#i realized much later that it had never not been hurting me and that glass had always been digging into my skin

[andromeda3116]

@campfire-octopus shared my tags on a post i'd reblogged a while back but that post has almost 100k notes so i'm sure they'll get lost in the noise and the more i think about it the more i think it needs to be said louder:

ripping out the damage that the church did to you really does kinda feel like getting broken glass out of your skin, and so many people are telling you the broken glass is so important; see how you bleed without it?

#deconversion #anti-religion #i didn't leave the church in anger; i left it in grief. i left it in pain. it tore my skin apart. #i realized much later that it had never not been hurting me and that glass had always been digging into my skin #but god how much worse it hurt to drag it all out and i'm still finding shards #it's much better now; the wounds are healing. the pain has been easing. the peace has been seeping in through the scars. #but my skin remembers the agony. and the blood.

[lovedazai]

ENDING SCENE . . . dazai doesn’t know how to handle it when you get injured on a mission.

ft. dazai + f!reader, ada!reader, desc of blood & injuries, refs to dazai’s past, hurt/comfort (literally), angst w a happy ending, 2.0k w.c.

the only thing rarer than a night when dazai sleeps is a night when dazai dreams. 

his mind taunts him, conjuring scenarios of you making a wrong move. his fingertips reach out to grab you, always just a little too far away, or he doesn’t notice the gleam of a sniper until it’s too late. his job history only makes the visions all the more real. 

he’s been on the wrong end of a gun too many times to count, pulled the trigger himself even more, but seeing you with a barrel to your head is so irrevocably wrong, it always wakes him up with a racing heart unable to be slowed down by his usual tricks. he holds you as close as he can, until there’s no space left between your body and his; you’re real and you’re here, but it’s all just a reminder that sooner or later, you won’t be.

for the first time ever, dazai is in love, and that was an open invitation for the universe to rip you away from his grasp.

you never complain about the way he clings to you after. you let him lay against your chest and listen to the steady beat of your heart, waiting for his to fall into sync with it. your fingertips drag along his scalp and down his nape, grounding him back to earth with your touch. you whisper words so sweet he can taste them on his lips when he kisses you, and his heart races for an entirely different reason.

but then, it happens.

one, apparently deadly, miscalculation and now you’re bleeding out on his lap in the backseat of one of the agency’s cars. he wants so badly to think this is another one of his mind’s sick, twisted jokes, but the scent of your blood is all too potent to be anything but real.

today was supposed to be an easy day. your only assignment wasn’t even a full-fledged mission, just gathering information from witnesses about a recent burglary. the culprit had a concealed weapon, shooting you haphazardly in a panic before even dazai could realize what was happening. the bullet hit your abdomen, fraying your clothing, your blood soaking your shirt and leaking down your waist. you’re applying as much pressure as you possibly can with your waning strength, but red still oozes between the gaps of your fingers. he keeps a grip on your other wrist, rubbing his thumb over your weakening pulse.

“we’re almost there. only two more blocks away,” kunikida says, glancing at you through the rearview mirror from the driver’s seat, his brows pinched behind the lenses of his glasses. 

that’ll be enough time; you’ll be okay. dazai lets the smallest of relieved smiles show on his face, but it fades as quickly as it came when he looks back down at you and sees your eyes are closed.

his voice is firm when he calls your name, cradling the side of your face and tapping his thumb against your cheek. “open your eyes.”

you do, barely. your eyelids are heavy, and only open just enough for your unfocused gaze to stay on him.

“there you are,” he strokes his thumb along the curve of your cheekbone. “we’re almost at the agency. just hold on a little longer for me.”

“‘samu,” he never wants to hear you say his name like that again. it sounds broken. “it hurts.”

“i know,” he whispers. his palm is clammy as it smoothes down your hair, pulling back the strands sticking to your forehead with sweat. “but you’re so brave. just keep those pretty eyes on me, and everything will be okay.”

the shrill sound of someone’s horn pierces your quiet conversation, muffled through the window as kunikida cuts in front of them. the swerve of the car makes dazai hold you closer to his chest in an attempt to keep your body still.

“‘m sorry,” your voice is so quiet, he almost misses it. “this is all my fault. i should’ve been paying more attention.”

he exhales hard through his nose, trying to control his anger, bubbling and burning beneath his skin. it doesn’t dissipate easily, and he swears if hadn’t promised to become a better man, he would’ve killed that man right there. the sight of you hunched over and bleeding had brought out a side of him that made even kunikida falter when he had tried to approach you, dazai guarding your injured body like an animal.

he tries not to jostle you as kunikida pulls the car in front of the agency’s building. he doesn’t wait for him to fully park before he’s lifting you and carrying you out, the seam of his coat bunched in your hand.

he takes the stairs two at a time, whispering apologies for every pained whine that falls from your lips. by the time he makes it to the fourth floor, your eyes are closed again.

he keeps you close, letting you melt against his chest as he twists the agency’s doorknob open, pressing it forward with his hip. he doesn’t stay long enough to acknowledge the way everyone stops and stares in shock or answer any of their questions about what happened as he hurries to the infirmary.

yosano is already in her office, sitting at her desk with her chin in her hand. her bored gaze lifts from the laptop screen in front of her and widens as she takes in the sight of your limp body in dazai’s arms.

your weak grip on him stays, even as he lays you on the first bed he sees. the crumpled fabric of his coat is tinged red where you cling to him, only tightening when yosano places a hand on your side.

“you should leave for this,” she says, halfway to pulling on a pair of latex gloves. he grounds his feet into the floor stubbornly, watching as she peels your shirt back, lifting away the saturated fabric to inspect your wound. “she’ll be fine. i’ll let you know as soon as i’m done, okay?”

his eyes trail away from your wound, back towards your face. you look just as peaceful as you do when he wakes up next to you every morning, except this time, there’s a hole in your stomach. he strokes your cheek softly, meeting your hazy gaze. he swears he can feel his heart break into two as he pries your hand off his jacket, your fingers far too weak to protest when he loosens them.

“i’ll be back soon,” he whispers, brushing his lips against your knuckles before he places your hand down onto the fitted sheet beneath you. he leaves before he can change his mind, feeling painfully alone when the door closes behind him.

he looks down at himself. your blood covers his hands, seeping into the cracks of his palms and staining the frayed edges of his bandages. it’s the same as that evening four years ago, kneeled on the ballroom floor over his best friend’s dying body. the scene is so sickeningly familiar, it makes him feel dizzy.

he thinks he hears someone call his name from down the hall, or maybe he’s going insane. he feels suffocated, and all he can think about is how badly he wants your blood off him. it’s sticky and warm and everywhere; he thinks if he doesn’t get it out of his sight, he’s going to be sick. he’s uncharacteristically uncoordinated, nearly tripping over his feet to try to get to the bathroom.

he runs the water scalding hot, scrubbing at his hands until they burn and the soap bubbles stain pink as they swirl down the drain. even the smallest of wounds tugged at his heart when it came to you, every scrap on your knee or bruise on your arm churning his stomach. he knew you’d be okay, he was the only one yosano’s ability didn’t work on, after all, but this was too close. he couldn’t lose you, not yet.

who else would ever want to take care of him the way you do, to scold him in that exasperated, loving way? your relationship was a glitch, something so tender and sweet not supposed to belong to someone like him. you were his one and only; there would never be anyone else like you again. he smiles, knowing how much you’d hate that he was thinking like this; he can already imagine the way your lips would feel against his as he’d kiss the frown off of your face, telling you not to worry your pretty little head about him. his fingers tremble as he dries his hands off, skin numb.

his legs are heavy as he walks back down the hallway, forcing his feet to move before stops in front of yosano’s office. he slides his hands in his coat pockets, staring absently at the ground. he can hear the faint ticking of a clock and the muffled voices of his co-workers through the wall behind him where he leans his head back. he inhales deeply, holds it, and exhales it out the way you taught him to, waiting for the invisible weight on his chest to dissipate.

“dazai,” he looks up at the sound of yosano’s voice, meeting her soft, sympathetic gaze as she peeks from behind the infirmary door. “she’s done.”

he’s never moved so fast in his life, ignoring yosano’s grumble when he accidentally knocks her with his shoulder as he passes through the doorway, practically running to get back to your side. he doesn’t miss the gracious way she closes the curtain surrounding your bed, enclosing the two of you in your own fluorescent-lit world.

he breathes your name, dropping to his knees at your bedside, grabbing your hand and intertwining his fingers with your own. your eyes are still heavy and sleepy after being treated, but that light he loves so much has returned, your pupils shimmering. he wants to bask in it, like a patch of sunlight beckoning a cat into its warmth.

“what were you thinking?” he tries to hide the quiver of his lips with a smile. “you’re not allowed to die without me, remember?”

“osamu,” you brush your fingers over his face before you pinch his cheek softly. “i know you were scared, but it’s okay. i’m okay. i’m still here.”

the same things you whisper between kisses during all those early mornings, holding him close in the comfort of your sheets.

“do you know you’re the only one who can see through me?” he whispers, pressing his forehead against yours.

“yeah,” you smile. “but that’s why you love me.”

his lips are desperate when they met yours, soft and demanding as he pries into your mouth with his tongue. he pulls your hand closer, until it rests flat against his chest and you can feel his heart racing beneath your palm. having you this close, it finally feels like he can breathe again. the tip of your nose brushes against his when you pull back.

“lay with me,” he tries to chase your lips when you scoot back, making space for him next to you. “please? you know i always sleep better when i’m with you.”

the bed barely fits the both of you, but it hardly matters when you intertwine your body together with his own. you drape your leg over his, hugging his waist and curling into his side. you kiss his jaw softly before you rest your head against his chest.

he trails his fingers down the curve of your waist, smoothing his hand against your stomach, passing over where your skin is mended like new. you don’t wince in pain like in the car, only a content exhale falling from your lips as you snuggle closer to his chest. he buries his face against the crown of your head, gripping at the soft fabric of the hospital robe yosano put you in.

