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mahoushojo-chan · 7 months

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Astarion x Tav || bed sharing

one forever won't be enough

synopsis: it's a habit they picked up from travelling together. every so often, astarion came to tav at night. it turned into something that he needs sometimes, even if he'd really rather not admit it. instead of lying in his old bunk, astarion chooses not to be alone.

an excerpt of "'cause my love (is mine, all mine)"

word count: 1203

pairing: astarion/tav

other tags: f!reader, bed sharing, tooth-rotting fluff, hurt/comfort, non-sexual intimacy, romantic tension, late night conversations, friends to lovers, song inspo: where do i begin by Egg

ao3: here

concept: bed sharing

At night, Astarion lies in his old bunk. It’s rough, grating, and it creaks every time he shifts, and he’s pretty sure he couldn’t enter trance even if he tried. It’s telling that he would rather lay on a bedroll laid over hard rock than ‘his’ own bed, but the last time he laid in this bed, he was still a slave. Just Cazador’s spawn.

Somehow, it feels even emptier than back then. He doesn't have Petras sleeping in the top bunk, snoring loud enough for him to kick the mattress above. He doesn't have Dalyria in the bunk beside him, hiding a light underneath her sheets while she dove her research into the next topic. There isn't Leon in the corner, whispering sweet comforts to his little girl, Victoria. It’s too quiet all on his own.

Then, even with his new companions, he can't hear Gale patronizing Wyll about this or that kind of magic, he can't hear Karlach playing with Scratch or the Owlbear, and there is no occasional thump of Lae’zel’s late-night training. He had gotten used to all of it as some kind of white noise for the next dawn.

Besides, he thinks, he should get used to his nocturnal schedule again, so staying awake wouldn’t be too bad. It would keep the nightmares away, at least. He had enough of Cazador. He thinks of Tav, who he hopes is sleeping peacefully away.

In the dark, he has to confront the reality that he and Tav are worlds apart. He wonders if she’ll be able to adapt to this schedule.

The door to the Favoured Spawn room opens, the room that Tav had taken, with a quiet creak that only Astarion would hear. Then, the mattress dips, and a hesitant arm wraps around her waist and pulls Tav in as someone nestles in close.

“Mm… still awake, Star?” She mutters, though he’s more surprised to hear that she’s still awake.

“Yes.” Astarion replies in a whisper, because it feels like the night calls for whispers, even when the entire palace is empty.

It’s a habit they picked up from travelling together. Every so often, Astarion came to Tav to sleep. Tav knows that it first started after he first drank from her and she found herself exhausted enough to slip unconscious; but it turned into something that he needs sometimes, even though he’d really rather not admit it. Tav thought it would end after Astarion made it clear that he wasn’t ready for a relationship, and she decided to be friends, rather than lovers. It seemed to be what he needed at the time, but she also knows that this—whatever this is, lying in bed together, in the dark, holding each other and whispering—isn’t really something friends do. Astarion has never had any friends, but even he suspects this is something that is beyond friendship.

But this isn’t sexual, either. He can't think of a single conquest who he had done this with because this felt too vulnerable. This felt like a different reality, reframing what it meant to find comfort in the dark.

With a sigh, Tav turns around to face Astarion. He sees her eyes, heavy-lidded with sleep, and he brushes some hair out of her face. It’s never as awkward as it should be.

“I’m not sure if I’m ready to face them.” Astarion whispers, truthful and defeated, because holding Tav in the darkness brings about a whole different world around him; one where he can tell Tav anything.

“We don’t have to go if you don’t want to, Star.” She says, and it does something to his chest when she whispers his nickname in that tone, with that softness of sleep tinging her voice.

Astarion huffs out a whisper of a laugh. “I do want to. They’re… something like family, after all. They’re the closest thing I have to love.”

“I love you,” she protests, her voice still quiet. He knows this is not what friends do. They are in bed holding each other, now declaring love for each other, in the comfort of darkness. Astarion has never had anyone he had been this intimate with, even in the throes of passion, and he feels that he should think more about what this means.

“Fine, then. They’re the closest thing, other than you.” He drawls affectionately, feeling a tug at his lips even as he rolls his eyes. “But still, they’re not like you. I’m not like you. I can’t be good like you, and I’m afraid they know that. It feels like I’ll have to solve all of this world’s problems to be worthy of forgiveness, and even then, they would be right not to give it to me. They might never forgive me.”

“Then they’d be fools, the lot of them.” She says, and though she still sounds asleep, her eyes look at him with a sincerity he knows. If there’s one consistency about Tav’s behaviour, it’s that she has no patience for fools, and he can’t help but laugh.

A silence passes through them for a moment. “Do you think I’m evil?”

“No.” She says. “Even I’m not nearly as good as you think I am. Out of the two of us, you’re far more special. You make me think anything is possible.”

It’s odd because he can imagine saying the exact same thing to her. He wonders if she was just reading his thoughts and saying the words out loud, and if it was some sort of byproduct left by the mind-reading tadpole. But then again, he can’t at all understand why she would think he was special, and if they did still have the tadpoles, he would wish to see himself through her eyes. He wants to see what she sees in him—this brave, dashing, kind, supportive, heroic man, capable of love and goodness.

He wonders what would happen if he kissed her.

Not that he was particularly sexually attracted to her, though he admits that objectively, she is attractive. He has a working pair of eyes and a good sense of taste, after all. And honestly, he doesn’t even know if she’s attracted to him—he thinks she might be, because Astarion hadn’t met many people who weren’t, but she also never asked him for anything sexual. Even their first night together, he always wondered if she had truly wanted it, or if he was just taking advantage of their desperate, life-or-death situation. All her intimacy seemed strictly… well, not exactly platonic, but not sexual, either. And it didn’t feel quite romantic, either.

But he wonders what she would do. What might she see? What might she feel?

He compromises by resting the crown of his head on hers, and quietly, he whispers, “Thank you for loving me.”

“Of course I would.” She replies, sounding fond, before closing her eyes. He can tell that sleep is about to take her again as she sighs, “Don’t worry about who you think you’ve got to be. Just be Astarion. It’s good enough.”

Her breaths even out, and he does his best to match her, taking in the air she exhales. He runs fingers through her hair again as she drifts to sleep.

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lunarw0rks · 8 months

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TF 141 as Hozier songs

A/N: I love hozier so much. genuinely listen to his songs for inspo while writing quite often. here's some of the sounds that remind me of the 141 boys. I seen others doing this w/ their fav artists/songs, so here's my version. Warning(s): nsfw + sfw, established relationship, trauma mention, fluff/smut/angst, basically. // Word Count: 1.5k

☆ MAIN MASTERLIST ☆ 141 MASTERLIST ☆ ASK BOX

『 PRICE 』

As It Was: And tell me if somehow Some of it remained How long would you wait for me? How long I've been away The shape that I'm in now You're shaping the doorway Make your good love known to me Just tell me about your day

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ A relationship with Price is anything but triumphant. His lovers spend more time waiting for him than with him, yet you've stuck around long enough to savor every waiting moment.

The putter of your heart and foot against the floor as you wait for that door to open. Finally greeted with the rugged man after several months, in various battered states every time.

But there aren't powerful conversations paired with physical leaps of joy; all he wants is someone to wait for him. To love him, despite the state he's in when he comes home. It's the little things.

Eat Your Young: I'm starvin', darlin', let me put my lips to somethin' Let me wrap my teeth around the world Start carvin', darlin', I want to smell the dinner cookin' I want to feel the edges start to burn Honey, I want to race you to the table If you hesitate, the gettin' is gone

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ All of Price's restraint is out the window once he comes home to you; finding you in your natural stated. Relaxed and waiting for him to arrive.

Forget the filling meal — his hunger is much deeper than any entrée on the stove.

It's become a game of sorts, the race to the finish with every step. To peel your dressings, to fumble through his with haste, to wrap his lips around your warm body and feast.

Movement: When you move I can recall something that's gone from me When you move Honey, I'm put in awe of something so flawed and free So move me, baby Shake like the bough of a willow tree You do it naturally

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Nothing is more natural to him than his love and need to observe. All your flaws, all your frustrations, every little bit of you in his sights — they're savored.

Whether it be your quirks, your qualms for the day, or the way you've come undone from his famished hands.

There's nothing more cherished, either a mundane act or a carnal one. They matter most to him.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

『 SIMON 』

To Be Alone: Honey, when you kill the lights and kiss my eyes I feel like a person for a moment of my life You don't know what hell you put me through To have someone kiss the skin that crawls from you

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ He had to get used to being loved, being touched by another person who didn't want to make him bleed.

The sensations of being human, being present rather than lost in his void of memories — it's foreign.

You've made him feel resuscitated as if the blood finally pumped through his veins once again. Now, he's forced to cope with being a person again, plunged headfirst into the agonizing act of loving another soul unconditionally.

Arsonist's Lullabye: When I was a child I'd sit for hours Staring into open flame Something in it had a power Could barely tear my eyes away // Don't you ever Tame your demon But always keep 'em on a leash

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Spent hours in his childhood disassociating, finding mindless ways to pass his miserable time. Especially as an adolescent, any time away from home was desirable, even if it meant being troublesome.

The military was his only escape, yet the phantoms of his past never left him.

Simon wasn't sure he wanted them to, either. They're such a vibrant portion of his whole being, and he despises it. But he keeps them around to be the soldier he needs to be.

In The Woods Somewhere: I raised myself My legs were weak I prayed my mind be good to me An awful noise filled the air I heard a scream in the woods somewhere

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Simon's flashbacks were always vivid and as agonizing as the moment in time he endured them. The worst of them all, the most suffocating — the day he was buried alive.

Every ounce of his strength to get out of that box, his muscles burning and exhausted.

The screams he's heard haunt him; civilians, hostiles, his family that had been slaughtered. They taunt his ears as if he's suffocating alone all over again.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

『 SOAP 』

Work Song: When my time comes around Lay me gently in the cold dark earth No grave can hold my body down I'll crawl home to her

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ When Soap is with someone he's whipped.

That's what makes leaving you so hard, especially when there's no guarantee he'll be home by the end of the run. His letters, his tags, and the cherished memories might be all you have left.

But even in death, he's with you; no matter how hard the journey it will be when that inevitable day comes.

Dinner & Diatribes: Honey I laugh when it sinks in A pillar I am of pride Scarcely can speak for my thinking What you'd do to me tonight

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ He's an arrogant lover, oozing pride and vigor with every move he makes on you. Oh, how he loves to have you at his mercy — but how he loves being at yours.

Keep him in the dark, surprise him; let mounds of restraint double the reward, and he's yours. Wrapped around your finger and ravenous for the coquetting you indulge in together — and more.

Moments Silence (Common Tongue): Who views the deed as power's creed, as pure authority This moment's silence when my baby puts the mouth on me // Like a heathen clung to the homily Let the reason come on the common tongue of your loving me So summon on the pearl rosary Let the reason come on the common tongue of your loving me

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ His carnal need for you is never satiated, it's ever-lasting and as ferocious as his mouth. Soap's wicked tongue, either occupied on you or tight against the roof of his mouth when he clenches his jaw.

There's no act lovesome enough, not in comparison to your wicked tongue devouring him in all ways.

Whether spouting back and clashing with his pride or silencing him with lascivious ecstasy in the most biblical form — it's your choice.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

『 GAZ 』

NFWMB: 'Cause the rest of you, the best of you Honey, belongs to me // Nothing fucks with my baby Nothing can get a look in on my baby // If I was born a blackthorn tree I'd wanna be felled by you, held by you Fuel the pyre of your enemies

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ If there's one sure trait of Gaz, it's covetousness. However, only where you're concerned. Though you aren't a possession, nor a warm body to be claimed, and never viewed as one — you're his.

It better be clear, too, and not from your side. It's his job to keep the envious eyes and acquisitive palms far from you.

There's no doubt in his mind that you're devoted, either. It's the sick world around him he lacks trust with — stemming from the depravity he's witness to each day.

Talk: Imagine being loved by me I won't deny I've got in my mind now All the thing I would do // How I'm imaginin' you I'd be the last shred of truth In the lost myth of true love I'd be the sweet feeling of release

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ His hands; calloused and ever-useful to you. The scars that litter them are a patent voucher of all they've been through — all they've done to keep the world clean.

