoming. Desperate to make you forget what he had done, forget him, forget your love for him... I had hoped that I could make you love me instead. That if you saw how I felt...”

He trailed off, eyes reddening and tearful.

“Please...please...love me,” he begged.

“Peter...”

“I hurt you, and I do not regret it, and still I am asking you to love me-.”

“I cannot-.”

“Love me,” he pleaded, pressing his lips to yours. “Please...”

His mouth was desperate on yours, stealing your breath just as he claimed you stole his. His fingers held your face to him, breathing you in as he pressed himself against you. Your back met the bed again, a faint throb in your core from the consummation of your marriage only hours earlier.

“Love me,” he begged again, lips brushing over your ear. “...and I promise that you will be happier for it.”

#drabbles

[oonajaeadira]

Long Fall Into Oblivion (Ezra x reader)

(header by sirtadcooper - check out the whole beautiful set here.)

Rating: Mature. 

Pairing: Ezra (post-Prospect film) x f!reader

Warnings: Non-explicit sex. Some swears maybe (think there’s a f*ck in there somewhere, my GOODNESS). A lot of gooey, syrupy, soft fluffety fluff. Author attempts at writing Ezra dialogue. A lot of chewy prose.

A/N: I can’t believe I’m posting this, but here goes. I love Ezra. He is a man of questionable morality and an insufferable tongue and I really shouldn’t. But I really do. I just wanted to give him a try. I’ve softened him up here, putting a few years on him so maybe he’s fluffed up some since the events in the film. Also I just ignored the fade or assumed that aurelac mining was still happening because scarcity/demand. Doesn’t matter. Just wanted to go exploring.

Summary: You take a job as an aurelac prospecting trainee and Ezra shows you the ropes. You’re gonna fall in love with him. That’s it. That’s the whole thing.

TAGLIST: you can always request to be on the taglist for this or any of my work. If you’d like to be on taglists for upcoming fic, please sign up here –> TAGLIST

MASTERLIST

________________

Bakhroma is one of the smallest gas giants in the sector, but as you stand on the surface of the Green Moon, it dominates the entire horizon, pulling your focus, threatening to engulf everything around it. You almost feel sorry for the lush moon as you walk through its undergrowth, so gentle and full of beauty, destined many years after you’re gone to give its life to her.

A moon is an orbiting admirer, and what is an orbit but a long fall to oblivion?

There’s a painful, sour ache in your heart as you walk back to the camp in twilight, watching the back of Ezra’s helmet bob along in front of you. You’d spent two days digging that claim only to find the weakest aurelac nest you’ve seen yet, only three viable nodes. You’d dug through one of them by accident and completely melted another like an incompetent fool. Kevva’s ass, you were such a disappointment. Three months in the Green and you still can’t cut a blister out properly. Not even once.

Ezra’s shoulders are wide and tense, his one hand splayed out as he walks, running over the tops of the tall ferns, catching one every now and then only to rip the top away, twirl it between his gloved fingers and toss it impatiently aside.

The other two members of your team headed out on a sling this morning, another two will be arriving in a few days. And you wonder if Ez regrets just not cutting his losses and leaving with them, or at least sending you back in exchange for another kip.

You think about shifting through the comm channels, hoping that he’s chattering away in one of them, switched without your knowledge, but it’s a lost cause. You can hear him breathing on the channel between you. It’s not often Ezra has nothing to say.

________________

You thought your father was leaving you an inheritance. It’s not the reason you took care of him through his illness, but you’d dropped everything to be back home with him through his final months. In a way, it was a blessing, a reason to quit the Dasha factory and the terrible working conditions there, come back home and focus on your dad, relive good memories, just spend time. The reconnection lifted your heart, but his death sank it low again. When you learned he had nothing to leave you but a small house and some old vehicles, you sold what you could and traded in the rest.

Then you had nothing. No family, no job, little savings, questionable future. It almost broke your spirit. But the last few months with your father rekindled your love of him as he told you about his years in the Fringe, mining and prospecting. And your heart had said, “what the hell, let’s try that.” So you listened.

It took some time to track down the right inroads, but you were able to find some ads for prospecting teams, in particular those who were willing to take on members in training for a re-distributed cut. With all provisions included--other than suit and gear, which your father’s inheritance neatly covered--it seemed like just as good of a deal as any, and an adventure to boot.

But the reality was, every team you met with was full of hardened men, and while you were not a soft Central woman, you also weren’t overly versed in weaponry and didn’t know if you could defend yourself out in the Fringe against attack if things got crusty.

You were just about ready to admit defeat when you walked into yet another conference bunker and found your match. The first thing you noticed was that he was standing when you arrived, waiting for you politely rather than manspread at the table. Second were his eyes. Deep, brown, and sad. Maybe sad was the wrong word, certainly it seemed by the lines in his face, possibly by the missing arm, that he’d seen enough sadness, but toward you, it read more as concern. You wouldn’t know it until later when he confessed his feelings about this first meeting, but he was worried you wouldn’t choose him. Ezra had a hell of a time hiring partners. He may have been one of the longest-working aurelac diggers out there, but young kippers saw his greying beard and seasoned diggers saw his lacking arm and they all tended to turn around and walk out before he even said hello. So he’d tried to put himself out there as a trainer, show that he had something more to offer.

