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sweetsweetnuit · 2 years

Text

toxic & jealous

synopsis: bucky is fed up with you going on shitty dates so he finally does something about it.

pairing: bucky barnes (roommate) x f!reader

word count: 2.5k

warnings: 18+ ONLY. jealous bucky, shitty date, possessive bucky—he’s actually kind of a red flag but it’s fine, teasing, dirty talk, bucky is beefy and tall af, so much sexual tension, lots of kissing, oral (receiving), fingering, protected sex, praise kink, heavy size kink, pet-names, idk if i missed anything

notes: felt kinda slutty and this happened

“Where are you going?” Bucky asks, folding his arms over his chest.

His brows are furrowed tightly, a look of concern and confusion coating his face as he watches you apply your lipgloss in the mirror. The bathroom you both share isn’t nearly large enough to accommodate you both, so Bucky has no choice but to lean against the doorframe.

“A date,” you shrug casually, puckering your lip before dipping the wand back for another coat.

Your eyes meet Bucky’s through the mirror briefly as you try to focus on your makeup and not the hole he’s boring into the back of your head.

“With who?” The line of questioning doesn’t stop as you groan, closing the tube of gloss and chucking it into your small purse.

“Just a guy I met.” You’re keeping things as nondescript as possible because you know Bucky.

Your last date didn’t exactly go smoothly, but that wasn’t because of any you did. No, in fact, it was entirely Bucky’s fault and you continue to remind him of the fact.

Things were going great until you invited your last date back to your place, opening the door only to be greeted by a brooding Bucky who looked like he had murder on his mind.

And truthfully, who wouldn’t be afraid of a nearly 6’6 man built like a Greek God glaring at you like you’re his best victim. Safe to say your date didn’t stick around as soon as Bucky opened his mouth and explained all of the ways he could hurt your date if he fucked up in any way.

“Where are you going?” Bucky asked and you rolled your eyes as you scoffed.

“Bucky.” You tried to warn, “we’re just going to grab some dinner, okay?”

Nothing you said seemed to calm Bucky down, his jaw clenching before he forced himself to relax. He stepped out of the doorframe so you could exit, grabbing your heels before grabbing onto Bucky’s thick arm for balance as you put them on.

“I just don’t understand why you go on these dates, it’s not like these guys are good enough for you.” Bucky grumbles under his breath as he wraps his arm around your waist to offer more support as you slide the second heel on.

You chuckle, shaking your head, “maybe that’s because you scare off anyone who tries.”

Bucky just shrugs as if there’s nothing wrong with his behaviour. Despite being your roommate, he acts more like a protective father to you. No one is ever good enough for you, that he’s made clear.

“I’ll be back soon, don’t wait up for me.” You say, giving him a wild smile as his eyes blow wide.

You don’t linger, running out the door and closing it shut as you hear Bucky swearing on the other side—some of it not even English as you laugh to yourself before stepping into the elevator.

_____________________________________________

What a total fucking bust of a date.

Bucky was going to love this at least. He won’t be a huge grump and maybe you’ll be able to talk him out of hunting this guy down. Although, you probably wouldn’t try so hard considering he was an absolute asshole.

The second you’re through your front door, the heels come off and you let out a groan of relief before chucking your keys and bag onto the small table by the entrance.

“So, was I right?” Bucky emerges from his bedroom wearing nothing but a loose, low hanging pair of sweatpants.

It takes you a moment to tear your eyes away from his broad chest, but you manage.

“Yes, fine. You’re right, no one is good enough for me.” You sigh, grabbing a glass of water before leaning against the counter.

Bucky mimics your position, folding his muscled arms over his chest. His prosthetic gleams lightly under the soft light of the city, but little else is illuminated in the apartment.

You let out another defeated sigh, “maybe there’s something wrong with me. I don’t know.”

Bucky’s eyebrows furrow at your words again as he takes a few steps towards you as you watch him, placing your glass on the counter behind you.

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve heard come out of your mouth. And I’ve heard a lot of dumb shit come from those lips.” Bucky smirks, his words oddly putting you at ease.

“Yeah? Well then why can’t I ever get a man to stay?” You retort back, feeling that awful pit in your stomach you always get when you think about your love life.

Bucky moves closer and you think he’s going to stop when he’s right in front of you, but he doesn’t. Instead, he’s nearly pressed up against you as he cages you in with both of his hands on either side of you.

Your breath catches in your throat slightly at the proximity and the way Bucky’s scent washes over you. It’s so deep and rich you want it to stain your bedsheets, but he can’t even know that.

“Do you really want to know why, sweetheart?” He asks and you notice the way his voice has dropped an octave or two.

You swallow thickly, inhaling a shaky breath as you nod your head as your response. You know that your words would fail you right now, especially with the dark, hungry look in Bucky’s eyes.

He looks away for a second, taking a deep breath before his eyes are locked on yours. His tongue runs across his bottom lip and you think your heart might fail you at any moment.

“Because I’m a selfish bastard,” he says. “I drive every man away because I’m a selfish, jealous, arrogant asshole who can’t stand the thought of another man’s hands on your body.”

His confession sends a jolt through your body. The rawness of his words mixed with the raspiness of his voice as he’s just mere inches away is enough for you to feel lightheaded.

“It’s because I want to be the one who makes you laugh. Who’s there for you, who knows you better than anyone else, and who makes you come so fucking hard I ruin men completely for you. That all you’ll want is me.”

You gasp at his boldness, mouth forming a soft ‘oh’ shape. You’ve crossed some sort of boundary and you know there’s no going back now. You’ve fucked up this relationship.

Might as well ruin it some more.

“What else do you want to do to me?” Your question comes out meek and small, voice shaking, but Bucky smirks at your words.

He cocks his head to the side, nearly perfect teeth on display before he’s leaning into you so he can whisper into your ear.

“I’d rather show you, baby. I’m better with my hands than I am with my words.” He purrs, lips brushing your earlobe and his breath is hot against the skin of your neck.

You nearly whimper, knees almost buckling as you mutter a silent fuck under your breath without even realizing it.

“Would you like that, baby?” He asks, almost mockingly with a small pout as his eyes lock with yours again.

“Would you like me to show you all the ways I dream of touching you? About the things I think about when my hand is wrapped around my cock late at night?”

The heat between your legs is beyond extinguishable now unless Bucky gets his hands on you.

“Yes.” That three letter word is all Bucky needed to hear before his lips are on yours.

The kiss is hot and desperate, his hands trying to feel and touch every inch of you as you do the same to him. Sinking your crescent shaped nails into the freckled skin of his shoulder as you lose your breath over this man.

He’s pulling you off the counter, large hands splayed on your waist and hips as you both messily stumble through the dark apartment until you’re standing at the threshold of his door.

Bucky makes it look so small, but he looks like a wild animal with his dark eyes and heaving chest as he looks down on you like you’re his next meal.

“I want you on my bed so all you can smell is me while I’m buried deep inside of you,” he says, chest rumbling as he pulls you into the room.

There’s no need to close the door, but he does anyway. Shutting it with his foot while he hungrily kisses you again. And he’s all you can think about, your heart beating to the tune of his name.

It’s not romantic, there’s no candles or mood lighting. Bucky’s bed isn’t done and there’s a pair of boxers strewn on the floor you both manoeuvre around. Still, you wouldn’t change a thing as Bucky rips your clothing off one by one until they join his.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” he murmurs, dropping to his knees so he can wrap his lips around your nipples.

You moan when he sinks his teeth into them, grabbing his hair to keep him anchored to you.

“No man deserves you, but I’m going to do my best to prove my worth to you.” He says against your hot skin as he presses a hot trail of kisses down your stomach until he meets the line of your panties.

He looks up at you one last time, as if asking for permission before his hand in pushing you back onto the bed. His fingers hook into your panties, dragging them down before throwing them over his back.

Bucky’s hands spread your legs further as he leans in and your mind is dizzy and fuzzy when his hot breath fans over your core.

“Just relax, let me make you feel good, baby.” Bucky purrs in a cocky, confident tone as you let your head fall back onto the mattress.

His kisses are warm against your inner thighs and you’re squirming until Bucky delivers a soft bite that has you gasping and looking at him.

“If you can’t stay still I’ll have to tie you up, sweetheart.” He winks, nose nuzzling the top of your mound and you’re about to start begging.

Bucky delivers a long lick and you lock your legs tighter around his head. He takes his time, carefully mapping you out in his head and taking note of what makes your toes curl.

“Fuck,” you curse, grabbing onto his hair as he teases your entrance with a thick, cool finger.

He adds one, then another, and then he curls them and you swear you’re about to meet your maker because no one has ever figured you out this quickly. If ever.

“You’re so sweet, Christ, baby.” Bucky groans, “I’m already fucked addicted.”

You moan, feeling your orgasm quickly approaching as his continues his motions with his fingers and mouth in tandem together before you’re falling apart.

It hits you out of nowhere, back arching off the bed as Bucky keeps you anchored with a thick arm over your waist.

“Oh my God.” You pant, unable to get any other coherent thought out.

Bucky smirks, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he crawls over you until his lips are back on yours. He moans when you wrap your hand around his clothed cock, grinding it against you before he has to stop you.

“You keep doing that and I’ll come in my pants, baby girl.” He groans, almost in pain as he squeezes his eyes shut tightly.

You’re breathing just as hard as him, if not harder, as you watch this giant, huge, man coming apart all because of you.

“Bucky,” you say his name in a questioning tone.

He looks down at you, meeting your eyes and you know just how much he’s holding back. You know he wants to rip into you…and you want it too.

“Fuck me.” You whisper, barely audible as Bucky’s eyes flutter closed and he buries his head in the crook of your neck.

“You’re going to kill me, baby.” His words are muffled, “I never thought I’d hear those words from you.”

Bucky makes quick work of his pants, not wanting to waste any time before your eyes widen and you can’t tear them away from his cock.

“I-I, uh, Bucky I don’t think you’re going to fit.” You stutter, still in a trance.

He cocks his head, licking his lips as he grabs a condom from the bedside table. Your body moves for you, inching up the bed and getting comfortable against the pillows because you need to know how Bucky Barnes fucks.

“It’ll fit, sweetheart. We’ll make it fit.” He cooes as he finishes rolling on the condom and settling over you again.

You don’t doubt him either, watching him spurt lube over his length as he gently nudged your your legs apart.

“You look so good like this; spread out underneath me.” Bucky purrs, his nose tracing along your jawline as you feel him line up with your entrance.

You wrap your arms around his neck, beckoning him closer to you as he pushes in slowly.

“Shit,” Bucky groans as you gasp out a moan.

You’re both entirely consumed by each other as Bucky slowly pushes in, stretching you out inch by inch.

“You’re doing so good for me, baby.” Bucky whispers, kisses being peppered to your neck.

It’s not painful, but the stretch can definitely be felt as his hips rock against yours. When he’s fully seated, you can feel his hand cup your face as you manage to open your eyes.

“Feel that, baby? That’s it, so fucking deep inside of you.” You whine at his words, trying to lift your hips up and create some sort of friction.

Bucky takes mercy on you, circling his hips before pulling out and thrusting into you. It shakes the bed, the headboard rocking against the wall as the bed springs creak under your combined weight.

Nothing in this world is more important than this very moment and you hope it never ends.

You feel Bucky’s hand run down your sides before he’s placing it on your lower stomach. You’re confused at first, but when he adds pressure, it’s a whole new type of pleasure.

“That’s how deep I am, fuck, baby. And you’re taking all of me like the good girl you are.” Bucky praises as he continues to rock his hips against you.

You know he can feel you tighten around him, because he just slightly changes his angle until you’re crying out for him.

“I know, I know, sweetheart. Don’t hold back for me and come for me.”

Your legs tighten around his toned waist, holding him close to you as the coil snaps and pleasure fills you. You’re acutely aware of the way Bucky’s hips stutter before he stills completely inside of you, panting against your neck.

“Get comfortable, sweetheart.” Bucky smirks, a light sheen of sweat on his face, “because we’ve still got all night ahead of us.”

#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes au #roommate!bucky

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heartfullofleeches · 1 year

Note

Could we maybe see the first meeting between fast food worker reader and the handpit

"Y/n! Some kid lost his teddy in the ball pit!"

You peel yourself from the breakroom chair with the minuscule amount of energy you had regained from it. You learned the first week on the job to never expect a moment of rest, but that didn't make losing precious break time any better.

The ball pit had been a pain since its reopening a full week back. Customers loosing precious items, child claiming to have been scared out of the pit by a scary monster. In defense of the first thing it probably isn't the greatest idea to wear great grandma's wedding ring to a restaurant where the police leaves the phone on the receiver when they call in.

You enter the main area. A parent shouts at the cashier while clutching a sniffing child's name; a glimmer of hope in their eyes as you walk out.

"This is exactly why I don't let my children into those disease pools! If you don't bring my son, his toy this entire franchise is going under!:

Your coworker's eyes water. You throw them a thumb's up as you pedal to the playarea. It's common knowledge you're in this nightmare together so most helped one another when they could.

The play area was your average child's environment. Overhanging tubes leading to a twisting slide. Colorful walls and statues of the mascot looming in watch. The ball pit. The windows to the parking lot had been painted over after similar reports of odd behaviors outside.

You walk over to the wall where the net for such occasions was stored, but it's gone. Figures. Nothing's easy around here. You pop your shoes off and squeeze them into a cubby as per comand of your commerical marketed overlord. You fish around at the top before doing as expected and climbing into the pit when you can't find it on the surface sweep.

The balls come up to your waist, but you can feel they go further than that as you kicking through them. The ball pit was as big as your average swimming pool, so you definitely had your work cut out for you. Better than being screamed at by customers from hell you suppose.

The search is gruelling. Each ball you push out of the way is replaced by a tidal wave of more. You unknowingly sink down to your chest as your frustration rises. It feels like the pit hasn't been cleaned in ages either. Some of the balls sticky and wet, and you're poked and stabbed at by objects were too thin and hard to be a plush bear-

What was that?

You freeze. A pocket forms in the sea of balls to your left, sucking the plastic orbs into themselves like a technicolor sinkhole. You figure its because you had previously just lift that area and swim forward. Something tugs on your pant's leg mid stroke, but your other foot kicks it away as you move. As the lights flicker you get the feeling someone is messing with you.

"Not funny!"

So much for being a team player. You better hurry and find this thing so you can head out early today. About tew feet in front of you, the bear's button eye watches your struggle. Stopping it, you dart towards it, but it sinks into the pit. It then reappears another foot away.

"What the hell.... This really isn't funny.."

You try again. It disappears. This time it teleports behind you. Stagnate in the spherical waters, you watch as the bear disappears and pops back within view in a different location. Sometimes it's at the end of the pit, sometimes it's mere inches away. This definitely isn't right. You need to get out of here. As you swim for the ledge, something drags you below.

