#every time you get one stable thing in life you immediately lose it

[totheblood]

can you do angsty ellie headcanons? maybe how she reacts in a fight/what makes her angry? or ellie being mean to reader and having to apologize??

a/n: of course!!! this is NOT proofread... and there is some ai audios at the bottom... enjoy!

angry gf ellie

ellie does her absolute best to not get upset with you

like she really does because her mouth is a bitch when she's mad

but sometimes you take things a little too far and ellie has to fight with herself to not lash out at you

"ellie, i wasn't actually flirting with her. i was just trying to tease you." you would say in a worried voice as you watched her pace the room and avoid eye contact with you

"in what fucking world would you think i would like that?" she would spit out, flinching at her own tone

"i jus-" you try and justify it but you know you have pushed her a little too far

she would probably cut you off with the sound of your name, her voice much gentler this time

"can you just go? i need to be alone right now."

ellie is also very good at the silent treatment which drives you crazy

she would avoid you for days after the incident, not wanting to get in a full-fledged fight with you

she keeps imagining you playfully laughing and touching someone else's forearm and it drives her crazy

she doesn't even know why you would do something like that, was she not giving you enough attention?

so she would end up at your door late at night with her foot in your mouth

upon seeing your tired face, probably from the stress she caused you, she would immediately fold (ellie is such a simp it's embarrassing)

she just forgets what she's mad about when looking into your sad eyes, your face already in the palm of her hand

"baby," she would coo

"'m sorry els, it was so stupid. i don't even know why i thought that was a good idea because if you did that to me i would probably lose my mind, so please don't break up with me. i promise it will never-" she would watch as you rambled on but get absolutely thrown by the 'don't break up with me' comment

"hey hey hey, who said anything about breaking up? i was just upset, is all. don't like seeing my girl touching anyone else, yeah? we're okay, i promise." she does her best to reassure you, but when the worried look on your face doesn't go away she decides to press a kiss on your forehead

"you promise?"

"i promise. -- now are you going to invite me in? it's fucking freezing out here!"

ellie only gets angry at the sight of two things: you with another person and you injured

it's why she tries her best to be the only one who goes on patrol with you, but since shifts rotate sometimes you have to go with someone else

and that someone was jesse, who you loved but who ellie hated for you to be on patrol with

she knows what you and jesse are like around eachother (distracted) and you always come back with a few extra scratches when you're out with him

this time you came back on the back of jesse's horse with blood dripping down your forehead

upon seeing you ellie is immediately fuming and running out from the shelter of the stable to help you off the horse

she tries to be gentle in helping you down but she's shaking and your blood has started to drip onto her hand

"what the fuck happened, jesse?" she says in a huff as the men in the stable rush over to help her get you down.

"raiders, they just came out of nowhere." he sighs, hand on his head because he knows he's about to get it from ellie

"they came out of nowhere? or were you just not paying any fucking attention?!" she glared at jesse as you toppled over into her

"c'mon baby, you're okay." she'd press a kiss to your forehead ignoring jesse as she got you to the infirmary

but once you were all stitched up and alert? she was on you in an instant

"you always do this and i tell you every time that one day it's going to cost you your fucking life! and that day was almost today! -- do you know how lucky you are?"

you were just blinking up at her with your eyes wide, it shocked you that when you finally came to you were recieving a lecture from your girlfriend

"ellie, i'm too tired for this."

"oh, you're too tired? imagine how tired i am! how tiring it must be to wait for days not knowing if your girlfriend is dead. but noooo, jesse is just that fucking interesting that you have to risk your life to laugh at his lame jokes."

"what do you want me to do?" at this point you're just trying to get the pounding in your head to stop

"i want you to focus when you are on patrol! act like your life means something!" she's practically begging at this point

"okay."

"okay?"

"anything to stop you yelling at me, i really don't feel good." you say, leaning over to throw up into the closest garbage can

and just like that ellie is your ellie again, she's rushing over to hold your hair and rub your back

when you finish she gets up to throw the trash outside so the room doesn't stink

she hates being mad at you, but she hates upsetting you

"look, about what i said earlier; i'm sorry. i don't know what would happen, what i would do, if i lost you. i didn't mean to take it out on you."

you grab her hand and squeeze it lightly, "i know and i love you."

"i love you more."

but then you're leaning in to give her a kiss and she remembers five minutes ago when you were throwing up everything inside you

"i'll give you a kiss later…after we get those teeth cleaned."

ai audios:

i had more... but there's an upload limit

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams x reader smut #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams tlou2 #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fan fic #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams oneshot #modern!ellie williams #college!ellie williams #ellie williams one shot

[ginax0916]

Can you do a story where the reader has low iron or something of that genre and she passes out and chris comforts her? 💗

･:*:｡𝐈’𝐦 𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞ೃ࿔*:･

Chris Sturniolo x Fem!reader

Genre - Fluff

Synopsis- reader has low iron and passes out but Chris is there to comfort her :)

I’ve been hanging out with the triplets all day. We have been watching movies and we even filmed one of their Wednesday videos and pre filmed a Friday car video. Which all took a lot of time and energy. I’m guessing that explains the reason to why I feel so tired. I just feel like my bones are giving out. Like I have no strength. Not to mention every time I stand up I feel the need to grab on to something because everything is spinning. I keep getting dizzy and my vision is starting to blur and then come back. But I really just think I need a nap and I’ll be fine.

“Hey you in there??” Chris snaps me out of my thoughts.

“Hm? What’d you say?” I question him.

“I asked if you wanted to to go out to eat with us, we’re gonna go to the diner downtown” Chris said smiling.

“Yea sure I’ll go” I answered.

I stood up and immediately felt dizzy. The room was spinning in endless circles and my vision kept blurring out. I felt two arms grab me to keep me from falling.

“Woah you ok?” Chris asked with a worried expression as he kept his hands on my arms making sure I wouldn’t fall.

“Uh yea yea just felt dizzy but I’m fine” I replied trying to ignore what just happened to avoid any more questions.

As Matt drove us all to the diner I stared out the windowing thinking to myself. Could this all have something to do with my anemia? I’ve had low iron my whole life and just recently I had gotten diagnosed with anemia but I really don’t think much of it. I usually forget I even have it because nothing ever happens.

“We’re here” Matt said already getting out of the car.

Focused on unbuckling myself and grabbing my phone I didn’t realize Chris had opened the door for me. I thanked him before getting out of the car. And there it is. That feeling again where I feel like my knees are giving up and my visions is fading. I grab onto Chris’s arm to try and stable myself. He grabs my hips helping me stay still. My body feels weak and I lean on Chris for support. He wraps his arms around me helping me gain stability.

“You sure you’re feeling ok ma? You keep losing your balance when you stand up, something wrong?” He asked frowning. His eyes searching my face for any uncomfortable expression that could possibly give him answers.

“I just keep feeling dizzy when I stand up but I’m good” I smile at him. Though deep down I know somethings wrong I just don’t wanna burden anyone with my problems.

“You guys coming or what!” Nick suddenly yells snapping us out of our conversation.

We all ordered and ate our food and we were just waiting on the check. Nick and Matt were having they’re own convo about some video ideas they were both laughing about. Suddenly I felt a tap on my thigh and looked up.

“Ok what’s wrong? You look tired, you haven’t said a word, and you keep getting all dizzy y/n” Chris asked really starting to worry now.

“You won’t tell anyone?” I shyly asked looking down.

“Not a single soul baby” He chuckled, the nickname making me blush.

“I’ve been feeling off lately and I think it all has to do with my anemia” I said embarrassed. Chris noticing it.

“Why’s that embarrassing? It’s pretty common y’know?” He said rubbing my arm soothingly.

“I just don’t wanna burden you with my issues” I admit.

“Y/n are you insane? You’re not burdening anyone with anything. If anything I’m here to help you ok?” Chris said with a big smile on his face.

“Thank you Chris”

“Alright you guys ready to go?” Matt asked as he left a tip for the waiter on the table.

“Yep let’s go”

That’s when things started to go down hill. The car ride felt like hell. I was sweating like crazy but I felt cold. Then my hands were shaking and my teeth were chattering but I felt like I was boiling. My breathing started to become unsteady. I felt nauseous too. Every possible feeling you could have I was experiencing it. As soon as we arrived I opened the door to get out, and my knees locked. My vision started going black. Like everything was being painted black. I held onto the car trying to get support but it was no use.

“Oh fuck” I heard Chris say before everything went dark.

Chris Pov:

“Oh my god oh my god what do we do? Is she dead? Do I call 911?” Nick panicked like always.

“No it’s fine it’s just her anemia it’s happened before we just have to bring her inside and lay her down. Matt go open the door” I said as I grabbed her and carried her bridal style inside the house.

I knew something was wrong. Since the second we finished filming those videos I could tell she wasn’t feeling well. I just wish she would’ve told me instead of feeling like a burden.

I laid her down on the couch and put a blanket over her. I felt her forehead and it was really cold so I went and wet a towel with warm water and placed it on her head carefully. I gently held her cheek in my hand rubbing it softly with my thumb.

“Oh poor thing” I said quietly.

I got the towel off her head and sat next to her waiting for her to wake up. Its been around 5 minutes and I’m starting to think maybe I should call 911.

“Chris?” I quiet and fragile voice said.

“Oh my god y/n you’re awake” I said, careful not to startle her.

“Are you ok baby? Does anything hurt?” I asked holding her face in hands as she sat up. She sniffled and tears started to slowly fall down her delicate skin.

“Oh ma c’mere. It’s ok I’m right here. I got you, you’re ok pretty girl” I softly talked to her, rubbing her back soothing as I cradled her in my arms.

“I hate when that happens” She managed to get out between cries.

“I know I know I do too” I agreed with her and wiped tears off her face.

“Take deep breathes ma, can you do that for me?” I moved her body so she was now sitting on my lap comfortably.

“Yes” Y/n mumbled snuggling her head into the crook of my neck making me smile.

“Good girl” I praised her.

Soon enough the tears stopped and her breathing was back to normal.

“Thank you Chris” She said as she planted a soft kiss on my jawline.

“I told you I’m always here”

Was this too long? Ty for the request by the way I hope what I wrote is somewhat what you meant 😭 Also Tysm for all the support on my last post it means the world to me. Pls keep requesting it rlly helps 🫶🏻🫶🏻

#chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #nicolas sturniolo #matt sturniolo #anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #star wars #anakin skywalker x you #the skywalker saga #y/n #ani skywalker #anakin x you

[softxsuki]

Hey, hope you're doing great! Can i ask an urgent request, a jjk x fem reader where the reader is left in a vegetative state after a mission, all them seeing her for the first time in intensive care with multiple tubes going in and out of her while she was fighting for her life in a coma, and like when she wakes up she's clueless the first days, struggling to say what she wants or express any emotions because she's unable to talk (and move also) Hope it's not a burden to you <33

Megumi, Gojo, and Itadori With S/O Who's In A Coma After A Mission

| Pairings: Megumi x Fem!Reader, Gojo x Fem!Reader, Itadori x Fem!Reader | Genre: Hurt Comfort, Angst | Post-Type: Headcanons | Word Count: 1.07k |

Warnings: mentions of death (no one actually dies), past character deaths, despair, crying (in itadori's), reader in a coma

Note: Hello <3 Happy New Year. I actually really enjoyed writing this one. One of my fav jjk posts so far 0.0 hope you and anyone else that reads it also enjoys it! And I hope your situation with your family has improved <3

Megumi:

Megumi is in shock as soon as he finds out you’re in a coma after your recent mission

You had assured him you’d be okay, and in that moment, regret fills him for not pushing to be there with you

He’d already gone through this with Itadori years ago when he thought he was dead after that one mission they were on together, and now here you were clinging on to life, one of the most important people in his life

He was scared he’d never see you awake again, yet he remained calm on the outside, coming to the hospital to visit you everyday

You were in the same hospital as his sister, who was also in a coma, so he was also able to visit her more often while you were there

The two most important women in his life were practically lifeless on hospital beds, it killed him

However, hope filled him one day when he saw your fingers fidget and he immediately ran to get a doctor–you were waking up

Confusion fills you as soon as your eyes open, you can’t quite put together where you were, the last thing you remembered was fighting that powerful curse before everything went dark and now you were in a room surrounded by people in white coats

The doctors had just finished removing your breathing tube since you were finally stable and conscious 

Megumi feels his shoulders lighten as he sees your eyes open, you were alert, which was a good sign

He takes a seat beside you, the chair he’d been glued in since he found out you were in a coma and takes your hand to let you know he was there as the doctors started their examination on you to make sure you were doing well

The next few days are tough on you as you struggle to move or speak due to going so long without doing both of those things while in a coma, but Megumi is by your side the whole time helping you out

He spends his every waking moment by your side, taking care of you until you’re back to your normal self

Gojo:

Like Megumi, Gojo is also worried of course, but that worry doesn’t show on the outside

Yet everyone around him knows something is wrong because he’s unusually quiet and doesn’t joke around anymore, he’s become very serious

He was the strongest in the world, yet couldn’t do one simple job and keep you safe? He was beyond disappointed in himself

There was so much responsibility on his shoulders that the elders threw on him, but they didn’t dare request him during these weeks while you were in a coma

Gojo was unstable and there was no telling what he’d do if anyone pushed him too far, so he spent his time visiting you, and continuing to teach and train his students, the only two things he could find the energy to do, but all solo missions were at a standstill

Even after you awaken, Gojo still isn’t himself, his attention is now fully on your recovery and making sure the doctors are doing their utmost best to make sure you recover fully

The thought that he was so close to losing you just like so many of his other friends and colleagues terrified him, he felt unworthy of his title of the strongest, but moving forward he’s even more protective of you after seeing how easy it was to almost lose you

So after you’re released from the hospital and sent back home, finally able to speak and move around again, Gojo is on high alert

He feels paranoid that something will happen to you again so he pushes back his missions and has the elders give them to other sorcerers in the meantime so he can watch over you

It kills you to see him this way so you’ll have to do your best to persuade him that you’ll be fine and safe, he can’t spend his whole life glued to your side, that’s no way for him to live

So it does take a while to persuade him to continue his work, but he makes sure to keep you heavily guarded while you’re still in recovery

It will take a while before he’s back to his usual self, just give him some time

Itadori:

Itadori is probably the most visibly impacted one after hearing the news that you were in a coma after your latest mission

He’s another one who has lost countless people and felt responsible for not being strong enough to protect them, and now he couldn’t even protect you

He’s distraught, silent tears falling from his eyes as he makes a promise to exorcize the curse that did this to you

If he wasn’t by your side, he was out on the streets eliminating curse after curse, waiting for the moment he’d come across the curse that put your life in danger, he wouldn’t be going easy on it

It kills him to see all those tubes connected to your body, you looked so fragile, like any tiny gust of wind will have your heart monitor flat lining at any given moment, he was terrified 

He experienced too much loss already, if he lost you as well, he’d never recover

So when he receives a call from your doctor, he’s already running to the hospital before he even picks up the phone

You were awake

Tears of relief fall from his eyes when he sees for himself that you are in fact awake–your eyes on him as he enters your hospital room, eyes he thought he’d never see again

He collapses at your side, pulling you into his arms, almost scared that if he let go, he’d never see you again

The weeks of your recovery go smoothly with Itadori by your side though, he listens to everything the doctors say and helps you get back on your feet, literally

Walking became difficult for you, so he became your cane

Even talking hurt your throat, but he’d speak for you until your throat healed up andyou could speak again

He was incredibly attentive and caring during the next few weeks of your recovery and made a vow that nothing like this would ever happen to you again so long as he was alive and by your side

And that was a promise he’d keep forever

Posted: 1/1/2024

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #megumi x reader #gojo x reader #itadori x reader #megumi fushiguro #gojo satoru #itadori yūji #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x female reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x fem!reader #megumi x you #megumi x y/n #megumi x female reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo x female reader #itadori x you #itadori x y/n #itadori x fem!reader #jujutsu kaisen comfort #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjk comfort #jjk angst #megumi comfort #megumi angst #gojo comfort

[clarks-letterman]

a man's sport | Matt Murdock x reader

a/n — wrote this because pool is such a slutty sport idk // title is a joke

warnings — rimming (Matt receiving), not proofread (late night sorry)

summary — Drunken fools make a bet and don't even follow it, too entranced to care.