It didn’t hurt his feelings when you admitted to him later that those qualities were exactly why you chose him. He seemed the opposite of threatening. And his eyes were bright when he smiled at you. With his thrumming baritone and his Fringe twang and his mixed deck of mosaic words, he had a way of speaking that felt like a fluffy blanket curling around you, your brain vibrating with comfort at every new monologue. He was eccentric and perhaps a little jarringly rough in his humor at times, but there was something about him that you trusted immediately, even though you’d come to learn later you probably shouldn’t have if you were being overly cautious.

Not that your judgement ever came to detriment. Not that he ever proved you wrong that way. Not when it came to you. But the man was dangerous when he had to be in a way you hadn’t initially picked up on.

________________

You hadn’t been out in the Green two weeks before you looked up from the bottom of a dig hole to see Ezra standing over you with a thrower.

“You get down and you stay down, understand?”

“Ez? What--”

“I said stay down! Do not make me waste words on mere repetition!” The fuzzy blanket of his voice replaced suddenly by a snarling, snapping brush wolf, a quick change hitting you like a slap in the ear.

There’d been pops and whizzes as shots rang through and you did as your trainer said, face down, the view of your visor giving you nothing but dirt. Your helmet was a chorus of quick breathing from both of you and sweat rolled down your neck as you begged the eyes of Kevva to look down upon your partner. When the crossfire faded, you’d heard Ezra stalk away. Then there were a couple more shots. Then more footsteps returning.

“You are permitted to stand, trinket. All is well as it can be for us. But not so much for our dearly departed friends.” These words were as soothing as much as his previous ones had burned, and he simply went back to working at the dig at hand as if he’d just come back from taking a leak. It wasn’t until you left the site that evening that you tramped past two rotting raiders, gaudily outfitted with broken face shields, left to let the Green take them.

Ezra whistled as he stepped over them, stopping only to harvest their filters and munition rods, which he tossed your way to stow in your pack, and then continued lazily down the path toward camp. Just another day on the job. 

He may be a little peculiar and not someone to trifle with, he may have just killed two people without remorse or further comment, but his lack of reassuring words told you that this was just part of the deal. You wear the suit, you use the air scrubber in the tent, you follow the landing pod instructions as written, and you defend yourself against those who wish to harm you. Survival by any and all means is paramount, mundane, and something he has no qualms with on any level.

There was something deep down inside of you that instinctually pulled you to follow him, not just down the literal path before you, but whatever path Ezra chose to wander.

________________

Before you’d left the station with him, he’d taken you to a thrower range to gauge your skill which was decent in theory, but dismal compared with what he could do. No matter, he still patiently taught you how to properly clean and charge a weapon and the best way to breathe and pull the trigger; “like you’re taking hold of a man’s...well... Just go easy and firm.” He suggested you should come and practice every day before lift off and then hope to Kevva that you didn’t have to rely too heavily on it.

“If I find myself in a coffin of my own suit, then feel free to defend yourself as a final means of preservation. Otherwise, when it comes down to shots fired, best to let me do the dirty work. Might as well keep the blood where the blood has been.”

You’d been a little nervous about sharing a freighter pod alone with him, but Ezra was...well, not so much a gentleman as just a comfortable soul. 

He always waited until you were hungry to eat, thinking it rude to eat alone in front of you. He never moved around the pod while you were sleeping, content to keep still with a book in his cot. And if you couldn’t sleep, he was always willing to read to you from whatever impossibly dense old world classic he was digging through for the umpteenth time, letting his voice come up from the deeps and pull you gently under. If you asked permission to turn on the radio, he’d ask you “why Isn’t it on yet, woman,” quietly tolerating your taste in harsh and gleeful babblecore pshcyopop. In the later days of the journey, he’d even come to dance with you from time to time, although both of you were dismal at it and ended up with you in a fit of giggles. It was a sure-fire way to cure a case of the pouts you carried through from the morning fitness sessions when he beat you at pushups. Again.

When it came to privacy in the tight space, he had a habit of turning away without having to be asked or stopping his stream of talk when you went to change clothes, just happily chattering away until you called the all clear. Although he was not squeamish about his own state of undress, should you happen to catch it by accident. While he was respectful of your privacy, he seemed to need none of his own, but neither did he flaunt anything. You might look up from studying the flight manual to notice he was changing into a fresh pair of compression pants, tugging them on haphazardly with one hand, more concerned with telling you the overwhelmingly disgusting manufacturing process of Bits Bars than his own ass hanging out where you might see it. At least he always changed facing away from you which was a kindness.

Until it wasn’t.

After you realized you’d fallen quietly in love with him--a sudden, soft moment on the Green--then you’d admit only privately to yourself that you wouldn’t mind if you accidentally saw a little more than the occasional shirtless attire he might wear around the tent.