You kick and flail, a scream fighting its way up your chest that you shove right back down to save energy. You can't breath. Your body feels weightless like you're swimming in a lake, yet the same air as falling out of the skin. Hands grab at various parts of yoir body. Items flash by as you're dragged further. Ancient photos, priceless watches- name tags.

As a hand wraps around your throat, you scream.

"You..."

Your plunge takes an abrupt stop.

"We did not recognize you at first, but that voice. It is unforgettable."

The hands turn you over. You can't tell if it's onto your back or your stomach. All you really can see is the plastic balls, but if you squint you can make out two white dots in the endless sea.

"So this is your face. We have only seen it in passing from your memories. How peculiar is man that in our eons of evaluation, your cerebrum is the single power that has twine our minds into one? In this "pit" of all things."

The hands stroke at your face; force your eyes to remain open. They carcass your tense form, easing your body but not your spirit. You want to cover your ears, but you can't. The voice is so loud; what feels like millions cramming into your small brain at volume which makes your teeth rattle with each syllable. In the same vein, it is the softest melody you've ever heard - splitting your fragile mind in two and sewing it together again with its gentle hush.

"You are different. You cannot enjoy us. The honor of being your new home would be wasted with your mind lost to the masses. You are to remain in this establishment until we decide what to do with you."

The hands center on your torso and push you upwards. Light pokes through the spaces between the balls as you're forced to the surface of the pit. The teddy bear lays on your chest as you surf atop the balls, staring down as if it's wondering the same thing as you.

What the fuck just happened

#Fast food reader #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere scenarios #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere drabble #yandere teratophilia #yandere monster #yandere x y/n

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witchthewriter · 2 years

Photo

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐃𝐚𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧'𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ female, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

a/n: okay so we all know Daemon wouldn’t be a great partner, but this is Tumblr and we take characters and form them into something ... other than what the author created them as. So here is a healthier version of Daemon Targaryen

Warnings; mentions of blood, violence, etc

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ

ESTP

Slytherin

Chaotic Neutral/Evil

Aries Sun, Scorpio Moon, Gemini Rising

SFW🌿

⭑ Daemon knows exactly how to push your buttons, and he loves doing so.

“Are you not listening on purpose Daemon? Gods! Some days I could wring your neck.”

“I love you too, darling.”

⭑ He loves when you braid his hair; and massage his scalp during the progress. He’ll audibly groan when your fingers dig into his scalp.

⭑ Loves seeing you in his clothes

⭑ He’s so incredibly protective over you and no one dares hurt THE Daemon Targaryen’s wife. If anyone tries, then they WILL die. It’s happened a few times actually. To go to the Targaryen’s, enemies would target you. But they had never landed their blows.

⭑ You’re a tough woman, who doesn’t take crap from anyone. That got you into trouble with a lot of people at court, and you were hated by many people.

⭑ You didn’t care though - why would you listen to the opinions of sheep?

⭑ And you aren’t scared of darkness within others. You yourself have some (don’t we all?)

⭑ Daemon loves this about you - nothing shocks you. And he remembers the first time he fell in love with you; when he could tell you everything about himself and you didn’t flinch.

⭑ Many would think he’s the dominant one in the relationship, but it’s you. It’s all you.

⭑ You’re absolutely in love with dragons (I mean who isn’t) but you have such an admiration for them, that they were your fixation for most of your childhood. You’ve read everything you can about them, about the Targaryen history and how dragons came to be

⭑ Daemon loves that he has someone to tell everything to. You know many family secrets about the Targaryens (that always stay within the blood-related family)

⭑ You aren’t a Targaryen though. Probably a Baratheon, Hightower, or Lannister noblewoman who was sent to court.

⭑ Daemon is actually really good at cuddling and likes it best when you’re on top of him - your head on his chest. He’ll mindlessly twirl your hair between his fingers, talking to you until you fall asleep.

⭑ Your wedding was huge. And I mean absolutely - because Viserys was so happy that Daemon’s focus was on you. It felt like a relief that Daemon was marrying for love.

⭑ Daemon buys you everything you desire - no expense spared. Literally, he’s gotten into trouble by Otto Hightower with how much he’s spending on you.

⭑ I do think you have a good heart though, so a lot of the things he buys for you, you give to people who actually need it.

⭑ Rhaenyra likes you a lot. You’re someone she looks up to - someone who has already broke tradition by being a bold woman. Who says what she thinks and damns the consequences.

⭑ Viserys would hold some reservations (that were planted by Otto) about Daemon’s legitimacy with the succession. He would have a bigger claim if you bore children.

⭑ But ultimately it would be up to you. Do you want kids? Okay, Daemon will work day and night to fill your belly. You don’t want kids? Fuck kids then. We have dragons and each other, that’s all we need.

⭑ I think he would calm down in the sense that he wouldn’t be so brutal towards others. You’re someone who gives him confidence - he doesn’t need to prove himself. So when he needs help, he will take it.

⭑ People are nervous around Daemon when you’re not there - he’s much more well-mannered and pleasant in your presence.

⭑ He smells like smoke, basil and frankincense.

⭑ Calls you ‘My darling,’ ‘Love,’ ‘Pet.’

Relationship Tropes:

Villain/Badass Power Couple

Monster in Disguise (you; I mean c’mon you can let loose) x Incredibly Protective of You

Asshole to absolutely everyone except their significant other x Knows their s/o wouldn’t dare be rude to them because they’ll catch these hands

NSFW🔞 minors dni!

⭑ Daemon definitely has a breeding kink, and the thought of you heavily pregnant with his child turns him on to no end

⭑ Is definitely into really kinky sex. He loves having hot wax dripped on him as part of foreplay.

⭑ He loves blood-play. And when you’re on your period he asks you to ride his face.

⭑ Hickies absolutely EVERYWHERE; Daemon’s favourite pass time when you’re alone is marking you.

⭑ You love teasing him while in public - your dress slipping, showing your thigh/bending down in front of him to pick something up/’accidentally’ rubbing up against him while in other company

⭑ His favourite position is doggy; he loves when you’re on all fours, your ass in the air.

⭑ Oh and he most definitely eats ass.

⭑ I think Daemon would be up for anything. Nothing disturbs/grosses him.

⭑ His favourite place to cum is either inside you or in your mouth/on your face.

⭑ When you’re just about to cum, he’ll pull out and wait for your high-pitched whine.

“Daemon! Please!”

⭑ Very rough kisses

⭑ He loves biting your ear lobe while he’s deep inside of you

⭑ Your smell drives him insane - like an immediate aphrodisiac

⭑ He loves dirty talk and is absolutely shameless about it.

“Do you like me fucking you like a common whore?”

⭑ He’s more dominant in the bedroom ... because you allow him to be.

⭑ There’s always a hot bath waiting when you’ve finished having sex. You’ll both climb in, and bathe the other.

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cobrabobra · 1 year

Text

Dating Daryl headcanons:

as much as I love to imagine Daryl showering his partner with affection, giving you kisses and telling you he loves you, I think he's not the type of person to do so

I think he shows his love for you through spending time with you, providing for you, being there for you

I think he rarely says he loves you, he shows it through his actions, not words. He says it after a near death experience or before it.

Daryl looked into your eyes, deseprate and sad, he thought he will never see you again.

They picked him up to shove him into the truck, they wanted to take him to the Sanctuary, to break you two apart.

"Daryl" you only managed to rasp out, you didn't have any strength left in your body, not after seeing Glenn and Abraham die, not after seeing him hurt, not after being defeated, no, completely destroyed by Negan.

You wanted to lounge out, to tear him from their arms, not let them take him away. But you couldn't, they'd kill you, kill him, if you tried. Only thing you could do is cry and stare at him, pray to God that nothing bad will happen to him.

"I love you" he said, desperate to keep looking into your eyes, desperate to stay with you, forever.

I feel he isn't really into touch either, he's been touched in only the wrong ways all he's life, so he's afraid to be touched and to touch.

Of course he does touch you, but it takes time to get into his head that he won't hurt you. You can expect little, soft touches, his thumb gently caressing your cheek, tucking loose strands of hair behind your ear.

I think he'd appreciate if you'd try to contain yourself and not touch him a lot either. Every one of us wants to shower this man with love and affection, but I think that'd just overwhelm him. He'd like touches like, your head on his shoulder sitting near a fire, getting his hair out of his face, gently massaging his neck.

Although I think he'd enjoy an occasional, playful smack on the ass. He'd glare at you, act like he's mad, maybe call you stupid, but deep in his heart he'd enjoy this, that silly little interactions between you two.

When it comes to kissing, there's some, but not a lot and they're either soft, delicate kisses, like he's a kid kissing his mama on the cheek, kisses that show his appreciation of every single thing you're doing for him, there are awkward but cute kisses, like he's a teenager kissing his pillow imagining kissing his crush and of course there are rough, passionate kisses you two share during sex.

Does he take you on dates? Yes, of course. Are those traditional dates? Hell no. He takes you hunting. He's teaching you how to track, how to be quiet and not scare your pray, how to be a part of the forest. He keeps you close to him, your hands brushing against each other as you creep through the woods. And then you get to sit by the fire, eat your dinner, your head on his shoulder. You also ride his bike with him, sitting behind, your hands holding onto his hips, wind in your hair, warmth of his body seeping through. That's what dates are to him, spending quality time with each other.

He's extremely protective, he's lost so much people already, he's not losing you. Not to a walker, not to another person, not to anything. Whenever you hurt yourself, whether it's a small nick, a cut from choping vegetables or a broken limb, he panics. He doesn't show it that much, but in his head he sees all the possibilities of what could happen next. If you're bedridden, he will not leave your side even if a herd was passing by or somebody held a gun to his head. If there was a situation where you and a couple other people were in danger, he'd sacrifice someone if that's what it takes to get you out of there safe and sound.

If somebody hits on you, he'll be quick to react. He probably wouldn't be the type to threaten somebody because they tried to flirt with you. He'd probably do everything to spend as much time with you as he can, to show the other person that you much rather spend time with him than with them. He wouldn't tell you but he'd feel insecure and in need of reasurance that he's the one you want, that nobody else matters.

He'd want to have a family with you, not sure about kids, but you, Daryl and Dog would make a great family, kids or not.

He wouldn't know how to propose, he's not good with words nor being romantic. He'd like it to be romantic but that's probably not gonna happen.

"Hey, you want it?" Daryl raised his hand, a ring between his fingers, looking at you with his puppy eyes. His heart pounding like crazy in his chest, begging God that you'd say yes.

"Ye-yeah" you said, shocked at his actions, you hadn't been expecting that. A big smile on your face as you took the ring in your hands. "Thanks, Dixon"

"No problem, Dixon"

For Daryl love isn't butterflies and fireworks, it's the calmness and peace he feels when you're around, it's the quality time spent with you, it's the family you two build. That's love for Daryl.

Happy Valentine's Day!

#twd x you #daryl x you #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x male reader #daryl dixon x reader #twd x reader #daryl dixon headcanon

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room-surprise · 3 months

Note

Hey! Fun question, how do you think an in-canon kabumisu confession would go? People keep portraying mithrun as blunt and straightforward about their relationship, but would he be scared to tell kabru in the chance that he'd say no and leave? Is the desire to just be in a relationship with kabru, or is the desire of not wanting to scare him off greater than that? I'm so starved on the lack of post-canon kabumisu content, they make me go crazy

As usual, I'll try not to go into TOO much detail because then I won't be motivated to write fic about it... and I AM planning to write a post-canon Kabumisu fic anon, so don't worry. I'll get there eventually :3

They make me go crazy too 😔

I think Mithrun's a complicated guy with complicated emotions. Even when he was "empty" in the dungeon he actually showed a lot of feelings - smug satisfaction, annoyance, anger, even a little bit of subtle happiness.

So while I DO think he will still be blunt in general, I also think it's a mistake to assume that means he doesn't feel things and won't have anxieties and insecurities just like any other person.

Mithrun used to be WILDLY insecure, and jealous, and paranoid. He just stopped caring about anything, but if, like the end of the manga suggests, he is going to try to START caring again, he will then start to have feelings, too.

I think Mithrun is intensely aware of his own "undesirability", that's one of the reasons he's BEEN so depressed. Most of his self-worth before the dungeon hinged on being "better" than his brother, and better than other people. Then he looses that (or maybe he was never actually better at all!), so what does he have left? And now his youth is gone too, he's middle-aged and lost his "best years" to depression. He's disabled, he's scarred, he's a bastard that nobody wants.

It's a pretty huge fall from "most eligible bachelor in the empire"!

So I think no, he won't just bluntly tell Kabru that he likes him. It will take Mithrun awhile to realize how he feels, and once he does, he'll be afraid to reach out, so he's going to do what I call "playing silly little elf games". He's going to try and flirt via writing letters and sending gifts, to hint that he likes Kabru.

Luckily for Mithrun, Kabru also knows how to play Silly Little Elf Games (he's an Olympic champion), so he picks up the signals and starts reciprocating, though he's also uncertain and worried that he's misunderstanding. Captain Mithrun couldn't be flirting with him, could he? But... what if he is?

(I will go into Kabru's feelings at a later date anon i promise.)

I think the thing that will ultimately push Mithrun to act is the fear that he'll miss his chance. Mithrun realizes Kabru is a limited time deal that he can only enjoy for the next 60-something years, and he wants every minute of that time for himself, no matter how much it will someday hurt to lose Kabru.

And he also knows that Kabru is very handsome and charming, and he can't expect Kabru to wait for Mithrun to get himself figured out. Someone else will swoop in and snatch that man up, so Mithrun has to hurry.

ALL OF THAT SAID... I think their confession is a lot less of a confession, and much more "we have both been picking up these signals of interest for months/years, and finally one of us pushes it a little bit further than we've ever pushed it before and we acknowledge the unspoken thing that has been growing between us."

Maybe it's a hand resting on someone's leg, or a gentle touch on the arm. Maybe it's leaning in so their shoulders touch. Maybe it's looking into each other's eyes a little bit longer than normal.

Probably it involves both of them admitting "Spending time with you makes me happier than anything else in the world. Whenever we're apart all I think about is when I'm going to see you again. I spend hours composing letters to you in my mind. I want us to spend our days together, no matter what shape that takes."

It's very vulnerable and scary for both of them, and I think they're both DEEPLY relieved after they finally get it out, and they don't get rejected. They know each other so well, and they're so good at reading people - they both thought that the other might feel the same way, but it's so scary to take that leap of faith and hope that they're right.

And just for the record, I think that Kabru worries about if Mithrun will be interested in sex or not, because sex is something that matters to Kabru, but what if Mithrun just doesn't have any desire for it?