words — 2.5k

~~~

There comes a time in every man’s life where he gambles with dice he doesn’t know every side of. He makes choices with a devil on his shoulder to guide him, or maybe an unassuming angel, naively nudging his shoulder so that he turns down the wrong path.

You met Matt on a night like tonight a few weeks ago when he came into the bar with a black eye and a story to tell. It was easy to get it from him after offering to buy the first round of drinks. ‘A car accident,’ he said, ‘involving no more than a parked car and an ignorant passenger opening the door.’ You could put two and two together, but you could also tell when someone was lying. He walked through the door that night, claiming to have gotten it on his walk over, but the development of it seemed too fast. Then, for the entirety of that night, you had to remind him every half-an-hour or so to apply something cold to the area for the swelling and the pain likely tingling on the surface. He teased you, calling you his ‘mother’ for being so overbearing, but it was just the way you knew someone would typically treat a shiner like that.

Somehow, it didn’t scare him away. Matt would show up to the bar, alone, often asking the bartender if you had come in. It became a silent agreement that the two of you would meet after your respective jobs to just forget about everything else. The disconnect and difference between your lives meant that you could be yourselves, and learn about things you never knew before. Matt had been schooling you on laws, mostly getting you to open up about the time something memorable happened, then pointing out what you could or couldn’t be prosecuted for. It was all reckless stupidity or something along that line, nothing serious. 

Just when you were about to catch him in another lie, he took a sharp turn in the conversation after pounding back the last of his drink. “Whoever loses a round, buys a round,” he suggested. Matt nodded his head towards the pool table in the back of the bar, the sounds of patrons playing earlier must have let him know it was there. Otherwise, you would have thought the very reason you had become so infatuated with this man would immediately reveal itself to be a lie.

Maybe it was some kind of joke, a way for him to finally pay you back for adding on to your endlessly accruing tab at Josie’s. If he did win, you’d just ask for the cheapest whatever, whether it was alcoholic or not. It’s not like you needed it anyway with the amount of it in your system as is. Plus, Matt had told you more than enough about his business to assume that it was more of an emotionally stable job rather than a financial one. The way he talked about it made it sound more like his house, where his heart laid the rules. 

The steps taken over to the pool table were sloppy, unsteady. Even Matt careened over, forgoing his walking cane in favoring of letting touch guide him. The tips of his fingers glided atop the bar lightly, adding a bit of confidence to his stride. That was until he ran out of countertop to guide him, and he took each step with caution. He had a bit of faith that you would be following close enough behind to catch him if he stumbled.

Matt felt around the area and picked up the pool stick when his fingers touched the wood. Maple wood—smoothed down and glazed with black tape that was starting to peel at the edges from months, years, of use. He could hear you stomping around the table, setting up the balls in order and with care and placing the cue ball at the end of the table where he stood. Matt already had the stick resting between the knuckles of his index and middle fingers.

“I don’t think you can beat me,” Matt said confidently.

“You bet your ass I will.”

“Is anything up for negotiation?” He asked, spreading out his legs and arching his back to get precisely the right angle. Every sense he had told him it was the perfect shot, the one to sink three balls into three separate pockets and start the game off strong. He raised the back of the cue to run along his knuckle with just the right glide through, running it forward just shy of the white ball placed on its marker to practice the motion.

You held onto your pool stick with two hands like a cane with no curve, watching him move. “Yeah, as long as you’re fine with it.”

“Then it’s a deal.” Matt wore a confident facade, only shifting away from that when you accepted his offer. He moved a little to the left, pretending to correct his stance. With a quick snap, the cue ball flew, hitting the alignment head on and effectively doing nothing to increase his points. Each scattered in different directions, like little balls of fire to him, all in different sizes thanks to their color and how they each absorbed light. Not a single ball went into a pocket, and he smirked at how easy it was to achieve failure.

You watched how Matt’s turn went, and readied yourself and a different side of the table, ready to take your turn. Hopefully, this game would go well for you. “Let’s hope I’m not dealing with the devil.”

“He hides in plain sight.” He said casually, mischief tinting his red-lensed glasses.

Matt tried to make it known, moving around to the side of the table you were on for all of his turns. He made to get as close as possible, insisting that it was the “right angle” to take his shot from. In reality, he used it as a way to be in front of you, leg straddling the table’s wooden rail. His knee grazed the green cushioning that lined the surface of the playing area. The alcohol created a tide that washed away any connecting line in the sand that would make sense of how a blind man could play pool. You didn’t even question how he knew where you stood to take your shot without guiding him to it. To Matt’s surprise, even though he had thrown to game to get his desired outcome—to let you have your way with his ass—your coordination wasn’t strong as a drunk. He could have simply watched the game play out and still won, even if he wasn’t playing.

Thankfully, you got the hint on what would have been his winning turn—solid red, number three his senses told him. He stood at the end of the table that looked out to the bar. You came up behind him, cupping his ass as the backside of his dress shirt and belt and fabric struggled to contain him. The ball wasn’t the center of his attention, no, it was you. 

A little devil whispered in his ear, your alluring voice making a bitter crime sound sweet, “Let’s add a crime to be prosecuted for, huh?”

He reached for his tie, clawing at something. His fingers felt the bristle of the scruff on his neck in his quick movements before sliding down to the collar of his shirt. He needed to get the words out that were stuck in his throat, “Like what?”

“You’ll see.” You promised him, backing away from him and kneeling down. Both of your knees hit the hard floor of Josie’s, the layer of scuffs caused by his angular dress shoes and many other’s beneath you. Now, a set of soft, bruising knees like yours had likely never grazed a floor like this. All kinds of bets were made, but this had to be the most unusual.

Your hands made quick work of his belt and pants, pulling his hips back to give room between his buckle and the side of the pool table for your hands to slide into and do what they needed to. He closed that gap when everything was free, pressing his already stiffening cock against the chilled mahogany wood, creating a friction for himself in the front. His hands never left the cue, only tightening on the stick when he felt your presence nearing him.

Keys of coke were snorted and needles percolating with heroine were probably done in the bathroom, but this would be the only line of crack seen in the bar itself. Good people of society, you claimed yourselves as. All of that could have simply been a lie as the addiction to Matt set in. The smell of him radiating in waves like notes of a cologne drew you in. Laundry detergent came in brief hints of a top note that had faded throughout the days wear, replaced quickly by his aromatic cologne. It was cheaply scented with a woody dampness like trees looming in the mist and poppy flowers drooping from weight on their petals—everywhere yet easy to miss as the base notes of everything that made up his smell hit next. The base notes of his smell were the most carnally alluring, that being his musk. Sweat lingered from being trapped in a stuffy office all day, with a brisk walk to the bar adding another layer to it. 

But then, you got a taste of him. It was bland, bitter, and had hints of saltiness to it. With taste comes texture, and Matt’s fuzzy peach had something unlike anything else. He had a devilish combination of smells and textures that kept it interesting. Your lips grazed over his hairy cheeks, feeling the dark hair tickle your chin and surrounding features. The palms of your hands felt it, too, once they peeled him apart to undo his natural layers and uncover where he was sensitive. 

You were able to go deeper, your hands sinking well into his cushy cheeks with more than enough to hold. It made your face feel like it was sinking into his folds while you wedged yourself between him. Your nose was the first thing to meet his crack—just above his hole so that your lips could meet his tightness. You pursed your lips, your tongue filling the space between them that formed and stuck it out. Then, you did the one thing your tongue could do—lick and lick around in circles, stripes, and as many teases as you could think of from his taint to his hole and back.

Matt was in shambles in moments. He had fully leaned over the table, humping against the table and, indirectly, rocking back against your face in a steady rocking motion. He didn’t treat your face like a stranger, but he was completely new to the feeling. Not only because he never really embraced this side of himself, but because it was such a dangerous thing to be caught for. One, two, three—fuck was that the fourth time you had slid your tongue in his hole already? It felt like a blur of repeated motions.

One, two, three, four, he counted. He tried to make sense of how many heartbeats filled the bar, trying to find risk where he could to make this act more devious. The more people could walk around—or hell, even just turn their head—and see him with his pants at his ankles and a hard-on defiling the pool table and a person making his ask feel so good and he moaned; there you go again, making him a mess. He tried looking natural, as if he was taking the worlds longest pool shot. But all it would take is someone sitting on the side of the bar that would cause the bartender to have to look this way for it to be apparent. What did it even look like to someone else? Because to Matt, it felt like he was lying on a green cloud nine, but had he leaned down far enough to expose what you were doing? Anyone could follow the trail along his back and see the top half of your face peeking over his two hairy mounds, ducking and resurfacing in careful movements. His shirt riding up to show off his lower back, too.

He could feel you smirk against him, a soft chuckle as you realized the he lined up a shot that he never took. Matt was too busy letting out soft noises of satisfaction to finish the game.

“Take the shot, Matt.” You breathe out in one non-stop string of syllables. He could feel your hot breath return back to him after parting from his ass. You felt him shift his legs slightly, giving you a better angle to rim him.

He sprawled his hand out on the slate, his other hand shakily slotting the pool stick between his middle and index finger. He stopped finding relief on the table itself, let himself painfully ache as he did what you asked of him. In an almost twist of fate, this was the most ideal spot for him to sink the final ball into one of the six pockets on the table; the corner on the far-right looked the most appealing. Matt bent down, arching his back up and, by virtue of that, offered himself more to you. Your head nodded vigorously to both lick stripes over his hole and quickly slip in and out of his tight hole. The way it felt on your tongue and the way your tongue stretched him was like a perfect storm to throw off his aim. Matt took the shot and missed, the ball ricocheting of the east side of the table and then the north side, slowly rolling into the center.

While he may not have found victory, Matt rapidly found release moments later. He kept the cue in his hands, using the stick as a way to vent his pleasure with a tight grip on both ends. He applied as much pressure as the pleasure you elicited from him. You took the opportunity to reach up and grab ahold of his cock since he had yet to go back to grinding it. Your hand fondled him and jerked his length back and forth as he fell into a rhythm of grinding against your face and your hand. The movement quickened as he felt a welling inside his stomach. His senses told him that he was about to—and he did, shooting ropes along the side of the pooling table and sending them hurling to the ground just a short ways away from ruining his shoes and bunched up boxers as they landed by his feet.

Matt fought the urge to let out a noise, a hint that anything but an irregular pool game was in session. In his bliss, Matt had snapped the pool stick from the pressure he put on both ends. Jagged and sharp pieces of wood poked out of its innards, some of the wood chips scattering themselves over the table. You didn’t even notice it until you stood up, helping Matt affix his pants and belt. 

“Guess we’ll call it a draw?” He asked, pretending as if he wasn’t going to lose the game.

#x male reader #x reader #fanfic #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x male reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x male!reader #matt murdock smut #matt murdock #matthew murdock #daredevil x male reader #daredevil #daredevil x reader #dd x reader #dd #Charlie cox #charlie cox x reader #pool #billiards

[yjhariani]

Things We Do for Love

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley X GN!Reader (through platonic/professional!Price x Reader) Word count: 1800± Warning: Profanity, kind of angsty. Summary: Price caught you and Simon engaging in an unprofessional relation in a workplace, here came the consequences.

It was hard living like this. Being so close yet so far, reachable yet out of reach, and yearning without getting satisfied.

It was even harder after you and Simon got caught engaging in a certain activity in a barrack many a night ago by Price. You were in his arms, on his lap with your faces practically magnetted on each other’s.

That same night, in that same place, the two of you were punished by what seemed to be the most pushups that you had ever done in your life. However, other than that, Price proceeded no further than giving you both a warning; should he find the two of you engaging in the same way, he would bring it up to your superiors.

If that happened, either one of you or both of you could be dishonourably discharged. At worst. Especially with your rank difference with Simon’s.

In a way, Price was looking after you both. He could not turn a blind eye as your superior officer, but he did not necessarily want to lose the two of you both as a captain and as a friend.

Had someone else caught you and Simon making out, you both would have been in much bigger trouble that might lead you both into, again, getting discharged dishonourably. At worst.

Price could tolerate your flirting even on the field, but he was disappointed that you both did this in a workplace, especially in uniforms that you would likely take off had Price not caught you both.

By the end of that night, which was 2 AM when Price finally dismissed you both, you were only able to exchange a simple handshake before Price moved you to another settlement, far away from where Simon’s was.

From then on, the two of you were never given the same mission any more. It was his order—as much as it pained him to do so—that the two of you should limit contact with one another. In spite of the two of you working in the same task force.

As the captain saw it, both your performances were stable after the incident, but he also noticed that both your enjoyment were lacking. You only spoke when spoken to, Simon was more easily irritated than he used to, hardly the two of you cracked any jokes with other people like how it was when the two of you worked together.

Meeting each other, of course, was unavoidable. Seeing that the two of you stayed in the same base, walking around the same people, working under the same chain of commands.

Most of the time, every time the two of you saw each other, you immediately looked away, brokenhearted. The closest thing you two had that resembled a greeting was a stiff nod without eye contact. It was as if one word exchange could jeopardise your whole career.

For most people, they hardly saw anything wrong with you both other than that the two of you just started being very stiff, but that was not something uncommon in the military. One day some people returned home a different person than when they left.

This affected not only you and Simon. Price felt first hand the disadvantage of separating the two of you; his best soldiers who were invincible working side by side.

Soap was getting pissed and quite frustrated that none of his jokes worked on Ghost any more; he even started fearing Ghost again to an extent. He was so ridiculously frustrated by how the two of you could not even seem to look each other in the eyes.

Though you both still sought each other in crowded places, the two of you never had the chance to be in a private area together. Sometimes all the communication with one another happened through Soap. You would ask how he was and he would ask the same—which was what got Soap frustrated in the first place.

What people did notice was how you and Simon were hardly seen together any more. You never walked side by side any more, you never stared some rookie down the field menacingly together any more, yourself never even smiled any more. They were thinking positively that the two of you fell out due to a professional disagreement on the field.

Some people started theorising that the two of you were pointing guns at each other, almost shooting each other, and even beating the shit out of each other as well as the people who tried to stop you from fighting. Some said the two of you were trying to get your credits up, fighting over who should kill the enemy and such.

After all, you and Simon were amongst two of the most professional soldiers. Who would believe that the two of you would have to be separated due to something as unprofessional as engaging in such a… relationship?

A few months passed with such tension and it only grew by the seconds. When it could no longer be ignored any more, Price decided to take initiative and dealt with the consequences of his choice.

Price came to your quarter, inviting you to take a walk with him. This was not an offer, so you did as he requested.

It was early in the morning. A lot of people were having their morning PT, a lot of officers were also around. Price lit up a cigar as the two of you started walking outdoors.

“How long does your contract last from today?” Price asked.

Simon and you talked about this one time. The only reason the two of you cared about this was because the day one of your military contracts ended would be the day the two of you could be together without breaking any rules and without any worries.

“You know that,” you answered. “A good few years. Hopefully.”

Price exhaled deeply.

“I’m taking my hat off as a symbolic gesture that I’m not speaking to you as your captain,” Price took his hat off, folding and shoving it into his back pocket. “There. Now, I will speak plainly.”

You were the one now who exhaled deeply.

“It fucking burdens me to see you both like this, but I did it because it’s for the best. I can’t exactly turn a blind eye to what happened, but I can’t get rid of either of you,” Price started.

“You already said that many times,” you stated. “Are you finally going to say you regret it?”

“I won’t say that I regret it, but it’s becoming an inconvenience,” Price said. “So, I will propose a solution. I can maybe pull some strings into getting you a promotion, making you a lieutenant.”

“That isn’t really a solution,” you pointed out.