“we both deserve a nap after today, i think,” you mumble, lashes resting against your cheeks.

he already knows he won’t be able to sleep, maybe not for days, until he has no choice but to crash from exhaustion. he’ll spend his nights watching over you, too scared to close his eyes. he knew you’d be there to take care of him, for now; he’ll let you, greedily, for as long as the universe decides he’s allowed to be happy. besides, you were too pretty not to stare at.

p.s.! ⊹ ࣪ ˖ i wanted to rewrite my first fic for my tumblr anniversary back in december but then i didnt post it until now :( the original

BSD MASTERLIST

#💌 . . . with love mai ⊹ ࣪ ˖ #bsd x reader #dazai x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #dazai osamu x reader #dazai fluff #bsd fluff #dazai x you #bsd x you #bsd imagines #dazai imagines

[kissitbttr]

What happens if reader and Miguel get into another fight (it could be their first or second or anything really, whatever you prefer!) and it was like…bad. REALLYYY bad, like it effected reader mentally and physically. So they just leave and don’t come back.

I’m not sure if your comfortable with angst with no comfort but if you are can you do that?? And don’t forget to take your time!!

baby, i hope this is angsty enough.

Miguel and his architect!wife having their first argument

—

She knows not to ever pushes Miguel’s buttons. Especially when he has been working himself under pressure. But that’s the thing, she never wanted him to feel stressed or see the look of exhaustion across his face because it breaks her heart.

Her love language is taking care of him. Always. They both made a vow to always be there for one another and she’s never been the one to break a promise. So does Miguel.

Yet it seems that the past two weeks have somehow… changed.

He becomes distant. Colder. She notices how he keeps dodging her touch. Brushing her off with his hand while grunting a ‘i’m busy. later’ when she wants him to join her in bed. And it truly makes her heart torn because he had never been like this. He’s always so affectionate, if not clingier even. So what happened?

“Miguel? Baby, you need to rest. You’ve been dwelling in those paperworks for hours. Come on, my love” She smiles softly as she steps into his working office, tugging her silky robe closer against her body,

No response. His eyes only focuses on the scattered papers below him. Fingers furiously typing away on his computer.

She pretends not to be hurt when he chooses to ignore her. Bare feet finding themselves walking closer to his desk, she crouches down slightly to meet up with his eye level,

“Mig—“

“Not now, cariño . Go to bed”

His voice harsh. Whether he means it or not, it still makes her sad.

“I can’t” She frowns. “I want us to go to bed together. We haven’t done that in a long time and tomorrow is Saturday. Our day. Please?”

Miguel exhales heavily, removing his glasses before chucking it on the table. He straightens his posture, arms crossed over his chest as he shoots her a look.

A look that she had never seen before being directed towards his wife. One that she almost jumped out of fear.

“You do realize that i’m working right now? That me” He points at himself, voice growing harsher by the second. “Miguel O’Hara. Doesn’t need a break. He needs to work! And he would appreciate it if his wife stop being a fucking nag!”

That one cuts too deep. But she’s raised to always stand on her ground. To stand up to any man who ever tries to done her wrong. And that includes her own husband.

Despite how much that hurt.

“A nag?!” She asks in disbelief. “I’m being a nag because i care about my husband’s wellbeing?”

He chuckles. But she finds no humor in it. Empty. Just like his eyes.

“And i cooked for you” her voice lowers, gulping as she wraps her arms around herself. “Made you that carribean dish that you love so much, yet you didn’t even touch it. I even walked to the bakery and bought a blueberry pie. Sofia misses her daddy too, you know that?”

She hopes the mention of their daughter would eventually help his emotions decrease but somehow, his expression remains the same. And it only hurts her more, what he chooses to say next.

“I didn’t ask you to do that. And stop bringing Sofia into this as if it would help me change my mind. It won’t” He crosses his arms. He sure doesn’t mean it. Of course, he doesn’t. But he’s got a lot of things on his mind and he needs to take care of them now.

“What is going on with you?” She asks, both concerned and upset. “You have been acting like a complete different person lately! Avoiding me like a damn plague!”

“I do not need this right now, Y/N. Go!” He yells

But she won’t back down. Hard headed as always. “No! Because i need you to close that fucking computer down, tell Lyla that you’ll work on it later and come back to bed! It’s almost eleven!”

“Fuck!” He roars, slamming his fists against the table making you jump. “It always has to be an argument with you isn’t it?! ‘Miguel this, Miguel that. Miguel come back to bed, i’m fucking clingy and i need you right now!’” He mocks her, earning a very frightened look on her face but he pays no mind to it,

“Dana was never like this with me” He grumbles, mentioning his ex girlfriend’s name. “She knew her boundaries and let me do my fucking job. Definitely didn’t fucking nag me like what you are doing now. You’re making me regret my choices now”

And it hurts. Real bad. Because all of the time they had spent together before this argument, he always reassured her that she is the one for him. That no woman had ever came close to steal his heart and make him feel the way she does. Not Xina, Tempest or even Dana. Miguel may had the longest history with Dana but none of it matters because he has her.

Now? She doesn’t know what to believe right now.

She’s heartbroken. Face falling and her shoulders slump in defeat. The tears begin to form in her eyes but she has to stay in her ground to not let him see. It’s not like he cared anyway, he’s too busy buried in anger than to actually see she’s hurting.

“I can’t believe you just said that” Her voice is weak and shaky. Hands frozen on the either side, hands clenching and she feels her nails digging into the skin of her palms.

At the sound of his wife’s broken voice is what finally puts Miguel into a realization. The words he had just said to her, spewing those bullshit in front of her face. The look of hurt flashes across her beautiful face. It feels illegal to see her not smiling because of him.

Oh my God, what has he done?

“Cariño, I—“

She shakes her head, a broken sob falling from her lips, clamping her mouth shut. Miguel carefully walks around his desk to reach out to her, eyes filled with its own sadness but it only makes her step back making his heart break.

He had never felt more disappointed in himself than right now,

“Baby, please.. I-i didn’t—“

The sound of Sofia’s cries suddenly stops him. Probably awaken because of her dad’s sudden loud voice from when he yelled at her mother,

His wife breathes out a shaky sigh, running her hands through her soft dark hair with eyes shutting in frustration. She feels like she’s ready to explode at any moment. And Miguel contemplates whether or not he should try to comfort her. But by the looks of it, she doesn’t want anything to do with him.

Her eyes snap open. And for the first time, she looks at him with disappointment and anger. He searches for the love in those beautiful irises but find none. That’s when he knows, he had completely fucked everything.

“I’m fucking done with you, Miguel. Fuck you.” Her last words go straight to take a jab at his heart, before she turns on her heels to comfort their loving daughter in her room.

Miguel once couldn’t believe that he had everything. A home. A beautiful wife. A daughter. Second chances were given to him and he sworn to himself that he will do his very best to protect them all.

But now?

He might just lose everything he had built

—

if i were to write a part two, there’s going to be a slight change from ur request nonny if u don’t mind xx

#miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara blurbs #miguel o’hara angst #miguel o’hara x reader

[scribble-dribble-writes]

One kiss

---

Pairing: Miguel o'hara x female reader

Word count: 3400

Warnings: none, mentions of wound and blood

Content: hurt comfort, he's been pining for you forever, angst

---

It stung with every step you took, the wound on the top of your thigh had begun to seep through your suit and with the only energy you had left, you tapped on your gadget and entered the spider society.

Your vision began to blur and it was hard to keep your wits about you. But the vibrant entrance you knew well was not what greeted you, instead it was a dark room lit up by glowing monitors.

A chill ran down your spin, you were never permitted here except for meetings. As you blinked twice and held your head in your hand unable to to stand, you caught sight of him. He stood on his podium, with his back arched over lost in thought. He lacked spider sense, so he remained oblivious to your presence.

If you could get to your room or transport yourself to the med bay, you could access the help you needed. It wouldn’t bode well to disturb him. Your perception of him was quite clear, you had seen him in action once and that was all that was needed to know who he was.

He was aggressive and feral, he dug his blades into the ground as he gave an anomaly a chase, climbing on buildings with nothing but his own strength, choosing to intimidate and brood. He had the final say, you knew what it felt like to stand still in his gaze, you feared he could read your thoughts. Because if he did, he would come to know you thought of him often.

But as you pushed yourself up with support from a nearby table, you fell back and tripped over laboratory equipment which in turn toppled glass beakers making it crash onto the floor.

You began to breathe heavily, not knowing how he was going to react and watched as his head whipped around to see you.

“I wasn’t supposed to transport here. Have to get my gadget fixed.”, you heaved a  breath, but he moved towards you with such force and urgency.

“I was wondering why you were running late from your mission.”, he glanced at the mess around you.

“I’m sorry, Miguel.”, you huffed.

But his gaze darkened when he realized that a trail of blood glistened amidst the debris. His eyes now pinned on your hand that remained clutched over the wound.

“You’re bleeding all over my floor.”, he stated but in your hazy vision it almost looked like he had frozen at the very sight of you looking like this.

“I know.”, you said quietly.

“I can’t seem to get up.”, you gave him a dry laugh.

“If not I would have been on my way and saved you the mess.”, you gestured but his reaction was what silenced you.

He slipped his hands under your calves and your arms to carry you. His eyes roaming over your body in search of other damages or gashes. His touch felt foreign but you craved it, his fingers curved over the side your chest in a protective stance. You felt like you could slip away into a slumber, but he didn’t let you.

“I need you to stay awake.”, he ordered, his eyes now looking like black marbles. Your eyes began to flutter.

“Hey, look at me.”, he sounded much softer now, his calloused fingertips tilting your face towards him and it surprised you, how your imaginations could never come close to how it really felt to be in his arms.

If only the circumstances were different, he was doing this because he led this team, a team in which you were merely an invisible member. He cared deeply, that was his true nature, far beneath his animosity and stone cold exterior. The people of Nueva York respected him as their protector, so you being held close like this such that your cheek rested on his chest, was merely for precaution’s sake nothing else.