And so before they get into a relationship Kabru has a long hard think about it, and decides that even if they never have sex, he wants to be in a romantic relationship with Mithrun anyway, because just being around him makes him feel happy, and understood, and like he isn't alone anymore. There's someone who sees him as he is, all the good and the bad, and says "I love you anyway."

And Kabru decides that he's willing to just jerk off for the rest of his life if that's the price of this relationship that he wants.

Luckily for Kabru, I think Mithrun does want to have sex with him, but I like to think that Kabru thinks through all the possibilities and decides that no matter what they end up doing together, being with Mithrun is worth it.

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dunmeshi #kabru #mithrun #kabumisu #my stuff #theories #kabrun

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mochinomnoms · 4 months

Note

Ooo here’s an interesting thought for you. So you know how, in the interspecies romance, you mentioned how Jade and Floyd would still kinda ‘bully’ a potential partner? Can you imagine if that person were an overthinking type? Like the ‘mean’ interactions make them think that either of the tweels just do NOT like them.

Basically misunderstandings abound.

Floyd gifts them a tooth; are they next?? Jade gives a poisonous (but pretty/rare) mushroom; is this a threat??

Could also just be a person who has a difficult time interpreting social cues, or flirting.

But either way, the poor object of their interest starts avoiding them and is so confused by the mixed signals. So they go up to Azul or something and ask if they’ve made the respective tweel angry or something. Because they thought they were getting along???

Just a poor confused bean.

Anyway sorry that was long but I just thought it was an interesting concept. 😂

As someone whose autism severely impacted their understanding of social norms, I feel this on a deeply spiritual level. In the partner's defense, the twins are just generally intimidating and take delight in scaring their peers. They say the most out of pocket shit and it's hard to tell when they're being serious or joking (they also have a tad bit of the tism). Poor Azul would be so tired of having to deal with a potential eel mate asking him to call off his right/left-hand men, they don't have a contract with him anymore, so why are they threatening them with loose teeth and poisonous mushrooms?? Azul!! Make them stop!!!

(He briefly considers staying out of it. It would do them some good to suffer through their pining until they have the common sense to look up human dating and woo methods. But they are his friends that he actually cares quite deeply for his employees whose moods are affecting productivity, so he'll explain it to you, and then go give them a good wack in the head for being stupid.)

Floyd is the more likely of the two to not look up human courting and dating methods. He's more of the kind of guy that's hoping you will get what he means by vibe alone. Like that manifesting stuff Cater goes on about. You'll have to be particularly perceptive to notice that he squeezes you a bit softer, looks at you with hearts in his eyes a bit longer than more, and notice that he slips up and calls you by your name instead of Shrimpy; he's surprisingly subtle with his growing affections. Jade would have definitely research ahead of time, plus he's very perceptive of others and their emotions around him. He'll probably be able to tell that you're not getting his advances, but on the other hand, it would be so funny to see how long it takes for you to catch on. He'll make fun of you in the future on how you “strung along a poor eel's heart, waaahhhh!” while he pined after you with foraged and handmade gifts, classic merfolk courting! That, or you accidentally start dating/a friends-with-benefits situation, both of you misunderstanding the other's intentions. It would take some incredible denseness and misunderstanding on both your parts for that to happen, which is a lot easier than you think when it comes to Jade “Keep them Guessing” Leech. Truly, a man can be too confident with regard to love, please tell him this or else you'll spend at least four months in a relationship before realizing it.

#mochi asks #twst #twisted wonderland #jade leech #floyd leech #we give jade too much credit and floyd too little #a dumb of ass he is #thateldribitch

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levmada · 2 months

Note

Hey how are you feeling?

Im glad your requests are still open. Loved the answer to my last request so I hope you don’t mind me sending in another one?

Some cute hurt/comfort with taller gn reader and postwar Levi. After the ackermanbond is gone I imagine Levi getting really sick for the very first time. Fever and everything also adding the flashbacks to when his mom got sick. And reader ofc nursing him back to health and also comforting him 🧡

im so so so so so so SO sorry😭i took literal months with this sari... i wish i had a good excuse, but i hope you like this :(

i took a lot of inspo from this eruri fic from ao3. stress cannn cause flu-like symptoms, and i wanted this to be the outcome of all those years of suffering for levi finally catching up to him.

probably not medically accurate: it's not very clear what the nature of levi's knee injury. it's seen partially crushed, but it's not clear what medical technology marley has (especially w/ the last volume cover in mind). i'm functioning on my idea that levi can't get around without a wheelchair, but he does have range of motion, partly based on the health of the cartilage/joints/bone, but mostly based how painful it is. it's more complicated than that, but i wanted to add a disclaimer anyway.

(tldr this is the levi torture hour)

➥ pairing: postwar!Levi x taller!gn!reader

➥ about: Not even Levi is invulnerable, both after the war and back then, so it's stupid to be scared when he gets sick.

Until it isn't.

➥ c/w: sick fic, post-war Levi, delirium/nightmares, reverse hurt comfort, implied past csa, happy ending (promise), medical inaccuracies, nightmares, established relationship (married)

➥ wc: 5.3k

In the comfortable, quiet rays of mid-morning, you hum to yourself, and sip your mug of tea. You watch a white cardinal with red tips toddle on the windowsill on the other side of the glass. That’s rare.

It takes off.

You trace the rim of your mug, sighing slowly but heavily through your nose. It’s getting harder not to think about it.

You want to think that—now that you and Levi are retired (what an odd word…)—it’s reached that natural time to start sleeping better. Sleeping in, not out of an absurdly rare indulgence, but to relax.

It’s been nine months, not counting the few Levi was cooped-up in the hospital.

Even for him, relaxation shouldn’t be impossible after some point. In fact, he hasn’t shot awake just before dawn for a while, anticipating a reveille that won’t ring out.

But you fought beside him; your bad habits and your happiness wrestle over the reality of your new life too.

But…

You reach across the small wood table and hover your hand over the cup of tea you poured for him; decent, but not piping hot and steaming like earlier.

This will be a once in a lifetime opportunity: you get to coax Levi out of bed late in the morning.

You stand, bringing your arms behind your head to stretch just a little as you walk to the hall, down to the bedroom. The door is cracked like you left it.

Like a tired waterfall, the vast majority of the thick covers lay spilled haphazardly to the floor, so you’re surprised even before you take a look at Levi, who’s still curled up asleep, facing your way. That leaves his back to the light glowing through the curtains.

He kicked them off?

Like the sheets, his sweater is white; his trousers are dark, loose and cut (with his knee brace on underneath). With his arms tightly crossed like that, and the harsh crease sitting on his brow, he almost looks awake and stressed out.

“G’morning, ‘Vi…”

Importantly, his pallor, normally as pale as snow, glows pink. A few strands of black cling to his forehead.

You stride over with a bit of a frown that wasn’t as deep when you were feeling just plain impatient, and take a sit on the edge of the bed.

“Are you feeling sick, baby…?”

That crease deepens. He twitches awake. "M-Mm?"

Now that you’re close, you notice his breathing is a little labored. You touch your knuckles to his temple. Eyes barely crack open.

"Sweetheart, ‘Vi… You definitely have a fever..."

You comb his bangs off his damp forehead, and they close.

The heat radiating off his skin—you grimace a little.

Actually... have you ever seen Levi so much as under the weather? You can’t even remember.

He shifts slightly, as your strokes rouse him.

"Do you feel sick?" you ask for the second time.

"Huh? I'm fine..."

His eyes finally blink open, fluttering once or twice. But then, a shadow passes over his face that seems to disprove that assertion of his.

He shoves his elbow underneath himself and starts to lift himself up. "Stop—fretting. 'm fine."

He gets most of the way; he’s resting heavily on one arm when he grunts, then leans.

"Stop, sweetheart," you huff, and take him by the shoulder. "What hurts? Your head?"

Looking dazed, like he’s not all there, he lifts his bad hand to his temple and, with his ring and little finger, feels his temple.

“Don’t know…”

"Lay back down, you clearly need some rest—even if this is rare for you, okay?"

“What?” He looks perturbed with you. “Don’t be stupid. There’s too much t’do. N’ I’m fine,” he grumbles, blatantly lying.

"Levi..." you warn.

"I'm just... tired," he mumbles. He rubs his eye with his thumb. "Fuck. Fucking tired."

His strength starts to evaporate as his eyes slip closed.

In an instant—before he collapses—you thrust your arms around him, and lay him back down on his side slowly.

It doesn’t quite hit you until you maneuver his arm out from under him, and listen to his even but labored breathing for a bit of time.

You stare down, eyes wide. Are you scared?—Or anxious?

Well either way—it’s not until you stopped being at risk for a violent death day-in and day-out for years that you even realized you were constantly anxious.

It’s not a nice feeling.

It’s okay. Though. You rationalize. Not even Levi is impervious to everything, and certainly not now. It’s stupid to be surprised.

You feel his forehead with the back of your hand one more time, and kiss your teeth. Definitely a fever, but an exact number wouldn’t hurt.

The thermometer and other simple medicines are shoved in one of the high kitchen cabinets, a second thought when you both moved into this quaint little cabin in the woods (aside from his prescriptions). You didn’t even say it out loud, even.

Now pinched between your fingers, you stand back and stutter on your feet, unsure of what else you need. You want to need something more helpful, but the need to go and check back on him is most powerful.

A short ways down the hall, you pick up on the unbelievable yet unmistakable sound of… crying. Unrestrained, and yet, the kind of crying that steals breath.

You expect to wake up as soon as you reach the bedroom—some disturbing but absurd dream.

But you don’t. He’s curled up where you left him, eyes closed but now gasping sharply through his teeth with tears glistening on his cheeks. One drips off his trembling chin.

You drop onto the edge of the bed immediately, and try to speak, but find yourself helplessly stuck at a complete loss as to where to even start.

“Why…” You card your fingers through his hair, to no reaction. He must be asleep, right?—But how, why?

“Hey, hey, c’mere,” you coo gently, sitting so as to swaddle his back and caress his head.

You make it all not sound like a question. “Everything’s okay. It’s okay, sweetheart… Wake up.”

His eyes tightly shut, and tears squeeze through. He croaks. “Can wake up.”

It takes a moment for you to register that he really meant to pronounce it as “can’t”.

“…You sound sorta freaked out, and you want to talk to Falco?—Is Levi alright??”

You silently curse Gabi for being so observant.

“Which place? I have the books, um, right here…!”

“No…” You swallow a little, and coil the bright red cord to the phone around and around your finger. You wish it was as simple as some tinnitus, or nerve pain.

“No?” Gabi asks on a high lilt; a question within a question.

“I know. He never gets sick, which is why I want to talk to Falco. I appreciate you trying to help, but please hurry?”

“Oh yeah, okay!”

You peer over your shoulder from your place stood in the hall and rock on your heels nervously. The only space of time you could find where you could bear to leave him was when he was quiet.

Falco has matured so much, even over the past year, and you trust him with this. He’s training to be a doctor; being a soldier never suited him much anyway. Levi was the first to say so, as usual the perfect judge of character.

You speak slowly and calmly to him, encouraged by his own composure.

“It sounds like a flu, just with that added symptom,” he’s thinking out loud. Thin pages turn. “Severe stress can cause flu-like symptoms sometimes… Especially when it’s prolonged. Does that sound like anything?”

“No. No way.” You shake your head, your brow pinched tightly. In fact you laugh. “Haven’t fought any Titans lately, at least.”

His voice lowers, thinking as he talks. “True, yeah. Especially for you guys, nothing could ever really compare, right?”

“You have no idea. Not with Levi.”

“We can talk about it another time, maybe,” you amend quickly. You know almost for certain that’s not going to happen.

Falco hums. “Anyway, if that’s the case, that would explain why it’s been so severe, with the sudden onset. But think of it like a fever he needs to sweat out,” he explains.

“Y-Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You hear the light smile in his voice. “Don’t be too far away, though. It’s easy to tell, you know.”

You smile to yourself.

Even if the Rumbling somehow started back up above your head, you’d rather die.

You write on a little notepad—some scrawl verbatim—Falco’s directions and words of advice, the phone trapped between your ear and shoulder. Most of it is generic, for influenza of course, but you write.

A blunt but dense thump sounds not so far away. You even flinch, but just as quickly let Falco know you’ll be right back.

In the bedroom, the pale blue duvet and sheets spilled onto the floor looks like a stiff waterfall being wrenched this way and that by Levi’s attempts to sit back up, like a puppet trying to pull its own strings. He grunts in what sounds like frustration, but you can’t know for sure as his bangs obscure his eyes. His hair all over is a downright wreck.

Gaping, you fall down beside him and hurry working off all the offending fabrics he’s twisted in.

“Lee—…”

Your help lets his shaky hand hover over his knee, like he can’t be sure if it’s his. He’s breathing hard; it’s ten times shakier than his hand.

“Come here.”

He doesn’t so much as twitch, but he doesn’t resist either. Then, when something in him registers that you’re there, he leans into you like you’ve just brought the weight of the world off his shoulders.

You tug the soft pantleg up, and sigh at what you see. The scarring, like a row of pink and purple mountains stabbed into his flesh, is more inflamed than usual, leg minutely trembling when you raise it.

He must’ve tried to stand up.

“Does it hurt very bad?”

Not even such an obvious question gets you a retort of any kind. He whines softly when you have to brace that area to lift him back up, but no more.

From the dull darkened blue cotton in the shape of a V in the center of his chest, and coming down from his underarms, he’s burning up; you need to get started just as soon as you’re finished with Falco. For now, you wipe his clammy temples and brush his bangs back. He’s looking at you, but he doesn’t seem to see.

“Levi…” You press on his round cheeks under your palms, grimacing at the heat pelting off his skin.

He moans softly, some relief softening his features. “Huh. Take m’jack-et. Yer cold.”

You shake your head even though he can’t see, as, sharply and without warning, tears appear and stab at your eyes. He’s not even wearing a jacket.

“Be right back,” you manage. “Okay?”

You don’t really expect a response, and you don’t get one.

First thing’s first, he needs water. You feel stupid not thinking of that first. That was at the top of Falco’s directions.

You catch Levi in a moment of relative quiet—not peace, but quiet—and cradle the back of his neck, unhinging his jaw with your other. Easy enough. You tip the glass and feed him water with the utmost care and precision. This is some act terribly intimate, a type of intimacy removed from hand-holding or sex entirely while managing to rank above them both. Over all these years, his life has been in your hands a few times, but feeding him pills—something for the fever and something for the pain—and working his shirt off for something fresh and loose-fitting feels more reverent even still. You put him in shorts and practically fortify his knee with a brace and pillows wrapped up with the belt of a housecoat so even if he rolls over, he won’t.

He chokes on a sob while you’re tucking a cold press behind his neck, forcing you to stop. His eyes squeeze shut.

“Levi?” you ask softly.