“Well, that’s not the only thing. I might have to… transfer one of you away, drop one of you off the task force,” Price added.

That would likely be you. Everybody valued Simon more than you. Except for Simon himself.

“At least by then you would be able to get together,” Price said.

“What you’re saying is that you’re willing to get dirty for the sake of our happiness?” you teased.

“You both deserve to be happy. You need each other,” Price sighed.

“What’d he say about this plan of yours?” you asked.

Price said nothing.

“You didn’t tell him?” you concluded.

“He stopped talking to me regarding anything outside of work,” Price said.

“You did that to yourself,” you scoffed.

“I’m not denying that,” Price said. “So, what do you say?”

Getting together actually with Simon was so important to you. You would do anything to do so. You almost threw a few punches across a few superior officers’ faces in hope to get yourself discharged out of the force—even though not honourably—so you both could be together.

You were in too deep in this task force that even if Price’s plan worked, you would still get restricted in your work. Clearly, this past few months was proof enough that you did not need any more restrictions.

A few long months of not talking to each other, hardly hearing his voice, and not feeling his touch. You had started thinking about getting discharged the couple of weeks into Price’s order to separate yourself and Simon.

Looking around at the moment, you were surrounded by soldiers who wanted the same thing as you did; a retirement. Honestly, it was a rare thing that anyone in the military did not desire a retirement just one week into their enlistment. You were no different, until you met Simon.

“How long would that take?” you continued.

“A few months,” Price answered.

Yeah, you could not wait that long, but that was way shorter than a few years. However, there were flaws.

“Abuse of power could get you DD-ed, Price, I can’t do that to you,” you reasoned.

“It won’t get me dishonourably discharged if you do earn it,” Price said. “So, I’m offering you to lead some of our men on a big mission with a certain organisation, but not without your agreement. This is not something most of us have dealt with before, but it should give you enough to get that promotion.”

“There’s a lot I haven’t dealt with before,” you said. “What is it?”

“Bioterrorism,” Price named.

“So, I'm working with WHO?” you concluded.

“No. BSAA,” Price corrected.

That made all the difference. The chances of you coming back alive whilst working with the WHO was way, way, way higher than if you were working with the BSAA.

“I’ll take it,” you decided.

“Are you sure?” Price asked.

“Yes, sir,” you nodded.

“You have to promise me that you will come back alive,” Price insisted. “I’m not sending you out there to die.”

“I know you won’t bring this up if you don’t think I can handle it,” you replied.

“To be honest, this one is more on the risky side,” Price said. “So, I will ask again… are you absolutely sure? This means I will remove your name from 141.”

“I am,” you nodded. “Things we do for love, may it be stupid or dangerous, could still be used to an advantage. Let this be one of them.”

“You’re probably the only soldier who would say something like that,” Price sighed.

“Don’t tell him I said that,” you tried smiling.

"Well, see me in my office after breakfast. I'll proceed this... decision as soon as possible," Price nodded.

Price did the best he could to make this situation as quiet yet as quickly as possible. Laswell helped with this and she agreed that he was doing the right thing.

On the day you were about to leave, you saw Simon. He was on his way out of a helicopter with Soap while you were on your way to get into one. From across the hangar, the two of you stopped amidst your walk, looking at each other.

There was something in the way you both looked at each other that felt different. There was worry, more than the usual. There was something odd that could not exactly be described with words.

Simon just knew that something was wrong. Even more so when you saluted him from afar before going about your business. It was as if you were saying goodbye.

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost #ghost x reader #captain price x reader #price x reader #captain price #mind dump #cod x re

[paradoxicalrising]

Astro Observations Pt. 2 !

**again just prefacing: im not a professional, these are my personal opinions based off my experience with these placements :) enjoy

Virgo Mercury @ 24 degrees: these people are the best at making passive aggressive comments. depending on the mars sign and where it’s placed they may come off as rude/ bitchy. such great liars. they will lie with a straight face about something stupid and right after break the facade and tell you they were lying. it’s so easy to believe them. deadpan, dry humor. i’ve seen that they laugh at intelligent, witty comments. i’ve also seen them be more interested in psychology, reading body language, and asking personal questions to strangers.

mercury square pluto, mercury rx, debilitated mercury: struggle with social anxiety and public speaking. the anxiety is very high when it comes to talking in front of an audience or even an authority figure. may physically shake while presenting, wavering voice, and losing breath bc they’re talking so fast.

moon square mars in men: tumultuous relationship with the mother. may cause problems in relationships with women, taking anger towards the mother out on the girlfriend/ wife. this placement has been seen in domestic violence situations. may actually be attracted to someone who acts and looks like their mother.

mars conjunct uranus: unpredictable, wild card. when really angry, they may explode. energy levels are rarely stable, they tend to fluctuate often. prone to cut people off out of nowhere once they’ve dealt with enough. may act/ speak before they think when they’re angry.

sun conjunct venus: it’s so hard not to like these people. they are full of charisma, and tend to be attractive. may be arrogant at times, and think they’re better than others physically. they’re easy to get along with but their niceness may be seen as fake/ superficial.

MC in scorpio: sexualized by the public. everyone has a crush on them but no one is brave enough to tell them. intimidating aura. this placement tends to dominate the public image. a lot of people are scared of them bc of their intelligence and beauty. powerhouse of a person when it comes to success. nothing will get in their way, resilience runs in their blood. hold a natural power and immediately demands respect with their tone of voice and body language. even if they’re insecure or in pain, they never show that to the public. gain a lot of unwanted attention. also seem to succeed at a low key rate until later in life when they finally get recognition.

4th house: truly the house of the darkest parts of yourself. if you wanna look for childhood trauma, look to the 4th house and any aspects made to other planets or houses in the chart. this is who we are when we’re alone. this is the house of our instincts, generational trauma on the mothers side or the more feminine parent, fears. it’s ruled by cancer which is ruled by the moon so it naturally has a light and dark side like every sign and planet. this is the house of where you feel you’re at home and depending on what you grew up with, one person could be happy with attention, stability, and honesty but another person could seek out unavailable people, they might self sabotage just to feel like they’re at home. the sense of home changes over time and it is capable of changing for the better but this is where i’d recommend you start with shadow work find the sign, house, aspects, and degree for more insight.

empty houses: i’ve noticed that with my empty houses, it’s almost like i just don’t think about those things, they don’t concern me compared to houses with stelliums or major planets. it’s not that i’ve mastered them or anything, they’re just not a big deal in my life. of course problems and success still arise in the areas of these houses but it’s not as heavy compared to house with planets in them. with empty houses, pay attention to transits that make aspects to your natal house sign but other than that these houses usually don’t create major problems in one’s life.

#virgo mercury #astro notes #empty house #mercury square pluto #sun conjunct venus #sun sq #4th house #scorpio mc

[navstuffs]

The Deal

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x GN!Reader

Summary: “I will do anything to save Arthur Morgan’s life. Even your soul? Even my soul. Anything.” / A Weird West story where you would do anything to save Arthur Morgan’s life, no matter the consequences.

Warning Tags: Weird West trope (wild west + horror/fantasy/science fiction), +14, angst

Author's Notes: hi and welcome to my first fic for my halloween event! i have had this prepared since august and am so excited to be sharing it finally! really nervous excited to be using the weird west trope. there is also this artwork i saw after i finished writing and it screamed THE DEAL. enjoy your reading!!!

my halloween's masterlist

"Be careful what you wish for, you may receive it." (The Monkey's Paw - W.W. Jacobs)

When Mr. Strauss asked you to help Arthur, you promptly said yes. Arthur always had so much on his plate, taking care of everyone and everything, so you would take any weight from his shoulder if you could. Arthur didn't like that at first, you alone going to collect debts, but you had proved yourself over and over again. You understood him, though; this life as outlaws wasn't easy, and any of you could lose your life every time you went out. It was nice to have someone caring for you after all those years, to have Arthur be protective over you since you two started going out.

So, of course, when Mr. Strauss asked for help collecting a few debts in a morning while Arthur was away, you promptly accepted. He explained it should be easy, nothing someone with your type of experience couldn't handle. A window called Jane Huxley, a frail banker named Joseph Willis, and lastly, an old man called Bernard Miller. None of them would present much of a fight if the situation arose, despite Mr. Strauss's warnings for you to be careful. Their debts were small but still needed for the camp. You had a vague suspicion Mr. Strauss didn’t want to endanger you, primarily due to Arthur’s anger.

It is late when you arrive at Bernard Miller's house, late enough for the moon to be up in the sky. You should have been there way earlier, but Mrs. Huxley had an outraged brother you had to defend yourself from, and who would have thought a frail banker could run that fast? You dismount your horse, your eyes scanning the situation ahead: a single cabin in the deep woods. Nothing is out of the ordinary, so you hope your last one will be easy.

It is a warm and humid night, and you can feel sweat on your neck. There were no houses along the way to Bernard Miller's cabin. You don't remember when you heard a single noise. It has been a while since you were deep in the woods like this. Your horse seems agitated, and you pet him, promising tons of sugar cubes after this. 

The cabin in front of you is old and probably only has one room. As you walk closer, you notice candles lit from the windows so the old man could still be awake. You wonder how he lives in such an eerie place and all alone. There is no presence of a stable or any livestock. Maybe he has friends that visit him? As per Mr. Strauss's statement, Mr. Miller could barely stand. It is none of your business at the end of the day; your job is to get the money back and get the hell out of there.

You enter the house without announcing yourself, not surprised by how rustic it looks inside. It looks uninhabitable, with a couple of holes in the ceiling. There is a bed, a table, a nightstand, an old cupboard, and a chair. Sitting in the chair, probably the oldest human being you have ever seen. Older than Hosea and Uncle together, with wrinkles all over his body. When you enter, Mr. Miller eats soup under the candles and barely lifts his eyes to look at you. A big, white, messy beard, long white hair, and dark eyes are the only things you notice. 

“Mr. Miller, I have come to collect the money you borrowed from Mr. Strauss.” 

Mr. Miller stops mid-air with his spoon and looks straight at you. Immediately, every single strand of your hair raises from your arms. As a gunslinger, your survival instincts had to be high if you wanted to live to tell a story the next day. You learned very early to read dangerous situations and escape them as quickly as possible. Or fight, which was always your last option. That’s how people survived. But never freeze. The situation you are in right now gave you none of those options. You couldn’t run. You couldn’t fight. You are stuck in Bernard Miller’s enigmatic stare, unable to move. You bite your lips enough to almost draw blood, a resource you learned at a young age to wake up, but you still can’t move. As if the world is frozen all around you.

Bernard Miller gives you a small smile, and the world starts spinning again. Your heart beats to remind your lungs need air. You give one deep breath, and Mr. Miller returns his attention to his soup.

“I won’t ask again. Where is the money you got from Mr. Strauss?” You are surprised your voice isn’t shaking, but your legs are. Your hand is over your revolver to give you a certain sense of safety. 

Mr. Miller continues eating, and you start roaming around his house. Your first instinct is to look into the old cupboard that the old man uses as a kitchen: nothing except for a few cans of old food. You don’t even think of taking those, walking towards the nightstand. When you pass Mr. Miller, you catch the soup he eats is grey with pieces that look like fish. He doesn’t flinch or complain when you roam through his bed, finally stopping by his nightstand. You find the exact amount of dollars you need in very clean notes when you open the drawer. Your hand stops mid-air as you approach to get the money. Why are those notes so clean compared to the rest of the house? You aren’t one to believe in curses; you believe a single bullet could end a man’s life, and that was it. No ghosts or devils existed in a world where humans could be so bad. The spoon hits the plate, waking you from your entrance. With one final decision, you get the money, relieved you are finally done with this place.

When you walk towards the door, a shallow voice mutters.

“He's goin' to die, you know?��

You stop in your tracks.

“What did you say?” You answer back, your voice is so low you would be surprised the old man heard it.

“The one you love. He's goin' to die.”

The hand grabs your pistol again as you turn in your heels to stare at Bernard Miller. He is standing, his eyes straight towards you. 

“We're all goin' to die. We're humans.” You don’t even know why you are still there: you got precisely what you needed. But something, an invisible magnetic force, kept you there. One that you can’t fight or run.

Because Bernard better not be speaking about Arthur. The old man's yellow smile just gets bigger, as if listening to your thoughts.

“He's goin' to get very sick, and you won't be able to do anything about it, except watch powerless as life slowly drains from him. There is nothin' you'll be able to do unless one thing: you'll come to find me.”

“Old man, I don’t know what in the hell you speak of, but if you don't shut—”

“You'll come to find me.” Bernard finishes, decisive. 

“Go to hell.” You whisper before leaving through the door.

It is good to feel the night air in your lungs. It makes you focus properly: you want to look back to the rustic cabin as you dash to your horse, but you don’t. Something says you wouldn’t like what you see. You ride away from Bernard Miller’s home, swearing yourself to never come back.

Your horse seems to share your fears, and you arrive at the camp in record time. The words of Miller stuck in your head as a chant.

“You'll come to find me.” 

“The one you love is goin' to die.” 

It had to be a way for him to scare you not to take his money. It had to. Javier is on watch and waves when he sees you passing.

When you arrive at camp and give your horse those promised pets and tons of sugar cubes, you calm yourself a little. You are back in your safe place, surrounded by the voices of the people around you. Maybe you need a drink. Or two. Slowly, the sense of normality floods your body. Sean, with Karen on his lap and Uncle singing together drunk around the campfire, makes you smile. You stop by the camp’s box, placing the money there, and a hand on your shoulder makes you jump. It is Mr. Strauss, with a satisfied expression.

“How was everything?"

"All good. Got everyone. Mr. Miller tried to scare me a little at the end, but I also got his money."

"Who?"

"The old guy? Bernard Miller? Creepy and ancient?"

Mr. Strauss looks at his record book, a slightly confused expression. You move your weight from one leg to another as Mr. Strauss flips through his book. When he is done, Mr. Strauss raises his eyes, simply stating.

“Well, at least it is done.”

He leaves without saying another word as you stand, uncomfortable. Why, for a second, it seemed Mr. Strauss didn't even remember Bernard Miller? You turn your face toward Sean’s group and notice Arthur sitting there, observing you. You smile, forgetting about Bernard Miller for a moment. His beard and hair are a little longer than the last time you saw him, almost two weeks ago. You want nothing else to run toward his embrace, but you and Arthur try to keep your relationship more private. Arthur looks tired, and you nod slightly toward your shared tent. Should you tell Arthur? He certainly is like you: he doesn’t believe much in those supernatural things. 

It doesn’t take long for him to join you in the tent. As Arthur walks in, and you are shielded from the exterior eyes, his arms are on you. You two hold each other in the darkness, not speaking. After your eyes adjust, Arthur holds your face to give one good look at you.

“Missed ya.”

You don’t answer, holding him tightly with your arms. You are never letting go of him. He is going to die, you know? A shiver passes your body, and you hide your face into Arthur’s body. That doesn’t go unnoticed by him. Arthur separates gently, rubbing your arms.

“Heard you went to get some money back for Strauss. Did anythin' happen?”

“No.” You don’t want to tell Arthur precisely what happened. He might find you silly. As a gunslinger, you had to believe in real people, real danger, not some made-up ghost or whatever lived in that cabin. And he would be right.

“You sure?” Damn you, Arthur Morgan, who knows you so well that can even sense when you are lying. You nod, giving him a half smile.

“Yes.”

Arthur doesn’t seem entirely satisfied, but he doesn’t push it to which you are thankful. He tells you he doesn’t like when Strauss sends you on debt-collecting missions alone because some people could turn violent. You don’t discuss, simply letting that warm feeling spread in your heart. You liked it when Arthur got protective over you. You warn him you can take care of yourself, and Arthur nods, apprehensive.

“I know. I know you can.” Arthur mutters. He doesn’t have to complete the sentence. I can’t lose you is hanging in the air.

You are both dirty and exhausted, and his beard scratches against your skin when you deeply kiss him. Arthur kisses you a little longer than a typical good night kiss, but when you break away, he offers no resistance. 

“I love you. You aren’t losing me, okay? And I am not losing you.” You tell him as a promise to anyone who might be listening. 

He's going to die, you know?

You don’t know where you are going. Your horse is riding without a destination, just racing across the fields of green. Arthur just told he is dying. And instead of staying as his supportive partner, you flew. You had enough. Arthur didn’t attempt to make you stay; he watched miserably as you mounted your horse, leaving the camp. A place you should have left a long time ago with Arthur. Away from Dutch’s insanity, from death. Run away and never look back. Run away from all death and despair.

But Arthur is loyal, and you are loyal to him.