“I’m tired, Miguel.”, you whispered, his name rolled off your tongue so easily in dire situations.

“And you can sleep later, ahora no. Look at me.”, it sounded like a plea.

“Please.”, he said quietly and whispered your name.

Now that woke you up, your eyes found his because you felt the tingle in your soul hearing your name on his lips. He said it effortlessly, like he had it memorized.

If only the circumstances were different.

“Ok.”, you mouthed and the corners of his mouth tipped up.

“Bueno.”, he responded and turned to call for LYLA

“Cancel all her upcoming missions.”, he commanded and fear stung your bones.

“No.”, you clutched the top of his suit.

He paused to look at you when LYLA asked for confirmation.

“Yes.”, he said looking away.

Cancelled missions mean he was going to send you home. You were going to be suspended, barred out of spider society for awhile.

“Miguel, you can’t do that. I just need a few days.”, you protested as he walked out towards the med bay.

“No. In your current condition, you are a liability.”, he said and you stilled in his hold.

A liability.

That was how he viewed you. Now that hurt more than the suspension. When you turned your attention to your surroundings, you came to realize you were no where near the med bay.

“This is your suite.”, you stated.

“An astute observation.”, he remarked.

“Not the med bay.”, you continued.

“Another stellar observation.”, he replied as the door opened for him sensing his genetic profile.

Glancing towards you once he sensed your confusion and silence, he said, “I have a couple med packs that heal faster.”

You nodded in response but it was unreal, hearing him speak in a soft cadence as though you were his friend. This was a side, he never displayed to everyone.

So why you? Why now?

He placed you gently on top of an observation table and turned away to gather the supplies he needed. His home retained the same frigid temperature as his lab. It felt lifeless, almost certain he lived in his office more rather than here.

“Nice place.”, you remarked sarcastically to which he chuckled, turning to face you with his hands full of bandages and medication.

“Not really a fan of cozy houses.”, he mumbled as he inspected your wound. It struck you then, his past or the life he lost was rooted in him being a single parent.

The man who now stood before you had once lived in a place that had walls covered in crayon scribbles and toys scattered on the floor. Denying himself of a comfortable home meant it was a reminder of everything he had lost. Everyday he was punishing himself

The suit had dried blood over it making it hard to assess the damage and so he dosed a cloth with saline solution.

“This is going to hurt.”, he warned you.

You braved yourself as he dabbed the open wound but it burned beyond your pain tolerance making you squirm in discomfort as you bit down on your bottom lip, your hand reaching out to hold his for a moment of comfort.

Your eyes widened on what you had done, he was stunned too, his eyes looking up at yours before he moved away clearing his throat.

Why was it easy to seek comfort from him?

“The tear is too deep and wide for me to stitch it up with your suit on.”, he said, his face hidden from your view.

“Oh”, you replied.

“I don’t have the tool to cut through it.”, he stated next, turning to see you from over his shoulder.

Your suit had a special quality that made it impervious to most weapons except for a certain kind of lasers but as you thought about what he was saying, the more your cheeks grew warm.

“Oh, you want me to –

“remove your suit, yes.”, he finished your sentence and it was clear both of your were nervous about this.

He turned away to give you privacy as he braced himself against the counter top. You pulled all your hair to the side to get a feel for the top of the zipper behind your neck. Finding the tail end of it, you pulled it down, the sound filling the silence between the two of you. But you could only pull in halfway before it got stuck.

You breathed out a frustrated curse word as you continued to pull on it, your leg convulsing in pain when you almost gave up until you felt warm fingers touch yours. He stood behind you, his soft breath running over the escape of your back. He pulled the zipper done the whole way but his hands were too big to execute this without touching you. As he dragged the zipped, his knuckle pressed into your tender skin, he inhaled sharply and you held your arms to prevent the spread of goosebumps.

Your inner wear and short tights gave you a little cover as you peeled away your suit thanking him for his help. He took it from you and sent it away to be washed and fixed. Every interaction only increased your curiosity over this gentleness he had kept well hidden. Any second in his gaze now burned your skin. He set to work quickly, as though if he didn’t, he might end up doing something else.

He kept his gestures short as he set up an IV and heart monitor but ever so often his fingers would graze your body. He pulled up a seat and sat by the table, ready to stitch the clean anesthetized wound. He retracted his claws and his suit unravelled till his forearms, allowing him to pick up the needle with his bare hands.

He got closer, one hand holding your thigh steady while the other worked the stitch. The image you had concocted about him had broken. This was who he truly was beneath that tough façade. You leaned closer to inspect his work.

“You’re good at this.”, you commented but didn’t expect him to look up, causing your faces to be away from each other by an inch.

“Ive had a bit of practice.”, he swallowed hard and sat back, moving away from you.

“I wasn’t used to having the claws at first. I wouldn’t retract it and it would tear open my skin when I did mundane events.”, he kept the conversation flowing while his attention remained on the needle and thread.

He was letting you into some aspects of his life. He stood tall and intimidated anyone who was around him, you never would have guessed he had trouble with his mutations.

“And now?”, you asked.

“Now,”, he paused to look at you.

“I do it when I please.”, he smirked holding his index finger to you, the moment he said it, his claws protruded out like tiny knives.

Your eyes widened and that reaction seemed to send him back into his shell again. You reached forward to touch the tip of his claw but he pulled away his hand.

“You can say it.”, he stated as he tied the knot to his stitch.

“What?”, you asked confused.

“That I’m a monster.”, he held the needle high such that the string was held taut by tension. You remained quiet when his eyes landed on yours, he was baiting you, to get you to tell him what you really thought. And as he maintained eye contact, he leaned forward towards your thigh to snap the thread with the end of his fang.

“How would you know what I think?”, you cocked your eyebrow and folded your arms to portray that what he did didn’t affect you but truth be told, you felt weak in the knees.

He studied your expression as he stood up, he braced his arms against the edge of the table, ever so slightly leaning towards you.

“What is it then, that you think of me?”, he asked and although he wanted to be scare you away, you could tell by the way his eyes turned lighter that he was actually vulnerable.

Why was it that your opinion mattered?

But you chose to tell him the truth.

“I think you are kind, loyal and entirely impressive, claws and all. I don’t get why you sell yourself short.”, the tip of your pinky touched his where he had rested his hand and the very spark that you felt made all this feel too risky.

His eyes sunk low to your lips and you were certain he was going to kiss you, his eyes were relaxed as though your statement was a confirmation of whatever it was he had thought of.

“Why am I bestowed with beautiful thing when everything I touch, breaks.”, he whispered.

You were entranced by this that you didn’t want to pratice better judgement, maybe it was the meds that was giving you blind courage to sit here and face him or maybe it was all real.

But just when he was about to place his lips on yours, he blinked and his face contorted into one of regret and worry.

“You should go.”, he said as he moved away. You sunk back, the rush leaving your system.

What were you thinking?

Scratching the edge of his jaw almost in a way he was asking the same question, he put a great deal of distance between you and himself.

“Right.”, you remarked as you watched him hang his head low, he looked like he was unravelling.

“Could I get my suit back?”, you asked and his demeanor looked different now, very different to the one who was with this a few seconds ago.

“I need you to leave. Now.”, his voice was coarse, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Miguel, I can’t just walk out looking like this.”, you gestured to yourself but his thoughts were elsewhere. When he turned away from you, you caught a glimpse of the eyes that now flashed red.

He groaned as he opened all the cabinets in a hurry, then pushing away the contents on the counter as though he was in searching for something.

But with every second, you could tell he was loosing control over his own body, his claws were out, tearing into anything he touched. He hissed and you could see the gleam of his fangs.

“Dónde está?”, he yelled as he trashed around.

You spotted a couple vials tucked away in the corner that contained a green liquid inside it. He took those often and you pieced together that it was what he was looking for. You took a step forward and he whipped around towards you. His back hunched over, he looked menacing. He barred his teeth at you, but you stood your ground. But more that looking animalistic, he only looked like he was in pain.

You stepped towards him slowly and you could see the corner of his eyes glimmer, as thou he was one who was afraid of himself.

“Don’t come close.”, he shouted.

“Don’t look at me.”, he looked hurt.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”, another warning but you flung your web to grab a vial and an injector.

“Are you looking for this?”, you held up the item and he scrambled for it, grabbing it in a desperation you had never seen before.

He suppressed the pain as he injected the liquid straight onto his skin. The the silence flooded back in, he dropped the empty vial to the floor and he sunk low, his knees hitting the tiles floor in a soft thump.

It was the most heartbreaking few seconds you had ever witnessed. He had no choice, he lived like this, the most inhuman way to torture someone, to curse them to be a beast their whole life.

He was breathing calmly now but his head was hidden in his hands as you looked down at him. His hair was a tousled mess when he said, “Gracias.”

“Anyone else would have done the same.”, you told him as you contemplated on the two options that were present before you. To kneel down to meet his gaze again or turn back a leave.

“They would have run straight to the door.”, he pushed back his hair as he inhaled deeply. His eyes now returned to soft golden hue. You placed your knees on the cold tiles to match his eye level, his gaze never left yours.

“Why won’t you turn your back and run?”, he questioned you.

“I’m stubborn that way.”, you managed to smile and he sighed, dropping his hands to his side.

“Dios mío, esta mujer.”, he mumbled.

“Can't you see I have a tendency to break things?”, he gestured to the mess around him and you huffed a laugh. It mirrored the same mess you had made an hour ago in his lab. But it was there that he chose to pull you out of it rather let you revel in it.

“Some elements are cursed to be left alone and I am one of them.”, he continued.

“How can you be alone if I’m keeping you company?”, you tilted your head and smiled

“Precisely, so I need you to leave.”, he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Is that what you want?”, you ask letting go of the playful tone.

You had to know now, if that almost kiss was imagined or if he harboured anything at all for you.

He remained quite. He didn’t give you answer and maybe in the end all this was futile. So you turned to leave and you felt his fingers gently grab your wrist. It wasn’t covered in his suit, his fingers were rough and calloused but his touch ebbed with the comfort you were seeking.