Through his walls, and the subconscious armor that he uses as his protection, he's a whole new man. You seemingly materialized into his life, intertwining yourself with every bit of him — in every way. Your body knew it, too, as did his.

He'll have you yearning for his touch — the sweet release it gives you. It's the least he can do, considering all he asks in return is loyalty, and that's what he's gotten.

Sunlight: Oh, and these colors fade for you only Hold me, carry me slowly, my sunlight // Each day, you'd rise with me Know that I would gladly be The Icarus to your certainty Oh, my sunlight, sunlight, sunlight

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Few people see the tenderness deep within his rigid exterior, and for good reason. It's intentional, who does or doesn't get a glimpse of his most merciful portion.

You, devoted and accepting of his demanding lifestyle, have earned that right. No matter how far he is, you know you're both watching the same burning star in the sky.

Kyle was in deep; like all his foes, you become the forefront of his psyche, his reason for getting home — the face he sees when looking at the sunlight.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ Thanks for reading this far! <3

`` ~ ୨୧ ♡ · divider cred. - cafekitsune

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wildemaven · 8 months

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fall apart, again : chapter three | joel miller

Pairing: Joel Miller x OFC!Genevieve

WC: 4322

Warnings: 18+ Blog; Loss of child, Talk of death, anxiety, panic attack, heavy emotions, grief, Ellie’s wild mouth, reader has a name but has zero descriptive features/is a blank slate

A/N: I don’t have a ton to say. It’s all just heavyX and I didn’t anticipate to feel so many things when I started this fic. But I think things will feel less heavy moving forward. I’m going to take a small break from this, just to let it be for a minute. There will be a small interlude I’ll put out before Chapter 4. I appreciate all the love and support through this! Big thanks to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for being the best and constantly helping me work through things when I was feeling stuck.

Series Masterlist / Inspo Board / Playlist

Previous / Next

You’re frozen, standing in front of the man you had come to accept was gone.

Your life. Your husband.

You mourned him. Cried for him— for years while navigating through a post apocalyptic world.

The grief ate away at you as the years ticked on, further and further from that September day, where you both stood together in front of the home you had built a life in. The pain festered at the fact that you were alive and your family was not.

A selfish twinge of guilt swirled, so deeply embedded within, the shame you felt by allowing yourself to fall in love with another man, a man who was not your husband.

But now you’re here, safe with the confines of this settlement, no more threats to out run or hide from.

Here, in this home that is unfamiliar to you, your husband, Joel, standing merely feet away— alive.

Joel is alive.

“Joel?”

“Eve?”

Your movements are slow, borderline hesitant, as you take the few short steps needed to bring you closer to him, your brain still registering this new version of him— seasoned with many years, years that lacked your existence.

A single tear cascades down his face, sadness and surprise cloud his features. Breathing becomes difficult, his chest tightening with each passing moment, lungs constricting with each pull of air— vision beginning to blur as he tries to focus on you standing in front of him. You’re alive.

The first touch is surreal, the cool-wetness of the tear beneath your thumb as you wipe it across his warm cheek— his eyes closing as he leans into your hand.

A sob wrecks through your lips as you throw your arms around him, chests knocking against each other as you scramble to get as close as possible, gripping him tightly— the proximity not enough to elevate the fear of him disappearing the moment you let go.

Words fail you.

Joel tucks his face into the curve of your neck, his arms securing you to him, body vibrating as he weeps along with you.

“Wow, that’s quite the welcome you're giving her there, Joel. He threw me against a wall and pointed a gun at me the first time we met.”

A low chuckle ripples through his chest, unwrapping himself from your arms, using the sleeve of his green plaid shirt to wipe his watery eyes, then taking it upon himself to wipe your face— his callused hands rough to the touch, but forgiving in their efforts.

“Ellie, this is Eve—.” His eyes are fixed on you, a smile slowly emerging on your face.

“Got that, already been introduced— Genevieve, Eve or whatever. By the looks of it, you seem to know each other pretty well. What— are you guys, ex-lovers or something? Clearly something more than whatever Tess and you were.” Ellie snarks.

There’s a pause, Joel wincing at the mention of Tess. “Whatever Tess and you were.” Even now he doesn’t think he can find the words to define what they were to each other, never feeling like he could fully give himself to her the way she wanted, needed or deserved.

You were his wife—then, now and forevermore.

Joel reaches for your hand, still wet from your tears, wrapping it around your own.

“Eve— Eve is my wife.” He notices the ring still on your finger the minute he says it, the pad of his finger smoothing over the small diamond, you never took it off after all this time.

“No shit! Can’t believe you convinced someone to marry your grumpy ass. Ha! Wait, when did you have time to get married?” Ellie’s brain is already working through the timeline of events to see where she missed this union between Joel and you.

“Umm… before, everything— Eve and I were married before the outbreak.” He feels a knot forming in his throat, thinking back to that last time he had seen you— the last goodbye that turned into the last time he’d ever hear from you again.

You squeeze his hand, pulling his attention back up to you. Knowing Joel, you can only imagine the amount of anguish he dealt with over the last two decades.

“Dang! And this whole time you thought she was dead and she probably thought you were dead— fuck.”

“Ellie, don’t!” Joel sees where her thought process is going.

“Wait, so that makes you— Sarah’s mom? Oh, damn!”

“Ellie!”

Sarah.

You were so caught up with seeing Joel alive after 21 years, it had slipped your mind to ask where Sarah was. Your heart skips at the thought of being reunited with her, your sweet little girl now a grown woman.

It’s been a never ending stream of tears today, the thought of embracing your daughter only adding to your endless weeping.

Breathing her in, reacquainting yourself with an older version of her, being on the receiving end of that bright smile, again. Your mind runs through every single thing you wanted to say to her, ask her so many questions, just sit and listen to everything she has to share.

You want your daughter.

Sarah.

“Where’s Sarah?” Your eyes scanning the rooms, how could you have missed seeing her?

“Eve—“ Joel barely manages to get your name out.

Every turn you’re met with an empty couch, an empty kitchen, Sarah nowhere in sight. The staircase catches your attention, another floor of rooms, Sarah must be tucked away and unaware of your presence.

“Sarah! It’s me— mom! I’m here!” You shout up to the second level of the house.

“Eve—“

Your heart is pounding within the confines of your rib cage, ready to burst the second she reveals herself.

As the minutes continue to pass by, the silence becomes deafening. Your vision begins to soften, it’s a battle to try and pull air into your lungs, tiny little tingles dance across your skin

“Sarah— J-joel, where’s Sarah?” Stammering over your words, staring dolefully at the top of the empty staircase.

“Eve, we should talk about everything— about Sarah.”

He didn’t need to say anything more. You don't need a slew of words and sentences to confirm what you already know.

You can feel yourself slowly breaking, piece by piece your heart shattering at the realization that Sarah isn’t here— not just in Jackson.

You need to be alone, to process through this loss— again.

“Is there a shower in the garage? Or is there one in here I can use? I’d like to freshen up…” You ask as you turn to Joel, his eyes filled with tears again knowing you have already come to the conclusion on your own.

“Uh, yeah— upstairs. The room on the right is mine, you can use the shower in there. Do you need me to get you anything?” He remembers how you always used to say a hot shower always made you feel better after a shitty day, this felt like one of those days.

“Just— just my bag. Maria said she was grabbing it for me.” You say flatly before heading up the stairs in the direction of Joel’s bedroom.

“Okay.” He utters at your retreating form.

It’s a quick journey from the living room to the bathroom tucked in the corner of Joel’s master bedroom.

The minute the door clicks closed, you steady yourself against the bathroom counter, knuckling tight against the cold tile as you try to muster up the energy to move.

You’re met with your reflection again, the second time in a 24 hour period. Puffy eyes staring directly back at you, taking in your worn appearance, in desperate need to wash the grim and sweat, hoping it will wash the despair and heartbreak right along with it.

It’s a fumbling mess as you try to rid yourself of your clothes, the fabric feeling claustrophobic and uncomfortable. Your hands work against each other as you attempt to undo each tiny fastener of your top, resulting in tearing it off as quickly as possible and buttons flying across the room.

Boots, jeans and undergarments thrown off in an arduous mess.

Goosebumps litter your arms and legs, the cool air of the stale bathroom wrapping around your exposed skin.

Bare.

Your mind. Your body. Your heart.

Flashes of light prick at your sight, narrowing your vision, a dizzying feeling as you stand in the small room unable to move as your mind wanders through the darkness that’s haunted you— that small voice that has never been kind, a relentless force that creeps in when you’re at your lowest.

This is your fault. You should have never left. You tore your family apart. If you were there you could have saved her, she would still be here. Sarah would be alive. This is your fault!! Sarah! Sarah! Sarah!

The walls groan the second you turn the shower on, steam looming over the plastic curtain. The water stings as it hits your skin, just the right amount of heat to wash away the pain that began to settle in your body.

Your gaze fixed at the ceiling of the shower, blinking away the tears that so desperately need to be shed, your lips trembling as the memories begin to fill your mind.

First cry, so tiny and beautiful tucked into Joel’s strong arms.

First steps, her little legs waddling across the living room floor to you and Joel.

First day of school, so eager to meet her teacher and new friends as she bounced into the classroom, leaving you and Joel, both a mess, at the door.

First concert, singing at the top of her lungs as Jewel sang her top hits, Joel standing behind you with his arms wrapped around your shoulders quietly serenading you throughout the show— You were meant for me, And I was meant for you.

First day in middle school, a teen waving you both off as she walked towards her first class located across campus, your little girl no more.

It’s the final memory that wreaks havoc on your already depleted soul, eyes closing as a surge of tears cascades down your face merging with the scalding water, shoulders shaking with each choked sob, head falling into your hands— finally allowing yourself to fall apart, again.

Last goodbye, her not so bubbly self annoyed at her parents for their lack of communication, trying her best to put on a brave face when the separation had been secretly affecting her, a goodbye hug and kiss with a promise to see her in a weeks time, her reflection the last image of her as you drove away.

Joel finds himself frozen in place. Tears crystallized and his heartbeat slowly returning to a normal state. He’s staring at the top of the now empty stairs, muffled sounds of the shower pulsating through the air.

He’s still processing the events since walking through the front door. Seeing you alive has him stunned. Spending the last two decades broken and marred over the loss of his family— his life. A pain so deep, it’s forever etched into his fractured heart.

A part of him wants to run up those stairs, pull you into his arms and never let go. The rational part decides he should let you ease into this space, the less overwhelming the better. He knows a talk will have to happen at some point, one he’s not sure he’s ready to endure, but you deserve to know everything.

“Well, that was fucking awkward. Geesh! Like your past is coming back to haunt your old ass or somethin’?” Ellie stated, breaking Joel from his growing thoughts.

“Ellie, knock it off.” He spits out, knowing she means well, but her timing is usually off.

“What? It’s not everyday your wife shows up, her husband gets shot and dies—“

“Her husband?” Joel says in disbelief at Ellie mentioning that you had come here with a husband.

You weren't alone? Your Husband?

“Only to find he’s not her husband or he is, but you are too? Then she’s wandering through the house calling for a ghost!” Her filter is doing a terrible job as she continues to push his buttons.

Joel turns, brows pinched and eyes boring at where she’s still sitting at the dining table, smirking to herself at how wound up he’s getting.

“So, I’m assuming she put two and two together about Sarah then?” Ellie adds, her tone less nagging than earlier, sensing Joel isn’t in the mood for her antics.

“Yeah…” He breathes out, his fingers pinch at the bridge of his nose, he feels the slight twinge of a headache beginning to settle in.

There’s a knock at the front door that grabs Joel and Ellie’s attention. Joel opens the door to find Maria standing on the front porch with a canvas backpack in her hands.

“Hey, Joel. I’m just dropping off Genevieve’s things.” Handing the canvas pack to Joel. “There’s a letter in there you should probably read— I didn’t mean to snoop, it had fallen out. Tommy read it too— he told me, she’s your wife. Once things have settled a bit, he’d like to come say hi. Maybe we can do a family dinner or something— if you’re up for it.”

Joel hears a mention of a letter, the rest of what she says blends together, he’s too focused on the bag in his hand. It’s not heavy in weight, filled with pieces of you and your life that you carried around, a burden he wishes he could have taken on himself.

“Yeah, sure. Oh, umm— no need to worry ‘bout setting up another house, she’ll stay here in the guest room—“ Joel explains to Maria.