The tears flood into your eyes, and you are sobbing, loud. Your horse runs faster, fuelled by your pain. You need to get away from everyone right now. You are furious but mostly more irate with yourself. You still remember Arthur’s expression as he watched you leave: upset but resigned. He doesn’t even expect you to come back. It would be better for you anyway. 

Your surroundings change as your horse rides away. As if the wind across your face can take all your pain and anger. 

When you finally stop your horse, you repeatedly apologize to him, laying your head against his head. Your horse shakes his head, and you dismount, still apologizing with your fingers shaking.

It gives you a few moments to recognize where you are: right in front of Bernard Miller’s house. It is still old, still standing. As if you just left from collecting that debt long ago. When Arthur wasn’t sick. When everyone was alive and well. When things were still okay.

You'll come to find me.

You should jump in your horse and get away from there. But you don’t.

When he is sick, you'll come and find me.

The voice that has been tormenting you speaks in your head. You forget about your horse and anything around you and slowly walk toward the house.

What would you do for him? 

How much are you willing to give for Arthur Morgan’s life?

“Anythin'.” You answer to nothing.

The door opens, and a young man walks out of the cabin. You stop mid-track, your eyes locked with the dark eyes in front of you. It is Bernard Miller. Except he isn’t old anymore. He is still wearing the same old dirty clothes he wore when you first came to collect the money, but he is young. Handsome. Black hair, the same slight smile on his face that bewitched you. Bernard doesn’t seem surprised to see you. No. He smiles as if he had been expecting you this whole time, and how dare you to be so late? He doesn’t speak as you start sobbing quietly.

“He's sick. As you said.” You mumble, pathetic. It couldn’t be Bernard, the only last sane part of your mind tells you: it could be anybody else, his grandson, a stranger, anyone else?? You had to hold onto that last sane thought.

“And what do you require from me?” The way Bernard spoke now. His voice was as if an icy knife cutting against your skin. You inevitably chill, wincing away. You hold yourself together for Arthur.

“You can cure him, can’t you? You shouldn't, it shouldn't be possible, but you can. I know you can.” You murmur, not knowing where that knowledge has come from. Bernard looks satisfied and utterly different from when you saw him, but you simply accept it. He shouldn't look like that, there was no possible explanation for this man to be Bernard Miller. But you accept it anyway; you will take whatever is coming to save Arthur’s life. And something told you this man, whatever he was, could help.

Because you had to be going insane, right?

“I can. There is a price to pay.” Bernard states, and you instantly nod.

He starts closing the distance between you, and your knees give in. In a sign of respect or adoration, you don't know, it doesn't seem to matter anymore. Bernard doesn’t seem surprised as your knees drop onto the floor with your head down. You don’t care; you say it out loud, and he knows it. Bernard opens a big, twisted smile, and you find comfort where you once found fear. 

I will do anything to save Arthur Morgan’s life.

Even your soul?

Even my soul. Anything. 

As Bernard touches your cheek, you close your eyes. The sensation of comfort just gets more significant in your chest as you disconnect from your body. The last part of you that screams you shouldn’t have done this is shut off. You know now, as inevitable as the sun will rise tomorrow, that Arthur Morgan isn’t dying of that damn disease. 

You smile back.

You wake up hours later, extremely confused. You look around, and the cabin of Bernard is still there, but it looks much older than before. As if no one has lived there for years and years. You get up, hungry and thirsty. It must have been some sort of crazy nightmare, you think.

You ride back to the camp, trying to remember the events from last night. Arthur told you he was sick, and you left angry and furious instead of facing or even comforting him. By the time you arrive at the camp, he has left again. No one is looking at you differently, which you find weirdly comforting. 

A few days pass until you see Arthur again, and he looks…better? His face isn’t as pale anymore, and he has some blush on his cheek. As if life is coming back to him. 

“How are you feeling?” You wonder as he stops by your side.

“Fine? I almost haven't coughed the way here.”

You nod, happy. Maybe Arthur was getting better. What did those doctors know anyway? There is no one strong as your Arthur Morgan, and he would live many and many years.

The gang is over. After killing Micah, Arthur finds you where you two had agreed to meet. A start of a new life, as he said. Away from crime, away from that horrible life. Just you and him, a few horses, some livestock. A simple lifestyle. Arthur didn’t need much, you didn't need much. You had each other. You had forgotten entirely about Bernard Miller, happy to share a life you always wanted with the man you deeply loved.

But a deal is a deal. And when time is up, time is up: you have to pay the price.

You watch as Arthur leaves to get eggs from the chicken. He gives you a kiss and leaves whistling. He looks so relaxed and happy. It warms your heart to be the one to share that with him. After years of hard work, he deserves it. You both do.

When he doesn’t return after awhile, you look for him. It is a hot day, and Arthur might need a cup of water and a few kisses. You find him fallen behind the stable, his horse close to him. Unconscious. You run towards him, the cup of water forgotten on the floor, and roll him over. He doesn’t seem to be breathing. You remember a new technique to compress the chest that you read in a book that Arthur brought you from the library a couple of weeks ago, and you start compressing his chest and blowing air on his mouth.

“Come on, Arthur, come on.”

Hours pass, and Arthur doesn’t move an inch. You drop to his side, exhausted, looking everywhere for someone. Anything to save him. You close your eyes, praying for anything to save him.

When you open your eyes, you are in front of young Bernard Miller again. Your clothes are different, and you are younger again. You are on your knees in front of Bernard Miller, just as in the day you discovered Arthur was going to die and, and...

No, it isn't possible.

You blink, confused, as Bernard Miller smiles as if he has seen this scene multiple times and still loves it every time he witnesses it.

“Even your soul?” Bernard asks, his eyes glowing in the darkness. Whatever is left of you is gone by now, but you can’t wait to live with Arthur again. And again. No matter the price, no matter the outcome, no matter the ending.

Anything for Arthur Morgan’s life. To live by his side all over again.

“Even my soul. Anything."

taglist: @agqrtz, @daydreamrot, @roseglazedlens, @scar-crossedlvrs. if you would like to be tagged into my halloween event, let me know!!

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan fanfics #arthur morgan horror

[cinnamonest]

This is by far my favourite genshin yan blog, the way you write the characters are so like how i picture them! My question is, of all the mortal genshin boys, other than Razor, which do you see as the top handful of yans being most mentally determined to find you and bring you home if you managed to escape, even across the continent? Like, the LEAST willing to just give up eventually and find a new darling?

Uwahh ty anon <3

I like that you had to specify “other than Razor” lol

Obviously all are gonna be rather determined to find you again, but some in particular that come to mind:

-----

Ayato keeps a fairly humble exterior, but in truth, he has a sense of pride, and when that pride is wounded, it’s not something he can easily forgive.

Of course, he has quite a large amount of resources at his disposal, so he'll likely be able to find you rather quickly, in which case you'll get the cold treatment and quite a firm talking-to, after which the matter will be let go of, albeit gradually. Still, it won't be treated as that big of a deal.

Not that he isn’t attached to you, of course, but that pridefulness is a large part of his motivation in tracking you down. It’s not just ‘how could you leave me,’ but it’s more ‘how dare you leave me.’ It’s offense, anger, bitterness. You don’t get to do that. He’s not about to take such an insult without putting every resource he has at his disposal into correcting what he feels to be a transgression against him.

If, on the other hand, even all the subordinates he has on hand can't find you within a day or so, then it becomes a bigger issue. He initially had a few people sent out to retrieve you, but in this case, he'll instead direct all of the staff he has available to do so.

Over time, though, the longer you stay unfound, the more he begins to lose composure. Becomes more irritable, less emotionally stable, begins to uncharacteristically snap at people and lose his temper. Which he realizes and is self-aware of, often stopping and catching himself mid-sentence and forcing himself to calm down... the realization that he's acting so unusually undignified just drives him to put that much more effort in.

Which is also why, by the time you are finally found, it's far from a warm welcome home. You're treated with a rather cold demeanor, narrowed eyes downcast to look at you with disdain. He treats it as quite the offense, which is why you'll never be given such an opportunity again... and frankly, in part due to the fact that he's worried of what would become of his sanity if that were to ever occur again.

-----

Tighnari is a bit sad to witness, really. It’s yet another instance of the whole “mate for life” thing drives him to find you at all costs, his brain is hardwired to have a ‘one and only’ in a way a human’s brain is not. Life ceases to feel worthwhile, nothing else seems to be of any importance. He’ll forget to eat and sleep.

His mental state will gradually deteriorate the longer you’re gone. It's not a matter of logical reasoning that he's likely to find you, and while despair and longing is certainly a major element in it all, that's still not the root cause. It's a sense of wrongness. His brain is constantly alerting him to a sense of something being wrong and needing immediate resolution, an instinct that's subconscious rather than conscious, like pain or hunger, a sensation that is hardwired into the brain and will not go away until the issue is fixed.

People feel a lot of pity for him. He doesn't eat much, doesn't sleep. He'll go out into the forest, aimlessly wandering around, as if expecting to find something. Constantly searching, often to the point he's at the brink of collapse from exhaustion. He takes trips out into the city, to the desert, everywhere he can think of.

He also, probably more so than any other listed here, undergoes personality change, in which he essentially gradually becomes a hollow shell. Rarely speaks. All his movements become slow and lethargic, he walks around with glazed-over eyes staring out into nothing. It's such an innate instinct, he's essentially incapable of functioning normally, his very body begins to shut down out of grief as he becomes emaciated and dull-eyed.

That being said, pitiful as it is, and as tempted as you may be to feel bad for him, that also means it will be extremely unfortunate for you if you were ever found again. The experience leaves him utterly traumatized, to the extent that if you're found, you can be absolutely certain that you will never have the opportunity to leave ever again, regardless of how extreme the measure to ensure it may be.

-----

Childe is similar to Ayato in that it's partially a pride matter, but it's not a matter of that pride being offended by you running off, so much as it is maintaining it by being able to get you back. That is, he won't see your running off as a slight against him or hold a grudge, but he stakes his confidence in being able to hunt you down with ease.

Far more importantly, however, he likes the challenge of it. It's part of who he is in general, he's the sort of boy that if you say "there's no way you can do that" or the like, it will suddenly become his utmost imperative to do exact the thing in question and not stop until he has accomplished proving you wrong. It's practically compulsive, he has to prove that he is capable of whatever he decides to do, and the thought of being wrong and thus incapable is infuriating. Likewise, you running off is essentially an indirect way of you presenting a challenge to him. How could he ever just sit back and let you go, or not put full effort into finding you?

His attitude changes a bit, though, depending on the duration of time consumed. For the first little while, he treats it sort of like a game, has fun with the whole matter. He doesn't even seem all that upset that you've gotten out; if anything, he's almost excited by it.

Once you've disappeared for some time, though, and he begins to feel like he actually might not be able to find you, that you might get away, his attitude changes. Now he's actually getting nervous, and more importantly, the fact that you successfully hid from him for such a duration of time is... irritating. Basically you getting one over on him, and it feels like you're mocking him... in his head he can practically see you being all smug about it. Makes him grind his teeth, clench his fists.

The angrier he gets, the more frantic and desperate he gets with his search. Normally, he'll be slower about it, likes to see you squirm and finds it cute to see how you will try to hide away somewhere, so he likes to give you enough time to make it to potential "help" and all that, just to see you despair when it all falls apart anyway. But on the rare occasion you hide a little too well, and suddenly he actually can't find you, then it's a problem, and he'll be far stricter and harsher with his searching, and far more emotionally volatile to those around him.

Eventually this can become too much. If it takes too long and he genuinely panics, he'll even drop the usual snarky demeanor after finally finding you, too upset to even mock you, entirely focused on anger and prioritizing taking you back. So if you're finally found, but he's uncharacteristically quiet and cold, it's not a good sign for your immediate future.

-----

Heizou... well, he thinks he can find you, so he sets his mind to it.

He's a much more mentally stable yandere than most, but when it comes to you disappearing, when the situation arises, he has to calm himself down and remind himself that this is basically his specialty, is it not? He's been on plenty of missing persons cases before. He just needs to apply the same methodology he would use for those.

Of course, his personal emotions do get in the way of his efficiency. Due to being very lucid and all, his primary feeling in the moment is intense paranoia and panic that you're going to go to law enforcement. The first thing he does, actually, is head to the station himself, thinking he might catch you there if that is where you decided to go... but then again, you'd probably not do that for obvious reasons. In which case...

He has to calm himself down, but putting his mind to work helps with that process. He goes about it just as he would with anything else, making a mental list of possibilities, narrowing it down and prioritizing the most likely of those possibilities, then gradually begins checking each and using process of elimination. He has to keep his mind distracted, treat it like a case, or else he knows he's going to break down.

But in terms of dedication, he can keep it up for a very, very long time, and puts in every ounce of effort he has, everything he's learned over his years, into seeing it through. This, too, is largely about his own sanity. He focuses his entire mental energy into treating it like a case because he knows he'll fall apart if he doesn't, and thus, he's incredibly dedicated. He has to keep focusing on it, not take his mind off of it. The moment he begins to let himself despair, he'll give into paranoia, and quite possibly fully lose his mind.

Thus, in a way, continuing searching is what keeps him sane. If he stops, he'll be constantly paranoid, constantly panicked, but at least searching for you gives his brain a faux sense of progress, which calms him down... although, given enough time without success, that coping method might start to fail too...

-----

Although what is perhaps the absolute worst isn't immortal nor in any particularly notable position of power.

Kaeya is driven by a lot of things. Love, sure, it's part of it.

But primarily, above all else, when he comes home one day to an empty room, he goes through a few stages. First panic, grief, you know, the expected emotions, the whole process of frantically checking around for you, slowly coming to terms with reality. He then falls into a deep depression, lasting around two or three days, drinks himself to the point of unconsciousness at least twice over.

And then, when he wakes up slumped onto the couch, head pounding and dizzy, staring up at the ceiling, the hurt is quickly overridden by a new sentiment: pure, unadulterated spite.

It's no secret to you, after living with him for so long, that despite the exterior, he's not exactly the most emotionally stable person in the world, that he has quite his fair share of unresolved psychological issues.

It's a bit different from the pridefulness of precious entries. It's an extension of pride, tied to it, but it's more... malicious. Vengeful. Driven by a desire not just to get you back out of love, nor out of desire to restore a sense of pride, but because getting you back is the only way he can ensure you suffer.

Which is why you probably should have known better. You're just inviting the potential consequences. And that spite is one hell of a motivator.

Day in, day out. He takes time away from work, comes up with an excuse about an emergency that must be dealt with. Uses any and every resource at his disposal. Embezzles funds before he departs if necessary.

You think you can just get up and walk off. After everything he's done for you? No, no, you don't get to do that to him. You're not allowed to do that, you don't get to get away with that. It's a bitter, seething feeling, but that sensation just drives him to work harder. It can be easily utilized and converted into energy and dedication, like fuel to an engine.

He doesn't really have any limits to what he's willing to do, either. Unlike some that would still maintain their ethics, if threatening or hurting people is necessary to get information, it's not something he'll hesitate to do.

He may not have what others have — underlings at his command, the animal senses, the professional investigative background, the unlimited lifespan of time, or any of the other advantages that everyone else listed here has — but he gets the top ranking here purely by merit of relentless, boundless, unhinged determination. And, of course, unhesitating use of extreme measures and remarkable willingness for violence doesn't hurt. Quite the force to be reckoned with, and you really don't want to be on the receiving end of the vengefulness fueling it all... not that you have much of a choice, as you will be found eventually, no matter how far.

And yet, despite how unlikely it is, somehow, you know. When you come back one day and notice the lights are all out and door hanging open, you feel dread. When you walk in to a quiet, dark room, walk around the home with trembling footsteps, come to a halt and feel your eyes go wide as you look down to some indistinguishable shapes lying on the floor, you know immediately. Without having to think, without having to wonder, without any clues to go on. You just immediately, instinctively know. Even before you feel a presence right behind you, even before you slowly turn your head over your shoulder...

And you did, in fact, manage to get pretty far. Found some nice people that let you stay with them. How nice of them.