Either he’s having a nightmare, or he’s in pain, or, both. He tightens his crossed arms. His first movement in hours.

“What hurts? Falco said it might be your head.”

Another sob bursts from him. “S’head’s all over the wall, looked, it… sorry….”

He continues mumbling, but none of it sounds like words.

"Levi, it's okay, it's okay. Okay, baby? S'okay," you murmur; on and on. The washcloth has gotten smushed between his shoulder and the pillow—you set that somewhere aside. Then you lean over, rubbing with your thumbs the tears off his glistening cheeks, and messy black strands off his forehead.

Sometimes you will catch a word, sometimes you won’t. You will almost wish you didn’t the times you do. Yet you feel sworn to make sense of every mumble, a pervasive, unbreakable, urge. You’re sworn to it.

That’s how the rest of the day goes. He’s never lucid enough to eat; only enough to mumble when he’s freezing, or when he’s burning.

After dusk has bled into the sunset, and night has set in, you sit and watch over Levi religiously. To be fair, you don’t have anything “better to do”, but you hardly ate. If he knew, he’d be in your ear grumbling or otherwise dragging you by it to the kitchen, but does it matter, when he can’t know?

No, you decided, with some fucked-up determination. You want him to bitch at you when he wakes up. Not shivering trapped in an uneasy sleep.

When it gets late, you, arduously but carefully, do what you can for his knee.. He moves too much.

You wipe his face and neck of sweat, and lay a fresh, ice-cold and wet folded washcloth on his forehead. The fever is slowly getting worse.

You dote on him, carding back his bangs, and murmuring and repeating all manners of comfort you can think of. It’s becoming obvious when he’s having a nightmare.

…Finally, as Falco suggested, you’ve kept him hydrated; fever reducers every few hours.

All that's left to do then, is sleep. This realization makes you nauseous with worry.

Nonetheless, you squirm under the covers on your side, close beside him with your face tucked in his shoulder. You take a slow, deep breath.

It’s so discomforting; Levi can’t fall asleep flat on his back, ever, and yet…

Your head shoots off his chest before you’ve registered you even woke up—gasping, and a guttural cry from below. It’s pitch black, too dark to see.

That explodes him into motion. He repels you backwards as you grapple for his shoulders, and like fists closed around your throat, as he resists your every attempt to stop him hurting himself, as he whimpers tiredly, as his bawling stabs the most tender place inside you—you feel sick.

“Levi—! Stop. Levi listen to me!”

You’re louder than him, but nothing—his eyes won't open—and your stomach swoops just then as he almost succeeds in jabbing his knee in your stomach, an extra hard punch combined with the brace. That cry is a sob of nothing but pain.

Enough. Finally you bite the bullet, you drop your full weight down on top of him, if it means he’ll finally stop.

At first, you’re as steady as a boat on rough waters. A huff of relief slips out when his writhing grows sluggish, quickly.

He squirms mildly under you, breathing still stubbornly labored. “Get… off me.”

He tries to raise his arms from his sides, but can’t.

“I’ll, fuckin’ kill you.”

You viciously shake your head. “It’s just a dream.”

Are you telling only him that?

“S’ get off, you can’t, s’nough hurts ‘er.”

“L-Lee…”

You strain to make him out, as he sobs weakly. “Leave me alone already...”

His name escapes you over again like a prayer in the heat of a battle. Your determination crumbles right into dust; you fall beside him and sit up, unsure of what to do besides take his hand. You can’t bring yourself to switch on the lamp.

“It’s going to be okay.” You squeeze.

He whimpers. “…Please.”

You can’t open your foolish mouth and tell him or yourself that it’s just a dream anymore.

Falco was more correct than you gave him credit for.

Falco also warned you that it would get worse before it got better.

With the hours that keep passing—which have stretched out into two days so far—he more and more mutters in his sleep, other times under his breath, but most times he’s incoherent.

But, it’s all come to fall under one topic.

And just like that first night, it doesn’t quite make sense, but it doesn’t have to.

You don’t want to think about it; you just want to take care of him. Your anxiety is constant, and sharp. If only he’d wake up; you talk to him as if he’s awake—but to no response whatsoever, like you don’t even exist.

Moments you’re forced to leave him are the worst—for you and for him. Most times when you come back, the washcloth meant to rest on his forehead has drooped and sagged beside his temple.

At any rate, the difference between fever and tears has gotten hard to tell.

You just can’t stop from shaking, and your throat is tight, but Falco remains adamant that the flu is what he said it is.

A lamp is still glowing on your side in the late night. The air is cool, and it’s quiet, but a rare moment of “peace” makes the sounds of your shared breaths obnoxious.

Your heavy eyes sting; despite that, when they creep closed you feel yourself fading in seconds, with Levi’s head tucked under your chin, upon your chest. Seemingly, any covers are too stifling for him at the moment; pressed against your collarbones, you feel his forehead is hot again.

You cradle gently the nape of his neck, idly rubbing the knot of bone at the base of his jaw. As if you’re doing anything to protect him from anything…

He mumbles, slurring, “Y’have t’come back…”

You’re not dizzy with the shock or the horror, but it’s worse almost, to be confronted with the full magnitude of a rueless, unceasing pain that is just as lonely in its magnitude as it is devastating.

You rub his back as he buries his face in your neck, sobbing like it takes all his energy to do so. “I’ll be faster.”

“I don’ know where t’go, what do I do now?” he babbles over your soft hushes. “Wait, next time I’ll get it right...”

“It’s okay, love, it’s okay.”

“I don’ know why I even…”

Trailing off, he starts to whimper, and can’t go on.

He doesn’t stop, it doesn’t, not for a second while—all you can do—is hold and console him even though he may not know it.

Until he exhausts himself. Drifts. into a light sleep.

For it to happen all over again. Seeping into his sleep like crude oil, the next stress-induced terror to force his breathing shaky, labored.

"...Need," he whimpers, the first word you’ve made out in a while.

Your stomach swoops, the thought that you can do anything to help directly. "What do you need, sweetheart?"

"Don't sell it. Don't sell it, I need it."

You deflate, jaw wobbling. "Sh, sh, it's okay,” you soothe. You reach for the tray on the bedside behind you, and, using the cold cloth, you dab the sweat from his blushing temple and neck.

"S'gonna take away from m...me." He starts to pant, continuing to mumble, crying, a complete melting away. Lamenting, abject.

"Shh... Shh..."

His arm loosely draped around your waist—which you’d put there—tightens its hold, but in drifting bursts, like he keeps slipping.

“Please.”

You inhale sharply. "Please?"

"Don'. Leave me."

"I won't leave," you swiftly promise. "I won't leave, I won’t.”

He cries in his sleep for so many names that aren’t alive anymore.

Don’t go. Don’t go.

Wake up, Momma.

Wait... Just wait.

That wasn’t the worst point. Not even hunched, taken-over by so much stress and pain until he gagged was the worst point. None of what he had already said combined could amount to the last night.

You snap awake on your stomach at some blurry unknown instance, acutely aware you’ve slept like shit.

Did you even, only blink?—No. The most faintest shade of grey weakly gives your bedroom the suggestion of texture and shadow, but—your arms are empty. You reach over blindly, but the side where Levi should lay is empty and cold.

A pit bursts open in your stomach, filled with bright panic.

You lurch up and shove off the covers, breathing hard.

Where could he be??

If he was feeling better, then you would've woken up a while ago, because he would've told you. Not just...

He can’t be far.

You shiver.

On your feet, you cross the room in a few strides, and frown as you pull open the bedroom door. It's never left closed at night this time of year; it gets about ten degrees colder without the insulation. (But the chill pressing to the bottoms of your feet, you barely even noticed.)

"Levi!?"

The switch on the wall is right within reach, which lights up the hall. You look right and almost jump back; you might’ve tripped over him if you hadn’t looked first.

He sits hugging his legs—tightly folded against his chest, Levi, why?—there right outside the white doorframe. Shivering, glossy face red with fever, and most certainly in agony by now with all the abuse done to his knee, you’re not sure if he even notices you. Not from this angle.

You fall down on your knees. “Levi? Look, I’m here. Talk to me, please, okay?”

His bloodshot eyes are cracked open, staring ahead, but seemingly seeing nothing. Between the tears, you can’t tell if this is good or bad.

"Levi..." You take his shoulder in an attempt to nudge his attention towards you. “Look at me. Please.”

He was already tense. His head turns, mostly looking at you sideways—emphasis on his pale eye—but looking at you nonetheless. Good.

"What's wrong?"

His brow knits together.

“C’mere.” You lean forward and card his damp bangs back to feel his forehead. The whole time, he just looks at you passively.

“Better... But this cold won’t help in the end. Medicine is in the bedroom, so...”

You huff very softly to yourself. “…You need more bedrest. I don’t know why you even came out here. Why didn’t you wake me up?”

He blinks.

“Let’s go back to bed,” you insist then, under your breath.

Some clarity crosses his dark eyes, his voice then a cracked brittle rasp. “…Not the bed.”

His gaze sort of drifts away from you.

You thought he was through with that habit. Confused, you ask, “Why not?”

“It’s ruined. It was always disgusting, but… this is worse.”

“I’ll change the sheets then. I know, it’s not—”

“You can’t do anything,” he says, tucking his chin to his chest, intent eyes focused somewhere down. “Corpse smell doesn’t come outta anything, it just smells worse the longer you leave it. It gets colder n’ heavier, then the smell, it attracts bugs. There’s a fluid,” he says quietly. Casually. “And then it shrinks. Getting eaten’s all the same. But I think that way’s worse.”

What can you even say to that?

“I won’t do th-at to you…” His brow furrows sharply, gripping his sleeves—you see now—with bright white knuckles. Even sitting up, he’s almost curled up into a ball.

You talk quickly, before the full gravity of all this can reach you.

“You won’t do anything,” you insist. “How about the sofa? Would the sofa be okay?”

“I can’ go to sleep,” he hisses. “I won’t wake up.”

“That’s not true. Why do you even say that??"

"I'm sick."

"Yeah, but it’s not bad-sick!”

You regret the moment you raise your voice. That almost innocent passivity he exuded is crushed by complete and utter detachment.

“…Denial doesn't help. Don’t be stupid. Don't even—shouldn’ touch me. It’ll end worse fer you.”

You tremble minutely, stewing in silence while in panicked, rapid-fire fashion, you rifle through explanations. He sounds so serious. And he's nothing but.

You know that Levi’s mother died from sickness. He’s called out for her, a lot.

In nightmares… A nightmare?

You guess that’s where it all started for him, as he always slips into a warm voice and delicate eyes those rare moments he does tell you about her. Being sick then, being sick with you here… It all clicks into place.

Okay. Fuck…

The real monster of it all is the fever—making him unglued like this.

You rub the bridge of your nose, swallowing thickly. Okay.

A firm calm settles over you; for once, Levi is scared. That means you won’t be.

“Levi…” you console.

You reach out to his shoulder, only to flinch when he flinches before a push knocks into your chest. It sends you falling into your backside with an injured grunt.

Instantly, intrinsically, you know it’s going to bruise; all his strength, one hand.

Your eyes pop open to his own—uncannily—wide with his lips twisting into a grimace.

Putting his eyes ahead again, he sucks in a choked breath and slumps. “Sorry, I thought you were… Sorry.” He gasps. “I’m sorry.”

You get back up on your knees, slowly, and settle down beside him without hesitation. You’re more frantic than ever to close this icy chasm-like space.

“It’s okay.”

He shakes his head as sharp and as fast as his rattling breaths. “I thought you were him. I don’t get it… it just kept hap-happening… Fucking…”

You see him still searching for the words to explain.

“It’s okay. It’s all okay.”

The warmth in your voice is genuine. When it shakes, you just hate that he’s suffering with nothing you can do to lift it all away, like blood by steam.

He grips his hair, having made himself as small as possible again. “I’m—s-sorry.”

“Shh…”

Slowly until now, you’ve been leaning in, and now you firmly rest your hand on his back, rubbing in long, consoling motions. This seems to help.

You stay like this while his breathing shudders through tears. It’ll only hurt you both to bring force into it again; either way, any way, it’s not his fault. You don’t know what he meant… but why would it be the man who came and chose to look after him?

“Sorry…”

Everything you see if one ruddy cheek and his temple glistens with either tears or sweat, and his eyes look painful.

“Look at me. Baby.”

An order seems familiar. He does.

“You trust me, don’t you?”

He understands slowly, but you know the answer. After a time, he blinks, and nods.

“Stay still, please.” You kiss his temple.

“…Sure.”

One arm around his back, the other scooped under his knees, you lift him up into your arms with not too much difficulty. He goes tense, but leans into your chest nonetheless.

“It’s going to be okay,” you murmur as you walk. You want desperately to ask about his leg, but this feels too fragile, like if you bring up physical pain then the whims of the fever will take him back over.

He’s trembling all over, it seems, before you lay him back down in bed, and once you do he clutches a bit of your blouse at the collar with a grip that confirms for you that he’s not letting go. You sit beside him with his waist pushed against the side of your thigh.

“I’m sorry, it’s all my fault,” he croaks out softly, staring at your sleeve which he now grips. “I wasn’t fast ‘nuff. I hesitated n’ it got ‘em killed for nothing after made the same mistake… Sorry i-was my damn pride…”

You let him talk, rather mumble. When there’s a lull, you rest your palms on his hot cheeks. Better than the last time you felt them. His eyes instantly flutter in relief.

It’s surprisingly easy to give him water, then the fever reducer. Meanwhile, he’s clearly fighting the weight of exhaustion pressing down on his eyelids.

“Don’t make me sleep…”

“I’m not. I’ll just stay by your side. Then”—you cup his cheek—“I’ll do it again.”

He hardly grunts, eyes closing.

You won’t sleep, and you can’t sleep (if there’s even a difference). In fact, you’ll bring in one of the kitchen chairs and sit by him with a novel; you’ll read by candlelight, with a handkerchief hanging like a tarp from the lampshade so maybe he can rest easy.

Being that the flu is a release of stress… He’s getting better. He’s getting better.

Hour-by-hour, more or less (but mostly less), you snap awake at the tiniest stirring from your husband beside you. Maybe mumbling a ghostly snatch of a word; mostly sniffling. It takes you half an hour to drift off again.

This unforgiving cycle obnoxiously persists until morning sunlight poking your sleeping mind wakes you. Suddenly, again. You see him.

It’s a mystery, how long, but Levi is gazing at you softly with bloodshot, but, maybe aware eye. You feel better when he glances away, like every time—if, not when—you catch him staring. Your legs are tangled slightly, his slow breaths brush your cheek.

"Baby," you murmur. "You’re awake?”

He looks annoyed. “No, I’m sleeping with my eyes open.”