“What! Why can’t she just shack up with you, she’s your wife? That’s my room— where the fuck am I gonna stay?” Ellie’s chair scrapes across the floor as she stands up and shouts to Joel and Maria.

“You can stay out in the garage, plenty enough space for ya. I'm not gonna force her to do something she might not be ready for just yet. We’ll see how things go.” Joel tries to reason with her.

“This is bullshit! She shows up and gets the royal treatment and I’m kicked out like I’m nothing!” Ellie blurted as she side-stepped between him and the front door, passing Maria to make her way out of the yard.

“Ellie! Where are you goin’ kid?” Joel protested.

“Out!” Ellie doesn’t look back as walks further away.

“Shit! Sorry ‘bout that. I should have waited until and talked to her about it first before makin’ that call myself. After everything we’ve been through— this is all a lot to deal with.” Joel apologizes.

“Give her some time. I’ve never raised a teenager, yet, but I come from a family of girls and we always needed a little reassurance when it came to change or major life events. I wouldn’t worry too much. Plus, teenagers love their own space, she’ll come around to the idea.” Maria tries to make him feel better about his decision. “I’ll get out of your hair. Don’t forget— dinner in the next day or so.”

“Got it. Thanks, Maria.” Closing the door hastily.

Joel sits on the couch, your bag resting on the coffee table in front of him, chin propped up by his hands with his elbows on his knees. He can still hear the shower going, making the house feel less empty than it should.

He cautiously opens your bag, the letter Maria had mentioned is sitting on top of your other belongings. As he carefully pulls the folded paper out, he notices a picture tucked into an inside pocket. An old faded Polaroid, it sits heavy between his fingers. He stares at the image, a distant memory of him and Sarah on a summer afternoon trip for ice cream— you had insisted on taking their picture. It was your favorite and you always carried it with you in your purse. A soft whimper falls from his lips, eyes welling up as he takes in the worn photo— it’s been so long since he’d seen her smile.

Joel reads your words through his tears. The lump in his throat building with each word, thick with a longing to be close to you, hold you in his arms, make up for lost time and lost intimacy you once shared.

My Sweet Joel,

I hate that this is the only way I can talk to you. You’d think it would get easier as time goes on— it probably would if I allowed it. But I can’t seem to let go of you and how much I love you, no matter how many years have passed— you’re too ingrained within me.

I miss our mornings together, quiet sunrise talks in bed were my favorite way to start my day— even if it took us forever to untangle from each other. What I wouldn’t give to be in your arms right now. I miss your warmth, always so warm.

I miss the way your eyes lit up when Sarah would finally join us for breakfast. I think we spent most mornings missing her when she was only down the hall from us. She was such a light, gentle and loving— she got that from you.

Her birthday is in a few weeks— her 35th. I wonder what she would be into now? I’m sure she would still hate the way we always tell the restaurants it was her birthday, those cheesy songs always embarrassed her so much.

I miss her so much Joel. I miss our family. I miss you.

Sometimes I wish I could start this life over. A redo. I’d still choose you. But we’d do things differently— no stress, no fighting, no separation. And there would be no fucking apocalyptic bullshit to tear us apart. Live somewhere in the country, away from the busy world, just us— our family.

We passed what looked like it was a small farm at one point. It made me yearn for normalcy. Where we could settle into the small farmhouse, drink our morning coffee on the wraparound porch while we watch the sun rise…

It’s a blurred rush of movements as he fumbles up the stairs to his room. Your bag tossed into a corner of his bedroom, items spilling out onto the floor, a problem for a later time.

He runs through the reasons why he should wait, giving you space until you’re ready to talk as he stares blankly at the closed bathroom door. It’s when he hears a muffled cry coming from the other side of the door that his vow to protect you from any harm physically or emotionally, to keep you safe from all the things happening in your mind.

Joel is grit and determination when he needs to be, a hard exterior presence that has been a staple feature of his, especially in the midst of this apocalyptic world. But even with his austere backbone, he’s an equally broken and fragile man.

When he pulls the shower curtain back and sees your grief-stricken body, he’s immediately stepping into the shower with you, fully clothed and shielding you from the hot spray of water as he wraps himself around your shaky frame. Your hands instinctively grabbing onto his drenched flannel for support as your knees give out and he slowly guides you both to the shower floor.

“It’s okay— I got you sweetheart— y’er okay, I got you!” His hold on you is unwavering, keeping you tucked in close to his chest, doing his best to lessen the impact on your heavy heart.

“I-it’s my f-fault! I-I s-should have n-never l-left!” Your words thick with guilt and gasping for air as you weep against Joel’s sodden shirt.

“Shhhh— none of that. I won’t let you do that to yourself!” He says between pressing purposive kisses to the top of your head.

“I s-should h-have b-been t-there! I-it s-should h-have b-been m-me!”

A pair of heavy wails crash into the air, your bodies convulsing against each other, no longer suffering in a grievous purgatory alone.

Your lashes flutter over your cheeks, eyelids heavy and swollen. Tears dried long after the shower had run frigid prompting Joel to turn the water off, a respite from the sadness—but too weak to find the strength to remove yourselves from the cramped cold space.

Joel shifts his body, the rubber sole of his boots squeaks against the porcelain tub as he tries to alleviate the pressure of his worn knees. He adjusts his grip on you as he moves, his hands brushing across your skin sending shivers down your spine.

“You’re shakin’. Let’s get you outta here— you can borrow one of my shirts. We can go down to the mercantile and pick up some new clothes tomorrow.” Joel manages to get you both to your feet.

“Joel, your clothes— you’re soaking wet.”

“S’fine. Need to get you warmed up. I’ll worry ‘bout myself afterwards.” He says rubbing his hands over your shoulders, hoping it’s giving you some sort of warmth.

Your hands tremble as you begin to slowly pluck at the buttons of his shirt, his large hands halting your movements wrapping around your wrists, pulling your attention to where he’s already looking at you.

“Let me— let me help you, please.” Your whispered words float through the air, and he lets you continue to work your way down the line of buttons, sliding the flannel off his broad shoulders on the floor.

Gathering the hem of his drenched white undershirt, you peel it up and off his body, his now exposed upper half littered with faded markings. Each scar is a new layer in his story, an indication of risks and challenges he faced.

Your fingers trace over the ridges of what you assume is his most recent one on his lower abdomen, no desire for the details of how he got it or how it almost cost him his life, at least not right now, grateful that the bunched and distorted skin is proof of his survival.

“I missed you so much, Joel. I’m scared this is all a dream, that I’ll wake up and none of this was real.” You say with your lips pressed firmly over the space where his heart lives, its thrumming cadence a calming force.

“This is real, very real. I thought I lost you, but you’re here, we’re together, again.” He murmurs softly, cradling your face in his hands, his gaze consuming your hesitant eyes.

His eyes land on your lips briefly, the gesture feels so natural, he doesn’t want to pressure you, he’d wait forever— he already has. For you it’s an easy decision, closing the distance between you, your lips slotting over his, in no real rush to make up for lost time at the moment, just needing to convey your love for him.

“I love you so much, Eve. I never stopped.”

He kisses you now, a little deeper and a little more confident and all-encompassing.

“I didn’t think I’d ever get the chance again to tell you how much I love you, how much you mean to me, Joel— and now that it’s here, words don’t feel like they’re enough. I love you!”

Once in his room, Joel finds a shirt and a pair of boxers for you to wear, promising again to take you to find some new items tomorrow when you’re ready.

“Umm, I guess I’ll head into the garage then.” Your fingers play with the hem of his shirt, a musky scent of him already drifting from the woven threads, eliciting a nostalgic fluttering.

“No— you sleep here tonight. I’ll go sleep downstairs tonight, then Ellie can get off my back for volunteering her room to you.”

“It’s fine, I don’t want to be a bother—“ You protest.

“Eve, you’re not a bother. And I’m not arguing with you over it. I would feel better if you were here, so stay— for me.” His protective side takes over, asserting that this isn’t up for debate.

“Okay. I won’t argue— I’ll stay here.” Sitting yourself down on the edge of the bed, you look up to where he’s standing in the doorway still only in his boxers, hands secure at his waist— his features soften at the way you agree to stay.

“I’ll be downstairs if you need me—“

“Joel, stay— here with me. I don’t want to be alone.”

“Are you sure? I can wait until you’re—“

“Joel, please stay with me.”

“Okay.”

It doesn’t take long for your body to find him once you’re both tucked under the sheets, nestling into his side. Your head resting on his shoulder, fingertips slowly draw shapes over his bare chest as he stares up at the ceiling.

Sleep feels close, the long day catching up to you as you relax further into Joel’s side, but there’s so much you want to say, not really sure how to approach any question you have for him, knowing he probably has an array of his own.

“You’re thinkin’ too loudly.” The low husk to his voice interrupts your busy mind.

“I just— there’s so much to talk about. Things I want to ask, things I know I’m not ready to hear but need to know.” There’s a slight wobble in your throat. “And I’m sure you have things you want to ask too. It feels like I have to learn so much about you, while I’m still trying to cope with this still being real and true. That you’re alive and I’m lying here with you—“

His lips on your forehead soothe your bubbling anxiousness, a warmth washing over you instantly.

“How ‘bout we don’t talk about any of it tonight. We save all that for tomorrow— we’ll figure it out then.” You’re grateful he makes the decision for the both of you.

“Okay— tomorrow.”

#Joel Miller #joel miller x original character #joel miller x ofc #the last of us #tlou #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #pedro pascal #wildemaven writes #Joel Miller x ofc!genevieve #pedrostories

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zikariogirl · 1 year

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‘ 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 ’— 𝐣𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐧-𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐤

𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠: ‘𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐥’ 𝐛𝐲 𝐬𝐳𝐚

summary ┆dating joon-woo was always an adventure for you. he was sweet, caring, had great humor, and was overall a good man. until you find out his true identity. you didn’t hesitate in leaving him, but that only angered him because in his mind — if he can’t have you then no one else should.

warnings ┆ violence & swearing. domestic violence. super toxic oneshot since han-seok is a crazy and psychotic mf

key: bold = english

a/n ┆ the pov’s will change between you and han-seok. the song kill bill is definitely the inspo for this fic because i just know han-seok’s psychotic ass will kill his lover if he needs to

“Surprise!”

You jumped at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice since you were too concentrated on sweeping the floors. Turning around, you came face to face with a plastic bag and a smiling Joon-woo.

“You know you really need to start bringing lunch to work. I hate it when you skip a meal,” he pouted.

“I’m sorry baby,” you sighed, but shot him a smile. “I appreciate you looking out for me.”

The two of you were about to kiss until the sound of two girls snickering made you roll your eyes. Of course your co workers would be spying on the two of you, since they have nothing better to do.

“Oh, hey!” Joon-woo waved at them. “I think they’re looking for you.”

“No they’re not,” you glared at them. “They just wanna spy on us.”

“But you two are so cute!” Hae-won gushed with a pout. “You really lucked out.”

“Please _____, where did you find him? So I can try to find my future husband,” Seo-yun whined.

Your face was turning red in embarrassment and you heard Joon-woo laugh as he pulled you in for a hug. They always do this. Hae-won and Seo-yun never had luck when it came to boys and the moment they found out you had a boyfriend, they had to see him. At first they needed to make sure he was going to be a right fit for you since you “deserve the best” — according to Seo-yun. But when they met Joon-woo and began to see how caring and sweet he was, they cried.

Like, actually cried.

Now, they sulk in their own sorrows of not being able to find their own Joon-woo, since every guy they meet only wants them for their body.

“Maybe if you guys stopped sleeping with every guy you meet then maybe you will find the right one,” your voice was muffled against Joon-woo’s chest but they were able to hear you pretty clear.

“Okay but sex is great,” Hae-won winked. “Which makes me wonder how is your sex life–”

“Okay! We’re done here!” You screamed and began to shove Joon-woo outside of the cafe.

“Well if you must know–”

You cut your boyfriend off by lightly smacking his chest. “Don’t encourage this!”

His angelic laughed echoed throughout the empty cafe before you lead him outside. The streets were a bit empty since it was still early in the morning but you knew you only had a few minutes left until the cafe opened. You gave Joon-woo a quick kiss on the lips but he held you close as he dragged it out.