“You are the brightest star in my barren sky and as much as I desire you, I can't have you, I can never continue to exist if I was the one to extinguish your light.”, he said eloquently.

He reeled you in and you followed, “Then I’ll shine brighter for you.”, you placed you palm on his cheek and he leaned into your touch. Like he was soft clay in your potter hands.

“I can never offer you peace, Querida.”, he said quietly.

“You deserve someone who would spend less time worrying about losing you and instead would enjoy every second of your presence.”, he said as you sat down in front of him.

“Peace is overrated if you’re part of spider society. Sacrifice, is all I know and because of it we’re more alike that you think.”, you told him.

He was at the edge, he wanted to hold you close, to have a life he had always yearned for.

But was he worthy of it?

He pulled you closer to him.

This was a lot more intense than keeping the spiderverse together. His heart was on fire for you, burning secretly, but maybe today, just this once he would indulge in it. To ease his soul.

As you drew closer, his suit peeled away, exposing his warm skin, his legs covered in black tights.

“One kiss wouldn’t hurt, would it?”, he asked, a soft smile spreading across his face.

“I guess not.”, you murmured, entranced by his beauty in the soft pale light.

“And if ever I crave more?”, you asked, he was waiting for you to take the first step. Your lips hovered over his.

“Then you only have to ask.”, he whispered and with that, you kissed him.

His lips lush and soft as his hands found your waist. The frigid temperature had now thawed, as you remained seated on the floor, lost in a world of your own as he pulled on the ends of your long hair that he had entangled his hands in. His fire had met it’s match in the spark of your spirit.

You pulled away to catch your breath before losing yourself in placing kisses along his neck as he held you steady, as though he never wanted you to leave. This was where the chaos of your lives made sense, in each other’s arms.

There was no going back now.

#miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara fluff #spiderman 2099 #spiderverse

[gucciwins]

flirty 30

a/n: happy birthday harry! celebrating his birthday every year is always fun. I saw someone say that harry’s probably receiving a lot of sweet and kind messages because he’s so loved and I had this idea I needed to share. I hope you enjoy!!!!!!

warning: angst, mentions about restraining order, abusive relationship

Y/N☀️

Happy Birthdayyyyyy!!!! You deserve for all your wishes to come true! Hope your 30’s start off flirty!

Ten seconds later, a second text came in.

Y/N☀️

Maybe you think it’s out of the blue, but you’ve been on my mind (always are), and I hope you know, even if we don’t talk. I always hold you close in my heart. 

You deserve the world. I hope you never forget that because you gave me kindness when I thought there was none left. You gave me so much love and support. I couldn’t see my life without you—I still can’t. 

Whether you’re in my life physically or not, you will always be important to me. 

I love you, Harry. Happy Birthday! 

Harry stared at his phone, his eyes filling with tears as he read the message a second and third time. By the time he was starting the message, a fourth time, tears were running down his face. 

Y/N had been his rock. Someone he confided in, someone he could never go a day without talking to, and then suddenly she was gone. 

He had closed himself off from her because he didn’t want to see someone else making her happy. His current girlfriend at the time hated how much attention he gave to Y/N but Y/N was like sunshine to him. She shone brightly, and he needed to be in her path to receive warmth. 

Harry had listened to his ex-girlfriend, and before he could even realize his once bright circle of friends had turned dull and revolved around people he didn’t know. It also hurt him to see Y/N didn’t fight to stay in his life because Harry knew if she said anything, anything at all, about their growing distance, he would have fixed it. 

Now he sits in the morning hours of his birthday, staring at his phone, not sure how to respond. His initial thought was to invite her over and share breakfast with Y/N, but he has morning plans with his Mum and sister. 

Harry doesn’t want to leave her on read. He would hate for Y/N, believe he didn’t care, that he opened the message and had no effect on him. 

Gemma

Birthday boy! Change of plans, we’re bringing breakfast to you. Mum doesn’t want to be out on your big day. 

Harry 

Come right in. I’ll be here. 

He sighed in relief. Gemma would know what to do. He’d ask her how to reply to Y/N. Gemma loved Y/N more than him, something she reminded him of plenty. 

While Harry was preparing the table with plates and glasses. He heard a knock on the door. Harry frowned because he told them to come in. Gemma never liked to knock said it was her right as a sister to barge in. 

He swung his door open, but instead of coming in contact with familiar faces, there was a large bouquet. It was clear someone was holding it, but it was hiding them. Harry looked at the hands wrapped around the bouquet and spotted a familiar Aquarius ring on the person’s index finger. 

“Y/N,” he breathed out.

Harry reached for the flowers, needing to see her. The bouquet fell to his side when Y/N came into view.

She was beautiful. 

Harry missed her warmth. 

“Happy Birthday, Harry!” She greeted.

In the next instant, Harry wrapped her in his arms. He breathed her in, and a significant weight removed itself from his chest as if his heart was saying finally, we’re okay. Harry tried his best to hold back his tears but after months of not having her in his life and the fear that she might never return, there was no way to control it. 

“Poppet, don’t cry.” Y/N squeezed him tighter. “Are you upset I’m here?” 

“Crist, no. This is the best thing to happen,” he assured her. 

“Am I aloud in?” 

Harry laughed, “I’m sorry, yes.” 

He broke their hug but did not stop touching Y/N. Harry guided her in with a hand on her back. “Shit, Mum, and Gemma are coming,” he laughs. “They’re going to be so excited to see you.” 

Y/N tries her best to hide her smile but fails miserably. He can see right through her. “Are you the change of plans?” 

She nods, “Gemma helped orchestrate. Said we were too old to be mopey and stuck with our heads in our ass. On the other hand, Anne promised to come by for lunch.”

“Sounds like them.” 

Harry sets the large bouquet in a vase. He runs his fingers through the purple tulips. He once shared how they were his favorite, and Y/N seemed to be the only one to remember. 

“Do you want breakfast?”

“Do you want to talk?” 

It seemed they both spoke at the same time. While Harry was hungry, he knew a lot was hanging in the air.

“Let’s talk,” he gestures for her to follow him to the patio. 

Y/N loved being out here. He has so much greenery and the plants he’s accumulated. You can see all the love built into the house. Y/N missed their summer night talks where they’d be out here for hours, sometimes long after the sun came up. 

Once they settled down, Harry dropped a blanket over Y/N because he knew she ran cold. He sits next to her, leaving a small space that never existed before what happened to them.

Y/N played with the threads of the blanket, letting out a deep breath. “I guess I’ll start.” She looked up and found Harry giving her an encouraging smile. “After your fall out with Dean, things got bad.” Y/N spits out. “He—fuck, I was so confused. You wouldn’t tell me what you argued about, and Dean swore you egged him on. I knew it wasn’t true, but I was so confused, and you wouldn’t talk to me. He—Dean broke my phone. He’d follow me to work, call every ten minutes, and be outside to pick me up.” Harry felt sick hearing this. “Dad helped me get a restraining order. I moved apartments. I asked for a transfer at work. Everyone was very supportive, but every time I called you. There was no answer. It was endless voicemails. I was tired of trying,” Y/N sighed. “Therapy has been helpful, but ultimately everything was fucked. I even started therapy, for fucks sake.”

“Y/N,” he hooved his hand over her knee, waiting for her cue. After a slight nod, he placed it on top of her. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry you went through that. It feels like my fault, but I’m glad you had help. I’m glad you asked for help.” 

Y/N lets her tears fall. “I was fucking scared. I wished you were there.”

Harry couldn’t stop himself from pulling her into his lap. He hated to see her cry. He hated being one of the reasons she was hurt. Harry wanted to take away all her hurt. 

“I’m sorry. I’m here now,” he promised. “Never going anywhere again.” 

Harry held Y/N close, letting her take her time to cry it out. He’s not sure how long Y/N cried until she spoke up. “I swear I’m doing better.” 

He shakes his head, “I believe you.”

Y/N settles down but makes no move to get off Harry. He quite likes her here. Harry also knows it’s his turn. 

“Simone broke me down. She found out every insecurity and brought it up every chance. It was me laughing. She said it was obnoxious. My clothes were too much, I was begging for attention. My family came over too much. You made her upset. You brought me so much happiness and everything. You were both in the same room, and she realized my attention went to you. Simone pieced something together much quicker than we did, and she managed to break it.” Harry pauses to press a kiss to the top of Y/N’s head. “I know it’s not entirely her fault. I let myself believe everything she told me. I knew they weren’t true, but when your friends stop coming or stop calling, you begin to think maybe she’s right.” 

Y/N nuzzles herself closer as if she can’t believe his words. 

“I had broken up with Simone, but she wouldn’t leave me alone. Gemma had finally had enough and told her she needed to stop or we’d be going to the press.” Harry winced. “I know she’d never do that to me, but it scared Simone. Haven’t seen her since. Not that I would. We got a restraining order.” He trailed off, glad to get that off his chest.

Y/N giggled. “What couple of best friends. We don’t need matching tattoos, just restraining orders.” 

Harry laughed so hard he almost dropped Y/N. To secure herself, she wrapped her hands around his neck. He looked into her eyes and saw his whole future in them. 

Two dumb best friends who finally opened their eyes. 

“20’s fucking sucked then,” Harry complained. 

“Not all of them,” Y/N reminds him. “I’m still 27.” 

She had a few more years to enjoy. 

“Let’s make the most of your final year before you become old like me,” he teased. 

Y/N poked his stomach. “Stop, you’re fine.” 

Harry knew he had to tell her. There was no point in keeping it in. She needed to know. 

“I love you, Y/N. I love you more every single day.” Y/N presses herself closer. “You’re my best friend. You’re the reason the sun shines brighter every day. I’m a fool without you.” Harry smiles when Y/N places her hands on his cheek. “I am in love with you. You’re the reason I get up every day. My reason to smile. The love of my life.” 