For most people, it would seem like you were in the clear, and even now, whenever you get paranoid, look around with nervous eyes in public and all, people tell you you're letting it get to your head, that there's nothing to worry about. But you can't shake the feeling.

#im not dead #yet #(ily my unhinged baby boy 💕)

[gabessquishytum]

I hope you are having a better day today!

I'm dropping off a plot bunny.

So an ABO verse with alpha Dream and omega Hob in a long-term relationship where they are basically husbands and mates except that Night and Time would disown Dream for tying himself to Hob because Hob would not advance the Endless's standing at all. So Dream and Hob have just been rolling with it, because as much as Hob loves Dream and believes in him Dream would not survive a day in a service industry or office job and needs that family money. Dream's art supplies are not cheap, and Hob does not want to see Dream deprived of the joy of creation.

Their relationship had been ignored previously but Night and Time are getting pushy about getting Dream set up with a proper society omega and not some random guy who only avoids assault charges because no one wants to admit having their ass handed to them by an omega.

So it's a stalemate, if they get married they lose near everything and a stable life, if they don't they lose each other and their happiness.

But then Hob has a thought. Every time Desire has had a pregnancy scare with a partner the first thing Time and Night do is try and get them married because a bastard out of wedlock is worse in their minds than marrying down.

So a child would solve their problems, as long as it looked accidental because if it comes out as a planned defiance Dream would be disowned. They want kids but were planning on it once Hob had his teaching degree and they were both settled in their careers. After talking about it, Dream agrees because a child and a marriage is the best kind change that can come out of the situation.

So they put the plan into action, switching cycle suppressants for just scent suppressants and waiting for Hob's heat to start. They both barely succeed at not being totally insane around others about the fact that they are going to have a kid. Hob changes his diet and starts taking supplements to "combat the exhaustion of late night study sessions." Dream has to refrain from searching out and buying a ton of baby stuff.

When the heat hits, it's a total hormonal overwhelm for both of them. If they do it right, Hob will be pregnant at the end of it, and it's a heady thought. They will finally be tied together permanently in a way no one can deny them. All Dream wants to do is bite Hob's mating gland and claim him fully but a cycle suppressant would stop the gland from swelling so he can't bite if they want to pull off the whole accidental birth control failure angle. Dream is pulled between the absolute abandon of knocking Hob up and the restraint of not biting him even when Hob is begging for it.

After the heat life keeps moving, and they hope but they can't buy pregnancy test because the parents might find out so they have to wait for something that might send someone to the doctor to check out. The scent suppressants mean they can't rely on smell either. Hob has never wanted to puke so much in his life.

Eventually, one of Hob's classmates drags him to the health clinic because he might not be throwing up, but he has looked bad in the mornings for weeks now, and that is not normal. Of course, Hob is pregnant, and he has to act panicked about it in the clinic when all he wants to do is celebrate.

They reach out to Desire on the basis of being the only sibling who has dealt with a scare, and also Dream knows they will tell Night and Time immediately as an attempt to get Dream disowned from the family.

Dream and Hob end up getting everything they wanted, continued acces to the Endless funds, a marriage dated to before Hob's heat, a mating bite when Hob's pregnancy hormones swell up the mating bond and of course a child that is both of them that they get to love and spoil.

-💥

This is such an absolutely genius concept, and you've written it up so perfectly, I honestly couldn't stop reading it (which is why I've been hoarding it in my ask box for a few days, heh). Thank you so much for sharing it with me.

I'm imagining many, many years down the line when Dream and Hob get to relate all of this backstory to their kid(s). The two them going all soft and doe eyed as they tell the story. The kid pretending to gag but secretly loving how their parents went above and beyond to be together, and to have their own beautiful little family <3

#💥 anon #the sandman #dreamling #nsft #cw omegaverse #cw mpreg

[hwnglx]

hi can i please ask how would enhypen jay act around his crush haha thank you!!

i always try to keep it short but end up writing entire novels.. hope you still enjoy the read 🖤

how would jay act around his crush? based on tarot and astrology, take it with a grain of salt

kingofw&aceofw, 5ofp&10ofp+moon, 6ofp, magic

+ oh if jay is crushing on you, you will know about it. i can really see him getting a boost in confidence once he's around his crush. he will absolutely not be the shy or nervous type that'll struggle approaching you.

jay will really want to catch his crushes eye and stand out a lot to them. a very leo moon thing. so, he will put a lot of effort into his looks whenever he's around you. he'll probably be the best dressed in the room and check his reflection all the time, just to make sure he's looking his best when you're near him, or put on expensive cologne to smell good and impress you.

another way of catching your attention will be boldy initiating whatever interaction there is between you two. whether it's physical touch, verbal exchanges or just shooting flirty and lingering glances at you.

his main focus will be on physical contact for sure. taurus venus' looove savouring every moment they spend with the person they're interested in. he will want to really enjoy your presence, and will probably make sure there will be many moments where you two touch. even if it's just brief ones, like your hands subtly touching while you're next to each other (i just know that this man loves hand holding. it's the possessive nature. he's the type to tighly hold hands with you on his lap, even while out for dinner with others) or him softly fixing your hair. he'll find ways to be very smooth with everything for sure.

even if you're among other friends, jay will probably be the first one there to help you with anything, once you ask for it. like, he really is the type to love playing the hero for you. whatever he can do for you, he will definitely do. he'll hold open the door, push back your chair, always keep an eye on you if you're out together and not leave your side, guide you through crowds. he probably loves the idea of that cliché romantic scenario of him catching you while you "coincidentally" trip in his presence, lol.

he will also be extremely generous with his crush in a materialistic manner. he'll show you his interest by spending money on you, whether it's by offering to buy you a drink at a bar or paying for your dinner at your date like it's the most obvious thing in the world. don't even think about offering to split the bill, he will not accept you paying a dime and probably fight you until you finally give in.

although it seems like he might almost get pushy, he will definitely know his limits and not be overbearing at all. on the contrary, he'll flirt in a slow but steady, subtle but very effective way. there will be no way you don't notice him being interested, but still won't feel pressured to engage right away.

- hello mister tarurus stellium.. he'll immediately reflect and ponder way too much over how his crush would fit into his life. i can really picture jay sitting there and just thinking "is this person worth it? do i see a future with them?" like let loose my friend, you ain't marrying them tomorrow 🥹

i think jay might have a slight problem with control and has the tendency to get obsessed over constantly staying stable in life. he might see falling in love as a risk to lose control over himself, almost? like, he really struggles to just let his feelings run free sometimes and could have problems finding a balance between his heart and head. heart telling him to go for it and give in to love, head telling him to not "ruin" things for himself and think about it once more. what's an innocent crush to some, is a serious matter to park jongseong for sure.

#kpop tarot #enhypen tarot #jay tarot

[hawaiifiveoh]

admission | steve mcgarrett

Gif originally posted by tissueoflies

masterlist

McGarrett gets seriously hurt, and you realize some things about the chief.

steve mcgarrett x reader

Author’s note: set in and post 6x25. some angst and emotions, obviously.

2.9k words | ♫ Playlist: the trouble with wanting - joy williams, angel - yowler

______________________

Danny had a couple ribs broken, but he was unfazed by the pain, rushing around. Yet, here you were, slow blinking, your body feeling like it had been run over. Despite your perfect posture, your chest was caved in. Your stomach was lodged in the bottom of your throat. Your heart hadn’t been stable ever since that distress signal from the plane, the landing, and everything that happened after. It evened out slightly when McGarrett was confirmed to be at Tripler, and you all got the guys who caused this whole nightmare. But then it fell out of order again with the bad news of the extent of Steve’s injuries. The phrase “next few hours” sunk into your brain from the Doctor’s drawn face. You couldn’t get it out: ‘few hours, few hours, 180 minutes… give or take, and he will die.’ And in that moment, you knew what you had been keeping to yourself, what you’d been protecting yourself from, would be the very thing that would kill you.

All you had been doing was breathing in the exhales of everyone else who was loitering in the waiting room in silence. You were staring at the same line of wood grain on the floor, since Danny and Steve were admitted into surgery. God bless Danny Williams, his blood type, and his ability to recognize yet compartmentalize a wide range of emotions, as he offered up his liver to save Steve, without question. You in one way would be forever secretly indebted to the cynical short man. Danny was not only your dear friend, but the one who gave you the most tangible feeling of hopeful expectation you ever felt at that time. It was a specific type of hope against the loss that was much too close. The bottomless well that was formed from everything you never thought about. The loss of never being able to spend time with that annoying Lt. Commander again, to have the attention of the warrior man’s gaze, the chance to keep him looking at you.

A part of you always hated McGarrett, you hated him as soon as his large hand wrapped around yours for one moment. He kept moving along, evading danger and all, like nothing going on was a big deal, but you were stuck there. Stuck hating how his grip right then dragged you out of you head and let yourself breathe without any afterthought. You hated that he gave you this insidiously addicting comfort– some undefined yet distinguishable calmness washing over you, like fresh rain. You knew it'd be something you couldn’t afford to lose after knowing how it felt to have it in your life. Really though, you just hated what you did to yourself because he didn’t do anything to cause this and your damned speculations. You had wrapped yourself around every idea and inflection and smile and touch and turned it into another kind of thing you wanted to keep. Steven was too honorable and professional and hurt himself to ever consider crossing that line and ruining things. And you hated that fact. So, you hated McGarrett more, but never said it. You never spoke the truth that sat behind your eyes and ribs. You let it fester, like some bruised fruit rotting in the afternoon sun. But all this time, it wasn’t hate that actually grew at all.

The same doctor with the eyebrows in a perpetual frown, shuffled into the room, and like moths to a flame everyone immediately stood up and hovered around him: a lost prophet, you all waiting on his words to speak to the masses, to hear some glorious truth. And, there was.

It didn’t help you feel truly better, though. The uncovered truth, weighing down your heart, pulled and kept your ribs caved in. Kono obviously had something on her mind too, because you ran into her in the doorway of Steve’s room in Intensive Care.

“Kono! I didn’t know you were here. I’m sorry, I’ll come back–”

“Y/N, no worries,” she peacefully smiled, presence like flowing lavender in a field, “I already said what I needed to,” you nodded at her, “I take it you’re here to do the same,” she commented.

Kono’s stare, just like her shot, was direct. Her look was in no way judgmental, but immediately, you felt paper thin, like you already showed too much.

“I just wanted to see how he was doing,” you said, pushing down the swells of embarrassment. 

Your feet were stuck. The faraway sight of McGarrett lying there, resembled more of an open casket than some vision of recovery. Maybe, reminders of death were hanging around too much because it was the hospital. Whatever. You realized you couldn't do this, especially not now, not with all this emotional mess. You felt your heart sink again. Kono watched you, her face slowly turning concerned. You heard your name, in the darkness of your shut eyes, head leaning against the wall just outside the room.

You opened your eyes again, a feeling rising in your throat, “I’m fine. I’m just processing everything, I guess. Thinking about things.”

“Don’t think, Y/N. Just say whatever’s in that big caring heart of yours, you can’t go wrong.”

You sighed, pessimistically shaking your head, “Oh, it can.”

In the silence, Kono softly spoke up again. The words hit you, straight through.

“I saw how you were at my wedding. How you two looked at each other when you thought no one was looking,” she tilted her head for emphasis, “And, how you both refused to dance with each other.”

“I didn’t refuse. I was never asked.”

“You could’ve asked Steve.” She countered. You scoffed. 

“Yeah,” you mocked, crossing your arms to constrain the pain radiating out from your chest. You knew the fragments and open ends of what happened since.

“Just because things were one way doesn’t mean things stay that way forever. Who’s here right now?”

You stared at her.

“Sometimes you just have to believe in yourself like someone else believes in you,” Kono stated like some thoughtful therapist.

You swallowed the dryness in your throat, as she nudged you into the room. You slowly walked to Steve’s bedside, and turned back around for reassurance, but Kono was already gone.

You pulled a stray chair close to the bed, the weight of everything you’ve realized too much to stand. You narrowed your eyes at McGarrett, trying to build up that hatred, some form of cruelty to protect yourself. It didn’t work. You were defeated, desperate. So, you selfishly took the one chance you believed you had– your hand cautiously wandering to Steve’s.

Your fingers warily reached around the knuckles of his motionless hand, a clandestine tenderness falling over the room. That calmness you always sought now came with a price of knowing what love was for you. You took his larger palm in both of your hands, quietly exhaling your held breath and stray tears of gratitude and now regret.

“This… this isn’t easy for me to say out loud, especially to you. I hate to admit it, but Steve, I don’t know what I’d do without you. Seriously. I love you. And despite whatever happens and however you feel about me, I’ll still love you.”

Then you sat there in silence, tear stains drying, wondering who the warrior man was actually dreaming of and if your presence ever was potent enough to win out and linger. Who was he hoping to be beside him? 

You didn’t leave Steve’s side, numbing the aches in your confessed heart, dodging the glances from the moseying nurses’ that questioned if you were McGarrett’s girlfriend or not. After some time, you had heard his breathing pattern change from the established melody that both of yours had melded into. Your tiredness had won out, though, resting there half-awake, as you leaned against your elbow on the edge of the bed, your other hand not letting go of Steve’s. You heard the deep timbred syllables of your name drift into your ears. Your eyes shot open.

“Hey,” you couldn’t hold back a smile, seeing Steve awake, “How are you doing?”

“What happened? Where’s Danny?”

“Danny’s doing fine. We got the guys who shot at you. You had surgery a few hours ago, you were in pretty bad shape when they brought you in here, especially your liver. Danny gave you a part of his.”

“Really?” You felt his thumb graze against your hand as he was thinking, you swallowed hard. 

“I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad thing,” Steve noted.

You couldn’t help but laugh, “It’s a good thing, McGarrett. Everyone was really worried about you. Actually I should tell them you’re awake.”

You were trying to distance yourself from the feeling running up your arm to your heart. The warning from your older cousin ringing through your mind, ‘being too intense, only burns you’. You dropped Steve’s hand.

He cleared his throat, feeling the gaping hole of your lost grip, “How– How long have you been here?”

“I don’t know. I stayed because I know it’s better to wake up with someone beside you.” The sentence fell from your mouth and instantly implications sprouted from the pauses,  “After surgery, I mean.”

Steve nodded and eyed you briefly, his eyes still adjusting to the ambient light, but piercing nonetheless.

“Thank you for being here. It was better… maybe even the best.” Steve added, eyebrows playful, his voice lightening up, but something was still holding it back. 

You rolled your eyes, wondering what it was. But before you could figure it out, the nurse popped back into the room, dotingly tending to McGarrett since he was awake again.

______________________

You could hear the clarity of Danny Williams’ insults through the wooden door. You opened it to find the detective and the chief still in their respective hospital beds, still bickering whenever they had the opportunity. 

“The TV, now this! Every day you prove yourself more of being a complete and utter ingrate.”

“Don’t get mad at me just cause the nurse likes me more, and got me the last fruit cup, okay?”

“You didn’t even offer to share!”

“You never share your food.”

“It’s the principle, Steven. To offer as a kind gesture. Like how I offered you my liver.”

“Jeeze, here we go again. I swear I’m going to refuse my anti-rejection meds, it’s not worth this.”

“Boys,” you warned, and the two men focused on you, “Please. It’s one more day, otherwise I’m not going to share these,” you paused and opened up the box of fresh malasadas.

“Aww, babe, you’re the sweetest,” Danny cooed, and you softly smiled, always appreciative of the Jersey man’s unfiltered emotional openness– unlike the guy next to him. 

The guy that could apparently throw ‘love you’s around at the hospital last week with ease. You overheard when Steve nonchalantly said it to Grover before everyone left for Max’s party. It was fine, you knew the ohana cared about each other. But the whole time at Rumfire you just stewed on the fact you were the one there most of the time, and Steven never once had said it to you.

However, that same guy noticed your sweet smile at his friend’s words and how the sight poked a hole in his chest, jealousy dripping out.

“If it wasn’t for you checking in, I don’t think I would have stayed sane in this place,” Danny added.

“Stayed sane?” McGarrett taunted, “That’s implying, you haven’t ever lost it here, Daniel?”

Danny didn’t answer aside from suddenly reaching and pulling the curtain out between the two beds as a barrier. He knew better than to engage in this, his facial expressions saying plenty for you two to understand. You patted his arm in empathy, before handing him the entire box of desserts.

“No malasadas for me?” Steve incredulously asked as you went around to his side of the room.

“I warned you,” you shrugged, as you both heard Danny mumble through mouthfuls, “These are some of the best malasadas ever, I’m telling you.”