“How do you feel? Be honest," you quickly add. You drape your arm around his waist.

He frowns at your tone. "...Like my head got hit with a sledgehammer.”

You say nothing.

His voice gets softer and gentler. “I don’t remember… And you look like shit. What happened?”

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

“…So I’m going to be wrong,” he surmises, looking away. “I slept in too late.”

He goes to rub his eye, and sniffs. The distress marring his expression grows.

“It’s been a couple days, but it’s alright,” you say. You’re quick to explain as the realization seems to come over Levi that he hasn’t had a proper bath in that length of time.

Though, it’s hard to explain. It’s even harder to wrap your mind around the fact that he doesn’t remember how he’d cried, and—insinuated, what he did. What horrors he spoke of.

You finish. Behind a thinly-veiled straight face, he stares into your eyes with the quiet accusation that you haven’t told the whole story.

“It… was… bad,” you bear to admit. “That’s why I look like shit.”

The self-loathing that falls over his expression like a deathly shroud is instant. He looks away, glaring at nothing, but before he can think anything, you squirm much closer, tighten your hold, and kiss his chin.

“It’s not your fault. And if I had to, I’d do it all over again. So don’t start.”

He watches you for a beat, as if searching for some exaggeration, but soon looks resigned to the truth in your vow. At this long-awaited point in your lives, with some legwork to say the least, you’re relieved to know you’ve finally got it beaten into his head that you love him, whether he agrees or not.

You watch him swallow, and many emotions cross his eyes as he mulls your words over.

“I don’t like that it’s just a flash for me,” he resolves.

“I know. But we can… talk about it?”

Honestly you’re shocked the words left your mouth. Levi also stares at you like you just spoke a foreign language. It’s pathetic, as he would say, sure, but—people like you and him don’t just talk about things like that which fueled those nightmares of his.

He looks away, considering. Finally, he brings hand up to yours, nestled deep under the covers. Your fingers clasp gently, foreheads brushing. His silvery blue eyes calmly watch yours. That’s his answer.

It’s so different, and not so comfortable right now, but you believe, now, that’s okay.

Levi masterlist | main masterlist

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman x you #levi x you #levi x y/n #levi ackerman x y/n #levi ackerman oneshot #levi ackerman angst #aot oneshots #aot fanfiction #captain levi x reader #captain levi x you #captain levi fanfiction

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vex91 · 4 months

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(G)I-DLE - Overprotective unnies

Pairing: (G)I-DLE x Female Reader (Platonic)

Fandom: (G)I-DLE

Requested by: Anonymous

Request: idk if ur still in the mood to write for g-idle n idk if you want smut but, what if you made any concept (smut, fluff , angst , etc) w/ the members n reader being 6th member 😻? -

(coming frm a person who knows nothing ab g-idle except queencard n yuqi , soon n minnie 😞)

Summary: It was obvious that you were (G)I-DLE's precious baby that they cared about a lot so it wasn't a surprise when they always had an eye on you, especially to keep you away from guys.

A/N: I wanted to write something platonic so I hope it's alright😄

3rd's POV

The award shows were always an interesting experience for you. Not only you were able to watch your other fellow artists perform on stage, you had a chance to win some awards and thank your fans but also you could talk and make new friends there. The more stressful side of them were definitely stares from your older members, especially when you interacted with male idols.

In their eyes no one was deserving of you, every idol who approached you was always not good enough in their eyes and the fact that they thought you were too young to date didn't helped. You never understood that, being only one year younger that Shuhua you thought that you were old enough to make your own decisions about dating but not in your members eyes.

"Guys where is Y/N?" Soyeon looked around not being able to find you until Minnie pointed at in the direction of Stray Kids table that was close to theirs. Somehow you managed to sneak from them and to Stray Kids's table and now you were having fun singing with them. Soyeon also noticed how close Hyunjin seemed to be to you and she didn't liked that but unfortunately she couldn't do much from her position so she signaled to Yuqi to join you and the guys and keep an eye on you.

Yuqi did as she was told and soon she was next to you also singing to cover up the way she pulled you a little away from Hyunjin who seemed a little disappointed. After some time Hyunjin tried to hold your hand under the table but Yuqi did it before him causing you to give her a look that she pretended not to notice. You looked between her and your other members who kept glancing your way and it annoyed you. You loved them but it annoyed you how overprotective they were. You were an adult after all, you could handle yourself.

Soon your group won one of the main awards causing you to walk up to the stage to make a speech. When you were speaking camera showed Hyunjin watching you with a lovestruck expression on his face, noticing the camera he looked down embarrassed as his members laughed, patting his back. You smiled but from the corner of your eye you noticed the glares he got from your members.

After the show you made your members sit down as you glared at them "What was all that about?" You asked them, your voice clearly showing how serious you were. None of them looked you in the eye because no matter how much they denied it, you scared them sometimes. Taking initiative of talking for them Soyeon spoke up "We tried to save you from all the dating rumors but it's probably too late now" You looked at her with an expression that screamed that's a bullshit "We all know it wasn't that. You guys just wanted to prevent me from getting his number. Listen I love you guys but I'm an adult, I know what I'm doing. You need to trust me more when it came to dating" They all looked down as the guilt sank in, they knew you were right but they couldn't help it sometimes. You were always their baby and it was hard getting used to you being an adult.

With a smirk you turned around "Fortunately I did got his number" And with that sentence a hell broke loose as the members started groaning and complaining still not fond of the idea of you dating but they had no choice but to trust you.

Doesn't change the fact that if you get hurt, someone else will get hurt even more.

#vex writes #(g)i-dle x reader #gidle x reader #(g)i-dle reactions #gidle reactions #cho miyeon x reader #nicha yontararak x reader #minnie x reader #seo soojin x reader #jeon soyeon x reader #song yuqi x reader #yeh shuhua x reader #cho miyeon #nicha yontararak #minnie #seo soojin #jeon soyeon #song yuqi #yeh shuhua

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rosazoldyckk · 1 year

Text

-Yandere! Illumi X Kidnapped! Reader-

⚠️warning⚠️ mentions of physical violence and abuse, un-consented NSFW moments (ONLY KISSING but still worth the tw) and needles.

Fandom: Hunter X Hunter. Character(s): Illumi Zoldyck, butler(s) (not specific)

A/N: I’m sorry if this is absolutely crap. I’ve got a lot of drafts about yandere Illumi, Chrollo and Hisoka so I didn’t really proof read this one😅 hope you enjoy my writing anyways❤️

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"You know how I feel about repeating myself Y/N." Illumi muttured, harshly sticking his needle into your already needle-covered head. His heartbeat increasing as your pained screams filled the room.

"I told you not to engage with them, didn't I?" He questioned, shoving another needle into your skull. You nod weakly, shivering at the cold chains while the burning sensation drew tears to your eyes.

Them, the them he's speaking of were simply butlers, which over time you considered friends after all the things they did to ensure your safety, that's all! Though he is probably no more. Your "lover" hated when you talked to anyone else, whether it was his butlers or even his own family, Illumi hated when you talked to anyone but him. That was the only thing that scared him, that was something he wouldn't allow happen. As long as he's alive he won't allow anyone to taint you, to see things in a different view than him.

It's unacceptable.

"Answer me."

The usual coldness of his voice had a tint of anger in it, which almost scared you, how could doing something so simple manage to make him this angry? "Y..es"

The dark-haired man smiled, a sick one at that. Moving closer, giving a thankfully soft tug on your blood-covered hair, pulling you into his arms. His hands being a bit closer to your back than you'd like. You simply attempted to ignore the sharp pain from the impact, thinking that it couldn’t get any worse than this.

As much as you tried to ignore the pain, it was enough for you to loose strength in resisting when Illumi fully closed the gap, placing his lips against yours experimentally. They were so oddly warm compared to the rest of him, molding to yours with ease as he moved against you. All you could sense was him. The dangerous may strong scent of pine with metallic undertones nearly becoming overpowering and almost intoxicating has he continued to kiss you breathless. It was almost enough to forget the pain shooting throughout your body.

Almost.

You attempted to protest with whatever strength you had left in your body but Illumi continued to cling onto you; the whine you let out muffled from his mouth over yours.

When he finally let you go, he left you breathless - chest heaving while you stared at him once more with eyes as wide as plates.

Illumi rubbed his thumb over your soft lips. Using his other one you run over your bruised back, snickering at your small flinches.

"Why must you disobey me like this Y/N? Why can't you make my job easier?" He whispers against your skin, talking more to himself than anything else.

"I love you so much," He sighed, kissing away from the salty tears streaming down your face. Being hardly able to contain himself in your disheveled state. "I'm only doing this because I love you, because others can and will seek to hurt you. You know I can't have that, don't you?"

You didn't have anything to say, there was nothing you really could say. You were confused beyond comprehension. How could he possibly hold you in his arms, look at you with such loving eyes after doing such unspeakable things to you? He doesn't want them to 'hurt you' but hasn't he hurt you more than they ever could? What could you possibly do now? Were you even in a position to go against his command?

You hiss at the sudden pain from the numerous questions racing through your head. Alerting the assassin much to your distress. The assassin could read you like an open book, studying you and your reactions longer than you can remember. As if knowing exactly what was going through your mind he scoffed, switching from his much nicer expression.

"And what could you possibly be thinking about?" Illumi asked, tapping on your cheek. "Ah, don't tell me it's those fools from earlier. It must be."

You let out a shaky sigh at his challenging tone. He knew he was right and so did you; that look you gave him only confirmed his suspicions. But the little bit of hope in your heart for them to be kept alive regardless of their so called ‘betrayal’, for them to continue helping you get back home. It would be your fault for their deaths after all.

Illumi gathered his needles from your head and freed you from the chains, catching you in his arms as you collapsed onto the floor. He let you go, still staring down at you as he licked your blood off the needles.

Crouching back down to you, he holds your face in one hand. "You'll stay here until you are properly disciplined, I have things to do." Though not realizing what they were you knew they were nothing but good. Pressing one last kiss to your cheek he leaned forward to whisper in your ear.

"Just remain by my side and behave, and everything will be alright."

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hobisstar · 7 months

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What are you hiding from love?| Yandere!Jk x Reader

Summary: Being in a relationship with Jungkook you’ve always noticed the signs, the red flags if you will. Being so in love with him you ignored them, until the people you loved dearly started disappearing one by one.

Warnings: Murder, Jungkook victim blaming ( like he will say i killed you because you are too stupid or whatever), Possessiveness, Mentions of Smut, Controlling, Locking up YN.

Taglist: vante 🫶🏾

A/N: This is made to be scary! That is all. I honestly dont like mixing smut with yandere because i read yandere fics to be spooked not horny lol.

5 years,

5 long years, of nothing but love and trust but more than that. Of course honesty, right?

Well on yn’s end there was definitely honesty. Jungkook’s? Not so much. You see there is this dark secret that jungkook has been hiding since they met 6 years ago…

It’s so deadly that it could possibly end their relationship if she found out about it.

She was so beautiful, so calm and gentle with him, he loved that side of her. Hes never seen her angry, sad, or even hurt. He never wants to see that side of her.

Jungkook doesn’t want to be the reason he sees that side of her.

Like now, There are siting on their shared bed, in their shared bedroom, in their shared apartment. Telling the truth, would risk him loosing all of this. He cant have that.

Jungkook looked at her then smiled, “ You are so beautiful you know?” He smiled, kissing the top of her head. YN blushed lightly staring up at him.

YN was quite literally everyone’s dream girl. Maybe that was the problem to Jungkook.

She was too good to everyone including himself and he hated. He knows she has a bad side but he never gets to see it so when he knows someone else gets to experience that mean side of her, he’s instantly jealous.

Who got his baby so pissed that she called you a dumb cunt? A fucking bitch? Who dares piss off his queen?

He will deal with them, with torture. Slow, painful, evil, demented, twisted death.

That was the other side of him he need to never be shown to his lover. It scared him that in any means possible she found out about his… hobby.

Nevertheless, Jungkook admires yn. How she can keep it together in every situation. Worships her to be exact.

“Stop calling be beautiful and get ready for work, handsome.” Yn responded while patting his back.

Right, work. Besides his hobby, he works at a flower shop while yn works at a cafe during the weekend. It’s enough to keep food on their table, to the rent, gas but also enough for simply living. Jungkook owns the flower shop so, he makes a whole lot of money.

There are so many things that yn doesn’t know about Jungkooks basically second life. How deadly it is.

jk: I miss you, baby~

I hate this fucking job

What are you doing?

Is bam stilling your attention from my text?

Babbbbbbbbyyyyy

yn answer the phone

yn: sorry baby! I was feeding bam and fixing me something to eat!

I left my phone in the bathroom

yn: j, you just got to work babes 🤨, how do you miss me already?

You didn’t even clock in yet SILLY!

jk: I can’t miss you now?

Since when did you feel like that?

yn: Jeon I never once said you couldn’t, don’t say that.

jk: but you where implying that…

yn: Jeon Jungkook, clock in, put your phone down, see you when you get home 😕🩷

jk: smh, why that face? Why that reply?

He waited for a reply but he never received one, instead he heard someone clear his throat. He looked up and saw it was a woman probably in her 30s, staring at him like he was a snack.

“Hi! JK right? I came in here a few days ago looking for some flowers for my sisters birthday! I doubt you remember me but I want to come back to get some for myself!” The lady bit her lip and looked Jungkook up then down and Jungkook thought he could be sick.

He forced a half smile, “ Yeah yeah, I don’t remember you. You can get them for yourself, I don’t remember the flower you got last time.” He looked back down at the book he was original decorating with different flower pictures but got bored so he texted his lover.

“oh.. I was hoping you could pick them for me, fresh ones. I know you all do that-,” “ we do but not this early.” He interrupted still looking down, knowing he is hurting the poor woman’s feelings for not even recognizing her or remembering the flower or even falling for her shitty attempt to flirt.

“Okay, ah well I’ll go grab them and pay for them.” She said waiting for a respond or even a nod but she didn’t even get that. She walked over there and grabbed them then returning to the register. While she put her things on the counter, she saw a glimpse of Jungkooks Lock Screen which so happens to be a picture of yn and bam sleeping on the couch. “ Your sister?” She asked, hoping she was right. “ My wife actually and our son.” He scanned the flowers and roughly wrapped them. Roses, it’s be sad if he left a thorn on them. He turned around and slightly cut the stem but enough to keep the thorn nice and sharp.

Jungkook turned back around and handed them to her. As soon as the woman grabbed them she gasped, in pain he assumed. He pretended to be concerned but when he saw the palm of her hand leaking red liquid, he smiled on inside.

“ Oh! Im so sorry! I thought I got all the thorns, out…” he looked up at her then saying “ I guess one snuck away.” giving her the most creepiest blank face the woman has ever seen. She then realized he left the thorn on on purpose. He even sharpened it. “ I can fix that for you-,” “ No! I-It’s fine! Thank you so much! See you!” She some what screamed and hurried out the store frightened.