Y/N leans forward and kisses him. Harry feels his heart stop, but he kisses her back, pulling her closer. This is Y/N, his best friend. He had waited years for this moment. For years, he thought he’d never get to love or kiss her, but he is sharing the best kiss of his life on his birthday. 

He feels all the yearning leave his body and instead feels all her love pouring into him. Harry knew this kiss would change everything for the better. 

Y/N pulled away, her lips curled in a smile. “I love you, Harry. I love you today. I love you tomorrow. I will love you in every single universe we find ourselves in.” 

Harry kisses her again. It’s the best day of his life. He has an entire life with Y/N to look forward to. 

Y/n pulls away. “Happy Birthday, Harry.”

The happiest birthday, indeed. 

#harry styles #harry styles angst #harry styles birthday #harry styles x y/n #harry styles story #harry styles x reader #harry fic rec #harry styles fic rec #harry angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles 30th #harry styles 30 #harry styles happy birthday

[xo2dee]

𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐬

𝐣𝐮𝐣𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐮 𝐤𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

❦ Pairing: Nanami Kento x Reader

❦ Warnings: None

❦ Word Count: 1858

❦ Summary: In which your lover comes home late again, and you decide to cook for him for once, even if your skills are severely lacking compared to his.

❦ A/N: this is so self-indulgent bc my ass really cant cook that well soooo

❦ twitter - ao3

8:23 P.M.

You sighed. He was late again.

You knew it wasn’t his fault though, more than often your boyfriend got winded into working overtime and stayed past the hours that he wanted to. Still, as much as he complained of it, you would’ve figured he would dismiss any and all thoughts of overtime if presented with the opportunity and make his way home to you at the time of his clock out. You couldn’t help but sigh wistfully at and for your lovable workaholic man; he only worked overtime because it was essentially wired into his blood and he would never leave unless he knew his job was done.

However, you were more slightly upset that he had called you at lunch time – you felt bad, you didn’t wake up early enough to give him a sweet kiss off for work – and told you he’d be home on time to make you both dinner. You didn’t want to eat without him at all, notably when you were partly worried he might have been hurt or something else (something worse, really), and with that anxiety you knew you couldn’t eat. It wasn’t as if you couldn’t cook, but you also never wanted to eat dinner without him. He was by far a better cook than you were, sure yours was… passable, but Kento’s was beyond expectations, and you looked forward to it every time he offered to make you food. Any and every time Kento made you a meal you fell deeper in love, especially when you found out he put more time and skill into it for you.

Your ears perked up from your lounging position on your couch when you could hear the tall-tale sign of the front door opening and the distant sound of his footsteps walking inside. You nearly rejoiced knowing he was home safe and coming around to greet you, while your stomach gurgled in its own way to hearing of his arrival. Finally, you two could eat and then snuggle into bed together.

Kento called out your name, and you sat up from your position to greet him, “You’re home.”

He removed his glasses and his blazer, draping the latter across the back of your recliner and his glasses on the coffee table, and took a seat next to you, “Did I wake you?”

You watched as he leant back resting his head on the back of the couch, arms spread out on the back and legs wide open, as your eyes lingered on his tie slightly loosened, “No, I was waiting for you.”

“Hmm, have you eaten?”

You stretched your legs out, feeling your appetite begin to kick in, “No, you know I don’t eat dinner without you.”

His head lolled to look at you pointedly, dark eyes in disapproval, “I told you to go ahead and eat if I work overtime,” he grounded out and you nearly had half a mind to not jump into his lap from his tired, rough voice.

“Well,” you began, crossing your arms in rebuttal, “I didn’t know you were gonna work overtime, you usually call…” you sent him a long side look slightly annoyed he hadn’t called to let you know he was fine and would be home later than his usual time. You began to wonder if he had eaten at all that day.

Kento sighed and closed his eyes, making you take note of the minor shades of purple underneath them, “I’m sorry, it was a situation where I had to take care of it quickly. Give me a few moments and I can make us both something.”

Instantly you felt awful; he was really going to sacrifice some of his resting time he rarely ever got to still make the both of you the dinner he promised instead of just calling for takeout delivery. You knew of his occupation as a Jujutsu Sorcerer, it had to come out once the two of you began a relationship and he realized he wouldn’t be able to hide it from you when he tended to work long hours and often came home with bruises or bleeding from scratches that weren't well enough for excuses. Kento came home more tired than anything half the time and managed to make you dinner without so much of a complaint, as long as you were fed, healthy, and taken care of it seemed nothing else really mattered to him. He really prioritized you over himself all the time, much to your chagrin.

For once you wanted to dote on him and make him feel good.

Wait –

Your lover moved suddenly and you realized he was getting up to go to the kitchen, so you pounced. Literally, you pounced onto him and threw your arms around his neck to try and drag him down, but it left you in an awkward position with your lower half still on the couch and your upper half dangling onto his shoulders. Kento, ever-so observant, had wrapped his own arms around underneath your chest at the sudden movement, clearly startled by the abrupt assault, whilst giving you an arched brow. He parted his lips to speak, but you beat him to punch.

“How about I make us both something for once?”

The look he sent you nearly made you want to cry.

He cleared his throat, “Are you… sure?” he asked, a slight degree of unease in his voice. You knew what he was thinking: You’re going to cook? By the look in his eyes, he was traumatized by your last attempt…

You huffed, a new feeling of confidence in your rushing in your veins and your body overwhelmed with determination, “Of course I’m sure, you’re tired and need to relax for once.” You could do just fine if you really put your mind to it. Especially for someone like Kento.

“Seeing you is relaxing enough.” He was trying to reassure you; you knew his gimmick. Try to make you believe he wasn’t exhausted at all and you would give in to his sweet words and he’d make you both dinner, then afterwards he’d shower and completely collapse into bed with you tucked up under his chin. You were not having it that time around.

Smirking at him, you tightened your grip on his shoulders, “Sweet talking me isn’t gonna work this time.”

Kento sighed, clearly defeated as he sat you both back onto the couch, “Okay.” God, why did he sound so deflated?

Regardless, you smiled and placed a chaste kiss on his cheek, untangling yourself from his hold, “Stay in here then,” you stood, his hands brushing against your ribs as you did so, and pointing at him with an index finger close enough to nearly brush his nose, “just relax and maybe nap, I’ll come get you when it’s done.” He didn’t look convinced – probably nervous you’d catch something on fire – but relaxed back nevertheless, giving you his own small smile.

Determined, you made way for your shared kitchen, snatching Kento’s fresh white apron as you did so. Sure, it looked goofy on you and the haphazard way you tied it, but Kento wore it exclusively every time he cooked so it was only right you did the same. You had your mind set to make something you both enjoyed – or you thought you both would enjoy. You knew your way around a kitchen, how bad could it turn out to be?

...Yikes

You decided not to answer that when you saw his face as he tasted your 'meal'. His eyebrows slightly rose towards his hairline and his mouth twitched nearly into a grimace, but it almost looked like he was swallowing cough medicine when he finally did get around to it. Kento sat his utensil down after and cleared his throat before clasping his hands together on the table, looking up to you while you hovered over him.

“It’s great.” Bless him, he never wanted to hurt your feelings... even if it was the trivial of things.

You whined and threw your head back, “You hate it.”

“I could never hate anything you do.”

“Don’t be sweet, I know it’s nasty and you’re just trying to make me feel better,” you pouted and stared down at your own plate, untouched as you had waited for him to try the food first. Still, you were curious and picked up your own utensil to try it out as you sat down at your spot at the table. Kento was watching you looking almost concerned as you finally lifted the food into your mouth for your taste buds to feel.

You chewed and swallowed. Bland, burnt and…

"..."

“...”

“Kento, this tastes like ass.”

A sigh fell out of him as he placed his chin onto his fist, “Maybe so, though I don’t think that really matters,” he gazed at you as you fiddled with his apron strings, a rather strong sense of adoration radiating off of him, “It’s the thought of you making food for me after a long day of work.”

“Even if it’s bad?”

“Even if it’s bad.”

Your cheeks warmed from the words as you gave him an embarrassed glance, knowing the entire situation felt incredibly domestic and you felt like a spouse cooking for their husband. It hadn’t been a topic discussed between you two yet, though it was always lingering in the background given how deep your relationship went and how long you two been together. No doubt you knew he was thinking the same.

You stood after that, wiping your hands onto his apron to avoid looking at his face, “Yeah, well, I guess I should clean these since this tastes like shit,” you moved to grab his plate, yet the tug from the front of the apron sent you into his lap as he leaned back to situate you both into a more comfortable position as he cradled you against his chest. He’s being awfully bold tonight. You snuck a peek at him almost shied away from his intense stare.

You rested your hands on his shoulders as he spoke, “You should wear my apron more often.”

Sending him a raised brow, you let out a small laugh, “How can I wear your apron more when I can’t cook?”

“Who said wearing it only while you cook?”

You smacked his chest and voiced your earlier thoughts, “You’re being awfully bold tonight.”

A small smile graced him as he lifted you more to press his mouth against your temple, kissing it a few times, “I can’t help with it with how you look wearing it.”

You sighed and smiled, shaking your head while you snuggled into him by rubbing your cheek against his to enjoy the moment of domesticity between you two. Though the moment was broken by the loud growl of your stomach. You sheepishly peered up at him as he gazed back to you with the affectionate look he always had.

“I’ll call for takeout, and then we clean this together.”

Your response was just to kiss him for his sweetness, and you kept the apron on for the remainder of the time.

#nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x y/n #jujutsu kaisen nanami #jujutsu kasien #source: animaterglittergraphics-n-more

[buckybarnesb-tch]

You’re Mine, Whether You Know it or Not -Klaus M.

Kidnapping theme, slight Yandere Klaus

You had been hanging out with Klaus for several weeks now.

It had started as an accident. You were excited as everyone in the Boarding house had gone out, leaving you all alone to watch TV and relax. You had stolen a bottle of Damon’s oldest Whiskey and mixed it with some coke, enjoying a tipsy night of movies, or so you thought.

Klaus had shown up looking for Damon and while you ignored the knock at the front door, the Hybrid didn’t need to be invited in anymore so he just walked into the house.