“Sorry, I just love kissing you,” he grinned when he pulled away. “Another thing, did you want to resume our apartment hunt after work?”

“Of course! I feel excited about it!”

You’ve been dating him for almost a year already and the two of you were ready to take your relationship to the next step. Although he’s the one who will be making most of the income, Joon-woo always reassured you that he doesn’t mind it one bit. It took a bit of negotiating with him, but in the end, you both agreed that he would be in charge of the bills while you take care of the smaller stuff. He really did not want you paying for anything but you insisted.

You gave him one last kiss as you said your goodbyes, feeling thrilled on seeing him later.

Time passed and his career at Wusang began to grow more. He was already doing a great job being an intern for Lawyer Hong, but after she left Wusang, he was appointed as a new lawyer for the cases regarding Babel. His demeanor did seem to slowly change just a bit, but you didn’t think much of it. He was most likely stressed out since Ms. Hong and her new partner were not making it easy for Wusang.

Joon-woo walked inside looking tense as ever. Something was definitely bothering him by the way he tossed his briefcase and began to struggle in untying his tie. You walked towards him to assist him, which he let you but was avoiding eye contact.

“Baby? Are you okay?”

Instead of responding with words, he grabbed your face and began to hungrily kiss you. It definitely caught you off guard and you stumbled a bit but he supported you.

“Mm,” you mumbled and pulled away. “Joon-woo what’s wrong?”

He shot you a sad smile. “I failed. We lost the case and it cost Babel millions of dollars.”

He looked defeated and it killed you. Seeing him look so down, and not be his usual goofy self was a crime. It hurt knowing he was going to beat himself over this, so you said nothing. You grabbed his face and connected your lips once again, letting out a small moan when he pressed your bodies together.

You made sure to make him feel special that night.

But slowly, you’ve been feeling hesitant with Joon-woo’s career choice. After Babel was exposed for their heinous actions, you were even surprised Joon-woo still wanted to work for Wusang. Your sweet Joon-woo wanted to work for a corrupted law firm and defend a company that is definitely doing illegal activities under the radar.

You tried to reason with him, but he would just flash you his charming smile and tell you that everything will be okay. You worried if he dug too deep, he could potentially put himself in danger. You also tried to make him realize that there’s better law firms to work for — one that won’t defend a corrupted company. You’ve never argued before, but your last conversation almost lead to one and it was a bit scary, so you left it alone.

You felt yourself almost have a panic attack when Joon-woo was admitted into the hospital after a severe hunting incident. That morning, you remember Joon-woo telling you how him, his supervisor, and another lawyer from Wusang were going on a “bonding trip” with the Chairman of Babel. Yet, something went wrong and your boyfriend was now hospitalized after being shot. No one was giving you answers and you practically went berserk on everyone.

Its like the gods answered your prayers because Joon-woo was recovering rather quickly, and you didn’t care if you looked like a crying hot mess when you were finally allowed to see him. You were careful to not hurt him as you cried into his chest while he reassured you that everything was finally going to be okay.

Whatever that meant.

After he fully recovered, his demeanor changed drastically. Something was off about him since he no longer reeked rainbows and sunshine’s — that’s one way to put it. You were caught off guard when a man in a suit dropped off a box for you at the front door; inside was a white gorgeous, off the shoulder dress and heels.

It looked expensive.

Inside was a note from Joon-woo, explaining to put on the dress and have the man waiting outside drive you to Wusang. You grabbed your phone and called him, the confusion settling in since you had no idea what was happening.

“Yes baby?” He answered.

“Joon-woo… what is this dress? And why do you want me to go to–”

“I’ll explain when you get here. Just know there will be lots of reporters taking pictures. I have to go. I’ll see you soon baby.”

And with that he hung up, leaving you more confused than ever. Deciding to not question the weird situation any further, you got ready and did your hair. You applied some make up as well before heading out and getting inside the car Joon-woo sent. Was he going to surprise you with something? Did he get a huge promotion at Wusang? So many unanswered questions ran through your head.

You arrived at the law firm and was immediately escorted to the CEO’s office, which made you nervous. What the hell was going on? Upon arriving, your eyes immediately fell on Joon-woo, who looked incredibly handsome. His hair was slicked and fixed neatly all while wearing a super expensive suit — one you’ve never seen before.

Everyone turned to look at you, making you feel self conscious. “Hello,” you greeted with a shy smile.

“Hello!” A man with glasses walked up to you to shake your hand. “I’m Hang Seung-hyuk, the CEO of Wusang. But you can call me Mr. Hang, even Seung-hyuk is okay too!”

You smiled back at him and nodded your head. He was oddly very friendly, but you were more bewildered at the fact he wants to be on first name basis, even though he’s your boyfriend’s boss. What the hell did Joon-woo do to get on his good side?

Speaking of your boyfriend, he walked up to you to place a kiss on your lips. “Hi baby. You look beautiful.”

Did he really just kiss you in front of his superiors?

“Mr. Jang, it’s almost time and we need to go,” a lady with glasses spoke.

Mr. Jang? What?

You didn’t even get a chance to speak since Joon-woo took a hold of your hand and began to lead you out. You were escorted inside a car before it took off, and your eyes wandered between Mr. Han, the lady with glasses, and the fucking Chairman of Babel.

“So!” Joon-woo broke the silence with a clap of his hands. “Let’s do this.”

“Do what?” You questioned.

“Are you ready for this baby?”

“Yes… I think?”

You honestly had no clue.

Joon-woo nodded his head and flashed you a charming smile. “I’m the real chairman of Babel.”

Silence. Pure silence.

“My name isn’t Jang Joon-woo, it’s Jang Han-seok. I’m the eldest son of Chairman Jang Guk-hwan..”

“N-Now wait a second–”

“I was sent away and studied overseas, then came back and took over the company after my father died. I never revealed myself as the Chairman for… reasons. But here I am! I’m back baby.”

There was too much information to process and you felt a bit nauseous. Your sweet Joon-woo, is actually Jang Han-seok, the Chairman of an evil company who got exposed for their corrupted ways. The more you thought about it, the more it made sense. You always wondered how he made so much money for just being an intern. The expensive dates. Paying for a nice apartment. Refusing to leave Wusang. Everything was falling into place.

All you could do was meekly smile at him as he pecked your cheek, and he introduced you to Ms. Choi and Han-seo, his younger half brother who’s not the real Chairman after all.

The moment you arrived to your destination you walked out of the car, hand-in-hand, as you tilted your head down. Everyone was taking pictures when they noticed your group coming into view, a few whispers coming from the crowd when they noticed you holding hands with Joon-woo.

No, not Joon-woo, he’s Han-seok.

The pictures, the reporters, all of the flashing and being on camera was too much — that’s how life was for you for the next couple days. You followed Han-seok everywhere. To interviews, to his prosecution; every little thing he had to attend? You were there. You slowly felt yourself drifting away from him. It felt like you didn’t know who he was anymore. He had a more stoic persona and the cheerful Joon-woo was completely gone.

And you reached a point where you couldn’t take it anymore.

Han-seok just got home while you laid in bed, silently crying as you began to lean more towards your decision of leaving him. He walked inside the bedroom, stripping himself of his clothing before changing into some sweatpants.

“Hey baby,” he kissed your neck while crawling into bed, but the sound of your small hiccup made him stop. He turned you over and furrowed his brows when he noticed your tear stained face. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

You shook your head as your confidence rapidly washed away the moment you stared into Han-seok’s eyes. He tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear and brought your hand up to his lips, leaving delicate kisses on your knuckles.

“Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

You closed your eyes, building up your courage to let all of your thoughts and emotions out.

“I can’t do this Han-seok.”

His face morphed into something you’ve never seen before, and frankly, it terrified you.

“What do you mean?”

You managed to get off the bed but he was quick in grabbing your wrist.

“I mean that… I can’t be with you anymore. You’re… you’re not the man I fell in love with. I fell in love with Jang Joon-woo, not Jang Han-seok.”

“Seriously? I’m the same person.”

“You changed!” You cried out, the tears already streaming down your cheeks. “You run a company that’s been involving itself in conspiracy and dirty work. You don’t care who you hurt, as long as Babel stays on top. I’m hearing about all these cases of people dying because of Babel and it’s making me sick.”

“Those are lies created to make–”

“That’s not what I–”

“Don’t interrupt me.”

Your eyes widened when you felt his hand wrap around your throat. You whimpered in fear, your lip quivering as you began to have a breakdown. He’s never raised a hand on you… until now.

“I-I’m sorry,” you apologized. “Please don’t hurt me.”

Han-seok quickly let you go and mumbled out a low curse. “Baby I’m sorry I…” he pulled you in for a hug but you flinched in response. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”

“I… Han-seok…”

“Shh, it’s okay. I’m sorry baby, I won’t hurt you. Just please don’t leave me. I’m so so sorry. Let me buy you food, okay?”

Nothing he can say or do will make you stay. You only nodded your head in response, just to give him the satisfaction that you’re staying. But that same night, you crawled out of bed without making any sound. You quickly wrote him a letter before packing your stuff and leaving him for good, not daring to look back.

You were such a fool.

After that night of you leaving Han-seok, he completely lost it and trashed his apartment. Who did you think you were leaving him? You were his and only his. He offered to give you everything yet you decided to break off your relationship just because you had stupid morals.

You mustn’t of loved him the same way he loved you and that pissed him off.

Now that he thinks about it, whatever he felt for you was definitely not love. He was incapable of feeling such emotion. The correct term is definitely obsession, because boy, was Han-seok obsessed and captivated by you. You were perfect in his eyes. He enjoyed having you around, plus, you were always such a good distraction when he needed it. You reminded him that he wasn’t alone in this boring world…

Until you decided to leave him.

Tough luck for you, he planted a tracker on your phone the moment he knew he had to make you his. There wasn’t much suspicion when you were dating him but after you left, he’s been one crazy motherfucker. Your location would occasionally ping at bars so he would follow you. He would feel his blood boiling whenever he spotted you with those two obnoxious co-workers of yours, Seo-yun and Hae-won. You looked happy. Happy without him.

No, no, that won’t do.

But what completely set him off was the moment he began to see you hanging out with a guy. You would hang out with him quite often, but one morning when he walked by your apartment and saw the same guy walking out while fixing his pants, he knew what he had to do.

If he couldn’t have you, then no one else could.

That same night he walked up to your apartment and knocked on the door. The moment you swung the door open, your eyes widened in fear, and he pushed you in while placing a hand over your mouth.

“If you scream or make any noise, I’ll cut out your fucking tongue.”

You began to hyperventilate as you shook your head.

“Are you going to stay quiet for me?” When he saw you nod in response he smiled. “Good girl.”

He let go of you and you took a step back. “Han-seok what are you doing here?”

“Was just in the neighborhood,” he began to examine your living room and noticed a vase of roses with a pink ribbon wrapped around it. “Did your new boyfriend give you these?”

“I-I..”

“What’s his name?”

Your silence irked him. How rude of you to ignore his question. He threw the vase on the floor, causing you to scream.

“Tsk tsk, that won’t do.”

He gave you zero time to react before he knocked you out.

He brought you back to his father’s vacation home, the same place he used when he needed to lay low for a couple of days. He paced around the living room while you laid unconscious on the floor, but the sound of your groan made him stop. He bent down in front of you, grabbing your chin while he examined your face.

You slowly blinked up at him. “Where… where am I?”

“In my father’s vacation home,” he smiled. “How was your nap?”

You began to slowly regain consciousness and your eyes widened at the realization of what happened. “You… you–”

“Shhh,” he placed a finger over your lips. “You made me do this. You fucking whore.”

“Han-seok, please.”

You could plead him all you want, but it wasn’t going to work. Both of your heads turned to look at the door the moment his men walked in with the same guy you’ve been seeing for the last couple of weeks. He was pretty beat up with his hands and legs tied, but was still conscious of his surroundings.

“Jin-sang!” You screamed out at the sight of him.

“Ah, so that’s his name.”

Jin-sang looked up and grew frantic when he saw you. “____!” He called out your name but was immediately silenced when Han-seok kicked his face.

“Don’t say her name,” he hissed and bent down to press a knee against his chest. “Don’t even look at her. Okay?”

His eyes widened in realization when he saw Han-seok. “I-It’s you.”

“Aw, did my girl enjoy talking about me? How cute,” he applied more pressure on his chest. “Did you enjoy fucking her too?”