McGarrett made an over the top appalled face, sighing loudly, “Are you gonna offer a kind gesture and share, Danny?”

The detective snickered, “It’s like you’re trying to speak to me, but I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

You watched Steve’s face, he rolled his eyes at his unseen partner. Then his stare found yours, and in a split second it felt like there was this thing standing in the middle of the room, but you both didn’t want to ask what it was. McGarrett blinked again and it was gone. He nodded towards you, a smile now on the edge of his lips,

“Com’ere,” the tone of his voice was obviously more pleading than normal.

The TV’s noise faded into the background as you sat down right at the edge of the bed closest to his frame. Queued thoughts to speak were already there as a distraction. So, you leaned in closer. Steve shifted his weight slightly to settle his heart, realizing you were only whispering in his ear, 

“Sometimes little things mean a lot. Offer the next fruit cup to Danny, understood?”

His eyes tried to fight your close stare, but they gave in and said fine. You were a rip current dragging him out to sea, no matter how hard he fought against it. Steve couldn’t stop looking at you, you not knowing how grateful he actually was to have the chance to. You felt his gaze lock to yours again and you felt too exposed– that truth never fully able to be hidden in how you saw him.

Suddenly, McGarrett turned away, confusion replacing your vulnerability while he intensely focused on two larger ‘get well’ bouquets of flowers on the nightstand beside him. He started digging through the various stems, on some sort of hunt it seemed. He pulled out some flowers, specific selections that happened to reflect random mentions of types and colours you liked. He eagerly handed them to you, eyes big and apprehensive, like some nervous late prom date. You were touched and confused as you silently took them in your hand. He leaned his body forward, towards your ear, wanting to prevent his partner’s potential intrusive commentary in what he was about to say.

“‘E hele me ka pu'olo’,” his low voice echoed, “You live up to that saying, always making everything better than it was before… By the way, I love you too.”

Steve didn’t move that far back, tilting his head only slightly to see your reaction. The proud warrior man saw the grin slowly spread across your face, replacing the surprise and anger after you realized what he had known for almost 2 weeks. His own lips curled up into a smile only you could cause.

Suddenly, you heard the curtain rings slide back with a breeze, Danny’s determined action, startling you both. 

“Oh good, you’re both conscious. I thought something happened since it’s been so quiet.”

Danny’s eyes ricocheted between you two, before resting on the delicate bunch of flowers you were holding.

“What?” McGarrett gruffly asked.

Danny was still staring, observing and processing in seconds what he thought could be going on, but not saying it out loud. He raised his eyebrows, “Nothing... I uh, need the remote to change the channel.”

In a precise series of SEAL-like motions, McGarrett grabbed the TV remote from the drawer and threw it to him. Danny barely had enough time to react.

 “There, enjoy the malasadas too, buddy,” Steve said calmly, before attentively pulling the privacy curtain back in place. 

His hand precisely tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. His voice was soft, attentively delicate, like his palm holding the side of your face, “I would’ve said something sooner, but…” his eyes nudged in the direction of the man behind the curtain.

“Said ‘what’ sooner, Steven?” An amused nefarious East coast voice echoed back.

McGarrett rolled his eyes, not even bothered by his friend’s taunting.

“Just make out quietly, alright? Remember you’re not alone in this room.” 

“Shut up and eat your food, Danny,” Steve ordered.

It was well established that Steve McGarrett wasn’t one to listen to anyone, let alone Danny Williams. In this case, though, he didn’t really have an argument against it. Steve raised his eyebrows, leaving the idea between you, as he sat with his dorky smile and ugly hospital gown. The pure happiness he had, washed over you-- then you realized it was because he was looking at you. Your chest didn’t feel heavy anymore. The calmness only he could create melded into something else and you took it, heart racing to the opportunity, as you swiftly captured the chief’s lips with your own.

You pulled back slightly, voice quiet, “I can’t believe you knew though, I’m still mad at you.”

“Good, keep being mad then,” his husky voice encouraged, Steve’s eyes shining with a rare carefree form, before he smirked into the next kiss you didn’t deny.

(Steve knew that being able to be with you, and this right now, was the only thing in the world that would make Danny’s bitching about his liver worth it.)

#steve mcgarrett imagine #steve mcgarrett x reader #steve mcgarrett #h50 #steve mcgarrett x y/n #hawaii five-0 #steve mcgarrett fanfiction

[sunny-reis]

hcs - enha as college students

notes: this isn't even an x reader (it may be in the future 👀) lmao, this is all lighthearted and i by no means intend to insult or deface any of the enhas or see them fr fr this way

heeseung: comp sci major w/a music minor

deep down would definitely want his degrees to be the other way around

but he would probs realize cs just leads to more of a stable job (not with ai on the rise tho 😍 we love going into a doomed field of study)

(as a cs kid i’m ABSOLUTELY projecting onto my little headcanons about him)

i think..he’d be a NORMAL person that enjoys programming more than learning abt computer hardware or theory

seeing as he’s normal he’d HATEEEEE object-oriented programming (the complex part of programming OUGHGG)

he’d probably know exactly what to minor in for his dream job: music production

he’d DEFINITELYYY be in the school orchestra as a piano

he’s not mysterious enough for a bass, annoying enough for a violin or trumpet, or quirky enough for a cello

he’s an attention whore he wouldn’t even LOOK at the violas 💀

but yeah overall i think he’d know his plans for the future down to a T

probs has an internship at microsoft (derogatory)

now for the most important question

would he be a tech bro?

absolutely NOT

for those that aren’t as familiar with tech bros

just imagine a redditor alpha male with horribly gelled hair that brings the LOUDEST gaming pc to class with a horribly oiled, light-up keyboard, and makes sleazy comments about the one or two girls in every comp sci class

in other words: a woman in cs’ worst nightmare (send help i’m one of TWO girls in a class full of tech bros.)

but yeah he wouldn’t be like that at all

he’d definitely suck at rizzing up women (bro plays LoL in 2023, the year of our lord, need i elaborate?)

i can easily imagine him coming into class with gray sweatpants, a white t-shirt and flannel over, and a double-shot coffee from starbucks every day

he’d probably be the most decent-looking dude in every cs-related class i can’t even lie

for the dudes reading this: if you ever need an ego boost, do basic self-care and dress well (maybe even put on basic makeup), and join a cs class

the amount of mid ass incels with no concept of self-care will immediately make you the most attractive man in the class i kid you not

neways enough of me projecting 💀

as a music student

i could absolutely see him eat up every composition assignment (where you compose your own piece of music)

although i feel like he’d have a teacher that prefers classical music that’d be PISSED every time he submits something non-conventional

omg imagine him composing a whole dubstep instrumental for class

if the music production thing doesn’t work out he’d start a band with a bunch of losers in his dad’s garage and make horrible music that’d still get a decent amount of listens and attention bc he’s hot

it’s giving fallout boy but not emo

maybe shitty indie at best

more utc !

jay: english major w/a philosophy minor

first of all

his ass would NOT know philosophy is mostly math before signing up

i don’t think he’d be bad at math at all but he’d fs be regretting it all

but then he’d debate dropping out until whoop there’s only a semester left until it’s over. too late.

he’d dress up for every class for SUREEE

one word: beige.

he IS light academia pinterest

studyblr WISHES it was him fr

macbook user. i don’t need to explain.

he’d probably have his life together on the outside

bullet journal and aesthetic notion and all

i feel like he’d prefer discussions and deep thought (hence the philosophy) and debates over analysis

he’d LOVE discussing his thoughts abt different texts in class

he would NOT like writing out analyses abt random ass stories tho (hs english was a NIGHTMARE)

argumentative essays are his BITCH fr

i think he’d lose points for focusing more on broader concepts and going just a tad too off-topic in analytical essays, instead of focusing on details and cause-effect relationships and all that

now for the important part: his life outside of college

ik for a FACT he’d be the most likely to have a thriving social life outside of school out of all of enha

don’t @ me it’s not my fault the rest of them are MAIDENLESS – heeseung plays LEAGUE for crying out loud !!

probably goes out to the mall or new attractions like museums every weekend

even tho he minors in arguably one of the hardest fields of study ??

bro would finish up calc III homework in less than an hour 🤯

i bet he’d be there on a scholarship too 😒lucky ass

jake: international relations (global politics) major, no minor

note: ik the average writer would probs make him a physics major but that’s BOOOORING and overdone, plus i just don’t see it 🤷

EXTREMELY IMPORTANT NOTE !!! IR ≠ political science !!! IR focuses on politics around the world, pol sci is more of how internal governments work

(i’m also heavily projecting here bc i’m a politics student send your prayers please and thank you)

i pity IR majors

this boy is TIRED 25/8

tbh the thing with IR isn’t that the content’s hard

a (paraphrased) quote from my IR teacher: “political scientists are lazy, all they do is come up with generic concepts and slap an ‘-ism’ at the end”

it’s moreso the reading and writing.

god the reading.

politics textbooks are so big and expensive it hurts my wallet just to look at the library-issued textbook i have

he’d be running on caffeine and a prayer, no sleep we die like men

not that he’d be a bad student !!

i could definitely see him being that one student that asks the teacher the silent questions no one asks bc they think it’ll make them look stupid (ie. asking them to repeat what they just said or explain a not-so-complex theory)

would definitely word vomit about politics, current and past, to the rest of the enhas (but just to make sure he remembers it all, you gotta respect the grind man)

none of them would understand a thing

jake: “yeah so it’s stupid how there are a whole bunch of states fighting over the south china sea when it’s technically international waters [please don’t quote me on this it’s like 2 am and i’m pulling stuff out of my ass] and therefore has no legal ‘owner’ haha isn’t that stupid?”

the rest of enha, maybe except for jay: 👁️👄👁️

jay: “ermmm akshully 🤓👆it’s in the name, china has legal rights over the south CHINA sea bc it borders it”

i can picture it vividly

imma be honest this man would be a MESS

he’d probably make (futile) attempts to get his shit together like a notion pro subscription, trying to sleep on time, a gym membership, you name it

sadly that’s just the life of a politics student

it’s so hectic it’d be hard to keep up with, but it’s jake, he’d somehow stay afloat

he’d probably come to his minimum wage job after class half-dead but his manager and coworkers would take pity on him and let him sleep in the janitor’s closet

would probably be clinging to the whole “just get through tomorrow and it’ll get better” mentality

it does not. sigh

sunghoon: undeclared until sophomnore (second) year, kinesiology (bio?) major

man honestly

this mf would be irrelevant

probs has a generic major and says absolutely nothing in class

if you blink he’d probs disappear

i feel like he’d initially wanna go for med but then he’d hear about the whole you’re-gonna-sacrifice-the-best-years-of-your-life-for-this-field-of-study thing and said NOPE lmao

which is reasonable

with the amount of ppl doing med in the world he wouldn’t think it’d make a difference if he decided to switch

i feel like he’d just be there for the ride 💀smth abt wanting to “experience all life has to offer” (not in a rich, just here for the business degree way, but more of an “i don’t need a degree to get a job but it might make it easier” way)

so yeah he decides to major in kinesiology, the study of movement according to google

disclaimer i’m not a bio person at ALL so any misinformation is completely unintentional and i will NOT be held at gunpoint to do research about a college major for HEADCANONS at ass o’clock in the morning

neways

he has a decently light workload and therefore a healthy amount of free time

on the occasional he does get a painful assignment he’d procrastinate until he’d staying up and cussing out his past self for not doing it earlier

tbh i don’t think he’d be a horrible OR amazing student

he’s truly MID mid

maybe an average of like … 75% which really isn’t bad tbh the american education system has conditioned us into thinking it is but let’s be fr other than philly cheese steaks what exactly have we ever gotten right.

….neways again

he’d be something like a jack of all trades, master of none

overall a chill guy 9/10 would be fun to hang out with

now for the best part

frat boy sunghoon

idk anything abt frat or sorority life – i’m asian the only thing close to a sorority i’d be in would be like … the school orchestra or book club 💀my parents would kill me – so don’t take everything i say for gospel

you bet your ass he’d be at every party

100% for the booze and vibes he wouldn’t even be there to flirt or rizz ppl up (he’s a self-aware man he knows he has negative rizz but that’s what makes him so ALLURING)

wouldn’t get high or anything tho he’s not all abt that life (that life being running away from the popo)

i’d trust him to walk me home tbh

he wouldn’t hurt a fly the most he’d do is like … attempt to verbally abuse jay

sunoo: art major, english lit. minor

you saw it coming don’t lie

NEWAYS

he’d be amazing at art honestly

making a portfolio would be his Thing yk

yk those big artists that are all about “working on the impulse” and not doing anything until they do ridiculous shit to get over art block

that’s him

but he slays every time he gets over it

god i feel like he’d be the perfect college friend after jay

he definitely has his shit together

i’m talking he does his assignments on time, probably has a half-paid merit scholarship, works a decent job at a taco bell just off of campus, and somehow has a will to live and time to go to the mall every weekend

the thing is, he’s not the most perfect college friend bc he’s slightly more fun-focused and free-spirited than jay, who’s a perfect mix of both

neways no more talking abt other enhas it’s sunoo’s time to shine 😠

i bet his dorm would be the most organized and decorated too oughhgh

he’d be the lucky mf that gets the biggest dorm on the first floor (with like two other roommates but they respect his privacy and all that)

he’d probably be able to get away with dorm policy violations (ie. cooking with an iron or something Not meant for cooking in his dorm instead of the nasty ass moldy ass communal kitchen) by batting his eyelashes and sweet-talking to the woman that oversees the dorms or smth (i’m blanking and i completely forgot what it’s called)

overall the luckiest bitch ever

we should all aspire to be sunoo tbh

if you’re a man and you’re not sunoo … thin fucking ice. do better. /hj

jungwon: biochem major, going for med (specifically oncology, the study of cancer?)

sorry in advance to any ppl in medical 🫶i’m gonna get every part of this wrong lmao

he’s one of Those Guys that’s known exactly what they’re doing since like … middle school

important question: would it be bc he gave into the classic asian parent pressure into becoming a doctor?

they might've played a tiny role in it but i think he'd genuinely wanna go into medical bc he's insane

definitely gets the best scores out of everyone in his class (idk if they use bell curves in med but if not he’d get solid 90s on everything)

i could see him with his life together tbh

homework always done a week before, healthy lunches he makes himself, clear skin, all that jazz

definitely has a merit-based scholarship

probably got a 1560 on the SAT too 😒 lucky ass bitch

i hate to say it

i really do

but he'd be the mf that reminds the teacher abt homework

“ermmmm mr. kim you said we had a pop quiz at the end of class” followed by him being beaten to a pulp

(w reaction/lh)

really cares about getting into a good med school

would DEFINITELY have like two internships every summer

so to recap: basically every asian med student ever (i’m friends with far too many rip med kids)

at least they won't be replaced with ai …

heeseung crying in the distance

NEWAYS

for a med student i feel like he’d be busy 24/7 but he wouldn’t Look like it?

like if you’ve seen a med student, even in hs, they look like they lost a fight to a rabid raccoon

but for some reason jungwon has his shit together like the neurotypical know-it-all he is 😒/lh please don’t kill me

seeing as he’s known what he wants to do since like … middle school in this au, i think he’d fs be on top of all the content he’s learned, if not ahead of everyone else

i’d trust him to be my doctor 🫡

actually no i wouldn’t

riki: theater major w/a visual art minor (get it bc he’s a minor) (i’m hilarious LAUGH)

he’s a quiet little guy, definitely sits in the back of the lecture hall

would milk the SHIT out of being a minority for scholarships and applications

i'm talking his common app essay abt being socially isolated and politically aware, i'm talking abt using any and all minority scholarships possible – in the eyes of the law (and the college board), riki is now half hispanic

i’d say his grades would be pretty decent, not much in the A+ zone (96-100) but at the very least, B+’s

really not that bad tbh

he’d SO be a theater kid in hs

tell me he wouldn't be those mfs that have the whole hamilton soundtrack memorized and break out into random song and dance at inappropriate times

i bet he’d ship hamilton and laurens 💀

neways

i feel like he'd like art as a class but suck at meeting deadlines and portfolio assignments n stuff

which is valid tbh i don’t think any kind of teacher of the arts (not just visual) should be too strict abt that

classes with him and sunoo would make him INSUFFERABLE omg

if you put them next to e/o they won't shut up

which is cute don't get me wrong

but makes trying to work IMPOSSIBLE

but when they're separated he’d be dead silent

you wouldn't even notice he's there tbh

overall a dedicated student with the occasional tendency to be silly and goofy

i feel like his resume would be pretty to make up for the lack of content actually on it

i'm talking canva pro graphics, fancy fonts, graphic design is his passion (not literally)

logically the best career path for him based on his degrees would be a set designer …

but obv he’s either an actor or the manager

probably an actor being a stage manager SUCKS

(don’t get me wrong it’s fun i’ve done it before but oh my GOD. if you ever wanna lose hair really fast become a backstage manager it’ll work 100%)

bonus: best-dressed in class

sunoo - you’ll never catch him slipping tbh 🤷 he’d have the most free time out of the others and would probably spend his time going out and putting together silly little outfits and being cute and adorable bc it’s kim sunoo That’s Just How He Is

jay - light academia light academia light academia light academia light academia

sunghoon (unintentionally) - his sense of style in college would be mid, truly meh, nothing special to look at but his looks make up for the boring attire (hubba hubba 😍) – the type to wear a white t-shirt, timbs, and jeans to class every day (get it 2017 jungkook 😍), maybe even a jacket. his sense of style would be as spicy as salt so not spicy at all, it’s giving unseasoned, boiled chicken