But in the pod, the only part of him that had caught your curiosity was his stump, and you’d known Ezra intensely enough over the past couple of weeks where you knew he wouldn’t take offense. Especially if you asked him the right way.

“Will you tell me a story, Ezra?”

“I feel that it is my duty to do so whether you ask me to or not. Shall I choose, or is there something in particular you would like to hear?”

He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, propped up against his cot, going through his kit, cleaning his gear. You waited until he noticed your lack of answer and looked up to meet your eyes. When he saw that you had put your manual down and were focusing all your quiet attention on him, he stopped his busy work. 

When Ezra gives you his attention, it is absolute. When he knows you seriously need something from him, that becomes his immediate main priority and all else can wait. It’s only gotten more intense since that day, but there is a trust that resides between you when you look into his eyes, gathering your words as he waits patiently every time to hear whatever you’re going to request of him. There’s always hope there in his big browns, always something specific he’s waiting for you to ask, and every day you get a little bit closer to understanding what it might be. But until then, any question is a welcome one, any query is met with his wish to provide.

“Will you tell me how you lost your arm?”

At first you thought you may have gone too far, that maybe you insulted him, as his eyebrows peaked together and he looked down at his hand. But then, “That is a tale that may cause you some consternation, trinket. The Green is dangerous and unforgiving, and there were times I may not have been a man worthy of fair opinion.”

“My father was a prospector, you know. I’ve heard stories. Have you ever killed anyone?”

He clicked his tongue and screwed up an eye, causing the thin white scar on his cheek to twist. Then he sighed and returned to your locked gaze. “To be honest, I have. Though I have never done so with pleasure, I have killed in defense and out of desperation, and it was out of dispatching a man in this way that I came to lose the second favorite of all my appendages.”

“Second favorite?”

“Well, it depends what you classify as a limb.” He huffed a small laugh, a spark in his eye, trying to diffuse the harsh subject in his own way.

His leaning into baseness never bothered you. There was something earthy about it, gritty and rough, but never lewd. You rewarded his crassness with a smile. “Do you plan on killing me out in the Green?”

“I would hope my murdering days are behind me, and if they are not, you would see me aim a thrower at everyone but you in the course of my spree. You are under my tutelage, and for that, I owe you a duty of care. That is my word by Kevva.”

“Then tell me the story. I like your stories. I promise not to judge now-Ezra by then-Ezra.”

A dimple formed on his cheek, a punctuation mark framing the approaching anecdote on his lips. “Then I will declare myself absolved of any sin heretofore and regale you with a clean and grateful heart.”

________________

You can see the tent through the trees and you realize with some horror that it’s just you and Ezra for the next few nights. If he’s angry with you, and this is how he is when he’s upset, the silence will be unbearable.

Even that little girl he helped out here years ago was probably more capable than you. You feel so lost in this moment, and it’s only made worse by his silence. You fumble with your communicator and hit the mute just in time to choke on a sob.

This isn’t like you. You’re not one to cry when things get rough. You hardly shed a tear when your father died. But the thought of that just brings another sob and as acting as your own psychologist you realize that you are experiencing some displaced sorrow, the odd need to please the leading male in your life, the one that’s walking ahead of you, away from you. If he’d just turn around and throw you his worn weary smile, if he’d just start up a conversation you’d know that there was hope for you, you’d know you didn’t give up everything to be here in a job you couldn’t hack.

You gotta stop this. Or it’s going to be an uncomfortable night.

Shake it off.

Once you enter the tent, the usual dance happens. Ezra reaches up to turn on the air scrubber and you unhook his filter tube from his helmet. When he turns to you, you pull open the zipper cover on his suit and start his zip for him before lifting his helmet up and off. He can pull the zip the rest of the way, but you generally pull the left collar down for him so he can get his arm out. He’s on his own from there as you turn to fuss with your own gear. 

________________

You remember it starting easily enough. He was telling you a story about the breeding habits of the Tokovian Musk Owl and you could see he was having trouble with his suit zipper, yanking at it and trying to look down at it even though it was under his chin and his helmet. Without another hand to keep the fabric taut, the zip didn’t want to release, so you simply batted his hand away and started it for him. He didn’t even stop his yammering, just threw in a “thank you” somewhere in between “could hear them screeching” and “for a fuck.” He’d right out asked you the day before if you wouldn’t mind disengaging the filter tube just because it was delicate and he didn’t want to mangle the expensive part trying to pop it out one-handed day after day. And while he could manage the helmet fine enough, his prominent nose thanked you for a smoother removal for sure. 

It wasn’t the only routine dance you’d concocted. 

There was the harness dance.

While dig days were excruciating, you always looked forward to helping him attach the harness for his prosthesis--a kind of rigid pole attached to a shovel so you didn’t have to do all the hard digging alone. There were a couple of straps that came around his torso with multiple latches and you’d come to really enjoy wrapping your arms around him to fit the straps on. Sure, you could do the job just as easily from behind, but if you embraced him at the front, he’d usually raise his arm and let it come to rest around your shoulders while you worked. If you let yourself dream, it would be easy to imagine that he might be pressing you into him just a little bit.