His eyes were full of fear the moment he saw Han-seok pull out a gun from his waist. He teased him with it, waving it in front of his face before pressing it down against his crotch and firing a shot. Both you and Jin-sang screamed, but his screams were much more satisfying to listen to.

“I’m going to kill you slowly and painfully. That’s what you get for fucking what’s mine. You tarnished her with your dirty dick, and now, you don’t have one.”

Jin-sang was crying in pain and at the brink of passing out, but Han-seok was not going to have any of that. The chairman stood up and fired one shot in each of his limbs, a dark smile plastering on his face.

“Han-seok stop please!” You begged him as you choked out a sob.

And that irritated the fuck out of him.

“Oh so care about what I do to him?” He turned to face you with a crazed look. “Let me make something clear, you’re mine. You’ve always been fucking mine. Just because you walked out on me doesn’t mean I accepted it.”

He fired another shot at Jin-sang, this time aiming for a finger.

“You’re sick,” you yelled.

“Oh no, you brought this upon yourself. If you weren’t such a fucking whore, then he would’ve been relaxing at home right now. But,” he aimed the gun at his throat, “now he’ll die.”

“No!”

But it was too late, he fired his last shot and enjoyed watching Jin-sang choke on his own blood as his body writhed on the floor. It was such a satisfying scene. Your screams and sobs were like nails on a chalkboard and he marched towards you, slapping you hard across the face with the gun.

“Oh baby, you made me do this,” he hummed and began to caress your bruised cheek. “I don’t like sharing what’s mine.”

“Please just stop.”

“Come back to me,” he stated while completely ignoring what you just said. “We can be so happy. I’ll spoil you, treat you like a fucking queen, we can travel the world and do so much. Come on.”

You spit on his face, a look of disgust flashing through your features. “I rather fucking die than be with you.”

Why? Why couldn’t you answered correctly? Why did you have to fucking say that? On top of that you spit on him. After everything he’s done for you, this is how you end up treating him? Fuck no. He truly wanted you to take his offer since killing you was something he did not want to do. But if you’re going to be this ungrateful and refuse to be with him, then he has no other choice. There’s no fucking way you’re going to live on and be happy without him. He’s your happiness. He’s all you need. Without him, you’re nothing.

Han-seok didn’t hesitate in raising his gun and shooting you right in the head, your dead body dropping to the ground. Seeing your motionless body was not… right. He didn’t want this. Why did it have to end like this? Why, just fucking why?

He screamed out in anger and turned around to repeatedly fire all of his bullets onto Jin-sang’s body. After he used up all of his ammo, he threw the gun and began to wreck havoc. He punched the walls, threw furniture around, and screamed until his face got red and his lungs were fighting for air. He dropped down next to your body and pulled you close, rocking himself back and forth while crying.

“I’m sorry baby, but you made me fucking do this. This is your fault.”

And he sat there — clutching your lifeless body — as he felt no regret for his actions, because he would much rather be in Hell than be alone.

#vincenzo kdrama #reader x jang hanseok #jang hanseok #reader x jang joon woo #reader x jang jun woo #jang hanseok oneshot #jang hanseok fic #jang hanseok x reader #jang hanseok x you #vincenzo hanseok #ok taecyeon vincenzo #jang hanseok x y/n #SoundCloud

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xpao-bearx · 2 months

Text

Alrighty, my fellow Astarion fangbangers!! I've got a 🔥SPAHCY🔥 oneshot idea~

This is an idea that's been a parasite in my teeny brain for a while now and at first, I didn't wanna share it cuz I wanted it to be a surprise for when I actually write and post it. But to those who follow me, y'all know I just LOVE to ramble so I couldn't keep it a secret anymore 😂

And sooo here it is: A smutty oneshot of Spawn Astarion x Fem!Reader x Ascended Astarion!

Now you might be thinking... How the HELLS would a threesome with Spawn Astarion and Ascended Astarion ever work??? O_o

Well, lemme ramble some more! 😆

AHEM

Throughout your adventure, Astarion ascended and made his lover (you, dear reader ❤️) into his dark consort. After saving Baldur's Gate, you go to live with Astarion in his palace and start anew with your life of immortality.

At first, everything was going well. Astarion relished in the power he's craved so much and you stood by his side as his most prized treasure. And yet... There was a suffocating emptiness in your heart.

You were happy. Or...you should be. You were going to spend a wonderful eternity with your lover and you only gave Astarion what he's always wanted...right?

But as time passes, Astarion changes more and more. You still loved him, you will never stop loving him, but you couldn't deny that his dominance and possessive nature over you...unsettled you a bit.

Anyhoe, long story short, while you are just wandering around the palace one night and rethinking all your life choices that led you to this very moment, some ✨️magic✨️ happens and Astarion appeared.

Only...this was Astarion from the past. Before he ascended.

This story is still a work in progress so forgive me that this is all a mess, but basically this other Astarion is spawn Astarion! Spawn Astarion comes from another dimension where he never ascended. In that dimension, Baldur's Gate has also been saved but at the cost of spawn Astarion's lover's life--your life.

Astarion couldn't handle the tragic loss of his one true love so he became obsessed in finding something--anything--to be with you again, even at the cost of his soul. I'm still working out the details, but Astarion ended up finding something which made him transport to where you are now!

You are obviously baffled by spawn Astarion and can't quite believe it, but he's just so fucking happy to see you--to be with you--again. And maybe...just maybe...

You wanted to be with him, too.

But of course... There's ascended Astarion.

Beautiful, foolish treasure... Did you really think you could ever forsake your master?

Expect quiiite a bit of angst with this oneshot but, OF COURSE, some real nasty smut too! 😉 I plan to hopefully write and post this story after I finish the game and have experienced both spawn and ascended routes!

Also, I REALLY hope this doesn't cause any discourse! I, personally, prefer spawn Astarion but I also ADORE ascended Astarion (✨️nothing✨️ will stop me from simping for this vamp dork)! I know everyone has their own thoughts and opinions for both and which one is "better", but for me I just live and let live! Let everyone be happy with their own preferences, please 🥰

And I hope no one steals this idea of mine! Please correct me if I'm wrong, but I haven't seen anyone else have an Astarion fic like this so I would assume I would be the first to have this specific idea. If you were inspired by the premise and wanna write something similar, PLEASE credit me for the inspo but also tell me if you post it cuz I would absolutely read the SHIT out of it!! \(^o^)/ But yeah, just please don't copy the WHOLE thing cuz, like I said, I do plan on eventually writing this fic myself!

And hey, if ya wanna be tagged for when I post this fic, please don't hesitate to tell me! 💕

#Baldur's Gate 3 #BG3 #Baldur's Gate 3 Fanfiction #BG3 Fanfiction #Baldur's Gate 3 Fanfic #BG3 Fanfic #Baldur's Gate 3 Fic #BG3 Fic #Astarion #Astarion x Reader #Reader x Astarion

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tonberry-yoda · 2 years

Text

You Hate Gyro Zeppeli - Gyro Zeppeli

Pairing - Gyro Zeppeli x f!reader

Warnings - Gyro being a little sexist because... he is lmao and a little bit of blood (reader gets a bloody nose)

Word Count - 768

Notes - i had the random inspo for a gyro fic, so i hope you steel ball lovers enjoy this one! and i cant help but think, even if he's italian, that he has the thickest southern accent. i cant help it

And don’t forget, REQUESTS ARE OPEN! So if you want to request any writing, please don’t hesitate to ask, but please read my pinned post before requesting! Please enjoy!! Don’t forget to stay hydrated! <3

You hated Gyro Zeppeli more than anyone. ANYONE. You couldn't stand him. And those green lips. God how you hated him. You hated that he wanted to win. You hated that he thought women were bad luck. And dear Jesus how you hated the way he looked at you. The condescending look on his stupid face. His little smirk. You were determined to beat him at the Steel Ball Run. No, you would beat him.

---

“Aww, isn't the little lady cute? Settin’ up her tent? Didja bring enough shampoo, lovely?” You quickly turned towards Gyro, your hair flying behind you. “Says the guy who looks like a girl from behind!” “Oh, is that right?!” Gyro jumped off his horse, walking up to you, his face only inches from yours. You could see his stupid gold teeth from a mile away. “Yeah, that’s right! You heard me!”

Gyro leaned closer so you could smell the hint of mint on his breath. “We’ll see who’s laughin’ when I win this race, little lady.” “Is that so? Because I think it’ll be the other way around.”

Gyro laughed out loud, putting his hands on his hips and throwing his head back. “Oh, is that so funny to you, Zeppeli?” “Yeah it is!” He looked at you with the stupid smirk again. “Imagine a woman winning this race. Looks to me like you’re one of the only girls. We’ll see how long that lasts.” “Shut up, Gyro.” “You’re just too scared to admit that I'm right.” “You aren't! I'll beat your ass!” “We’ll see about that.”

---

Gyro hated you more than anyone. He couldn't stand you. He hated that you wanted to win. He thought you were nothing but bad luck. And by God, he hated the way you looked at him. Your smirk just pissed him off. He was determined to beat you. He would beat you.

---

“Why do you hate her so much, Gyro?” Johnny held onto his horse, leaning down on its neck to give his back a bit of a rest. “Why do I hate her? Is that even a question, boy?” “Yeah. I mean,” Johnny fiddled with his fingers. “I think she’s real nice, Gyro. I just don't get why you don't like her.” “Nice?! Boy, don't you see?! That’s the trick! Women try to getcha like that!” “Okay, we all get it, Gyro, you got the hots for her.”

Gyro went dead silent for like thirty seconds before turning to Johnny with a bright red face. “No I don't! Don't you dare-” “Why’d you get all quiet?” “Shut up!” “So you do?” “Shut up!!!” “You’re not denying it.” “Boy, I-”

“Whatcha boys talkin’ about?” You slowed your horse down, riding slowly next to Gyro, immediately shooting him a dirty look. “None of your goddamn business!” “Oh, is someone a little pissy this morning, Gyro?” “Shutchurmouth, woman!” “Watch it, you sexist son of a bitch!” “You watch it!” You just giggled and scooted your horse a little closer to Gyro.

“Whaddya think you’re doing?!” Gyro scooted away, but you scooted closer, giggling. “You tryin’ to make me fall off my horse?!” “Mayyyybeeee.”

Gyro quickly stopped his horse and jumped off, trying to run from you, but you jumped off of yours and started chasing after him. He turned around and saw you were chasing him, so he ran faster, the spurs on his boots making a loud clanging noise as he ran. You just kept giggling before you absolutely ate it, falling straight on your face.

You just kept laughing though, your hands on your gut as you tried breathing through the laughter.

Gyro turned around with a smile, still thinking that you were chasing him, but the smile dropped immediately when he saw you on the ground, blood running down your nose. He ran up to you, which was surprising. He brought his handkerchief to your nose and wiped all the blood, which wasn't much.

You sat up and finally managed to stop giggling. You looked at Gyro with a smile. “Thanks.” He nodded and tipped his hat. “Sure. You gonna be okay?” “I think so. I feel fine.” “Good, good.”

As much as you hated each other, you couldn't help but scoot closer. And Gyro couldn't help but grab your chin, pulling you closer. You couldn't help looking into those gorgeous green eyes. And you both couldn't help but kiss each other. His lips pressed to yours so softly and he held you like you might break. You threw your arms around the back of his neck and melted.

Oh, how you hated Gyro Zeppeli.

#gyro zeppeli #zeppeli #gyro #gyro zeppeli x reader #gyro x reader #zeppeli x reader #jjba #jojos bizarre adventure #jjba x reader #jojos bizarre adventure x reader #gyro zeppeli jjba #steel ball run #steel ball run x reader #jjba part 7 #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #my writing #<33333

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mygloviesme · 7 months

Text

cool about it. || myg

no. 5: feeling like an absolute fool about it

predebut/debut!yoongi x female idol

summary: kanako is an established idol with a growing career and a secret relationship with a producer from her label, haneul. when she’s asked to work with yoongi and rm to create a track for her, she gains unexpected feelings for a certain upcoming rapper. with her increasing fame, her controlling boyfriend, a set of six boys who seem to have grown an attachment to her, and a new boy who’d give her the world, how will she figure out a way to balance it all?