~~

‘Damon isn’t here. He’ll be back later after he saves Elena or Stefan or…I don’t know, I wasn’t listening. I’ll let him know you stopped by.’ You unpaused your movie, expecting the man to leave as he had no need to speak to you and you had never met before now so you had no reason to speak.

‘You won’t mind if I wait for him here, will you?’ It didn’t sound like much of a question so you ignored him, facing the TV again. ‘I don’t think I’ve seen you here before…are you new?’ You shook your head.

‘Nope. I just try and stay out of their Supernatural issues. They have nothing to do with me and it’s not like I can help. Useless little human right here so you have no reason to try and hurt me.’ You grabbed another glass, pouring him some of Damon’s bourbon before handing the glass over. ‘Not that you would. You seem like a nice enough guy, personally I think Damon is a bit dramatic when it comes to you. If he just left you alone it would solve like 75% of the problems.’ You shrugged and didn’t notice the way the Hybrid had been staring at you since the moment he walked in. It only seemed to get worse as you spoke with him but you continued drinking and explaining the movie to him so he was caught up. He moved to sit beside you and spent the evening watching movies beside you until you eventually fell asleep on his shoulder.

That was the first time you ever met Klaus Mikaelson and you had considered it a good moment, you actually enjoyed speaking with the centuries old man, he had fascinating stories and he listened to you in a way none of your friends ever did, as if you had something interesting to say.

Klaus always gave you his undivided attention, to the point of ignoring real problems in his day to day life, not that you would know that but his family took notice. Elijah noted how you had captured his brothers attention and honestly, it worried him a bit. Elijah knew you to be a very sweet, kind hearted girl, you never judged anyone too harshly considering you liked him as well and only based things on how people treated you personally, and Klaus? He was always so kind to you. Kol noticed you as well and had been threatened by his elder brother repeatedly about leaving you alone and for once, Kol heeded those threats, there was something about how he spoke about you that the younger Mikaelson didn’t want to fuck around with.

Your friends repeatedly warned you about Klaus, now knowing that you were spending time with him nearly daily, to the point that he needed to see you at least once every day to ensure his day went well, if he didn’t see your smiling face at least once the Hybrid would be a miserable asshole all day.

Klaus went so far as to take care of you when you were sick. He had given you his number one of those first days you spent time together and while you didn’t use it much, when you woke up feeling sick that morning you texted him that you wouldn’t be out that day and to not wait up for you at the Grille. What you didn’t expect however was him showing up at your doorstep with bags of god knows what. When you saw the cold medicine and the food he had gotten to make you soup you realized how much he really cared for you and it was the first moment you invited him into your house.

What you didn’t know was that Klaus had planned it like that. He knew he could get you to invite him in to take care of you, you were his sweet little human after all, you needed to be cared for and nursed back to health. That’s what Klaus is here for.

You didn’t see his obsession with you growing the way that everyone else did and no matter how many times you were warned, you just thought your friends were being dramatic. Klaus was the best friend you had had in a really long time and you didn’t want to lose that, and you certainly weren’t going to give it up just because Elena and Caroline were a bit worried.

3 months after you began spending time together was when you finally realized your friends may have been right about how much Klaus had come to care for you.

You had decided to spend time with Elena, Caroline and Bonnie one weekend night, staying in all day, up all night and the next day binging movies and shows you had been putting off thanks to all the Supernatural drama and you had told the Hybrid you would be gone all day and night. You didn’t know that he had checked up on you at the Boarding house at least 6 times since yesterday and that night when you took your stuff and walked your way home, stoned from one too many of Jeremy’s cookies, that he was watching from the trees. The second he noticed you were high he knew that you couldn’t take care of yourself, and he knew that he needed to do it himself.

When you awoke the next morning you were in a much too comfortable bed. It was actually very nice, prompting you too roll over and drift back off to sleep when you rested your head on someone’s chest, startling you. ‘Klaus?! What the hell?!’ You snapped, moving to get up when his arms were suddenly wrapped around you tightly.

‘Calm down love, you’re safe. You were stumbling home, it was dangerous Little Wolf, and your so called “friends” just let you go! I need to keep you safe.’ The look on his face was one of devotion, it was strange to see from your friend.

‘Yeah, we got a little high but I’m okay. You don’t need to worry so much-‘

‘But I do! I do worry Y/n, because I love you and if you haven’t figured that out by now then clearly I’m doing something wrong, I-‘ he sighed heavily. ‘Please? Just relax and go back to sleep. You’ll feel better when you wake up and we’ll order some breakfast. Just sleep my darling.’ You nodded, doing as he said and trusting him, resting your head back into his chest. He had admitted to loving you and while that was a bit heavy you loved him too and you trusted him…you just didn’t know that he didn’t plan on ever letting you go.

Klaus Mikaelson Masterlist

#tvd klaus #vampire #hybrid #the vampire diaries #the originals #the vampire diaries imagine #the originals imagine #klaus imagine #klaus x reader #klaus x y/n #klaus fluff #klaus fic #klaus x oc #niklaus mikaelson #niklaus imagine #klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson x oc #klaus mikaelson smut #yandere klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson fluff #klaus mikaelson imagine #klaus mikaelson one shot #klaus mikaelson x y/n #klaus mikaelson fanfiction #klaus mikaelson x reader #joseph morgan #yandere #yandere!klaus

[queen-of-deans-booty]

His Anchor

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1k

Warnings: MoC!Dean, fluff at the end

Request by @jessicalynnann: how about mark of Cain dean and he is an ass to everyone but the reader. He is all fluffy and lovely dovey with the reader and one night he has had enough of her cuteness and just kisses her… maybe she tells him about a book she is reading… 

Summary: Dean is affected by the Mark in ways you and Sam don't realize, and he's trying not to let it affect others around him. However, there is only one person who can lift his spirits even when he's shrouded in darkness.

Square Filled: the first blade (2019) for @heavenandhellbingo

Author’s Note: i appreciate any and all comments! <3

x

Dean sits alone at the library table with just a dim lamp to light the room and a glass of alcohol next to him. He hasn’t been doing good as of late because of the fucking Mark on his arm. It’s a constant reminder of how much he’s got to lose, and it’s taken over his life. He wants the damn thing removed but he’d be putting people in danger if he does. This Mark has already claimed so much of his life that he’s trying to hold onto whatever he has left, refusing to give into it more.

He traces the edge of the Mark with his index finger and goosebumps crawl up his arm immediately. There’s something raw in the danger that befalls the Mark including the First Blade. He’s used it plenty of times to kill those who deserve it even though it itches for more. The First Blade will never be satisfied with how many kills Dean gives it because there is a purity in how many victims it can claim.

Including himself. In the end, he’ll fall victim to his own blade. Would he die? Would the Mark allow him the sweet relief of death?

“Hey, you alright? Why is it so dark in here?”

Dean is pulled from his thoughts and looks up at his brother who has entered the room.

“What do you want?” Dean asks and turns the brightness up on the lamp.

“I might have found a lead on Metatron. He’s the only one that’s gonna have information on the Mark.”

Dean is so sick and tired of hearing how his brother found a lead only for that lead to turn up dead. He’s been led on by hope far too many times only for it to bite him in the ass later.

“Sammy, how many times do I have to tell you? Stop looking for the cure. It’s pointless if it means a lot of people are gonna be hurt in the process.”

“I know but this time is different. Listen to this. Rowena is a really old witch. She comes from the same kind of magic as the Mark, so I figure if we can get to Metatron, then--”

Dean slams his glass onto the table, shattering it to pieces. His hand bleeds but he doesn’t care about that. Sam jumps at the sudden noise and stares at his brother with uncertainty in his eyes.

“Don’t make me smack you.”

Sam’s shoulders sag in defeat.

“Fine. Whatever.”

The younger brother leaves to investigate this on his own. If Dean isn’t gonna help him then he’ll do everything himself. Dean knows he will never give up because that’s not what they do. If it were Sam who took this Mark on, then Dean would be the same way. Dean shakes his head and grabs another glass from the small cart by the table and pours himself another drink. He has bigger things to worry about than the Mark like Rowena, Cain, the Book of the Damned, and just about every fucking thing in his life.

You walk into the library with a book in your hand and Dean’s mood becomes ten times better. Everything in his life is fucked up but you. You’re the light in all this darkness and he’s so scared you’ll end up hurt because of him. You look up and smile when you see Dean but the smile is lost when you see the pieces of glass on the table.

“Hey, where’s Sam?” you ask.

“Doing nerdy things,” Dean shrugs.

“Okay, can I talk to you about this book I just finished? Like I need to tell someone.”

“Sure,” he chuckles and welcomes the distraction.

“Okay,” you rush to the table and sit next to him, “so the main character, Alana, works at this big company that everyone knows about and she feels trapped doing the same shit every single day. She wants to be doing more with her life but doesn’t know where to start or what she should be doing. That is, until the CEO of the company, Marcel started doing some shady shit. She tries to find out what he’s been up to, and it turns out that he’s making this serum that will make him rule the universe or some shit like that. She’s like hell no so she tries to foil his plans but ends up as his test subject! She tries to escape him but he ended up giving her the serum since he needed a human subject. This whole big fight happens between them but I was not expecting that turn of events!”

Dean isn’t paying attention to a goddamn word you’re saying. You’re so passionate and happy about this book you’re reading that he’s focused on your smile, the way your eyes light up, and how you can’t sit still. You give him joy like no other. How did he ever cope before he met you?

“Are you even listening to me? Why are you staring at me like that?” you ask.

Dean can’t help but grab your chair and pull you closer to him. He slides his big hands into your hair and plants his lips on your impulsively. You haven’t felt his lips in over a year since he kissed you when he was ass-backward drunk. You thought he never brought it up because he was drunk, but he didn’t want the one good thing in his life to go away if he confessed how he felt about you.

He pulls away from you and watches as your mouth opens and closes like you don’t know what to do. Your cheeks heat up in nervousness because you were not expecting that at all.