And there was the harvesting dance.

On a dig, you were the one to mix the fazer and Ezra did the pour. He fished the sack, you cut the cord. You sliced the outer casing and held it open while he did the extraction. And with the flesh-covered stone, he told you every time to “hold it like you love it” so he could cut away the slippery blister before cleaning the gemstone.

It was a beautiful harmony. And the only way it worked. Because once on every dig he urged you to do a solo extraction, and on every dig, you pierced the blister and lost that stone. And on every dig, he squeezed your shoulder and told you it was a wondrous try, that he was proud of you, and there would always be another turn. There was no sarcasm, no pity, just a warm smile and ceaseless optimism even though you just lost both of you thousands in pay.

These were the first touches, these shoulder squeezes that ran down your arm on the let-go. Sometimes he would just reach out and grab onto you like a pole to help himself up, or he might stumble off balance on uneven ground and without the counterweight of his right arm he’d throw his hand out onto you to steady himself. He wasn’t beyond lightly touching the small of your back to encourage you down a path or to take your next try at a gem pull. 

This was all part of something you’ve secretly named the left-handed-lover’s dance. Basically, that you keep on his left whenever you can in case he needs your help or has the inclination to reach for you. It started out as just trying to be a good partner. Then it became a passing hope that it was more than just a friendly bond. But you were both here to do a job. He was here to teach you to be an independent prospector and you were here to assist and learn. That was evident at the end of the day; once you were both in the tent and out of the suits he never touched you, never so much as bumped into you or grazed your hand in passing an item or clapped you on the arm after a good joke. 

But out in the field all zipped in and helmets on, there was nothing more natural than his gentle hand guiding you or reaching for your assistance, including the day you realized you loved him.

________________

Before you can turn away to strip off your own coverings, Ezra catches your arm, spinning your face into the light. You try to shake him off, not wanting him to catch your eyes puffy from crying and your cheeks still streaked with tears, but his grip is not so gentle now and he yanks you back around to his stormy glare, chin up, brows low. His intensity paralyzes you, rendering you unable to continue your struggle when he catches your eyes with his.

When Ezra gives you his attention, it is absolute.

His gaze travels back and forth between your eyes, waiting for an explanation, a minute so stringent it breaks you down, dissolves you into the tears you’d tried so hard to hide.

“I’m sorry, Ezra. I really am trying... I don’t know why I’m such a scuffer at this and I know it would only be right to release you from the contract and tell you to send me back but I don’t want you to, I really wanna stay, I really wanna learn and I’m so, so sorry.”

Your words have an immediate effect, softening him, pulling his glare into concern and wonder, his lips parting just the tiniest bit in surprise.

“This is the reason for your heavy mood? You think I am provoked by your proficiency in the field?” 

“I crusted up good today and it seems like you’re not happy about it. Just...know that it means so much to me that...I don’t wanna let you down.”

“Oh, trinket, no.” An incredulous huff jumps out of him and his grip on your arm loosens, becomes a splayed warm support behind your shoulder, moving in soothing patterns and you’re instantly relieved that your assumptions were wrong. “You have done no harm in my book. It is not an easy thing to deliver a gem of this ilk into the world unscathed. Your opportunities have been few and scattered and it takes many sticks before a lover becomes a lothario.” He knows the crass humor will make you laugh, knows what to say to lighten your heart, to get you to soften, and bring you into his intimate, conspiratorial mood. “To be perfectly honest, I am selfish to an unrighteous degree, for every gem you burn keeps me in value to you. A worthy sacrifice to guarantee you mightn’t be so quick in your need to fly away from me until your training’s complete.”

This causes a hitch in your breath as you see the welcome turn the conversation he’s taking and you follow the path he’s making for you. “I don’t want to leave you, Ez.”

A smile creeps up one side of his mouth. “Well then I am a happy man. A bargain is struck! Partners it is.”

“Partners it is.”

A moment hangs between you as he rubs his thumb in slow circles on your shoulder. There’s that look in his eye again, the one where he’s waiting for you to ask the question he wants to hear from you. So close now.

Still, you’re unsure. “I guess I’m lucky I found the one person who wants an incompetent partner.”

“No, I do not, nor is it what I have and I must express my objection to your self-debasement. This work is not for the shiny, and you have not once complained about taking on the meat of the digging or the crawl of my schedule.”  His hand comes to your helmet shield and he rakes his thumb across it as if he ached to wipe away one of your staleing tears. “Those bright eyes of yours got a penchant for spotting deposits more skillfully than I could ever manage and that’s not something that can be taught; that’s talent, girl. The blistering?” He shrugs. “Even I can’t manage that without the steady help of your fine hands. You may think that your blunders in education are causing us some financial ruin, but our fortunes are creamy. I assure you, we can afford it.”

That look is still there. He’s waiting. “There’s some ‘us’ and ‘we’ in there, Ez.” Your hands drift to his sides, taking fistfuls of his compression suit top, willing him closer.

The edges of his eyes take on the crinkle you’ve come to find so much comfort in. “So there is.”