“ too bad..” Jungkook mumbled and chuckled continuing to put pictures in the decorating book.

“Bam! You just keep growing!” Yn said as she walked into the kitchen smiling while seeing him staring at the spare room. It’s Jungkooks office. “ What’s the matter? You know your dad doesn’t like you going in there.Not even me.” She stooped to his level and petted his back but only received a whimper in return.

Yn stared at the door. It’s taunting her with its unlocked door handle. She looked at the time, it was only 5 pm, Jungkook wouldn’t be home for a few more hours.

“ A peak wouldn’t hurt us right?” Looking at Bam and he barked as if he understood her.

Yn stood up and opened the door walking in. It was a nice little tidy office.

It would be comforting even if it wasn’t so cold. She has to remember to turn on the air for this room once exiting.

She turned around seeing if Bam followed her inside but he was at his bowl slurping up some water.

Looking at the closet door she opened it up and turned on the light. “since when did he make this a dark room?” The red light was a little hard to see in but her eyes soon adjusted quickly.

Spooky wasn’t the feeling that she was feeling but more so unsettled. Yn looked at the photos on the table and quite literally almost vomited.

“ what… what is that?” Stammering as her eyes scanned over the photos laid out on the table.

Pictures of people being hurt, harmed. There were far more worse ones that she doesn’t even want to even mention. Gazing up on the line looking at the ones drying where pictures of, her.

This wouldn’t be weird if it wasn’t of her sleeping, in the shower, getting dressed, even at work.

“Did jungkook take these?… no way…”

Yn was flabbergasted,

Was her boyfriend of 5 years, a serial killer? A psychopath? A fucking weirdo? I mean she saw the signs but thought she was tripping.

Days where he would come home with blood and dirt on his hands and clothes. He would always say it was his and it came from the thorns he dealt with at work.

“yn! I’m home!” Jungkook shouted. As he walked in and smiled when he saw Bam sitting on the couch peacefully sleeping.

It’s where yn and bam usually cuddle so, where is she at?

“Did she leave you by yourself?” He asked Bam who was waking up from sleep. Walking towards the kitchen he saw dinner was made and a note on the fridge door.

“ Welcome home babes! Sorry I couldn’t be home to greet you, I went out to go get a few things but my sister called and said she wanted to have a little sibling time! Ha. Be back by 11 pm! Dinners fixed but do warm it up, then shower and get some sleep! See you later,

Love, Yn <3”

“Ah, I guess she did leave us by ourselves tonight Bam.” He chuckled and took off his jacket. He felt weird though.

Since when did her sister want to hang out so late? This is the first he ever heard of it. Pondering, he grabbed his phone and called yn’s sister.

“Hello? Jungkook?” She answered confused as ever at this late ass call. “Hey, sorry to call so late. is yn with you?” Jungkook asked but his full attention was on his office door.

“What? No she’s not. Why?” Without missing a beat Jungkook hung up the phone right after. He dialed yn’s number. What he wasn’t expecting was to hear her phone sitting right on the couch next to Bam. He watched it ring and sighed. Maybe she just went out and forgot it on accident, no need to panic.

For some reason in the back of his mind he felt as though she found out. She went into his forbidden office. Jungkook chuckled, “ she would never disobey me.” He warmed his food up then sat at the table but he couldn’t eat.

Nor could the feeling of her going in his office go away. He stood up and walked to the door and opened it.

At first he didn’t notice anything out of place until he realized it was warm in the room. He never turns the air on in this room. Jungkook looked around about to leave until something so obvious caught his eyes.

The red light illuminating on the other side of the closet door. With quick steps, he opened the door well threw it open. Nothing was touched but the light alone was a clear sign that someone was in there.

He mentally and physically cursed himself.

“ She knows, she fucking knows.” He calmly stated but boy was he heated.

“ I need to fucking find her…now.”

To be continued…

#jeon jungguk #jeon jungkook #bts #bts x reader #jk #jungkook x reader #bts jung jungkook #yandere!jungkook #jungkook ff #jungkook #jungkook yandere series

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e-dubbc11 · 2 months

Text

To Love You More

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: mentions of Billy’s abandonment, love confessions, maybe a swear word or two, fluffy bunnies and unicorns

Word Count: 2.3K-ish

Summary: Billy shows up at your apartment drunk. You’re surprised at what he has to tell you.

A/N: Based off of the song To Love You More by Celine Dion (don’t you judge me 🤣, the violin in it is really pretty) Sunday mornings are my alone time so I was food prepping and serenading my dog when the song came on so I continued to sing to her and this idea popped in my head. I hope you like it ♥️

As always, thank you for reading! I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

The three loud raps against your door startled you.

The noise scared you bad enough to cause you to toss some of your popcorn onto the floor. You managed to regain control of your wine glass before you dropped that onto the floor too. Pausing the movie, you placed the bowl and wine glass onto the coffee table and cautiously walked over to the door.

The clock on the microwave read 1:25 AM.

The three knocks came again along with a voice you recognized. “B-baby you awake?” He boomed from the other side of the door.

“Billy? Is that you?” You asked, relaxing a little when you heard your boyfriend’s voice.

“C-can y-you lemme in s-sweet girl? P-please? I-I f-feel like I’m gonna f-fall over.” He slurred.

Oh boy…

Billy had an event for his company, Anvil, tonight. As CEO, he had to make an appearance but by the sounds of it, he stayed a little longer than he probably should have.

Your relationship with Billy was still somewhat new; he hadn’t asked you to accompany him to one of these events yet and you were using the term “boyfriend” loosely.

The two of you spent a lot of time together but you just assumed he didn’t want to put a label on it and you couldn’t shake the feeling you were just setting yourself up for a heartbreak because you knew a lot of men like Billy…and dated them. They didn’t have relationships or want them; they just played with you until they were ready to move on.

But unless Billy was an exceptionally good actor, he really seemed like he was having a lot of fun with you and in turn, you were having a lot of fun with him. More than anything, you wanted this relationship to work because he made you feel loved even if he hadn’t said it out loud.

You opened the door. Billy stood leaning against the doorframe; his tie was loose around his neck. Normally perfectly styled, his ebony colored hair was slightly tousled and grazed the top of his eyebrows, and the top buttons on his crisp white dress shirt were undone. He still looked incredibly handsome.

Billy’s cheeks were flushed from the chilly winter air as he greeted you with that familiar million-dollar smile. His eyes were halfway open and you could still smell the bourbon on his breath as he pinched your chin and gave you a slightly sloppy kiss.

“W-well don’t you look a-adorable!” He exclaimed.

You chuckled a little and bit back a smile because you were just wearing pajama pants and a ribbed tank top. It wasn’t anything special.

“I-I had that work th-thing tonight.” He said, gliding into your apartment and trying not to lose his balance. “I-I might ha-have had a little tooooooo much to drink.”

“Yes, it does seem like you had one too many.” You said, biting back a slight smile. “Come on, lieutenant. Can you make it over to the couch?”

Billy started to carefully walk over to the couch when he looked down and noticed your spilled popcorn.

“Y-you sp-spilled some, baby. Oh shit…d-did I sc-scare you when I knocked on the d-door?” He asked, trying his best to not slur his words.

“A little.” You replied. “But it’s ok. What are you doin’ here, Billy?”

After removing his jacket, you helped Billy sit down. His long, slender fingers grazed the skin of your lower back when he lifted the hem of your tank top as he planted himself on your couch. Shivers danced up and down your spine while goosebumps sprinkled across your exposed skin. His touches always burned your skin in the most delightful way, every time.

“I-I just missed youuuuu. Y-you shoulda come w-with me tonight. Oh, I-I probably should have asked you to come with m-me.” He said, nervously.

It had to be the alcohol making him say all this but it made your heart swell to hear that he missed you.

Making sure he was seated firmly on the couch, you tried to let go of his hand to walk away. “I’m gonna get you some water and ibuprofen, I’ll be right back.”

Billy didn’t let go of your hand.

“I scared y-you tonight, huh. I g-guess I just scare everyone. Anyone that tries to get close, I p-push them away. I p-pushed my mother away too, ya know. Sh-she didn’t want me either.” He said, his voice a little steadier.

Billy didn’t talk much about his childhood. You knew he was a product of the system but he didn’t elaborate on that after he told you. That was the first time he had ever mentioned his mother to you.

Crouching down in front of him, you looked into his eyes, brushed the bristles of his beard with your thumbs and replied, “You haven’t pushed ME away, baby. I’ll always want you.”

With his other hand, he pushed back the hair that had fallen into his eyes so he could get a better look at you. His mouth split into a shy smile as he leaned in to touch his forehead to yours. The scent of bourbon was on his lips as he softly pressed them against your freshly cleansed skin and you inhaled the aroma of his spicy cologne.

“I-I don’t want to push you away, my love. I’ve waited a long time for you.” Whispered Billy. “Y-you let me be…me. I love you, y/n.”

Billy didn’t know what he was saying; he couldn’t have meant that. The alcohol flowing through his veins clearly allowed him to talk freely and tell you things that he never told anyone else. You thought maybe he would later regret doing that but it was too late now.

“Ok, you’ve had a lot more to drink than I thought and I know you don’t mean that but I’ve told you before, you can always be yourself with me, Billy. I will never judge you.” You said in barely more than a whisper as his eyelids became heavy and you coaxed him to swing his legs up onto the couch. “Lie back for me, baby. Thaaaaat’s it…”

“No, I really do mean it y/n!” Said Billy, in a slightly elevated tone.

“Oooooook, time to get some sleep, soldier.” You replied, playfully.

He was asleep before his head hit the pillow. His lean body was fully stretched out with one hand resting on his chest, the other was draped off the side with his knuckles barely skimming the floor as you gingerly covered him with a blanket.

Before turning off the living room lamp, you watched Billy sleep for a few minutes, stroking his handsome face with your knuckles and you warmed his skin as you lightly pressed your lips to his cheek and then to his lips.

He didn’t move.

In the gathering darkness, before going to your bedroom, you whispered in Billy’s ear, “I’m always here for you, Billy. I love you too…goodnight my love.”

Your pillow cradled your head as you stared up at the ceiling, thinking about Billy’s confessions to you that left you wondering if he meant any of what he had said and would he remember any of it? If you were to put any money on it, you would have said he wouldn’t remember any of it, deny that he even said anything, or blame the alcohol and he didn’t mean a word of it.

Before drifting off to sleep, a slight smile stretched across your lips. He came to you wanting nothing more than to tell you that he missed you, that he wanted you by his side tonight and upset with himself that he didn’t ask. With zero hesitation, you would have said yes.

Well…there was always next time.

**********

Your eyes lightly fluttered opened and closed again as the mattress dipped underneath you. A warm body spooned up behind you and Billy kissed your bare shoulder. A handful of hours must have passed as the early morning sky was just starting to lighten. He must have stripped down to his boxer briefs because you felt his skin touch yours as his long arms wrapped around your waist.

Humming into your ear, he kissed the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. You loved when he did that and a soft moan of his name escaped your lips as a reflex.

“Mmmmm…Billy.” You said.

Billy buried his head into your neck like a cat, desperately wanting to be as close as he possibly could to you. He gripped you tightly, possessively like he was afraid to let you go as he purred into your ear, “You meant it, right baby? That you’ll always be there for me?”

In the liquid darkness, you turned to face him. You couldn’t see him with the exception of some of his features. His lips were close to yours as he repeated, “I heard you. You said you’d always be there. I’m not making that up, right?”

Slowly, you extended your hand, reached for him, and started to gently rake your nails against his scalp as you replied, “Of course, Billy. As long as you want me, I’m here baby.”

“As long as I want you?” He questioned. “As long as YOU want ME!” He said.

Billy’s lips crashed against yours, his hands tightly gripped your waist, your lips parted as his tongue slipped into your mouth, wanting to tangle with yours. His raven colored hair glided in between your fingers and you could feel a trace of his smile against your lips as he continued to kiss you in the softly filtered glow of your bedroom.

After and holding you in a firm embrace, he told you about his mother and it wasn’t a mystery anymore of why he didn’t trust people, or why he didn’t let anyone get too close. He was afraid of being abandoned again.

Billy never wanted to feel the way he did standing outside that fire station, a scared little boy wondering what he did wrong for his mother to leave him and never come back. It wasn’t his fault and you made sure to tell him that he did not push her away. That was all her doing.

As he spoke, you wondered if Billy could ever completely forgive his mother for what she did. And if he could, he’s a much better person than you are because you could never forgive her for that. The dull ache in your chest persisted as you felt your heart break for him.

Billy was a child, he didn’t deserve to be treated that way, but she earned everything she got in return. She didn’t deserve a second chance, not after abandoning her own child like she did.

The stars slowly disappeared as the sky started to brighten. And in that early morning light, you could finally see Billy’s dark eyes fixed on yours, like he was waiting until he could actually see you to say what he wanted to say next.

“I know you thought I was too drunk or that I didn’t mean it but I do mean it, sweet girl. I love you. I’ve never told anyone about her except you because I feel like—“ Billy said then paused.

It was a struggle for him to tell you how he really felt but he was trying and you could never fault him for wanting to be better.

He continued.

“I feel like I can…trust you.”

Love and trust…those were two things Billy never thought he’d ever experience. You’ve never given him a reason not to trust you. He said it earlier…”You let me be…me.” If he wanted to talk, you would let him and no matter how much or how little he wanted to say, that was enough for you.

Even though he had trouble verbalizing how he was feeling, he would show you how much he cares with a surprise cup of coffee at work in the middle of the day, or a donut from the place down the street because you “like their sprinkles,” a walk in the park on a warm sunny day, or reading to you because he knows you love listening to his voice.

Those were just a few of the ways Billy Russo expressed his feelings for you. Deep down in the pit of your stomach, you knew he meant what he said. Those three little words he never expressed until tonight…to anyone.

Feeling the warmth of his skin, you inched closer to him and his gentle exhale brushed against your lashes; you gave him a warm smile and gently pressed your lips to his.

“I love you too, baby. And you can trust me that no one will ever love you more than I do.” You said softly against his lips.

The night blackened window of your bedroom had started to brighten with the sun attempting to break through the small space in between your curtains as you held each other in silence.

Sometimes words weren’t always necessary. Actions speak volumes and really attest to someone’s feelings and intentions toward you. Putting his trust in you helped to pick up the pieces of Billy’s broken heart and carefully put it back together again.

Billy didn’t say anything else and he didn’t have to. The way his lips crushed against yours, how he lovingly kissed every inch of you, his fingers tracing all the curves and hollows of your body, and how gentle he was when he caressed your face…there wasn’t any doubt in your mind now that Billy Russo adored you, that he only wanted to be with you, and more than anything, that he loved you.