“Oh, okay,” you stutter.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. I’m glad I found you and not Sam.”

“So, how did Alana escape Marcel?”

Just like that, you’re back to passionately talking about your book. You’re the only thing anchoring him down and keeping him sane, and he needs a bit of that right now.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester angst #dena winchester fiction #dean winchester fan fiction #dean winchester fan fic #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fic #supernatural fiction #supernatural fan fiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fan fic #supernatural fluff #supernatural angst

[in1-nutshell]

Concept, mtmte Megatron accidentally adopts young human buddy.

Like there's basically just a teenager on the lost light, and because teenagers have no fear of death, they go out of their way to interact with the ex-warlord.

Time goes on, and eventually, when Megatron realizes the dynamic he has, he goes into a typical angsty brooding session. Bonus points if it has Brooklyn 99 energy of Peralta accidently calling holt 'dad' energy.

I really do enjoy your blog because a lot of the stuff is either platonic or familial, and that's my favorite shit. Hope you have a good day and drink water.

Thank you for the compliment! I have been drinking water and been having a pretty decent day. Now, Human Buddy who knows no fear is about to strike the fear of their well being upon others! Megatron is their prime target...

Hope you enjoy!

Megatron 'accidentally' adopting human Buddy who fears nothing

SFW, familial, platonic, mentions of injuries but nothing graphic or in details, Human reader

MTMTE/LL

Oh, Buddy starts off as the bane of his existence.

Buddy joins the lost light before the events of Delphi happen. Meaning they have been dealing with everyone’s problems since a little over day one.

Let’s give Buddy some context.

By sheer luck, Buddy managed to enter the Cybertronain/ Human Liaison program and was now the proud representative in the Lost Light.

Many bots on the Lost Light thought that this would be a little liaison and would be a bit fearful of the hulking giants around them or some sleazy politician. Some were just curious as they had never seen a human until that moment.

Rodimus is preparing for a Prowl like or Magnus like person to board the bridge. That’s usually who they send when it comes to relations, except Marrisa Fairborn, she was an exception.

At first Buddy did come off as someone overly polite… that was soon going to change.

“Welcome Buddy aboard the Lost Light.”—Ultra Magnus

“Thank you, Ultra Magnus sir.”--Buddy

“And I will be your Captain! The names Rodimus Prime.”--Rodimus

“Well, I’m just Buddy. Sorry but I should be entering my room now before take-off. Thank you again for the introduction sirs. I hope to find you soon?”--Buddy

“Absolutely, we will start the meeting in an hour in the meeting room down your hall.”—Ultra Magnus

“Thank you.”--Buddy

“…Great another stick in the mud…”--Rodimus

“Oh, hush they seem like a nice human.”—Ultra Magnus

A week later

“Hey Rodimus, I bet you can throw me into that mattress over there.”--Buddy

“Oh? You’re on!”--Buddy

“I have the reports ready—OH SWEET PRIMUS! BUDDY!”—Ultra Magnus

Timeskip

“So let me get this straight… You bet Rodimus, one of the most impulsive and childish bots on bourd—”--Ratchet

“Hey!”--Rodimus

“To THROW you across the room to a small mattress and it didn’t occur to you that you could bounce off the mattress!?”--Ratchet

“Well at least all the blood is internal right? That’s were the blood is supposed to be?”--Buddy

“…”--Ratchet

“Oh Primus…”—Ultra Magnus

“Oh, Primus indeed.”--Rodimus

Buddy does not know what ‘self-preservation’ is. Its not in their vocabulary. Ratchet has lost count of the amount of times that Buddy has come in the med bay with an injury that was caused by some atrociously dumb plan.

“Alright… what’s the damage today? Whirl brought you in this time so it must be bad.”—Ratchet

“Rude.”—Buddy and Whirl

“Well, I’m waiting. What happened?”--Ratchet

“Well… I was trying to follow Skids trails through the vents, which is so cool to visit—”--Buddy

“Kid.”--Ratchet

“Right. Well, I thought I could jump across the vent opening and kind a didn’t…”--buddy

“What?”--Ratchet

“Good thing Whirl was there to break my fall! Sorry again Whirl for the glass.”--Buddy

“Next time you bust my glass at least do a flip next time you fall on your back.”--Whirl

“What you fell on your back?! You have glass imbedded in it!”--Ratchet

“Huh? That explains why my back hurts so much.”--Buddy

“…”--Ratchet

Rodimus takes it back he loves this little human. Buddy is his best human friend. Whirl wins this though, he already asked Buddy to be his Amica Endura, and they accepted!

“Hey Ratchet—”--Drift

“Shh!”--Ratchet

“Rude—”--Drift

“No. It’s quiet… to quiet…”--Ratchet

“What do you think we are going to get attack?”--Drift

“…No, it’s something much worse.”--Ratchet

“What could be worse—”--Drift

“Its Whirl and Buddy! They haven’t made noise in about 10 minutes!”--Ratchet

“Ratchet I think that them not making noise—”--Drift

BAM!

“Eat floor Cyclonus!”--Whirl

“Whirl! Run! He’s gaining on us!”--Buddy

“I stand corrected.”--Drift

They make friends with a lot of bots on board. Many are happy to meet an individual such as Buddy. But this also comes at a cost. Many bots have to watch for Buddy in case something bad happens to them. They are so small and they keep getting into dangerous situations!

Rung has a line of bots that express the same worry for Buddy one day doing something dumb and not being able to come back from it.

Buddy knows no fear.

How does the crew know this?

Buddy made it their life job to make Megatron uncomfortable when they found out he was going to be the Co-Captain.

“Hey! MegaDork!”--Buddy

“Hmm?”--Megatron

Bucket of oil falls from door.

“Theres more were that came from Bucket Head! That’s for Earth!”--Buddy

Megatron can’t do anything about it. He hates organics and he can’t kill this one, not without causing another war. When Ravage shows up, he thinks that Buddy might back down a bit. I mean what human in their right of mind would try and continue to prank him when ravage is around? Buddy takes this as a challenge that needs to be beaten. If anything, Ravage helps a bit.

“He slipped on the paint! Go! Go! Go!”--Buddy

“Ravage!?”--Megatron

“All is fair in music tapes and war Megatron.”—Ravage

Buddy has the ring tone of Megs comm to “Be Prepared” from the Lion King. Swerve helped them put in the music. He laughed nonstop when it first worked.

They are petty.

Everyone is on edge whenever those two are in the same room.

Half ready to shoot Megatron down the other half to get Buddy to safety once they manage to trigger Megatron.

Is there any chance that Megatron will get a break?

Yes, yes, he does.

He managed to finally get a place holder for a poetry night in one of the classrooms. Not to his surprise no bot shows up. He is about to leave when he hears the quick little sets of footsteps coming in.

“Wait! Wait! Hold the door! I’m here! I’m here!”--Buddy

“Buddy?”--Megatron

“I’m not late, am I? I just saw the flyer from Swerve. And—hold on—sprinted from my room back here.”--Buddy

“Oh, umm, no one came…”--Megatron

“Oh, okay then its just us two them Big Guy?”--Buddy

“Wait—”--Megatron

“Call dibs on the chair on the left.”--Buddy

Megatron never pegged Buddy to be into poetry. He is also floored with Buddy actually talking to him and giving pointers on how to improve his own pieces of work. Even referring to other poets’ works so he could get some inspiration!

He nearly misses the shy look Buddy gives when he compliments their work.

He thinks that this is a onetime thing.

He is deeply mistaken.

“Hey Megs! You ready for today’s meeting?”--Buddy

“Oh, yes I am.”--Megatron

“Good! I have a bunch of works that need to be peer reviewed and I can’t trust Rodimus to look over these; and Whirl sadly isn’t an option for these either.”--Buddy

“Why don’t you ask Magnus? Surely, he could also help?”--Megatron

“And have him explain to me the importance of an Oxford comma when I forgot to put one in my writing? Yeah no, I need your optics for this.”--Buddy

“…Me?”--Megatron

Buddy no longer causes too much trouble for the Ex-warlord. Still trouble but not as much as last time. They always come to the poetry club and even managed to snag a couple of their friends to come with.

He is not going to admit to anyone, well maybe Ravage, that he started growing a soft spot for them.

“Ravage… I think I might be growing fond of Buddy…”--Megatron

“Congratulations! You’re officially the last one to know.”--Ravage

These little interactions begin happening more and more, Megatron is just happy that things are finally going well.

Then it happened.

It was at Swerve’s.

He was sitting at the bar looking over Buddy’s latest writing with Buddy, themselves sitting patiently. He gives a compliment and gives them back the writing.

“You’ve improved Buddy. These are getting better with more time.”--Megatron

“Thanks Dad.”--Buddy

“…”--Everyone

“Why is everyone so quiet?”--Buddy

“You just called Megatron here, ‘Dad’.”--Whirl

“What’s a ‘Dad’?”--Tailgate

“No! I didn’t say ‘Dad’! I just said, ‘Thanks Man!’”--Buddy

“I don’t know Buddy. It sounded a lot like ‘Dad’ to me.”--Whirl

“Seriously, what’s a ‘Dad’?”--Tailgate

“Well, you heard wrong Whirl!”--Buddy

“Do you see me as a father figure Buddy?”--Megatron

“No! I see you as a bother figure if anything.”--Buddy

“Hey respect your Dad!”--Ratchet

“Is no one going to tell me what a ‘Dad’ is?”--Tailgate

After that interaction, Buddy begins to avoid Megatron after the confrontation and nearly shuts down when someone brings up the event. Megatron really wants to talk to buddy about the incident but decides not to. Maybe it was a mistake.

He broods over it for a while.

He finds Buddy again at Swerve’s where a rather drunk bot was making fun of Buddy for their little ‘slip up’.