You’re almost there. You know what he wants. “Why were you so quiet on the walk back?” 

“Because for the next few days we are alone here and I have a mind full of questions I do not know how to ask you.”

“Then let me go first.” A yearning happiness settles in his brown eyes; finally. Finally you’ve found out what it is he needs you to request of him. “If I take this helmet off, are you going to kiss me, Ez?”

His eyes close in contentment and he nods, “Yes. Yes, little jewel. Yes I am, that and more. I hope I have inferred correctly that it is your wish that I do so, because I am in free fall. I feel my orbit ending and my pull to you is complete.”

_______________

“A moon is an orbiting admirer, and what is an orbit but a long fall to oblivion?”

Speculating days were some of your favorite times, just wading through the brush and looking for the telltale signs and shoots of an underlying deposit. Sometimes you came upon nests of strange groundling insects or flowers that only grew in secret. There were treasures underfoot on this poisonous moon, but if you remembered to look up as well, you might find some dangerous beauties there too. 

On that day--the one where you finally understood your heart--you’d looked up to find that you were on a cliffside overlooking a valley, the canopy a million different hues of green, the gas giant looming over half the sky in a big pink and orange semi-circle. There was a fallen log that served as a perfect seat for the perfect view and you knew Ezra wouldn’t mind if you stole a few moments to sit and to take it in. It’s just the kind of thing he’d appreciate. And you were proven right when he came up behind you, putting a hand on your shoulder to steady himself as he swung one leg then the other over the log, finding a perch next to you, spouting pretty words through the channel link--soft and low--about moons and orbits and obilvions.

“That glowing beauty is Bakhroma. She is quiet and fierce, made up of the unfathomable and the unknowable, always within sight, but out of reach and untouchable unless one would trade the honor with great sacrifice. She reflects the light that is given to her with a patience that is heretofore untold. And the Green Moon upon which we ride follows where she goes like a lovesick fool, spinning around her in a heady kind of adoration, full of secret treasures buried deep down that will ultimately one day belong to her, falling incrementally over eons until he finally loses himself in her, all his glories gladly forfeit to her welcome and inevitable embrace. Alone but together, seemingly eternal, pulled as one by the laws of a mysterious universe.”

The void that came after those words was filled with the beating of your heart, and you were sure he could hear it through the channel.

When he’d landed there beside you, you’d registered how his hand slid off your shoulder, diagonally down across your back, coming to rest at your waist, his arm draped lightly around you. Natural. Easy. Everything was warm--the colors of the sky, the care with which he kept you close as if to better hear the honey sweetness in his prose, the fire burning in your lungs and neck.

Ezra probably didn’t know that you spoke a little Vayok.

Bakh being the Vayok word for adornment. Ornament, Gem. Roma was a modifier, a diminutive. Small. Dear.

Bakhroma. Sentimental bauble. A little jewel.

In other words, a trinket.

All you wanted to do was sit down to take in the view of an entire world for a few moments, but by the time Ezra took your hand and helped you to your feet, all you saw was him.

________________

The helmet is barely off before his lips are sealed to yours in a press of greed. Even if he can’t form words when he kisses you, he can’t help but express his deep relief in a heartbreaking moan. It’s a fight to release yourself from the suit when he keeps pulling you against him and every time you try to get some space between you to work the zipper, he chuckles into your mouth, enjoying the tease and the struggle. It’s simultaneously frustrating and thrilling and you give in for a few moments just to give him what he seems to want so desperately right now.

Ezra kisses like a man starved for air, long, hard, and full of need, peeling his lips away only to come back for another breath of you until his initial want is slaked and he slows, allows for more time between his taking, his mouth starting to mumble against yours, praising you with pet names, telling you how perfect you are to him, how long he’s “fought against my more dubious natures to respect your womanly virtues and take them only when you could see in me a man worth bestowing them on.”

You’re able to use his weakness for monologuing to turn around in his vice-like embrace, finally freeing yourself of the suit and he takes the opportunity to drawl more pretty words in your ear, warning you that “I’m afraid I have been enamored of you overly long and may be extra eager in my attentions. So you just say the word if you need a slow down, gentle one, and I will do my best to comply. Although I will admit it will be a difficult endeavor indeed as I feel I am entering your atmosphere and nothing might quell this burn but finding some drowning place to land.”

Your first impression of him was of a man whose age and temperament and body would not be able to overpower you.

Your first impression was wrong.

Of course, it helps that you are willing.

It doesn’t take long for him to strip you down, and then himself. To kiss you down onto the floor. To find exactly where you like to be touched most and how long it takes for you to break from it. He has so many words for you, so many praises to sing about every part of you that is round or soft or wet, comparing you to things that are sweet and plush or celestial and holy. And when you take his favorite limb in hand--as wondrous as the rest of his body--and guide it to its fit, he plunders and harvests all you have to give him, filing you with himself, for as long as you call for it, as long as you let him. He loves you like he speaks to you: rough and drawn out, full of beautiful tangents and meandering plotlines, but in the end it is beautiful and fulfilling; you may be just a little bit confused how you got to the ending, but you’re completely in awe.