I’ll be waiting for you

Here inside my heart

I’m the one who wants to love you more

You will see I can give you

Everything you need

Let me be the one to love you more

Tag List: @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialend @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @rosaleenablack @vaguekayla @qu1etwolf @danzer8705 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @jvanilly @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @ittybxttykxttytxtty @russosafehaven @mrsbillyrusso

If you’d like to be added (or removed from) my tag list(s) for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfic #billy russo imagine #billy russo x female reader #billy russo x you #billy russo x y/n

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nxrdamp · 1 year

Note

I’m having a huge Arven moment so I decided to ask for something cute and a little funny ☺️

Maybe Arven’s mabosstiff dislikes the reader’s dachsbun for awhile, until they just turn into inseparable best friends 😭 I love dogs and these two canine dog Pokémon stole my heart!!

Masterlist

Arven x Gn! Reader - Puppy Love

A warm sunny day in Paldea, something that was no rare occurrence. Nevertheless still enjoyed. Especially enjoyed by one little Dachsbun. (Y/n)’s Dachsbun was currently frolicking in the fields surrounding their picnic, playing with the (orange/purple) ball.

“Wow little buddy” Arven said while finely chopping basil for the sandwich,”Your Dachsbun there sure loves the outdoors. Cant say the same for ol’ Mabosstiff here.”

Mabosstiff, who was currently curled up underneath the fold out table, ruffed in annoyance.

“Awww” (Y/n) said, crouching to be eye to eye with Mabosstiff,”You don’t like the sun, do ya bud?”

He shook his head in response, but only to be interrupted by the other dog-like pokémon running over towards the table to eat the scraps of ham that fell from the sandwich, much to Arven’s complaints.

Mabosstiff growled defensively, making poor Dachsbun quiver and run behind (Y/n)‘s legs.

“Yeah don’t eat that- Hey, Mabosstiff” Arven said, placing his hands on his hips in a very motherly fashion,”Don’t be rude to their pokémon!…well maybe except (Koraidon/Miraidon)”

“Hey!” (Y/n) protested,”(Koraidon/Miraidon) is important too!”

Arven only looked over to them and gave them a “really?” look as the legendary was currently trying to steal Dachsbun’s sandwich.

(Y/n) only sighed, walking over to Dachsbun’s abandoned sandwich, and grabbing it to give it to the scared pokémon.

“Now Dachsbun, eat this and leave poor Mabosstiff alone. He doesn’t wanna play right now.”

The puppy pokémon looked up, her sad puppy dog eyes threatening to spill tears, and slowly took the sandwich and trotted away to a secluded place by the rocks.

Arven sadly sighed, seeing the pitiful sight before him,”Maybe I can do some convincing to Mabosstiff, to, ya know, be friends with Dachsbun. Poor girl is eating all alone.”

“Yeah.” (Y/n) replied, crossing their arms over their chest,”So much for a picnic. It seems to be more of a drama fest than anything.”

“I agree” Arven said,”This definitely is no where near the Lady and the Tramp. No spaghetti scene for these two, it appears.”

(Y/n) snorted in response, causing Arven’s heart to swell. No one laughs at his corny jokes, especially that not quote “bothersome student council girl”.

“It seems like we’re gonna have to be together a lot more to make them be friends. It’s a win-win” (Y/n) said, causing Arven to blush and hide his face in his hair.

“U-Um okay. Cool. Cool. I’ll uhh I’ll see you tomorrow! Make sure to bring Dachsbun and NOT (Koraidon/Miraidon).

(Y/n) kept the promise they’d heard, and brought Dachsbun and (Koraidon/Miraidon).

———

Over the span of the next week, every day they tried to get Mabosstiff and Dachsbun closer together.

And every day they failed.

“Damn it.” Arven said, looking at Mabosstiff who was currently kicking Dachsbun off of (Y/n)’s couch,”Why don’t they get along?”

“Maybe they just don’t share experiences with each other” (Y/n) suggested,”Like we battled through hell at Area Zero, and they kinda didn’t together. That’s probably why we’re so close and they’re not.”

“Not close enough…” Arven muttered under his breath, low enough where (Y/n) couldn’t hear

“Maybe we should go on a trip!!” (Y/n) said,”Why not to Kalos? It’s right on the edge of Paldea!”

“Hmmm. Thats a good idea, actually, thanks little buddy!” Arven said, attempting to give a “friendly” shoulder pat.

“Why do you call me little buddy? I feel like we’re more than ‘buddies’.”

Arven coughed, trying to fight a loosing battle against the blush creeping onto his face,”W-What?!?”

“Yeah! We’re the best buddies ever! Best friends!” (Y/n) said, giving Arven a hug.

‘I don’t even care I was just friend-zoned, I love this’ He thought to himself

“All right then, (Y/n), let’s-“

“(Y/n)?” They asked,”Just plain old (Y/n)? Do I mean that little to you?”

“N-NO!” Arven said, grabbing their shoulders and looking down to meet their sad eyes,”YOU’RE AMAZING! YOU’RE MY BEST BUD EVER AND I WISH YOU WERE MORE- I MEAN I APPRECIATE YOU BEING THERE FOR ME….haha….ha…..man I screwed up didn’t I?”

(Y/n) looked into his saddened blue eyes, tears threatening to spill,”No! You didn’t Arven, I-“

“You don’t have to say it! I know you hate me now!” Arven said, storming off.

“-feel the same way….” They finished before being blasted by a rush of air across their legs.

Dachsbun ran after Arven, seeking to comfort the crying boy on the doorstep of (Y/n)’s residence.

Mabosstiff perked up, seeing how the normally hyper pokémon was slowly and gently crawling into the lap of Mabosstiff’s trainer, giving him doggy kisses.

Arven starting to laugh through the sniffles of his crying, giving Dachsbun a good belly rub as she flopped down dramatically in his lap.

Mabosstiff then got off of the couch, and went over to (Y/n), who was letting the tears fall on their own face now.

“Hey Mabosstiff…you okay?” They asked, rubbing his head.

He barked in response, nudging their legs in the direction of his trainer.

“You think he’d listen?”

“Woof!”

“I take your word for it.”

They patted Mabosstiff on the head one last time before stepping out of the threshold of their home, and sitting beside the boy who was wiping his tears.

“You never let me finish, Arven, I like you back. Have since you told me about Mabosstiff and the Herba Mystica. I really have feelings for you. I’m not ‘just saying that’, I mean it Arven.”

“Ohhhh (Y/n)” He said, bawling his eyes out,”You mean so much to me! I love to hear you say that! Please, hold onto me and never let go”

“Trust me” (Y/n) said, looking into his glassy blue eyes,”I won’t. They apparently won’t either”

Both of their eyes adverted to Mabosstiff and Dachsbun, who were cuddled up beside each other watching the scene between their trainers unfold.

“THEY LIKE EACH OTHER!!” Arven said, crying even more out of joy,”THEY’RE FRIENDS!!!”

(Y/n) laid their head on his chest,”Yeah they are, but we sure aren’t, at least not anymore.”

“What…? I thought you said-“

(Y/n) looked up into Arven’s eyes,”Yeah, we’re more than friends”

Arven, who is now blushing instead of crying, turns his face to hide it in his hair,”Okay. Cool. Cooool. That’s cool.”

“You can be happy Arven, no need to cover it up with your ‘cool guy persona’”

Arven just laughed, resting his chin atop of (Y/n)‘a head,”You’re crazy little buddy”

“Yeah so are you Arvy”

“I like that” He replied,”My (Mom/Dad) never gave me a nickname, so I’m glad it was you”

“It’s my pleasure Arvy”

The two of them sat on (Y/n)‘a doorstep, watching the sun set as the two dogs who once hated each other, played with Dachbun’s toys together.

——

Word Count: 1177

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logo-ssspathosss · 5 months

Text

team bolas rojas gas masks designs??

in THIS day and age?????

it may be more likely than you think..

this was my first time drawing a series of different gas masks, no idea if they’re accurate at all, but it was really fun!!

**notes & closeups under the cut :-D**

it’s a lot of notes so be prepared for an info dump.

NOTES:

Philza: honestly, what more is there to say than “CROW MAN!!”? aside from his goggles being glow-in-the-dark, theres not much more to the mask design. however, i decided, “hey! this is purgatory! i can fuck up these characters!” so, he has a ripped ear(?)wing and messily cut back hair. (i didn’t pay too much attention to the hair in this design, i was mainly trying to get the gas masks down, but maybe i’ll go further into later.)

Cellbit: this is definitely one of my favorites, he looks pretty scary, i would NOT stop my car if i saw him on the side of the road. its based off of a cat mask(obviously) and a painted white streak goes through his mask, inspired by his hair. i didn’t include it, but circles in the goggles are supposed to retract with different emotions (kind of how cat’s eyes do, saucer and dagger pupils.) he’s also covered in blood because he’s going through it lore wise.

Slimecicle: ngl, it was my first time drawing code charlie(other than all the wips i have that i’ll never finish),but i think he’s pretty spooky. his mask is the worst quality, like it USED to work well until he wore it out. thus, there are broken air tubes that let the gas in. (he should probably get those replaced.) the holes for his horns are kind of like an airlock, so the gas can’t enter through them (phil helped him make it.) however, it makes it difficult to take off.

Baghera: baghera’s mask is kind of built like charlie’s, except in much better quality. aside from the loose air tubes, the mask almost goes all the way around her head, not letting even the slightest bit of gas in. theres also a plastic duck beak on top of the regular breathy-thing(i have no idea what i’m doing, so, no, i don’t know the technical term for that) to give it the “bird touch.”

Jaiden: jaiden’s mask was FUN. like i kinda went overboard. i did these all on different days, and this was the night after the big egg battle day. i saw she had fnaf bonnie ears along with her bird gas mask, and said “ok cool. i’ll add that.” she has the same feather/beak thing i gave to baghera. also, hair-wise, she gets a hair bun and her brown roots showing through(we love messy haired cubitos ^^)

Foolish: foolish was interesting, not sure i like the final product, but i’m tired, so it’ll do. his mask is based off of a lemon shark. he gas glowing green eyes and golden splotches on the leather. the air tube foolish has is REALLY long. like unnaturally long. so he wraps it around his neck to get it out of the way. the other members are extremely concerned it’ll choke him one day, but foolish thinks it’s cool and will scare other teams away. kind of like a “yea, i’m crazy, i could choke and die at any minute, and i don’t care.” phil, being the protective father figure of the group, does not like this at all.

Carre: and finally, we have carre. ah, sweet, sweet carre.(he is my favorite.) his mask is based off of a snow leopard because i hc he’s half feline. carre has the lightest, and most simple mask, since it’s entirely plastic, and more so based off of skiing or snowboarding goggles.

ANYWAY, i hope these notes make sense, excuse my rambling about silly designs, i tend to doodle messily, and not really have a plan when i draw, lol.

thanks for reading, BYE!

#qsmp team red #team bolas #bolas rojas #<- do they have any other names?#q!philza #q!cellbit #q!charlie #q!baghera #q!jaiden #q!foolish #q!carre #qsmp purgatory #thats a lot of tags omg #spatcat!!art

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oomisluvr · 1 year

Text

DO YOU THINK OF ME? (IN THE WAY I THINK OF YOU)

SYNOPSIS: falling in love after falling out of it. he’s still your kiyoomi after all this time.

WARNINGS: ex-boyfriend!sakusa, lame!sakusa, awkward!sakusa, light swearing, references to sex but nothing super graphic, a little sad ngl but the ending is happy (or is it??), 4k words, MINORS, YOU KNOW THE DRILL

You’re not sure what started the break-up. The beginning of the end. You only know that it’s been eight months since you’ve last seen your ex, and the sight of him now feels like looking at a ghost.

Kiyoomi was obsessed with perfection. Still is, probably. Constantly drove himself to the brink just to achieve it, then wore his suffering as if it were a prize. It was all part of his look, the illusion of being put-together.

In a lot of ways, he treated your relationship like that. Part of an illusion; a specific look. Like you were an accessory to his image. Yet another thing for people to covet about his life.

You, however, are not perfect. No one is. Hell, no relationship is perfect. You know that. Everybody knows that.

Kiyoomi hated it. Some days it felt like he hated you.

Life felt so good when all you did was dress up for galas and fall into bed with one another. When all you had to do was look pretty and smile for the media.

It made it easy to avoid your problems, until it wasn’t. Until so much resentment built up that you wanted to hit him with a car. Kiyoomi preferred to avoid your problems, while you faced the situation head on. He loved you, sure, but it felt like he always had one foot out the door. Ready to run when things inevitably went up in flames.

It exhausted you – trying to reach a person who didn’t want to be touched. You wanted more, and Kiyoomi was scared of what you might see if you got too close. Did you ever really know him? Maybe it was easier to cut things off. Maybe you could have worked it out.

The last few months of your relationship had been a blur. Fuzzy memories that feel so distant you can’t tell if you made them up or not. You can recall his general fear towards life, despite how hard he tried to overcome it. You remember how… tired he was. All the time. About everything. Including you.

How do you help someone who doesn't want to be helped? You can't. You can only love them, but Kiyoomi didn't let you do that either.

Months later, you still don’t know what happened. Who pushed who away?

You blink, remembering where you are.

He’s with his friend now, the rowdy one with the bleached hair. He gives you a once-over and visibly recoils, clapping your ex on the back with a mumble you can’t hear. You haven’t moved. Neither of you have. What is there to say?

He’s still got that same piercing stare, studying you like one of his opponents from the court. Your heart thrums, remembering the nights he used to look at you like you were the only woman in the world. The memory burns, but you can’t seem to look away.

He looks good, but he always looks good so that’s not really saying much. It’s the smaller details in his appearance that give him away. The dark circles under his eyes are more noticeable, now a deeper shade of purple in contrast to his sickly-pale skin. His face is a little slimmer too, clothes that are usually well-fitted are now draping loosely over his frame. It’s a small enough difference that any other person in his life probably wouldn’t notice.

But you aren’t any other person, are you?

He’s hurting. Bad. The irony makes your gut wrench, fills your bones with lead then tells you to take a dive off a pier. You ignore the voice in your head that whispers that you caused this; you did this to him. You broke him.

“Hey,” he clears his throat, clearly rattled by your presence, “It’s… been a while. You look well. Nice to see you.”

“Yeah, uh, you too.” you chuckle, mindlessly scratching an itch on your elbow just to give your hands something to do, “How have you been?”

“The usual, y’know,” He’s strikingly good at evading even the most direct questions. “You look like you’ve been doing well.”

“You…” You suppress a grin, poking fun to make light of the situation, “Already said that.”