(definitely inspired by boygenius)

word count: 2.8k

genre: ANGST, friends(?) to lovers, slow burn, lots of pining

chapter warnings: toxic relationship (not w/myg), mentions of mental health, grooming (not w/myg), age gap relationship (not w/myg), oc gets hurt while doing dishes so mention of knife and blood

inspo song: the gold by phoebe bridgers

FEBRUARY 15TH, 2012, 7:10PM

With lots of hesitation, I accepted Jungkook’s invite for dinner via text. Let me show you exactly what he texted:

Jungkook: kanako come over to dinner, we miss you!!!!! If you dont we’ll bring dinner to you!!!

His order caught me by surprise since we had only known each other for a short while. We’ve never even had a conversation, I don't think.

But the news had broken inside the building. I’ve avoided walking the halls ever since a trainee I’d known since my trainee days had come up to me, taking my hands and telling me:

You still have time to make this right and take back what you said, you know that right?

I didn’t reply to her, only standing in shock. Haneul was loved by everyone in the building, he was the best producer we had. He was the mind behind my biggest singles and trainees could only dream of having their first hit be made by him. He was charismatic, charming, and a social butterfly. He was the type of person you’d describe as “lighting up the room when he walked in.” He was the dream man for a young girl like me. He had this way of controlling a room like a conductor controlling a symphony. He was alluring.

The trainee, Aimee being her name, simply gave me a reassuring hug before skipping off, unknowing the damage she just did. After that interaction I slipped back into my depression. I stayed in my dorm and have only left once these past five days for counseling. Bang-PD was more than supportive of the idea of me seeing a therapist, saying it’s the least I can do.

FEBRUARY 13TH, 2012, 12:10PM

I sit in my new therapist’s office. She’s short, like me. And sort of a mess, but it’s just like me. Her name is Hana. She settles into her chair with a small notepad in her hand and a pen, just like the American movies I’ve watched.

She shuffles in her seat as she writes something down.

“Alright Kanako, how are you feeling today?” She asks, a small beam from her face. Her expression scrunches to readjust her glasses.

I fiddle with my fingers, “I’m alright. I’m glad to be here.” I reply. She writes.

“That’s good to know, Kanako. Is there anything you’d like to talk about?” She questions.

I nod slowly, “I assume you were given a run-down?”

She laughs softly, “No, not really. It’s sort of complicated, but I like to hear it from my patients first. So, to answer your question, I don’t.”

I nod again, “I was in a relationship for a while. A little over ten months. We started when I was seventeen, and he was twenty-two.” I say sort inaudibly. She bobs her head, “And how was that?”

I swallow, “It was great, in the beginning. He would buy me gifts and shower me with so much affection, which was something I wasn’t used to. We would go out on walks at night so no one could see us and he would hold my hand so…tightly. It was so comforting being with him. But-”

“But?”

“I remember the first time he acted differently. It was in his studio apartment, our first night together. We had…had sex.” I dart my eyes from her direction to my hands.

“It was my first time but it wasn’t his. Obviously. The night wrapped up so nicely with him holding me for so long. I felt so safe. But…he saw a message from my phone, one from a male trainee I used to be friends with. He asked if I wanted to hang out the next day. And Haneul just…” My breath extends, “He completely flipped out. I remember being completely naked under his covers and he just ripped them off of me. He was so angry and accused me of cheating on him. He screamed, screamed, and screamed at me until I was just nothing but tears. I felt so vulnerable.”

“What happened after?” She says, writing simultaneously.

“I crawled to the edge of the bed when he started breaking down crying. He kept repeating that he was so sorry, that he would never do anything like that again. And I held him, still naked. And the funny thing is, he was in a shirt and boxers. So I couldn’t feel him. There was still this barrier between us.” I bite my lip, furrowing my brows as if that’ll make the memories come back clearer.

Hana adjusts her glasses with her hand, “Still a barrier? You had felt that way before that night?”

“I mean, yeah. He was very secretive. Like he’d toss me a bone to distract me, then run away. He planted these stories in my head to excuse why he wouldn’t text or talk to me for hours on end.”

“Do you have a story in mind?”

I anxiously clench my fists.

“He told me once he had to go back home to Busan to visit his mother who had gotten sick. I mean, it was such a serious thing I told him he could take as much time as he needed. I spent the night in his apartment before he left and he had fallen asleep before me so I was just kind of lying there. I saw his phone light up, and it was a text message from a girl asking when he’d make it to Busan. I read the rest of their messages and it was clear that he was flirting with her. I’m not sure if they had hooked up but I didn’t think so at the time.”

“Did you talk to him about it?”

“That morning, yeah. And it was just the same thing. Screaming, calling me awful names, saying I wasn’t giving him enough in bed. That I was a selfish virgin.” I say, looking out the window and recounting the painful memories. I purse my lips in a tight line, feeling that familiar lump in my throat. Hana only nods, waiting for me to continue. To be ready to continue, that is.

“And then he cried again,” I add, “In my arms. Apologizing again, saying he’d never treat that way, again. And I stayed.” I whisper in hopes to not break down.

“Why is that, Kanako?”

“Why did I stay?”

She bobs her head as if to say yes.

I remember that feeling I got that night when he invited me out to dinner. The cold, the touch, the yelling.

“For the apology.”

FEBRUARY 15TH, 2012, 7:10PM

“Ah, Kanako!” Hoseok says as he opens the door for me. I give a quick bow to the group of boys who wait behind him with a small grin. In my hands I hold a glass tupperware with small cinnamon sugar cookies.

Jin peers behind Hoseok, “You didn’t have to bring anything!” He beams and takes the tupperware from my hands, placing them on a much nicer plate for aesthetic. I can’t help the smile that grows on my face when Hoseok opens the door wider, gesturing me to come in. Just like last time, there’s boys sprawled out in different areas of the dorm. Some are setting down cutlery and plates, others set a hot pot down and other various foods, and then my eyes see Yoongi. Like instinct.

He’s placing pillows down the perimeter of the table, but he doesn’t look at me. I hope to meet his gaze and stay like that for a millisecond longer until I give up, setting my coat on the coat rack. I’m wearing casual clothes, skinny jeans and a knitted sweater with my hair in an, admittedly, messy ponytail. Not in a very cute way, but in a way where I had forgotten I was coming here until the timer on my oven had rung loudly in my ears.

I take off my shoes and walk to the kitchen, “Anything I can help with?” I say and tuck my arms in between each other. Nervous, nervous, nervous.

Jin plops a piece of meat in his mouth, “Nuh-uh. Sit down, please. Everyone, actually! Let’s all sit down!” He yells rather loudly which makes me flinch. He gestures to everyone to sit around the table, which we follow rather quickly. He must be the oldest with how organized he seems to be.

We all take a seat on the various pillows, eyeing the beautiful dinner that lays before us. I see Jungkook plop down beside me, and to my surprise, so does Yoongi. Our shoulders manage to brush each other as Yoongi settles down.

“Why is everyone acting like we’re going to pray?” Yoongi mutters and is the first to reach for the pot of soup. He scoops the red liquid with a deep ladle and grabs my bowl simultaneously. My eyes widen just a bit as I watch him serve me. He gives me a rather large portion and sucks in his teeth, “We have lots more so, uh, eat up. Okay?” He says without making eye contact with me. I don’t smile, not even a bit. Even though it’s really killing me not to.

His small act sends an uproar around the table, “Ah! Gentleman Yoongi. Such a gentleman.” Namjoon jokes and serves himself as well. And just like dominoes, everyone moves around, passing plates and bowls. Different boys give me various plates of food and as I turn to Jungkook who called my name, he stuffs a serving of seaweed with rice in my mouth.

“Jungkook-” Jimin bursts into a fit of laughter.

“What? She hasn’t started eating yet. Gotta get the ball rolling.” He mumbles.

I cover my mouth and for the first time in a while, smile. I laugh once, twice, and eventually my hand sticks to my mouth like glue as tears well up in my eyes. My stomach starts to hurt as I swallow the rice and try not to, well, choke. “It was that funny, huh?” Yoongi smiles as he looks at me. I turn to him and nod, attempting to catch my breath. I want so badly to stare into his eyes just a second more, just like this. How he’s looking at me now. But he’s the first to break eye contact which leaves me feeling a little lost and stranded.

We all enjoy our food together, some boys going back and forth with bits of small talk and jokes.

It’s fun watching their dynamic, observing like I’m only listening through a wall. I take bites and sips from my food every so often but I still feel anxiety rioting in my throat that makes me not have much of an appetite.

“So when are you guys debuting?” I ask, the thought only coming to the forefront of my mind just a second ago. Namjoon runs his fingers through his hair as he ticks his head slightly, he looks uncertain.

“Ah, Bang-PD says sometime next year.” He says, and the once loud table turns quiet.

I look around in confusion, “Is that- should I have not-” I say faintly.

Jimin shakes his head and covers his mouth as he swallows, “We’re all just hoping to have as much success as you had, Kanako.” He says. The table of boys all nod and I give them a warm, reassuring smile.

I set my chopsticks down, “I know you’ll be very successful, and you want to know why?” I look around the table, “Because you all have a very powerful dynamic that most lack. As long as you have each other, you’ll do great things.” I give a toothy grin.

I see Jungkook peer over to my frontal view, “And we have you, right?”

“Yes, you have me too.” I nod in agreement.

“You know Kanako, being eighteen,” Jin says, and in my mind I wince as he continues. Please don’t say I’m mature for my age, please don’t say I’m-

“It’s pretty overwhelming to deal with all of that fame. You know you don’t have to be so serious and wise all the time, right?” He says matter-of-factly.

I feel a relief rush over me and a sense of recognition. How is it they know exactly what to say?

“Right.”

FEBRUARY 15TH, 2012, 9:36PM

After dinner was finished the boys all get up to set up a sort of hangout circle. They move the table to the edge of one of the bunk beds and gather blankets and pillows while I clean the dishes, even though Jin was very opposed. You’re our guest, why are you cleaning our mess? He said.

But after a few moments of reassuring him I was just trying to do my part and help, he accepted. I look at the pile of messy dishes and sigh before dipping in, grabbing a sponge and starting. Although I genuinely did want to help, it was still a pain in the ass to clean up after seven men. I start off with the the silverware and slowly building my way up when I feel a body beside me with a rag in his hand.

“Oh, Yoongi-”

“Just drying them off.” He states.

I bob my head and welcome his help, knowing it’d make cleaning the dishes much faster. We do that for a thick minute, just me passing the dishes and him setting them in the cupboards and drawers. I feel a growing nervousness, knowing there was an elephant in the room. The whole time, during dinner, during our conversations, there was an obviousness of what had erupted in the BigHit building. It’s hard to ignore a scandal like that, but I’m just glad they don’t see me any differently. Even going the extra mile to invite me for dinner, it was a big deal I was starting to realize as I roamed my thoughts during this heavy silence. I wondered if people thought they were crazy for associating with me, if they felt like the boys were betraying Haneul by continuing to speak with me.

I wash the next piece of cutlery, oblivious to the fact that my palm had been nicked by ,what I registered later, to be a knife. I gasp and look down at my hand, “Oh shit!” I exclaim, seeing the red secretion drip down my hand. That is an unusual amount of blood. Fuck this is embarrassing.

Yoongi looks at me, then to my hand. “What happened?” He says loudly as he rushes to open one drawer after another, searching for aid. The boys jerk their head to my direction, all gasping and getting up swiftly as if I’d just been murdered.

“HYUNG, DID YOU STAB KANAKO?” Jungkook screeches.

“No I didn’t, shut up!” Yoongi cries, making a mess by throwing papers and other random objects, still searching. I see Taehyung grab an obscene amount of paper towels and he presses them down on my hand, “Hold it down, quick! We have to stop the blood!” He says and lets me hold my hand on my bleeding palm. He runs his fingers through his hair nervously, “Fuck that’s a lot of blood, is she going to need st-”

“No she’s not going to need stitches, everyone shut the fuck up!” Yoongi yells once again, rushing back towards me and removing the blood soaked paper towels from my grasp. He sprays some clear liquid on my wound, making me wince. “S-Sorry, hold on.” He mumbles and dabs the fluid with a tissue before placing a gauze on it, wrapping my hand in a bandage.

“Hyung that seems a little..” Hoseok makes a ‘tsk’ sound with his mouth and furrows his brows.