When you lay breathing heavy, staring but not seeing the ceiling of the tent, your consciousness seemingly lifted to see through it to the stars, to the glowing face of Bakhroma, you run hands through rough-chopped hair on a head laying on your chest. He’s listening to your heartbeat, waiting for it to slow down so he can start again. The air is thick--even the air scrubber can’t keep up with all your humidity--and there’s a halo around each bulb of the string lights just barely illuminating the darkness.

“How long, Ez?”

“Hm?”

“How long have you been waiting for that.”

“Most likely since the day you walked into my interview. I am a man of simple wants and you had all the right parts for my preferences.”

“For real, Ez.”

He tipped his head up to find you. “What you ask has many true answers, and I stand by the first. I have no qualms telling you of my weakness for a pretty succulence and a kind smile the likes of which you possess. But if you are asking when I knew I would have it, well, that may have been the first day you danced. Or when you asked me to read you to sleep. Or when I understood I wouldn’t let those bastard raiders get near enough to take their turn at your qualities when I had not had them myself. Or when you finally saw me as a viable person to drape your affections on; maybe it was that day too.”

“When I finally saw you as....”

“I have read many tomes and verses but none so full of beautiful passages as your face that day on the cliff. There is a difference of knowing and being. I knew the feel of your pull that day, but found I’d been in orbit all along.”

How he can live this way, twist everything into a tossed away poem...it should be exhausting. Yet you feed off it. You breathe it like air.

After another long cycle of frenzied entanglement and violent euphoria, you ask Ezra if he’d like to move to a cot, maybe get some sleep. “I’m not sure if I’ll be able to walk to the dig tomorrow morning,” you confess.

“No need to worry about tomorrow,” he says, wapping his arm around you and dragging you back to him, grumbling into your ear. “We are the only prospectors in this sector and the aurelac will wait. Until our new compatriots arrive, we are officially on hiatus. Recreational mining only. Restricted to the confines of this tent. By order of your supervisor. In the interest of more precious treasures. And I intend to strike it rich.”

“Well. I’m here to assist. And learn.”

“When it comes to this dig, trinket, you are more than competent. I am no longer your trainer. Partners it is.”

“Partners it is.”

The new contract is struck, signed and sealed in kissing and in touch and a long, slow fall into inevitable oblivion.

#ezra x reader #ezra/reader #ezra prospect #prospect fanfic #prospect fanfiction #pedro pascal #soft #soft ezra

[uwurakax]

save your tears ♡

pairing: oikawa x f!reader ♡

genre: angsty // breakup // toxicish? (not really) ♡

summary: after the constant fighting and bubbling insecurities, you and oikawa both decide that breaking up is probably for the best. too bad that it wasn’t what either if you had wanted ♡

♡ read part two ‘another day’ here ♡

word count: 1.3k ♡

author’s note: sorry not proofread, oops. yes angst and more angst. my blog has been filled with fluffy stuff i needa go back to my roots and do what i do best (lol tooting my own horn) ♡

♡ (inspired by save your tears - the weeknd/ariana grande) ♡

“You don’t get it, why can’t you understand how I feel?!”

“Because you’re actually being ridiculous!”

“How can you say that?! Those girls are always all over you! You’re the one being ridiculous Tōru!”

“We’ve been through this how many times?! It’s stupid that you still feel this way no matter what I say to you!”

“Well sorry for just wanting my boyfriend to be with me and not entertaining other girls!”

“Even through my busy schedule, I at least try to make this work! At the start you were constantly worried I wouldn’t make enough time for you when it’s you who constantly flakes out on me! And you know how little time I get off!”

“That isn’t fair! You know I can’t help that!”

“And I can’t help what little time I have for breaks or what those girls do or say”

It really was ridiculous. How many times had you and Oikawa gone through the same argument over and over again? Constantly going around in circles, a never ending cycle of yelling and crying. A frustration that neither of you could bother with anymore. The relationship was shattered, barely held together anymore. You nor Oikawa had the energy to try and salvage whatever remained. The broken pieces of the love the two of you once shared lay, waiting to be pieced back together like so many times previously; but this time neither of you were going to risk cutting your hands on the shards.

Seconds turned to minutes, the silence deafening. The atmosphere was tense in between you. You heard a sigh come from Oikawa’s lips. Turning to face him you saw it in his eyes; this was the end. He looked at you, tears forming and you could see how heartbroken he had become. You were sure you looked like that too. It almost had you wanting to save whatever you had, to apologise for everything you had said tonight and anything beforehand. You were willing to cut your hands, to piece it all back together yourself, just so you wouldn’t have to see him like this. Just so you could go back to how you both were. Just so you could love him how you wanted to, and how he deserved.

“Look, Y/N..”

You didn’t need to hear him to know what was coming. You held out your hand to stop him, tears threatening to spill over, but you held them back. You wouldn’t cry, not yet anyway.