“Right, sorry.” Your sentiments fly right over his head. Kiyoomi looks… distressed to say the least. This is painful to watch. From your peripheral, you see his friend gag.

“I was actually wondering if we could catch up.” He forces the words out, the words clumsy when they leave his mouth, “Maybe do dinner or something. Catch a movie whenever. Bowling? Only if you want to, though. Whatever’s best for you.” The words are clipped and short, trying much too hard to be casual.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” You mumble, because it’s true. It’s 100% not a good idea to spend time alone with your ex-boyfriend. That damn itch on your elbow is back again, “New job has been hounding me all hours of the day.”

“Uh, yeah, sorry,” He looks crushed, the light in his eyes from initially seeing you now gone entirely. “I didn’t mean to make you… uncomfortable or anything. I just–yeah, sorry. Congrats on the new job, though. I told you that you could do it.”

You nod in agreement at his praise. You remember the night he told you those exact words, after comforting you over a bad day at your previous job. You remember how he took it upon himself to make your resume, sending it out to every employer in the city. It was invasive and honestly a little weird, but that’s just how he shows his love.

Overprotective. Overbearing. It used to be so sweet before it felt suffocating. Like flowers that were nice in the vase on the windowsill. Until their pollen started closing your throat. Like a swim in the ocean on a Summer afternoon. Fun, until you're miles out from shore with no way home, saltwater clouding your vision and burning your lungs.

You feel the waves wash over you. You clear your throat, like you can feel some pollen, too.

“Actually,” you can’t stop the words from coming, you’ve lost sight of the shore already, “I think I have some time Thursday night. Maybe we could do something together then.”

“Yeah, sure.” He amends, eyes brightening slightly, “That works. I’ll, uh, text you?”

“I got a new number recently,” You don’t know why you lie to him, “You can just DM me on Instagram. If we decide to do something.”

(You didn’t get a new number, but iMessage feels too personal. Social media feels like the perfect amount of distance.)

“For sure. I’ll text you. So we can do something.”

“Sounds good,” you offer a tight-lipped smile, “See you around, Sakusa.”

You can see something die in him when he hears his surname on your tongue. You used to call him Kiyoomi. Ki. Omi. Kiyo. Baby, but only sometimes. You used to call him sweetheart, when you really wanted something. Fuck, you used to call him yours. He blinks wildly, like you just struck him across the face. He stumbles a bit when he comes back to reality, rushing to get the door for you and holding it open, “See you around.”

He watches you the whole way, still standing at the door as you drive off, his figure disappearing in the rearview mirror.

He texts you immediately.

@s.kiyoomi [7:47PM]: It was great to see you again. Are we still down for Thursday??

You suppose that’s why it’s so easy to fall into bed with him, the familiarity of it all. Your body remembers his touches, had missed it. You writhe and moan and claw at his back before you’re both reaching your peaks, honey-slow and all-encompassing. It echoes to the furthest corners of your body and you feel it everywhere. He kisses your forehead after you both come down, even mumbles a breathless thank you against the skin there. It’s good, the familiarity. Good, good, good.

He leaves after that, when you don’t ask him to stay. He takes the hint. Good.

He comes back a few days later, though. Somehow he forgot his gloves. You guys fuck then, too. It’s good.

The next time he comes back to your apartment, it’s you who calls him. Not good.

You hadn’t meant to lurk. To make a burner account to follow all the Jackals for signs of Kiyoomi. You hadn’t meant to tap on Atsumu’s Instagram story. Hadn’t meant to keep tapping through it.

It’s a group picture with Atsumu and three other people including Kiyoomi. The one with the orange hair has a makeshift crown scribbled over his head, with a tag to his account and a sweet happy birthday message. The one with the gray hair is there, too, captured mid-sentence with a Heinekin in his hand. You had met him a few times. You remember he was sweet. Loud, but sweet. You smile at the photo, studying all the faces. Kiyoomi looks especially good, a small smirk on his face as he stares at the camera. Everyone is dressed handsomely. Good for them.

The next story is taken with the flash on, a short video of a packed club, sweaty bodies pressed on each other as they bump and grind to the music. There’s a figure that looks an awful lot like Sakusa, occupying a dark corner and talking to a smaller, thinner figure. Good for him. If that even is him. Good, good, good.

It’s the next story that has something ugly swelling in the pit of your stomach. It's a bigger group picture, with maybe 15 people. Everybody looks a little gone, probably wasted from so many complimentary shots and discounted birthday beers, so nobody is paying much attention to the camera, their minds elsewhere. Including Sakusa. Well, that, and the fact that he’s got an arm around that same girl from the previous story, captured mid-laugh as they whisper about whatever the hell they’re whispering about.

It shouldn't bother you. It does. It has you sifting through your contacts to find his number.

“Hello, Kiyoomi?” It’s loud when he picks up the phone, wherever he is at this point in the night.

“Hey,” He sounds concerned and a little surprised, the commotion in the background slowly drowning out until you hear a door slam and it’s silent. The audio quality changes to staticky echoes. He must be in a bathroom, “Sorry, it was a little loud back there. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” You don’t know where this surge of embarrassment came from. Or why you’re reacting this way. “I was just calling if you wanted to watch the new season of You with me tonight. If you’re busy, don’t worry about it, I just thought—“

“Yes,” It sounds like a prayer, like something worthy of celebration, “Of course I do. I’m just a few blocks away. I could be there in fifteen minutes. Eight, if I run.”

“Oh,” Part of you knew he would react like this, that he’d come running to your every beck and call. Part of you knows it's why you even called in the first place. You don’t know what that says about your character. You don’t care to know. “You don't have to rush over, we could always–”

There’s a banging on his side of the line, with a muffled demand to hurry the hell up, “Sorry,” he apologizes, though you aren’t sure to who, “I’ll head right over.”

The call ends.

You bite your cheek in anticipation, watching Atsumu’s instagram story again and again.

He comes running, breathless as he pounds on your door.

Eight minutes pass. Have you been watching his story all this time?

“Hey,” You greet him warmly, opening the door to fully let him in, “You look nice.”

“Thank you,” he tries not to let the compliment get to his head, but he’s already dizzy from seeing you, “It was Hinata's birthday yesterday, so we all went out to celebrate with him for the weekend.”

“I saw,” you comment, “Atsumu is very active on social media.”

“I took some pictures, come look.”

It’s alarming how casual the two of you are, laughing on your sofa like old friends.You never gave it much thought, but there’s bits of him strewn around your apartment. His old highschool sweatshirt he never picked up. Throw blankets he brought over one night and never got back. There's a faded popcorn stain on the couch from when the two of you would binge movies together, the blemish etched into the fabric like a memory.

The grin he’s wearing tonight mimics the one from months ago, when you were choosing between centerpieces for a wedding reception. Your ribs ache.

“I thought the nightlife wasn’t really your thing?” You tease, a little bit of truth behind your words. You used to fight about this, too. Why couldn’t he be one of those “normal” boyfriends that go out with their partners? Couldn’t he do this one thing for you? Your fights were so petty – throwing tantrums just to get the other person’s attention. In hindsight, the issue hardly feels like an issue at all.

“It wasn’t. Still isn’t, if I’m being honest.” His eyes find yours like he wants you to hear this. He’s different, somehow. He’s trying. “But I'm, uh, learning to try new things. Getting outside of my comfort zone and all that. It’s been fun, for the most part.”

As he swipes through his camera roll, you see that girl again. She’s terribly pretty, soft cheeks and even softer lips. Big, doe eyes and high cheekbones; something in you withers, then rots and dies.

“This is a good photo,” You can’t help the smile on your face at the sight of Kiyoomi and the blonde, throwing up the signature Jackals paw and grinning drunkenly at the camera. You tell the truth despite the words burning on your tongue, “She seems really sweet.”

“She is,” He confirms, oblivious as ever, “Talks a lot, but she means well.”

“You two look good together.” Somehow it hurts more to say aloud. Makes it real, somehow. “You guys seem really close.”

“Yaichi? I mean, yeah, she’s a friend from college. She’s new to the team and I’m the only one she really knows. She tends to follow me around since we’ve known each other the longest.”

You hum, as he continues swiping. The thick atmosphere feels all too familiar to Kiyoomi, and suddenly he’s rushing forward with an explanation.

“She’s just,” nervousness bubbles out of him, “Our team manager, or something. She’s been shadowing that guy you think has weird hair.”

“Kuroo?” you laugh, remembering. You’re glad the conversation has shifted. “I never said he had weird hair!”

“You definitely did. On several occasions, actually.” He prods, “It’s alright – everyone thinks he has weird hair.”

Kuroo always looked out for you. Got you free tickets, never made you pay for merch, let Kiyoomi sneak you into the beautiful foreign countries they played in – that sort of thing.

You feel your grin fade. That connection was severed after the breakup, “How is he, by the way?”

There’s a lot to catch up on – characters in Kiyoomi’s life that you are no longer a part of. It’s a bittersweet feeling, but you’re glad everyone is doing well even if you aren’t around to see it. The conversation spans late into the night, branching off on wild tangents about nothing in particular. You’re almost sad when you feel yourself getting sleepy. You don’t want it to end.

You truly have missed him. His company. His friendship. He’s still you’re Kiyoomi after all this time.

“Sorry for keeping you up,” He apologizes after seeing a yawn slip past your lips, checking his watch with a chuckle. It’s black. Sleek. Probably a Rolex. Very Sakusa, “I should head home and let you get to bed.”

“Okay,” You rub your eyes, too tired to protest, “Let me walk to the door.”

Kiyoomi is silent as he helps you clean up the space, folding your throw blankets and fluffing the decor pillows. He lets you get his coat for him.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” His keys are loud as they dangle in his hand. He lingers in your doorway.

“Goodnight, Kiyo.” You sigh.

Neither of you move. Time seems to slow. It still ticks by too fast. You open your mouth to speak, but he beats you to it.

“I, uh, really missed this.” He swallows, “I really missed you.”

“Yeah,” You’re tired of fighting. Physically, mentally. You want him, still. He’s still your Kiyoomi, after everything, despite everything, “Me too.”

He chuckles, “You called me and I just. Ran over.”

“Yeah,” You find the energy to smirk at that, “Why did you do that?”

“Because you asked me to.” he breathes, and you read between the lines. I’d do anything you asked me to.

You’re suddenly flustered at his proximity, looming in your doorway like a ghost. You almost can’t believe he’s here. Ditched his teammates – his friends – to come spend time with you. Ran several blocks at midnight because you wanted to see him. You, his ex-girlfriend. You, who broke his heart. He must be some kind of a masochist.

(He must be in love. The thought scares you, so you stop thinking it).

“Can I–?” His voice raptures you from your thoughts, his sharp gaze flicking between your lips and your eyes. You can feel it radiating off him – the longing. He wants this just as bad as you do.

“Yeah.” You breathe, reaching up to kiss him.

The kiss is gentle. Unsure. It’s more like two lips pushed together than an actual kiss, but the sentiment is still there. He kisses you like it’s the first time, like it might be the last. You don’t want it to end. It does.

There’s so many raw emotions, so much hurt shared between the two of you. Looking in his eyes, you don’t allow yourself to think, to feel, before you’re pulling him in by his collar and slamming your lips against his for the second time. He reacts instantly, deepening the kiss with a and a supportive hand to the back of your head. He walks you backwards and lies you back on the couch like you’re made of glass, and fucks you like he means it. Like it really might be the last time, because neither of you know what the hell you’re doing. He goes slower. Deeper. Savors it just a little longer. Makes your toes curl and your voice twist up in pretty cries of his name. You shower together after. He sleeps beside you.

(It’s been months since he slept in your bed. You ignore how it’s the best sleep you’ve gotten in a long while.)

You wake up the next morning to empty sheets.

It doesn’t surprise you. It does hurt though, but you aren't sure why. You distance yourself from the feeling entirely. You start a load of laundry instead.

Twenty minutes pass and there’s a commotion at your front door, the sound of crumpled paper bags and the soft jingle of keys alerting you of another presence.

“Oh, you’re awake.” He shyly smiles, bags in hand, “I wanted to have something ready for you before you woke up. I took your keys, if that’s alright. Hungry?”

You hum sleepily, a faint smile on your lips, “I could eat.”

“Perfect,” he mumbles under his breath, rushing to your small dining table to lay out his goods, “I wasn’t sure what to get, so I kind of got everything.”

It’s french bread from the bakery down the street, and a few pastries because Kiyoomi has a sweet tooth. There’s still steam rising from them – they must’ve just been made. There’s fresh cheese from the deli, too, and whatever fruits he could find. You grab one of the tangerines and start peeling.

Kiyoomi’s occupied himself with making the two of you coffee. You watch as he navigates himself through your kitchen in a domestic rhythm. He’s probably spent more time in it than you have.

He hums quietly to himself as he puts just the right combination of creamer and sugar in your mug, swirling the contents softly as he makes his way over to your small dining table.

You take the mug from his hands and take a sip. It’s perfect because of course it is.

“Good?” He asks, but the tilt of his head tells you he knows the answer. You roll your eyes. He offers a satisfied grin in return. “Muscle memory.”

The two of you dig in, eating quietly in each other’s presence.

“I thought you left.” You surprise yourself at your forwardness.

He stops chewing, politely wiping his mouth with a napkin before answering, “Why would I ever do that?” You blink.

“You used to be so rigid. Afraid, maybe? I don’t know.” You shrug, not really knowing what your own words mean, “But it’s nice to see you like this. You seem lighter. Happier. More comfortable with yourself.”

“Yeah. I, uh,” he averts his gaze, suddenly entertained with the buttery flakes of his croissant, “I realized some things after our break-up. You were right. About everything, really. I didn’t allow myself to be vulnerable with you. All you wanted was to love me, and I refused to let you in. You didn’t deserve that.“

“You didn’t deserve that either–” his honesty blindsides you, “–To feel like you couldn’t be vulnerable. I know I didn’t create the safest environment for communication. I caused a lot of petty fights just to get a reaction out of you. I should have been more honest with how I was feeling.”

“Is that…” He swallows, looking pained, “Is that why you pushed me away?”

“I…pushed you away?” You frown, heart breaking from hearing his side of things, “I wasn’t trying to push you anywhere. I missed you, is all. I just wanted us to get back to where we were.”

He smiles solemnly, eyes empty, “I’m sorry, Y/N. Truely, I am.”

You nod your head softly, “I’m sorry, too.”

Silence fills the air, but there’s nothing awkward about it. It’s light. Forgiving. With all cards on the table, there’s nothing to hide. The two of you continue eating. Breakfast nearly finished, you take another clementine, peeling away the tough rind and chewing softly. “Do you, uh,” he scratches the back of his neck, “Do you think we can try again? Try us again?”

You hum, peeling off another segment.

You offer him a slice, hand outstretched.

get this out of my sight

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