Yoongi rubs my hand to make sure the bandage is nice and secure, looking up to me with worried eyes. “Is that too tight? Is it alright?” He asks.

I chuckle softly, “Yes, although I think a simple bandaid would have sufficed.”

He shakes his head and grips the kitchen counter with his hand, as if trying to ease off.

“I’m fine everyone. It’s alright.” I say in consolation.

Namjoon rubs his forehead in stress, “The least we can do is let you spend the night.” He nods, feeling confident in his decision. I make a disdained expression and look around to the boys who are also in agreement. “You guys, please. I can make it back to my dorm.” I snicker in disbelief.

“You’re wounded! I could see your hand-bone!” Jungkook shouts.

“Okay Jungkook settle down,” Yoongi sighs, giving me a considerate look, “Just stay. It’s late. Unless you have something to do tomorrow?” He asks.

I bow my head, “No…I don’t.”

I see Jungkook dash to his closet, ripping clothes off hangers and piling them on his arms. He runs back breathlessly towards me, holding out different pairs of sweatpants and shirts.

“She gets to borrow my clothes this time.” He says, looking at a defeated Namjoon.

“Mmm…okay.” I say before the group claps and cheers. I’m shocked at how excited they seem to be, as if this was something they had hoped I would do before even coming. Hm.

I pick out a set of clothes to wear from Jungkook’s arms, “I guess I’ll stay tonight.”

click here to read more of this story!

#bts #min yoongi #yoongi #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts taehyung #bts jimin #bts jungkook #bts hoseok #bts seokjin #bts namjoon #bts yoongi #bts fluff #agustd #bts imagines

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istantheml · 2 years

Text

Love Made Me Crazy

pairing: park jinyoung x reader

wc: 610

genre: mafia!au, enemies to lovers, angst

warnings: swearing, major character death

summary: love made jinyoung crazy for you

a/n: this was a birthday fic for aia (was fairygyeom) and she asked for a jinyoung mafia fic. still rusty so please bear with me! don't blame me by taylor swift was also an inspo for this. let me know what you think! :)

Everything hurts.

His mind. His body.

His heart.

How did they end up here? How did he miss the signs? Did love make him blind?

No, he knew the answer all along.

Love made him crazy.

Glass shattering under heavy footsteps prevents his mind from further wandering and brings him back to reality; one he knows he can no longer run away from. Attempting to move is futile — the gunshot and stab wounds make sure of that — but if he’s being honest with himself, there’s no place he’d rather be.

“You know,” Jinyoung starts, before coughing up some blood. “I've never been more in love with you as I am now.”

“Shut up,” says the voice that continues to bring him comfort despite the circumstances. “Nothing you say will sway me.”

“I know,” he musters a smile. “Your determination is one of the things I love most about you.”

“I said, shut up!”

“Look at us, who would’ve thought that a stone cold mafia leader like me would fall for the best assassin in the business?”

“You always did know how to pick them,” Jinyoung's laugh echoes around the room at Mark’s faint reply. He almost forgot that the rest of his crew were lying lifeless around him.

“Mark, shut up before I finish you off,” you reply as you come into their view.

“Not if I kill you first,” Mark threatens.

“Don’t you dare,” Jinyoung orders before turning to face you. “Tell me, was any of it real? Or was I your target from the very beginning?”

While your left hand reaches back to pull the dagger you had stashed on the back of your dress, your right hand reaches to softly caress his cheek. “None of that matters now,” you reply softly.

“It matters to me.”

“Well, it shouldn’t. This ends now.”

“I'm your husband and I love you,” Jinyoung reminds you through gritted teeth. “Answer me.”

“I’m your wife and I…” you hesitate as tears stream down your face, fighting hard to rid yourself of all emotions. Leaning in, you kiss him one last time, pouring all of your love for him into it before pulling away and steeling your resolve.

“Say it,” Jinyoung demands.

“I'm your wife,” you answer strongly as you lift up the dagger above him. “…and you’re my mission.”

Jinyoung braces himself for his end but it never comes. With brows furrowed in confusion, he opens his eyes to see your questioning stare that’s directed at his chest. Following your line of sight, he spots three laser dots aiming for his heart.

He turns to look at you and knows what’s coming next. Screaming your name in agony, he can only watch as you shift your body to shield him as three gunshots echo around the room, followed by three more coming from Mark's direction as he shoots the snipers dead. Silence follows as Jinyoung sits up in time to catch your falling lifeless body.

“Baby, stay with me,” he begs, lightly patting your face before looking to see that you’re fatally wounded. “You can’t leave me. You don’t have permission to!”

“Jinyoung, listen to me,” you weakly say with your last remaining breaths. “It was always real for me. I love you, in this lifetime and the next.”

Sobbing, Jinyoung brings your body closer and plants a kiss on your forehead. “I love you, in every lifetime imaginable.”

Finally, he feels your body go limp and cold. Jinyoung allows himself a moment of weakness, clutching your body against his and screams out your name as sobs wracked his body.

“Please, wait for me a little longer. I'll come and join you soon.”

➔ do not copy, repost, translate or share any of my works on any platform without permission.

#mine: imagines #got7 #park jinyoung #got7 jinyoung #got7 imagines #got7 scenarios #got7 drabbles #got7 fanfic #got7 x reader #jinyoung imagines #jinyoung x scenarios #jinyoung x drabbles #jinyoung x fanfic #jinyoung x reader

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crisalidaseason · 10 months

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Heeyy you! 😽 is Cris your name? Wasn't sure if it was a name, anyway. First I wanted to say that I'm so happy to find your blog, it's hard to see something other than smut or triggering content and your writing is godsend. What's your rules about request? Of it's okay would you write something with jean and sensitive reader? like she cries about pretty much anything and has a strong sense of justice but only jean understands her?

Hello dear! Yes, you can call me Cris/Crisalida, it is a name. I am the one who is happy that my fics resonate with you. I posted my rules here, you can check it out later, anon friend. I will shut up and start you request, hope you enjoy it!!

Hovering

Pair: Jean Kirstein x Sensitive, Fem! Reader Warnings: crying, implied bullying

Inspo music: My down to earth lover by blackbriar

Jean is also a little sensitive himself, he was raised by a loving mother after all. But he has some issues expressing those feelings to people other than his mom, he doesn't know how to be vulnerable in front of other people.

When he meet you, he was a little surprised by how your feelings would be so bluntly displayed. Your tears came easy and for many reasons. He also noticed how much of those tears were result of your strong sense of justice. You often cried of rage whenever something unfair happened, and unfair things happened often in the corps.

He watched as the other cadets and even captains scorned you, underestimating your abilities just because you react strongly to certain situations. He, on the other hand, thought your sensitivity was a sign of your truthfulness.

The first time the two of you spoke is after Marco's death. You were not close to the freckled boy, but you mourned him and the other dead ones openly. You gave Jean a word of condolence and he was never able to forget the tears opening paths on your dusty face. He felt as if you genuinely saw his grief, as if you could feel exactly how painful it was.

Jean connected to you fast, and so did you. He was the first person that saw past your tears, understanding what caused them in the first place. He would offer comfort when you wanted, even if he was awkward at first. He would teach a lesson to anyone who dared to mock you.

He loved your sense of justice because he has a strong one too. It was hard for people to deal with Jean's morals, often his hesitation to do something he considered bad would hinder missions. You were the only one who genuinely understood the struggle and also tried you hardest to advise him.

The days you were particularly more shaken, he would offer company and even get Sasha to seal a treat from the kitchens or, if he had any money, he would offer to take you to a fair nearby. All he wanted was to make you smile.

When he finally felt comfortable opening up to you, the connection between the two of you was unbreakable. It was as if you knew exactly what he needed when the nightmares or the stress got to him. The two of you even had crying sessions together, it was therapeutic.

#I hope i did you justice anon #I have hard time writing sensitive characters #autism makes if difficult #jean #jean kirsteni #jean x reader #jean x fem reader #jean x you #tumblr hates me

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equestriagirl16 · 2 years

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Uzui & Wives💎 x Reader!Turned Demon~

*Lays this out neatly and ducks back under my burrow* Just a small lil prompt for these four. Gawd I love them sm, glad they’re getting more attention in fanfiction realm as they should. Hope you enjoy peoples.~ inspo:@lazysimp

(Oh and about the newest episode-

*screams and cries into oblivion*)

Warnings: none really, hurt & comfort perhaps

It wasn’t supposed to turn out this way. One of the most romantic and warm evenings of your life, morphed into a horrific nightmare.

You had been training under the retired hashira, Uzui Tengen, for quite a long time now. In that span of time you’ve not only gotten to know him, but also the three beautiful women he deemed his wives.

Your infatuation with them was hopelessly apparent from the start, and no one could blame you. They were all of course ridiculously attractive with varying personalities to match. Over time they even opened up their home to you, as the friendship you all once knew began to shift into something more.

You were hesitant as to not disturb the bond they already shared, but one night returning from a perilous mission. In the heat of the moment, finally seeing their faces, hearing their voices filled with worry and compassion. One confession, to your astonishment, sparked another.

After a quick smirk and a “Took you long enough.” from Uzui. Words turned into heated embraces before you even knew it. Arms curled securely around bodies, lips colliding one with another. You couldn’t keep track anymore, becoming drunk off the feeling. Pure intimacy like no other, all thanks to four of most gorgeous people you’ve ever known.

And so, on an evening you thought would end like any other, you were awestruck to come out having an entire group of partners who loved you just as you did them.

You couldn’t be happier.

All until now…

It was supposed to be a lovely evening. Flashy attire, delicious food, filled to the brim with laughter. An entire venue rented out by Uzui to celebrate that momentous occasion. Cleared out in an instant by an all too bold demon.

You acted quickly, protecting your lovers as all the instinct in your body shot off. Utilizing every ounce of training you were taught much to Uzui’s pride.

It was close, too close, but with one final breathe you annihilated the threat for good.

As you fell to your knees watching the monster fade away, Uzui, Hinatsuru, Suma, and Makio all ran to you assessing the damage.

Their dotting wasn’t unwelcome but you insisted you were fine. Until you felt it.

Earlier the demon had slashed you, but you shrugged it off as a minor injury. But your body..it started to feel hot and stiff as if something was awakening. With labored and wheezing breaths you clasped onto Uzui, shaking violently in a cold sweat.

Your heart felt like it was going to burst through your throat, even with your breathing form nothing could quell the discomfort turned agony.

“Y/N? Y/N what’s happened?!” Uzui exclaimed concerned, grabbing the attention of the girls.

“Are you hurt? Poor thing you’re shaking.” Hinatsuru said as softly as ever.

“Oh no! What if they’re injured really bad, they could be dying!” “Don’t say stuff like that! Damn demons, we should’ve helped when we had the chance.” Suma and Makio chimed in.

You couldn’t hold on any longer, the only thing grounding you was the voices of your lovers. You were desperate. Slipping. Falling. Something else was taking over you. The nails you dug into Uzui arms sharpened, as he winced. Your teeth did the same, as your mouth ran dry. Vision blurring. You were scared. You knew what was happening, and you knew it was already too late.

You shove Uzui and jump away from the group. Making a dash for the surrounding trees to hide yourself. Knees buckling again as the transformation continued. All they could hear were your cries and whines to fight it off. But after a moment…everything went silent.

“Y/N?” Hinatsuru spoke, being the first to walk to where you were.

She saw you crouched over…unmoving.

She came a bit closer, the ground under her feet creating a small noise alerting you.

In a second you turned your head, ravenous eyes and sharp pupils glowing in the moonlight. You growled lowly.

Hinatsuru gasped, but didn’t back down. She started to speak your name again but in a flash you tackled her to the ground.

She screamed out at the sudden force. The rest ran to her aid.

You snarled and roared, scratching and slashing at her as she struggled to hold you back. The sight of her blood only egging you on. You weren’t you anymore.

Swiftly Uzui shoved you off of her, as Suma and Makio dragged her back away from you.

With all his strength Uzui held you down. You thrashed and scratched at him like a wild animal. The girls looked on in horror, at a loss of what to do.

“You three, a stick now!” Uzui yelled back, snapping them out of their daze. Makio grabbed one from her side and tossed it to him.

He quickly shoved the piece of wood into your mouth. You screamed against the restriction. “Hey, Y/N look at me. Look at me!” Uzui tried to grab your attention while you were subdued. The girls ran over understanding his intentions.