riki - he just Doesn’t Care but thankfully all the items in his closet would be usable (thanks to sunoo, that man would NOT let riki leave the house without running his outfits by him. his logic is that no best friend of his should look like a dumpsterfire !!)

jungwon - similar to jake, no time !! matching sweatshirts and sweatpants ftw

jake - politics majors have no sanity or connection to the real world bc it drives you INSANE after a month, cut him some slack :(

heeseung - the venn diagram of ppl with no sense of fashion and cs majors is a circle.

#enhypen #enha #enhypen hcs #enhypen headcanons #enha hcs #enha headcanons #heeseung #heeseung hcs #heeseung headcanons #jay #jay hcs #jay headcanons #jake #jake hcs #jake headcanons #sunghoon #sunghoon hcs #sunghoon headcanons #sunoo #sunoo hcs #sunoo headcanons #jungwon #jungwon hcs #jungwon headcanons #niki #ni-ki #niki hcs #ni-ki headcanons #niki headcanons #ni-ki hcs

[theninthdoor]

Who do u think are the closest in enha

before answering, i feel like i need to put out a disclaimer first:

unfortunately, i'm not super familiar with the members, their dynamic or the background of the group. so what you see here is what i got by interpreting the card that came out for the connection + what my intuition was telling me. plus, these are their current energies, which means that tomorrow the order could be different!

I'm always available to hear your thoughts and opinions, too (just make sure to be respecful towards everybody...).

So, how does this work? I pulled a card for the connections of one member with each one of the others, and then organized their names according to level of closeness. Also, remember that being close with someone goes way beyond just spending a lot of time with them - it's also about being able to be vulnerable with them and understanding other without needing many words.

Niki: › Jake || King of Cups: Stable emotional connection. › Jay || Two of Cups: They are easily able to confide in each other, and there's an equal give and take. › Sunoo || Ten of Cups: They get along very, very well, although it's not quite as personal as the ones above. More like extended family. › Heeseung || Three of Cups: Great friends; may hang out a lot even outside of schedules. › Sunghoon || Seven of Pentacles: They're getting there, but it might take some more work. It's stable, tho! › Jungwon || Four of Pentacles: There are a lot of reservations in their connection. It might not be super easy for them to share their feelings and thoughts with one other. They'd rather keep it to themselves.

Jungwon: › Sunghoon || Four of Wands: They get along very well. This may be the member he spends the most time with out of all. › Sunoo || Eight of Cups: They might not spend a lot of time together, but they have a very good emotional understanding of each other. They might easily pick up on things that others miss (like one of them being upset and the other sees it right away, but the rest doesn't). › Jake || Five of Pentacles rx: It could be the type of friendship where they help each other out whenever they need, and they share a lot of their hardships with other each, but it doesn't go much deeper than that. Not an every day thing. › Niki || See Above! › Heeseung || Seven of Wands: They may often clash due to their strong opinions and personalities. It's not too bad, tho. Can be fixed. › Jay || Emperor: This just feels very serious. They can surely rely on each other if needed, but there aren't too many emotions involved in this one.

Sunghoon: › Jungwon || See Above! › Heeseung || Six of Swords: They help each other out a lot and work well together. If an issue comes up in one's life, the other might immediately offer assistance and advice on how to fix it. › Niki || See Above! › Sunoo || Three of Swords: There is hurt, here, for sure… but it can be because they are very sensitive to the other's opinions. If they didn't care about each other, that wouldn't happen. So take that as you will. › Jake || Temperance rx: These two may often fight by losing their patience with each other. It's hard for them to find a common ground to stand on, so they go to extremes very easily. One second they may be joking around with each other, but a second later they're already arguing. › Jay || Emperor: Again, very stiff, very serious. There's not a lot going on here. They may respect each other a lot and work well together, but it's all heavily professional, not so much personal.

Heeseung: › Jay || Two of Cups: Very personal; a very intimate friendship. They may share things with each other that they don't share with the rest. › Sunoo || Six of Cups: They're almost like siblings; very emotionally attached to each other. › Niki || See Above! › Sunghoon || See Above! › Jungwon || See Above! › Jake || Ace of Wands rx: There's not a lot of action here. They may simply lack common interests to connect over.

Sunoo: › Heeseung || See Above! › Niki || See Above! › Jay || King of Pentacles: These two can always rely on each other, as their friendship is very stable, grounded and mature. They may buy each other meals or gifts often, too. › Jungwon || See Above! › Sunghoon || See Above! › Jake || Five of Swords: They may argue a lot, to be honest. It's easy for them to get on each other's nerves.

Jake: › Niki || See Above! › Jay || Eight of Cups: Just as we saw with Jungwon and Sunoo, they may not spend a lot of time together, but they understand each other's feelings very well (you can go read what I wrote above, to get a better explanation). › Jungwon || See Above! › Sunghoon || See Above! › Heeseung || See Above! › Sunoo || See Above!

Jay › Heeseung/Niki || See Above! › Jake || See Above! › Sunoo || See Above! › Sunghoon/Jungwon || See Above!

(Disclaimer: all readings are alleged and for entertainment purposes only.)

#theninthdoor #tarotquickquestion #enhypen tarot #enhypen #kpop tarot #tqqenhypen

[appreciatingtokrev]

i’ll take my heart clean apart (if it helps yours beat)

link to ao3

rating: t

archive warnings: none

relationships: takeomi akashi & haruchiyo sanzu

characters: takeomi akashi, haruchiyo sanzu

additional tags: hurt/slight comfort, angst, angst with a hopeful ending, angst with a happy ending, character study, relationship study, reconciliation, future timeline: bonten, dead kawaragi senju, crying, implied/referenced alcohol abuse/alcohlism, substance abuse, some mentions of sexual stuff but nothing explicit and nothing between siblings or anything, minor original character(s), gun violence, implied/referenced suicide, hallucinations

wordcount: ~4.7k

notes: title from two by sleeping at last!! also i've tagged this hurt/slight comfort but i wanna put emphasis on it again. the comfort does not make up for the hurt!! this is mostly sad with some hope okay

Senju is dead, Sanzu is falling apart in his drug addiction, and Takeomi... Takeomi feels so responsible and guilty for everything that’s happened in either of their lives. He tries to fix it, somehow.

Takeomi notices that the door to his room opens because of the quiet creak sound it makes. He turns his head, looks over—whoever he might’ve expected (probably Kokonoi, coming in to give him the monthly report on the finances, or Kakucho, urging him to stop working and to take a break for once), it certainly wasn’t his brother. Sanzu. His pink hair covers half of his eyes, wet with too much water to style. He must’ve showered recently because his suit is dry.

,,Why do you keep buying things I like and leave them in my room to find for me?’’, he asks, sharp gaze on his brother. His eyes look oddly dull.

Takeomi’s thoughts immediately race to Senju. To their sister. Their dead sister. She’d been shot, multiple times, and they’d both been there to watch it happen, too far away to help. He still blames himself. For not being faster. For not killing her murderers afterwards. For leaving her to die while he stared and stared and stared, unable to move. Losing his sister was the hardest thing Takeomi’s ever went through in his whole thirty-eight years of life. And he knows that he can’t bear losing his brother too. Even if Sanzu hates him, as long as he’s alive, somewhat stable; that’s all he needs. To know that he’s okay. But even that feels like too much sometimes.

Because I want to see you happy. Because I want to see you getting better. Because I want you to see how sorry I am, he thinks. But he’s not quite bold enough to say it yet, so he just shrugs and purses his lips.

,,How did you know that I’m the one doing it?’’, Takeomi asks. He looks at his brother, trying to figure out what’s going through his head. But his expression is blank, and his eyes restlessly wander through the room.

,,Who else should it be?’’, is all he answers. ,,And now tell me why.’’

Again, Takeomi’s thoughts go back to Senju. He hadn’t gotten any sleep the nights after her death, overly tired and starting to hallucinate from the lack of sleep. He’d seen her, glint of hate in her eyes, all the gunshot wounds bleeding, oozing red liquid that had stained the floor and had left behind a trail when he’d tried to walk away from her. She’d had a gun in her hands, had been pointing it at him. She’d never pulled the trigger though, not until he’d yelled at Sanzu for disturbing him when he’d finally been able to relax enough he’d felt like he could fall asleep. That was the moment she’d turned the gun to herself, and had pulled the trigger, and he had screamed, had shouted for help, had cried for Sanzu to help him because she’d shot herself dead. But Sanzu’d just left, and he hadn’t been able to stop screaming until his throat had been hoarse, dry, and he’d passed out squirming on the floor in agony.

,,I hate you, Akashi. I don’t want to be reminded of you anymore!’’, Sanzu says, voice getting louder with every word until he’s fully yelling, ,,I fucking hate you! Leave me alone. That’s the only thing you can do to help now, but you manage to fuck even that up.’’

With those words, Sanzu skips over the room with a glint of hate in his eyes one last time before he turns around, walks outside, and slams the door shut behind him. Only Takeomi remains.

He can’t help but let his head fall down, resting his forehead on his wooden table. The impact hurts, and he tells himself that it’s because of the physical pain when his eyes overflow with tears. He tells himself that it’s because of the back pain from excessive desk work. That it’s because of his chronic joint pain. He can’t decide on an excuse, and he angrily slams his fist down beside him because he doesn’t want to be so upset about Sanzu hating him, especially because he has every right to do so. But, in the end, he will always love his little brother, and seek for similar feelings in him. Because he can’t let go of the past. And he can’t let go of the only person he has left, even if they hate him more than anyone else, and will likely never want to have to do anything with him. He swears to himself to try again. Again and again, to try more, to try harder. Until he’s dead.

Takeomi turns his head, looks at his hand with blurry sight. There’s red. Blood. He forgot that he’d held a glass of water when he slammed his fist down on the table. There’s splinters everywhere in his flesh, and the liquid is dripping off the edge, slowly pooling on the floor. He hisses when he lifts his hand, takes a closer look at all of the blood. It’s going to be a pain in the ass to clean out his wounds. He sighs in resignation, and turns his head back towards the tabletop, letting his hand hang down beside his body. He’ll clean it sometime later. Or maybe Kakucho will.

 

Kokonoi ends up removing all of the glass splinters from Takeomi’s hand, and then wraps a bandage around it after gently applying some ointment. Turns out he’s quite used to patching up Inupi—even if Inupi’d always insisted that he doesn’t need any help. Takeomi, on the other hand, had simply turned his head towards the door when he’d heard it open, and had raised his hand when he’d seen that it was Kokonoi standing there. In all honesty, he’s glad that Kokonoi was the one to find him. Anyone else would’ve either ridiculed him or would’ve made a fuss. Even if he’s still more inclined to let Kakucho handle his injuries, he adds Kokonoi to the list of people he trusts with his wounds. Especially the fatal ones, that is. In the worst case scenario, he’d be able to trust pretty much anyone with minor injuries, though certainly not the ones that are required to have good care to heal nicely. Sanzu isn’t on the trusted list.

Takeomi’s enjoying (or, rather, trying to enjoy with his dominant hand being practically useless, and eating spaghetti turning out to be a lot more difficult than anticipated like this) dinner when his phone rings. He sighs, assuming it’s yet another late call from Manjiro, and takes a few seconds to calm himself before he accepts the call. But the voice he hears very much isn’t his boss’s.

,,God, took ’m long enough to pick up!’’, some girl says, apparently to someone on her side of the phone, followed by, ,,Hey, idiot. Ya gotta get your lil bro. ’S lying in a club’s bathroom, drunk off his ass, the dipshit. In the women’s bathroom.’’ There’s giggling in the background, and he can also make out some groaning before he hears someone puke and someone else yell in disgust. Takeomi would rather have to go on another stupid late night mission, that’s for sure.

,,Yeah, yeah, I’ll come get him. You got an address? Get him outside the building, if possible, but don’t leave him alone.’’ After a second, he adds, ,,Please’’, just to be sure the woman won’t do anything stupid. Because, after all, he couldn’t live with himself if anything bad would happen to Sanzu.

The woman laughs some more, gives him the address and agrees to keep watch over Sanzu. ,,Thank you’’, Takeomi says, ,,Thank you. I’m on my way.’’

 

He arrives twenty minutes later, driving through Tokyo’s streets at twice the speed limit. It doesn’t matter to him, though, he’s confident enough in his abilities. And, a quiet voice in the back of his mind adds, he’s worried for Sanzu. He is, yes. It’s pretty easy to admit that to himself now, as long as he doesn’t have to tell anyone else.

The woman he assumes he’s talked to on the phone is sitting outside the club, leaning against the wall with her knees held close to her chest. She isn’t dressed for the cold of the nightly breeze there is in that time of the year, so Takeomi takes off his jacket and holds it out to her. ,,Here. You’re freezing, and I want to repay you for looking after him somehow.’’

She nods, thankfully accepting the piece of cloth and covering her bright red mini dress with the black material. ,,You’re welcome. ’S a fun guy, y’know, your lil bro. Let me snort a line on his tits.’’

During that moment, Takeomi’s just glad it wasn’t Sanzu’s dick because knowing him the sentence led up to exactly that premise. He asks the woman for her name. ,,Natsu’’, she replies, ,,No need for last names. Hope to see ’m ’gain soon.’’

Natsu stands up, winking at Takeomi before she says, ,,Or ya. You’re just as handsome as he’s cute’’, and turns around to enter the club once more, his dark coat leaving with her.

Takeomi shakes his head, and finally looks at his brother. He’s half lying on his back, half leaned against the wall. His eyes are squeezed shut, and his eyebrows are lowered as if he was angry or very concentrated. Occasionally, his body twitches.

,,Come on, Haruchiyo’’, Takeomi mutters while carefully pushing an arm under Sanzu’s legs, and another under his neck to support him. With ease, he lifts him off the ground, his limbs loosely hanging in the air. Sanzu stirs and groans, then coughs a few times, and spits onto the floor. He reeks of alcohol and puke, and while Takeomi isn’t bothered by the smell of it, the fact that he stinks of those things, like every other night, upsets him. Sanzu should find better coping mechanisms than drowning his struggles in drugs all day. He himself isn’t totally clean either, no; but he makes sure to savour it in measured amounts. And while in a safer environment.

,,Let’s get you home’’, Takeomi explains more than commands, and hisses when Sanzu shakes his head in his drunken state, causing unnecessary movement for his injured hand.

,,Stop moving.’’

Sanzu opens his eyes, moves them so they’re resting on Takeomi’s face, but his wide blown pupils stare right through his head and into the distance. Takeomi sighs and walks over to his car, placing him on the passenger seat, and securing his seat belt after lowering the back rest a little. He shuts and locks the car door, just to be sure.

When he’s finally sitting on the driver’s seat himself, he looks over at Sanzu. He’s mindlessly staring into space, drunken grin on his face. Takeomi sighs once more and rests his forehead on the steering wheel for a minute before starting the engine, and driving them both back to the headquarters. He’d drive them home, but there hasn’t been such a place to him in years.

Takeomi takes his time driving back, even turning up the radio and quietly humming along with the songs. Every other minute, he looks over at Sanzu, makes sure he’s okay. He is, and he somehow manages to stay conscious throughout the whole ride.

After they arrive, Takeomi stays seated in his car for a while, trying to relax. ,,Please call me yourself next time. Before some random stranger needs to call your emergency contact to get you home’’, he quietly says. Sanzu’s still staring into the distance, odd smile decorating his lips.

,,Haru?’’, Takeomi calls.

Sanzu turns his head towards him. His eyes are still unfocused, but he manages to get a word out. ,,Senju?’’

,,No’’, Takeomi sighs, voice laced with grief. ,,It’s me, Takeomi, not her. I just... wanted to ask you to call me before you’re too drunk to walk next time, please.’’

Sanzu peeks at Takeomi with half-lidded eyes, trying to focus on him. He doesn’t seem to come to a conclusion. ,,Will... will she- Will she be happy if-- if I call you? Senju?’’, he babbles, words hard to understand in his intoxicated state. But Takeomi gets what he wants to say.

,,Yes’’, he whispers, nods. Sanzu grins at him, even if his gaze goes right through him. Takeomi’s happy enough that he might be more inclined to call him earlier now. Sometimes, he’s found, drunk Sanzu with nothing but Senju on his mind truly is an advantage. And sometimes it’s more of a curse than anything else. Today it’s both.

Takeomi leaves the car, and opens the door next to Sanzu, gently lifting the smiling man up the same way he did earlier. He pretends that he’s the cause of his brother’s happiness while he carries him upstairs, safely bringing him to his room, and lays him down on the bed before he leaves him alone with a glass of cold water and an extra blanket.

Back in his own room, Takeomi looks at his bandaged hand. Shit. There’s blood. Recklessly driving a car, and carrying a fidgeting person didn’t do his injuries any good.

He decides to unwrap the bandages in the shower, with warm water running, so the dried blood doesn’t stick. Watching the open wounds bleed and the red liquid mix with the water on the white floor reminds him of Senju again. How she’d been standing there, dirtying every room he’d entered while trying to escape his hallucinations. But it also reminds him of the day Sanzu got his diamond shaped scars. How the blood had oozed out of the corners of his mouth whenever he’d had to change the bandaids on them. How Sanzu’d always done his best not to cry because of the pain, but how Takeomi’d still been able to see the unshed tears in his eyes. How he hadn’t been able to soothe him in the first few nights, neither of them ending up with any sleep—one because of the pain, the other because of the guilt. He knows that he technically isn’t at fault for those scars, they’re one of the few things about Sanzu that he isn’t responsible for, but he still feels so guilty. For having left Sanzu with Mikey so often. For not having been there for him. For having treated him so wrongly. He knows he can never make up for anything he’s ever done to him, and that’s arguably the worst part of his life. That he seeks so desperately for forgiveness he knows he doesn’t deserve.

 