“You don’t need to say anything Tōru. I’ll go get my things”

You rushed away from him, heading to your shared bedroom and bathroom, quickly stuffing the essentials in a bag in record time. You wanted out of there immediately.

After only 10 minutes, you had your items roughly packed, you hadn’t even bothered to fold any clothes you had gotten. You made your way to the door, Oikawa standing by it. You both stood there for an awkward few moments, looking at each other; the finality of it all sinking in.

“I’ll come get the rest of my stuff during the week”

He merely nodded, not uttering a word.

So this was really it, the end of your relationship with the Oikawa Tōru. Never did you ever think it would be like this. The words you had said to him now processing in your mind. It was too late now though. Too late for either of you to take it all back. Too late to save everything.

Just one last time, you wanted to indulge in what your heart wanted; even if the words the both of you said cut deep, you still loved him. A breakup wouldn’t change the underlying feelings you still felt. You wouldn’t have stayed if you didn’t love him; and you were sure that if he didn’t bring it up, you still would’ve been with him. But he did and it cannot be changed.

You brought your hand to his face, cupping his cheek and rubbing your thumb over the soft, plump skin. He closed his eyes and leaned into your touch, kissing the palm of your hand. It was a stark contrast to how you both were just minutes before. You supposed he needed this, just like you did, just one last time. You smiled sadly at him, knowing that once you left you’d never speak, never message, never love each other anymore.

Once the door closed, it would be finished.

“Bye Tōru, good luck with everything”

Reluctantly, you withdraw your hand, turning to open the door and not bothering to look back. You knew if you did you’d lose it. Gently closing the door behind you, you rushed to your car, noticing that it had started raining in the night sky. How cliche. You flung the door open and threw your bags inside, slamming it shut once you were done.

You paused for a moment, looking up at the house you once shared with your now ex boyfriend. You breathed out, trying to steady yourself. You still refused to cry. Turning on the ignition, you buckled up, started your lights and reversed out the driveway, speeding away from the home you had made with Oikawa.

You finally let yourself break down and cry.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Oikawa watched as the front door quietly closed after you. It was so gentle and quiet, nothing like he expected. The yelling, the fighting, it should’ve all ended with you slamming the door shut, screaming at him, making it known that you just couldn’t wait to get out of his presence; but you didn’t. If Oikawa had to guess, he’d have thought you felt reluctant? Remorseful? Who knows really. He just didn’t think it would be like this. He knew what he had said, how it must’ve hurt you. How he wanted to take it back, say he was sorry and embrace you, reassure you that he loved you, more than he had ever loved another before.

He was the one who brought it up, yes, but he did it before you could. He didn’t want to be on the receiving end this time. Was it selfish and prideful? Yes, that’s just who he was, Oikawa supposed. It wasn’t fair to burden you with his own insecurities, but it was too late. He must’ve been right though, because before he was even able to finish what he wanted to say, you did it for him.

When he heard you shuffling around, gathering your things, making the space you made homely a bit more empty, he felt instant regret. He knew once you left it would be all over. You’d never want to speak with him again, never want to see him for hurting you. Never again have the pleasure of holding you close, kissing you, or making you laugh. Those moments would soon belong to someone else. Could be days, months or even years from now; it would all just be too soon for Oikawa’s liking.

He stared at the door, hearing your footsteps against the wet pavement. The small puddles slooshing and lightly splashing under your feet. Once you were gone, you’d be gone for good.

Oikawa hesitated for a moment too long, swinging the wooden door open harshly. He couldn’t waste anymore time. Your lights were on, and you slowly started to reverse out onto the main road. He started to yell out your name, repeating it louder each time. You never heard him over the rain or the engine of your car. Maybe if you did, you would’ve stopped and run back to him. Maybe this could’ve strengthened your relationship. Maybe you could’ve still been together. It was too bad for the both of you that you didn’t, and that’s all those were; maybes.

It was also a shame you didn’t see him, standing in the middle of the road. This clothes were now soaked and chilling his body with every passing moment as he watched your car grow smaller and smaller into the distance until he couldn’t see it anymore.

His face was now downcast, staring down at the concrete on the road, berating himself that he was now too late. His hair wet, fringe stuck and covering his eyes - the rain mixing in with his own salty tears.

Oikawa Tōru was just too late.

#haikyuu x reader #oikawa x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #oikawa x you #oikawa angst #hq!! x reader #oikawa oneshot

[myonepiece]

Smoker, Shanks headcanon/scenario- he is at your execution, but you react to the situation like Gol D. Roger then escape yourself

The first one using this theme with Luffy, Law, and Zoro did pretty well so I thought I would do another with different characters~

Also thank you for 300 followers!! 💕💕💕

*Miiiight have made these a little to dark/violent

•~•~•~•~

Warnings: slight angst, mentions of death, violence, blood, my thoughts got kinda dark

Smoker

The sun was hidden by clouds and fog covered the grounds of Loguetown as the cheers and boos erupted from the crowd, quickly disappearing as the marines dragged you in to view leading you to the famous execution platform that once held the infamous Gol D. Roger. 