“Me too! It’s us Y/N don’t you remember?” “Cmon you got to snap out of this!” Suma and Makio joined.

You continued to kick and squirm until you felt a presence above your head. Hinatsuru leaned down looking you in the eyes, you stared back deep down recognizing that soft glance.

She began to carefully caress you head, much to your surprise. As she continued, you became less sporadic focusing on her touch.

“Shhhhh, your alright Y/N. You’re ok. Just please.”

Hinatsuru grabbed both sides of your face rubbing your cheeks softly, tears pricking in the corners of her eyes.

“Please come back to us.” She whispered to you.

At that you felt something, as if a wave of calmness finally washed over you. In the midst of all the feral intensity you felt yourself come to, if only for a moment.

You could think, but any emotions you were able process were a mix between relief and anguish. You were different now, you let this happen, but they were still here for you. They stayed. All of them. They wanted to help you, be your refuge. Just like they always have. What were you supposed to do, what were you supposed to say?

You can’t say anything, you can’t speak. All that fell from your lips gazing on the people you cared for the most, was a long drawn out sob.

They all looked at you with pity, saddened this had happened feeling just as guilty. But all that mattered to them now was you, and letting you have this.

You continued to cry until your vision was fogged with tears. Hinatsuru continued to cradle your head as the Suma and Makio held onto each of your arms in a warm embrace. Uzui kept the stick firmly placed in your mouth but held your head gently as he did so.

After a moment your sobs became hiccups, and hiccups into small sniffles. You felt yourself become smaller in their holds, figuratively…and literally!

You shrunk down to almost a child like size, much to the shock of your partners. Uzui picked you up gently and held you close to his chest as you buried yourself in it. Finally relaxing.

“Y/N…what are we going to do?” Hinatsuru asked standing to her feet and patting your head.

“I haven’t got a clue. But I know this.” Uzui looked up at all three women. “We keep our little slayer safe, and love them no less. They put their lives on the line for us tonight, and that makes them the most respectable human being to ever walk this earth. We’ll figure this out together, but never forget that.”

“Of course.” Makio agreed with a smile. “I’ll love Y/N forever, even if they’re a demon or anything else!” Suma exclaimed right after.

Uzui smiled at the two, and then looked down back at you fast asleep. Hinatsuru held onto one of the arms he had you cradled in and spoke. “They’re still our Y/N, but is there really nothing we can do for them?”

“I think I know just who to ask.” Uzui replied smirking at his wife. Hinatsuru understood and smiled back, wrapping her arms fully around her husband’s and leaning on his shoulder.

Makio and Suma looked on with small pouts until Uzui gestured for them to come over. They dashed and almost tackled the man in their embrace. Each holding onto any part of your small frame gently as well. Looking at you lovingly and attentively.

Under the moonlight you all stood, content for a moment but concern and worry never leaving them. In your rest you couldn’t ponder much, but the love and warmth radiating from them was overwhelming. You just couldn’t help but feel as if you were in the best hands.

You regretted what happened to you, you always will. But protecting these four was more than worth it, and their love and care was all you could ever ask for. They’ll take care of you, as they always did when you had nowhere else to go. And with time, maybe even cure you. As long as you’re all together. That’s the most important thing.

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its-deputy-caleb · 3 years

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please write something about soft micah and how he secretly shows affection in camp? btw love your work!!

i've returned from my holiday ya'll 😌😌and so i thought i'd start it off with some soft micah. this ask was so fun and for reference i rewatched one of my favourite films 'Sabrina' (1954) and the soundtrack to that kinda gave me some inspo for this fic so i hope you can enjoy it! it's gender neutral and i just wanted to do something light hearted and fun to return to writing. thank u anon for this ask <3333

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It was celebration in camp, not unlike Sean’s return party however this time the gang was celebrating the success of a large train job which took almost the entire gang to successfully pull off.

Sean was dancing on the table, trying to teach Lenny (YnneL?) how to Irish dance while Uncle was proclaiming to a small crowd how he knew the secrets of being an amazing lover.

Everyone was singing and dancing to either Javier’s playing or Hosea’s old folk songs. There was boxes of liquor in every nook and cranny and it was being drunk faster than it was being poured. It seems that there wasn’t a soul having fun…

There was one exception to that matter however, and that was the broody Micah Bell who saw no intentions in getting involved and instead chose to sharpen his already sharp knife. From where you stood, you could see him mumbling under his breath and having known him for long enough you knew he mumbled when he was moody.

You stood from the crate you were sitting on, dodging a very drunk Bill to make you way over to him. Your hand came to hold his chin, tilting his gaze from the knife to your soft smile.

“Hey there…”

Micah perks up slightly, but you still notice his tired eyes and the slight sheet of sweat over his temple. Behind Micah you see Molly and Dutch as well as (and very surprisingly) John and Abigail slow dancing to the gramophone in Dutch’s tent.

“Common, come and dance with me.”

Your other hand that’s not holding his chin takes his hand in yours but Micah’s always been a stubborn one.

“Now sweetheart, ya know I ain’t one for dancing. Why don’t you go ask a charmer like Arthur to dance with ya.”

You sigh and playfully roll your eyes as Micah puffs his chest out, thinking he’s too tough for dancing.

“Well for one, Arthur ain’t my sweetheart, you are dummy and secondly I don’t want dance with anyone but you.”

Micah flipped the knife between his fingers before holstering it, mumbling about dancing being a pain in his ass but you both knew how much he secretly loved it. He stood, shuffling with his gun belt and begrudgingly took your hand as you lead him to stand between the two couples already dancing.

A soft kiss was placed on your hand before Micah placed a hand around your waist and walk in slow circles with you. Pretty much everyone had stopped to stare at the two of you but you didn’t have a care in the world as Micah clumsily twirled you in his arms. You couldn’t help the giggle that left you and it certainly caused a large blush to form high on his cheeks.

“Darlin’ it seems some folks are staring”

By now your extravagant dancing had slowed to a soft and slow swaying as you just took in each other, although you could tell Micah was still nervous about making a mistake while so many people were staring by the way his eyes were glued to his feet. Your cheek came to press along side his own, feeling his prickly facial hair as you closed your eyes and hummed close to his ear. The hand that was draped over his shoulder came to tangle in his hair and rub slow circles on the base of his neck.

“Hmm… let them stare—“

You drew back from Micah, giving his hand a squeeze as you looked at him with all the love and adoration in the world.

“—Micah I wouldn’t care if the whole world was watching, as long as your eyes are on me I am the happiest person in the world.”

You knew everyone could hear you and you certainly knew everyone was watching but you leaned in and gave a soft but extravagant kiss to Micah’s cheek and then his lips as both your arms came to sit around his neck.

His hands moved to your waist, holding you against him tightly as if you’d ever let him go.

“Ain’t gonna be looking at anyone else beside ya sweetheart— love ya too much.”

“Oh Micah, I love you too”

You spent the better half of an hour dancing slowly with each other and giggling like children at some of the sights around you. John had gotten frustrated at one point, making Abigail storm off but Molly and Dutch were still in their own little world much like you were.

The two of you couldn’t help but laugh as Bill tried to sweet talk Karen in front of Sean after Uncle had encouraged him and how Swanson was pestering Strauss who tried to turn in for a relatively early night.

Eventually, your head came to rest on his chest— not in a way that showed you were tired, but completely content and happy with just slowly moving in circles. His heart was beating at a steady rhythm, although it was still a lot faster than you own but it still soothed you nonetheless as it matched the beat of the song.

You stayed like that for a lot longer than you’d thought. Long after Dutch had turned off the gramophone to sleep and the embers of the fire began to burn out until finally Micah led you back to your tent where the two of you fell asleep.

The next morning you woke with you head tucked under his arm and couldn’t stop the smile that came to your face as you caught a now very embarrassed Micah staring at you.

The peaceful moment didn’t last however as you had to help Ms Grimshaw start on the chores since you were one of the few members who weren’t hungover and still sleeping it off. With that you made you way to Pearson’s wagon but not before you stole a kiss from Micah who was complaining about you leaving.

A few hours past and you were working away at vegetables and meats for the stew. The early morning sun was starting to show along with some of the other gang members including Micah who walked over to you with a cup of coffee in his hand.

“I uhhh… thought you’d want this since ya been working for a while now.”

Smiling and dusting your hands off, you traded a kiss for the coffee— a deal Micah was happy to give.

When you sipped at your coffee and went back to work you noticed how Micah stayed to lean on the table beside you. His mouth opened you say something every five seconds but closed it again, shuffling awkwardly as he stared at you in hopes that you understood what he wanted without him having to say it.

While chopping at carrots and potatoes you held your elbows up and created space for Micah’s arms to fit. He didn’t hesitate to either as he shuffled forward and wrapped his arms around your waist, hands resting over your stomach as his chin rested over your shoulder to watch you work.

“You feeling any better this morning?”

Micah scoffed like he didn’t know what you were talking about, instead choosing to litter kisses along your neck and shoulder.

“I don’t know whatya talking about sweetheart.”

You turned your head to look at him, that fake innocence he tries to play up to avoid emotional topics.

“Oh common now Micah— I know what goes on in that head of yours, I can only hope that dancing cheered you up.”

His forehead came to rest against yours as you noticed his arms instinctively get a little tighter around you.

“Don’t think it was the dancing that made me happy sweetheart— that’s all you.”

His accent was thick with that southern drawl that he has, not in the way that he was being sly, but in a way that you knew he was being raw and open with you no matter how many pet names he threw in there to cover how soft he is with you.

You turned in his arms, wrapping your own around his shoulders as you gave him a large and genuine smile with a hint of your cheekiness.

“Aw you flatter me Mr.Bell and to think you were gonna let Arthur have that dance!”

You make a dramatic gesture with your hand over you mouth to emphasise how sarcastic the statement was. Micah brought you in for a kiss that the two of you couldn’t stop laughing through but it bubbled away as the kiss depended and your tongue met his.

“Arthur ain’t ever getting his hands on ya darling— I’m the only one that’s gonna take ya dancing.”

Micah gave you a playful wink as you pulled him back in for another heated kiss by the collar of his unbuttoned shirt.

“Mr.Bell if you have nothing better than to do than distract those hard at work I suggest you go and make yourself useful!”

Both you and Micah pulled away, both of you shocked as Ms Grimshaw stood in front of you with crossed arms and a very angry look on her face. Behind her was Pearson who was rubbing his neck awkwardly, obviously running off to find Susan who could handle the two of you.

You had to muffle a laugh as Micah mumbled under his breath all too loud about Grimshaw being an ‘old hag who’s just jealous’ before he got up from leaning against the bench to face you properly.

“Don’t you be working too hard now sweetheart—“

Micah pulled you back in by the waist for another kiss which you happily returned. Out of the corner of your eye you see Grimshaw roll her eyes and poor Pearson who looks like he’d rather spontaneously combust then stand there for another moment.

When Micah pulled back he slowly backed way from the wagon, holding his hands up in fake surrender to Ms. Grimshaw.

“Alright alright, I’ll get out of your hair— got a coach coming in anyway, real work.”

You saw Micah saddle up Baylock and ride his way out of town, giving you one final wink and a smirk. You knew he didn’t really have a robbery planned, he always told you about it first and most of the time you went with him. This time he was merely getting out of camp chores and you rolled your eyes at the image of him waiting around at the saloon for hours until Grimshaw finally forgot about it.

“Don’t think you’re getting out of work either! The two of you cause enough trouble without you getting all lovely around camp!”

There Ms.Grimshaw goes with another lecture, you have no doubts that she was watching the two of you last night and couldn’t help the smile that came to your face at the new cherish memory you now have with the man you love. In reality, you couldn’t care who didn’t like the public affection or your entire relationship with Micah.

All you knew is that it made the two of you happy and seeing Micah smile was worth every single lecture and glaring gaze from your fellow members.

And with that you turned back to the vegetables, picking up the knife and getting on with the rest of the day.

“Yes Ms.Grimshaw”

#im back from the dead #with soft micah content #and get ready for more #gosh i have been dying to write this #but i willed myself to take a holiday no matter how bad i was desperate to come back #soft micah hours #micah bell #micah bell x reader #gn!reader #micah bell imagine #rdr2 #rdr2 writing #rdr2 headcanons #red dead redemption 2 #soft rat 🥺🥺🥺

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