Just three days later, he’s sitting in that same club he picked Sanzu up from. It’s the last Saturday of September, so Kakucho, Kokonoi, and him are on their monthly visit to a bar or club, goal being to forget their reality. Even if it’s just for a night.

Takeomi pats Kokonoi’s shoulder in encouragement when he walks off with a blue eyed blondie glued to his arm. She looks suspiciously similar to Inupi—like all the women and men Kokonoi takes home on those nights. Takeomi isn’t quite sure if he should be happy or sad about Sanzu now having his hair dyed pink all the time, and his eyes having a hint of green in them. Because, like that, he doesn’t fit into Kokonoi’s standards anymore. Though, maybe that wouldn’t matter much. Sanzu is in a place too dark for him, and most other people anyway. Rindou and him are still kind of trying somehow, but Takeomi doesn’t have much faith in whatever their relationship is.

Not much later, Kakucho decides to leave and go home. He’s never there to fuck, rejecting every invitation that goes further than drinks or a dance (though those invitations aren’t too frequent; the scar on his face scares off quite a bunch) and only talking with strangers to drown his struggles in a made up dream. His life has a different story every month, but in all of his lies, his parents and Izana are still alive, and Izana and Manjiro love each other the way brothers are supposed to. Izana works at an orphanage, Kakucho helps him out, though has his own little book shop somewhere in Roppongi, too. He talks about his books, and the way he’s decorated the shelves, and the empty space as if it was real, but Takeomi knows that it isn’t. Once or twice, he’d tried to talk about a made up life with a stranger before, too, inspired by Kakucho—it’s never worked. He’d broken down crying every time.

Like the kind friend he is, he asks Kakucho if he should go with him, if something’s wrong. He doesn’t usually leave this early. Kakucho says no, thank you. The way he lets his fingers brush over the tattoo on his chest is suspicious. Takeomi knows what it means. He misses Izana too much, he wants nothing more than to see Manjiro and pretend. The same tattoo on his own back tingles. He shakes his head, and calls Ran after Kakucho leaves. ,,Give him some insomnia meds, he needs them tonight’’, he says, and he relaxes when Ran sleepily agrees. At least there’s one thing he can always trust him with.

,,Hey there, Sanzu’’, a voice calls from behind, and Takeomi’s head snaps around way too quickly.

,,Ohh, eager to see me?’’, the woman smiles and sits down at the counter beside him. He recognises his own coat on her shoulders. Though, today her dress is black, and she’s highlighted her lavender eyes with dark liner. He realises he knows her name. She’s called Natsu, the woman from three days ago.

,,My name isn’t Sanzu. It’s Akashi Takeomi.’’ He sighs. Explaining why they’re brothers and choose not to wear the same family name is always a struggle. Even if they’re both legally bound to Akashi... It feels wrong to call his brother anything but Sanzu Haruchiyo. And it feels wrong to call their sister anything but Kawaragi Senju. Sometimes he wonders why they didn’t choose the same last name. They’d always loved each other more than him.

Natsu nods, gently places her hand on his thigh. ,,Difficult family business, can relate. Don’t wanna tell anyone my last name ’cause it’s tainted by hate.’’

Takeomi is glad that he doesn’t have to explain for once. Doesn’t have to search for an excuse. Natsu orders drinks for both of them, and he lays his hand atop hers. He doesn’t want the warmth to leave.

,,Trying to forget something too, huh?’’, he jokes when the order arrives and he sees that it’s a shot of Vodka for them each. She laughs at that, and Takeomi joins her soon. Natsu is better at cheering him up than he’d thought possible.

,,Yeah, baby boy’’, she says, and the petname makes Takeomi feel oddly warm and soft inside, ,,Tryna forget why I come here every night to escape.’’

He nods, relates to her statement. They’re a lot more similar than he’s initially thought. Takeomi raises his glass, and the two down their shots before starting to laugh again.

,,Wanna dance?’’, Natsu asks, smiling at him. She squeezes his thigh playfully.

,,No, sorry. I don’t dance’’, Takeomi answers, but he grins when she pulls him off his barstool. They make their way over to the dance floor. When they arrive, Natsu guides one of his hands to her shoulder, holds the other one in hers. She holds his waist with her free hand.

,,I’ll lead, just follow my steps.’’ She smiles, pulling him closer. They start to move, and Takeomi awkwardly does as told. He starts to get better after a while, and Natsu even spins him around. A slow song comes on, and they move closer and closer to each other, until she lets go of his hold to cup his cheeks and pull him into a kiss.

Takeomi is surprised at first, but decides to move his lips alongside hers, moving his now free hand to rest on her hip. He opens his mouth when she prods at it to deepen their kiss.

Soon, they part again, panting just inches apart, staring into each other’s eyes. Takeomi is the first to look away, faint blush on his cheeks that disappears soon after. He thinks about Sanzu, how Natsu had found him lying on the bathroom floor—the women’s bathroom floor, to be precise—half conscious. How she’d called the emergency contact on his phone, how he’d been on the other line. He thinks about all the time he’d taken to get there, and wonders what Sanzu’d had to experience meanwhile.

,,Did you do that to my brother too? Did you kiss him? Dance?’’, he asks, suddenly overrun by his memories.

,,Nah’’, Natsua laughs, ,,Already too drunk to stand when I found him. Consent’s hot, you know.’’

A shudder of relief washes over Takeomi. He still has no clue what happened before Natsu found Sanzu this time, but he’s glad that Natsu’s fine. For some reason, he quite likes her. They could be friends, he thinks. Maybe.

,,I’ve got to go’’, Takeomi says. He doesn’t quite know why, but he feels the sudden urge to be alone. Natsu nods. She pulls him back down again, presses another kiss onto his lips.

,,Bye, baby boy. Hope to see ya again!’’ She winks, and waves after him, smiling. His black coat is still hanging off her shoulders. He’ll have to buy a new one.

,,Goodbye. See you sometime, hopefully.’’ Takeomi turns away and leaves. Only now he realises that neither of them have asked for the other’s number. Maybe he just isn’t destined to have nice things, he concludes.

 

Takeomi’s sitting on his couch, typing something into his laptop. Sometimes he swears because of the pain in his hand, even if he took pain meds. The chronic joint pain in his wrists isn’t helping. He’s working on the stupid finance report for Kokonoi when the door opens.

Sanzu’s standing there, door handle in hand. ,,I want to talk’’, he says, and it sounds more like a demand, like a command than anything else. But Takeomi is surprised enough by his words.

,,Are you drunk? High?’’, he asks, looks up from his laptop. Sanzu shakes his head. Takeomi closes his laptop, moves to the edge of the sofa and pats the cushion beside him. His brother follows the instruction and sits down on the far end of the couch, knees pulled up to his chest.

,,You don’t mind, do you?’’ Sanzu takes out a bottle from the pocket in his hoodie, opens it, and takes out a pill. He looks at Takeomi.

Takeomi sighs. ,,Don’t. I want you to be clean if you want to talk.’’

Sanzu shrugs, throws the pill into his mouth, and swallows. ,,I don’t think I’m strong enough for this without drugs.’’

Takeomi looks at him, jaw clenched. This hurts him more than it should. He opens his laptop again, decides to ignore his brother. He wants to fix their relationship somehow, desperately. But he doesn’t want to only fix his relationship with Sanzu on drugs because that’s the only state he can tolerate Takeomi in anyways. It wouldn’t change much. He fights back the tears, and starts to type away on the finance report again.

,,Are you crying?’’, Sanzu whispers, quietly. Takeomi shakes his head. He can feel his brother’s stare on him, eating up every of his tiny moves as if he was being studied. ,,Don’t lie. You are.’’

Takeomi snaps his head to the side, looks him dead in the eyes. ,,And what if I am? Will you throw up those goddamn pills and finally have a heart to heart conversation with me when you’re not so drunk I have to carry you around because you can’t even stand anymore?’’ His words are harsher than intended. He feels like a wounded animal, cornered in the back of a cave. There are too many things he’s feeling.

,,You hurt me’’, Sanzu states, responding to Takeomi with a sentence that sounds almost carefree but holds so much sadness, ,,You hurt me a lot. When I was younger. It still hurts.’’

At first, Takeomi doesn’t know how to react to that. He knows. Of course he knows. It’s all he can think about every second of his life. The ever-consuming guilt, the regret, the hate he holds for himself. He thinks about it all the time. He’s tried to wrap it around, turn it in his head, tried to come to a conclusion that doesn’t make him responsible for everything that’s ever happened in Sanzu’s life. But no matter how hard he’d tried, he’d always ended up with himself at the center of fault. Himself, and nobody else. Not even Sanzu.

,,I know. I’m sorry. I’ve been sorry for years’’, he eventually settles on. He closes his laptop again.

Sanzu purses his lips, stares at his face. ,,Why did you never say anything?’’

Takeomi wishes he knew. Maybe he was too afraid, to scared. Maybe he didn’t have any hope. Maybe he thought he didn’t deserve it. Maybe he hated himself too much. Maybe he thought that Sanzu would be better off without him. Maybe it’s all of that, he realises. It’s why he’d subtly tried to help for all those years. He shrugs.

,,Do you love me?’’, Sanzu asks, ,,No, wait. Did you ever love me? Because I never felt any of that.’’

Yes!, he wants to scream, Yes, I’ve always loved you! And I was such a stupid fucking abusive piece of shit to you, and I’m so sorry. I’d do it all differently now if I could live my life again. His breath hitches as he whispers, ,,Yes.’’

,,Then why did you never show it? Why did you act as if you hated me my whole childhood long? I just... I just want to understand. All I ever wanted was for you to love me. All I ever did was so you would.’’ Sanzu looks away, stares at the dying potted plant in the corner. The dry leaves are what remain of Takeomi’s efforts to care for it.

,,I wish I knew that. I wish I knew why I made so many mistakes. I would undo them all if I could. I would go back in time and love you, if there was a way to do that. I swear’’, he says. It’s the most heartfelt thing he’s managed to get over his lips in decades. ,,I love you, Haru.’’

Sanzu turns his head, stares at him again. His eyes are watery. ,,I hate you. But I think... I think I want to love you again.’’

Takeomi looks at his brother’s eyes, tries to find the hateful glint he’s seen in them for years, the same one he’d seen in Senju’s all those years ago when he’d had hallucinations of her. He can’t find it. ,,Oh?’’, he whispers, voice cracking and nearly an octave higher than normal. This is better than he’s ever imagined his life to go. Sanzu wants to love him again. His brother wants to love him again. He wants to. Even after all he’s done to him.

Slowly, reluctantly, Sanzu nods. ,,Neither of us will get better if I continue to hate you, and you continue to... seem like you hate me.’’

Takeomi nods. He shuffles a little closer to Sanzu, but he isn’t bold enough to reduce their distance to less than a foot. Sanzu stays where he is.

,,Takeomi?’’, he asks, whispering. It’s the first time he doesn’t use his last name in years.

,,Yeah?’’, Takeomi whispers back, glances at his brother.

,,Please call me Haru again. It reminds me of being loved’’, he mumbles.

It reminds him of being loved. Of being loved by Senju. Of the happy part of his childhood. Takeomi knows that they can finally fix whatever they have now, he’s sure of it. Maybe he can make up for how he’d treated his brother in his childhood. It’s too late to make up for how he’d treated Senju, since she’s long dead, but he’s had to live with that for over a decade already, and he can do it for another one, and another one. But he’ll do his absolute best to make Haruchiyo happier, even if he knows he will never completely forgive him. But that’s okay. As long as Haruchiyo is stable, as long as he’s happy, Takeomi can live with that.

,,Of course, Haru. I love you’’, he whispers back.

tag list: @offtaskotaku, @just-sp-in-inginthevoid

#☆—`writing #tokrev #takeomi akashi #haruchiyo sanzu #takeomi #sanzu #natsu <3 #help sorry for tagging you in sm taku aa #also the shinkasa fic... yeah i’ve decided it’s not finished yet n is a wip again now. oops

[monowires]

If ME4 makes the destroy ending the canon one and revives Shepard somehow - what do you think about Kaidans perspective in that case?

I'm talking about the whole "we're very good friends" to "oh no he died" to "he's back but working for the evil guys" to "we're finally dating" to "oh no he's dead again" and then.... Shepard just turning up again? I imagine it must be taking quite a toll on Kaidan, maybe depending on the timespan between Shepard demise and revival. But I'm curious about your thoughts since I love everything about your Mshenko.

ooooh this is a good one! i’m actually in the early stages of working on a fic that covers this exact topic!

so, firstly, im assuming you mean the version of the destroy ending where you have enough military strength to get that small bonus scene at the end of the epilogue that shows shepard gasping awake in the middle of a pile of rubble.

in that case, i feel that that would occur relatively soon after the release of energy by the crucible. with the extent of injuries sustained it wouldn’t be feasible to assume there was a large time gap because he would’ve died without immediate medical care (at least in my opinion). he would either a) be discovered by search and rescue teams, or b) manage to get a stable comms link with his omnitool and let someone know where he is.

i tend to agree with a the large majority of fandom in that it would take a considerable amount of time for shepard to fully recover from his injuries. the main point of division i see is how the crucible affects shepard’s implants from the lazarus project.

now, my main issue with the assumption that the crucible would annihilate shepard’s implants is that it wouldn’t make sense on a larger scale. i’m certain that there’s a number of civilians with cybernetic implants or prosthetics. even today we have things like pacemakers, and to assume that the crucible would obliterate shepard based on the fact that it kills all synthetic life is rather unfair to me. of course, i don’t mind if people have that headcanon, but for me, i see it this way:

shepard is not synthetic life. he was revived, sure, but he’s an organic lifeform. he always has been. it’s still his body keeping him alive, it just has help from implants. if he were to be killed by the crucible on account of having cybernetics then that would also mean a lot of regular people with implants/prosthetics would die solely because they have cybernetics in their body.

this is largely influenced by the fact that i think the crucible is fucking strange and poorly explained space magic. but it’s my personal opinion.

so assuming he is recovered quickly, i don’t think there’d be too much tension between mshenko because there wouldn’t be that extensive period of mourning afterwards. i think it’d take a while for both of them to process everything that’s happened, but nearly losing each other so many times has made one thing perfectly clear: they love each other, and are indescribably grateful for every minute they have. because technically, shepard has been living on borrowed time ever since he was revived.

there would definitely be baggage to work through. on both sides. but they’ve known each other for so long, been through so much, that i think there wouldn’t be much to talk about. shepard has always had self-sacrificial tendencies in the face of the reapers and it isn’t a secret. so i think a lot of it would just be joy for the fact of being alive.

this is… a little off topic from the question you asked but i just have a Lot of thoughts about post-me3. so sorry for the essay LMFAO

#johnny.txt #mass effect #mshenko #commander shepard #kaidan alenko #monowires asks

[skippyv20]

Thoughts from the Peanut Gallery

Hi Skippy & Friends-Wed AM-Pilgrim checking in with a theory after seeing the latest photos of the royal family and Ms Overseas. There is a saying on Cape Cod. "Seas the Day" which is funny since we live out in the ocean. What if they are seizing this opportunity of timing to take care of things? Can you believe it has just over a week since the red outfit?

1. The prancing Harkles came to conquer on Sept 6th with their last ditch filming scenes starting with the Manchester One Young World stage for her frothy I am great speech.

2. Immediately followed by the Invictus Games planning meeting that she made into a red carpet event including award speeches and paid for crowds of fawning fans. Once that ended I think it was partee time somewhere...there was a mention from one in the walkabout crowd she smelled like booze-of course-she drinks like a fish IMHO.

BUT THEN THE INEVITABLE HAPPENED WHILE THEY WERE IN LONDON

3. Their attendance at a 3rd filming event was cancelled because we presume she was madly packing for her big apperance at the royal bedside...of course that was out of the question. Narcs don't do well when things are out of their control. From the moment JH left for Balmoral alone, she has not regained her own momentum as wave after wave of change has pounded her world wide web of spun deceit into shreds.  Every day she looks worse for wear, losing alliances.

4. What if we are actually seeing them corral this freaking interloper by carefully inviting her to be part of the prime time events? Kind of like putting sugar squares in your pocket so the horses will follow you all the way to the stable into their stall...hmmmm...this is looking interesting eh? Or favorite nibbles in your pocket to walk your dogs keeping them obedient and following ...ERII made this look so easy, right?

5. We know the famous concept of keeping your enemies closer...and we thought JH needed to run for his life but how and when? We heard in the trenches, that JH was self harming but what if he is covering for her manic meltdown including attacking him? It seems there is a whif of big trouble the night he returned.  There were reports of a massive fight. She has a thick bandaid on in the walkabout images and some say he was wearing makeup covering scratches on the side of his face...I looked but the photos are not helpful to my eye. They were having one of those hand holding power struggles as they walked towards the flowers-not the lovey dovey couple some press were trying to spin. She was totally off her game with wild behavior trying to stay on her acting points-flowers placed by her, hugs from planted fans? for her camera crew in the press pen but not she was not successful.   

6.  JH is on home turf now for much longer than she planned, which is perfect to help his family finish this debacle if he wants to. Perhaps his mission now is to keep her following him with the world stage as the lure but in truth, she will be monitored like never before, closing down her PR machinery. Once this historic funeral is finished, she will be dealt with out of sight...phantom "kids" included. It will be politically correct and even polite. Millions would bet the royal family is dreaming about that day too. It's possible that personal letters have been received from their grandmother saying what she wanted them to uphold-she knew the mess they were in and what they had to do. 

I just hope at this level of royal intrigue, they will accept the great guidance available to make it happen.  It seems to me HMTQ is keeping an eye on how things are progressing, giving us a brilliant lightbeam of hope as she left Scotland going home for todays beautiful ceremony.

Thank you dear Pilgrim, I apologize for getting to this so late….great post as usual, much to ponder…..❤️