Never once had you felt so much pride and fulfillment than this moment, knowing how disappointed your mentor would be that his student had turned to this instead of following in his marine steps. 

You kept your head up as your eyes searched through the crowd of onlookers gathered to witness the execution of a pirate responsible for hundreds of thousands of deaths. You simply inhaled the cold air and and smirked at the children who looked up at you like you deserved this. Of course you deserved death, but right now? By marines? No, you would die fighting, you die with pride or don’t die at all.

Standing on the platform, you could see the faces of a thousand angered citizens and marines. You held no remorse for your crimes, you felt nothing for thosee who had seen their loved ones murdered at your hands.

“Do you have any last words {Name}”

“No, do you?”

Your question cleearly caught the marines and the crowd off guard, for a gasp was heard and the marines eyes doubled in size. A scream ripped through the crowd and you took that as a signal to begin your killing spree. You kicked the marines off the platform and broke apart your shackles, quickly jumping down to steal the soldier’s weapons. 

Smoker watched on projecter den den mushi at some other marine base where he was told to stay. The Admirals had chosen to hold him there because even though they did not knnow of your relationship with the marine, they suspected something.

His face remained serious, appearing to show no emotion. But if someone had looked into his eyes as your words rolled out of the speaker, they would have seen the fear swimming behind his irisis. Smoker knew of your violence and continued rise in bodycount, but he had yet to see it. Only now as blood painted the walls of the city, did he realize he had fallen for a monster. He watched in horror as bodies fell left and right to the woman who showed no emotion except joy on her blood splattered face. 

Smoker was supposed to be the one bringing down people like you, and yet he had let himself be caught in your net. But as your figure emerged from the destruction of his hometown, clothes drenched in blood and a devilish smile plastered on your face, he felt no love for you. Perhaps it was the similarities of your actions to Gol D. Roger’s that terrified him so- excpet you were living where as Roger had met his end. Maybe it was the way you cut down so many of the people he knew with no regret or hesitation, maybe it was the way he finally looked back at all the signs and realized how physcotic you actually are, or maybe it was the look of pride and justice that filled your eyes as you left countless bodies in your wake.Yes it was one of those that had prompted his immediate change of heart. Smoker no longer viewed you as human, a monster is what he called you when you met him again. What scared him most was your eyes which were filled still filled with bloodlust and unwavering pride as you told him he was no longer safe in your presence 

Shanks

Cheers congratulating the marines ricocheted off the walls of Loguetown. You scoffed at the confidence the people held in their oh so mighty marines. You fixed your hair one last time before a marine pushed you out and followed behind you with the other soldiers. 

The crowd cheered and hurled insults at you as you were escorted to the platform of your execution. Holding your head up high and strutting through the parted crowd, you evoked more shouted jeers mixed with screams of “DEATH TO {NAME}” You’d be lying if you said you weren’t prideful to hear the results of your massacres. Your heart held no regrets nor pity for those who had suffered at your actions.

You feelings apparent on your face  made even the marines snarl insults into your ear as you climbed the steps of the platform. 

“State your last words”

As your laughter ripped from your throat the crowd fell into silence. 

 “Last words are for fools who have regrets!”

The crowds’ once enraged faces turned to looks of terror as they realized you had no plan of dying today. The marines fell from the platform and you broke your shackles, quickly leaping into the chaos breaking out below. 

Shanks and his crew had been watching with a den den mushi on his ship which was quickly approaching Loguetown. His crew had tried to tell him they wouldn’t make it in time to save you, but Shanks refused to believe them. Shanks watched with tears rolling down his face as you appeared on the projection. The view zoomed in on you and there gasps flooded the room. Shanks watched as the image of your grin mirrored that of his former captain’s, an unmistakable resemblance. The rest of the crew recognized it as well, and truth be told they were scared of what would happen. They knew you better than anyone, the people attending your execution were not safe, and they should have known that when your merciless and inhumane approach to enemies was what caused your reputation.

“Captain-” Shanks held his hand up at Lucky’s words. When your “last words” were said through the den den mushi, the whole crew gasped once again. They once again saw the reason for the “only dead” plastered on every one of your bounty posters.

And as your aggressive and blood thirsty nature took over, the crew broke in to cheers. All of the crew members had always found similarities between you and Roger’s pride and outlook on life, it had become an inside joke. But what set you apart was the cruelness in your heart. You could change personalities in the blink of an eye, leaping into battle like a demon who showed no hesitance in slaughter. You showed no mercy for anyone, and that was something that made you so feared throughout the seas. Shanks left the room where screams and cannonballs were drowned out by the cheers of his crew. He stood on the deck of the ship watching the Loguetown docks for a sign of you. And as you appeared from the smoke drenched in blood but grinning innocently at your lover, Shanks found another reason to be glad that you and him were the complete opposite of enemies, for if you sought his downfall, he would not stand a chance 

#one piece headcanon #one piece #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #one piece x reader #smoker imagine #smoker head canon #one piece smoker #smoker headcanon #smoker x reader #smoker scenario #shanks x reader #shanks scenario #shanks headcanons #shanks imagine #shanks #one piece shanks