“Wow Fleshy. You messed be so messed up in the processor to call Megatron your Dad.”—Drunk Bot

“Hey drop it.”--Buddy

“Oh, look at me! I’m so scared of a human how I could flick across the room if I wanted to.”—Drunk Bot

“Oh, please I know that barely existing processor of yours isn’t that dumb. But even then, I hope Natural selection takes you if you follow through that threat.”—Buddy

It was getting to the point where it was becoming insensitive.

Bots around were getting uneasy at the conversation and some looked like they were going to come over and do something.

Megatron is quicker.

As he strides over, he is met with the infamous brick of parenthood. Should he really take up such a mantle?

He takes that mantle by the horns and makes it his.

“My child, is something wrong?”--Megatron

Voice crack “Nope. Just Peachy.”--Buddy

Everyone looks over.

Buddy is just beaming.

Megatron has no regrets saying what he said, he lets Buddy know this.

No, Buddy isn’t crying. You’re the one crying.

#transformers #transformers x reader #more than meets the eye #mtmte x reader #mtmte rodimus #mtmte megatron #mtmte ultra magnus #mtmte ratchet #mtmte whirl #mtmte drift #maccadam #human buddy

[heejayy]

Young and Beautiful

Nanami x black reader

Warning: none

Word count: 1.2k

You let out an exhausted sigh as you slipped your hair out of its tight bun; you'd finally finished sifting through and responding to all of your emails, as well as reviewing some documents your boss had sent you. Your eyes are dry and strained, and your fingers are cramping after hours of typing. You checked the time and it was 10:53 p.m., which wasn't too bad given that you'd previously left work much later. Ready to depart, you stood up, stretched, and began gathering your belongings before heading home. You collected your binders, slid your home computer into its case, and grabbed your heels, which you had kicked off hours before.

As you closed your office and approached the elevator, your watch chimed with a message.

Bossy pants:

Mrs. Y/l/n, please meet me at 6:30 to look over the paperwork I handed over to you. There was an error.

"Fuck me!" you muttered, feeling rage rise in your chest. This man never gives you a break; he always relies on you, and he never bothers anyone else, which is driving you mad.

"Ugh he's always bothering me he acts like he doesn't have two other assistants to go over his project with but no it has to be m-"

"Y/l/n is that you?" You froze. Every muscle in your body stiffened up; you didn't expect him to be here so late; he usually leaves around 7 p.m., so what on God's green earth is he doing here at 11 p.m?

"M-mr. Kento?" Your chest tightened as you feared he had heard your angry rant.

"Come here," your body responded to his instruction before you could even think about it. You found yourself at the doorway of his office, playing with your acrylic nails, too frightened to look him in the eye, so you looked elsewhere.

His tie was unfastened, and his hair was tossed all over the place, in direct contrast to how it had been precisely slicked back and combed that morning.

“Mr. Kento "I didn't realize you were here this late... why is that?" You asked cautiously, hoping he hadn't heard your dramatic outburst earlier.

"Had to finish some paper work, I'm assuming you did as well?" You nodded, giving him a forced smile. An uneasy silence settled over his office.

"Tell me y/n do you think I work you too much?" He clearly heard your small outburst.

"I- listen I didn't mean-"

"I made you the senior executive assistant for a reason. You're a hard worker, honest, and trustworthy. You and Suguru are the only two people I trust to oversee this floor and manage my schedule; I wouldn't assign you anything you couldn't handle."

“Mr. Kento I understand you mean well, but this is just too much at times, and I'm not saying I don't want this position; I do, and I thank you for it, but I'd like some extra help if it not too much trouble." He took a sharp breath in and pushed his chair from behind his desk, then opened a drawer and pulled out a wine bottle and two glass cups.

"Join me?" You were taken aback by your boss's casual approach toward you; he was always known to keep matters strictly business-related.

"Um sir-"

"When's the last time you had a chance to wind down or hang out with your friends?" You blinked quickly, unsure of how to answer this question.

"My friend sort of abandoned me a long time ago due to me flaking on them for work." He gave you a kind of frown. "I know exactly how that feels."

Your boss strolled over to his couch and patted the empty space next to him, "Join me?"

You tilted your head in confusion, but decided that one drink wouldn't hurt.

2:45 AM

You ended up having more than one glass, and now your cheeks are heated, and you're leaning slightly into your boss, giggling at a story he just told you.

"You don't even seem like the type to get wasted I can't believe you did that!" He chuckled, savoring the last of his wine.

"Yeah well I was young and foolish and I also had bad influences for friends."

As you rested your head on his shoulder, a comfortable silence descended over the room; perhaps it was the wine, but your mood was subdued. Your mind wandered away, thinking about how you'd become drawn into the toxic work culture and how it was draining your youth.

"Nanami i'm tired."

"Tired of what love?"

"I'm tired of feeling as if I have to work until I drop, as if even if I achieve every goal, something is missing, as if I haven't done enough because there's always someone who will outdo me." Sometimes I just want to quit and move to a remote island to be happy."

"Keep this a secret yeah, but sometimes I feel the same way." Your head snapped up.

"Really? No way!” You spoke sarcastically, he chuckled “do I seem that miserable at work?”

“No you just- you don’t seem like this is something you enjoy doing.”

“Don’t get me wrong I do appreciate having this job but if I had a chance to run I’d take it.”

“Run where?” You asked curiously. He glanced down at you with a small smile “let’s make a deal, when I make a break for it I’ll take you” you giggle feeling flustered.

“Ooo where we going?” You asked with a hint of flirting.

“Malaysia.”

Present Time

"Baby you ready?" You snapped out of your daze when your husband called for you. You placed the photo frame to the nightstand; it showed you and your husband celebrating your first anniversary on the beach in Malaysia. You were both young, happy, and much in love. To think you ended up marrying your boss, the same guy you used to gripe about on a daily basis. Now, you can't picture living without him.

"I'm almost done my love."

You're now in your 50s and still go to the same beach on your anniversary, but sometimes you wonder if you should've taken advantage of your youth and explored more instead of being locked up in an office all day.

"What's on that pretty mind of yours?" He inquired, and she wrapped his arms around your figure, rocking you back and forth.

"Nothing much, just reminiscing back to when we were younger. I feel like I wasted my youth chasing something I didn't want only to impress others, and now that I'm older, I feel like I missed out on the opportunity to be young and happy.

I wish I could rewind time to tell myself to enjoy life before it’s too late.”

"What are you saying before it's too late? We're only in our early fifties. We still have so much more to explore, and now that we're retired, we have all the time in the world, so put all this 'I'm old' rubbish out of your head and let's get ready to leave," you smiled at his attempt to cheer you up.

"Doesn't matter what age we are I will always love you."

"Nanami?"

"Yes beautiful?"

"I love you more." You cupped his face and kissed him gently, but that wasn't enough for him. Nanami gripped you by the waist and pulled you closer to him, deepening the kiss. One thing this man knew how to well was make you weak in the knees.

"That's impossible love."

©heejayy 2024 — any reposts or translations of my works are strictly prohibited unless granted permission.

#Nanami fluff #nanami x black!reader #jjk x black reader #jjk x poc!reader #Nanami x reader #nanami kento #jujutsu kaisen x reader #fluff #X black reader #kento nanami #ask heejayy #jujutsu Kaisen #jjk fluff

[abbonation]

Kinktober Day #9, Din Djarin

WOOOOOO!!!! The largely uninspired Abbo returns with a 2.3k cockwarming fic 😍😍 literally unheard of! Any whoosies, yeah. It's hot, it's explicit, what else do we want from Kinktober, anyway?

Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY!!! Cockwarming, AFAB!Fem!Reader with little (Or a lot ;) of chub <3) the crest DIDN'T DIE,

He had tried to restrain himself, he really had, but when he watched your eyes as you lowered your robes down your shoulders and onto the cold floor of his ship, he knew this wouldn’t last long.

You’d traveled in the Crest with him while he was without Grogu and then became somewhat of a caretaker to him when he returned from training with Luke. You had seen the very near destruction of Crest on Tython and, now, you were all back together again; living and traveling through space on the never-ending journey that was his life. 

Through the nearly two years of close proximity, you had grown close. He knew your quirks and you had grown accustomed to his- and, despite his best efforts, he had developed rather intense feelings for you. Never acted upon, never spoken of but you had to know. By the way your look lingered on him both in and out of battle. By the way your head turned when he talked with others, it felt like you were two magnets hovering against the others’ pull, never close enough to click together.

Then, you encountered a beast that the local planet-dwellers later told you was called a Boma. He knew you shouldn’t have gone separately but he really needed some time to be alone and splitting up under the guise of catching your quarry faster would allow him time to do what he needed to keep his sanity. You agreed to meet back at the Crest before sundown and use the comms only when necessary to conserve their power- however, when he hadn’t heard from you and started to notice the darkening sky, he worried. 

“Hey- you okay? On your way to the Crest yet?” 

"—"

After a few moments of silence, he tries again, “Are you there? It’s gonna be really dark here really soon.” 

A shrill scratching sound chirps through the speaker on the comm and, instantly, he knows he needs to find you. When he does though, after racing back to the Crest and turning around to follow your trail instead of his, it’s been nearly an hour and he finds you walking towards him, pulling behind you a creature nearly the size of yourself.

He jogs over shouting, “What the hell happened to you?”

“Well, I guess I can tell you the whole tale. If you’ll carry this thing the rest of the way,” You smile and shrug up at him and he feels his stomach clench as he realizes just how anxious he’d been to find you, and how much better he feels now that you’re here.

-

“So it just ran up to your legs, smelled your cape, and started attacking?”

“That’s what I said, right?” You deadpan. 

“Why would it wait to attack you until it could smell you?” 

“Mando, I don’t know, can we just get some food and get back to the ship, my ankle fucking hurts from where I fell.”

In the small town is where you learned of the nature of these “Boma” . They were just your run of the mill beast, but apparently they had a real liking for eating Mandalorians. 

“Well, at least I know it wasn’t my stench that he didn’t like,” you joked to him over your dinner. 

“We’d better get back though, I’m… really tired.” You had this look in your eye though. One like you weren’t very tired at all. One like how you look right after battle.

So you thanked the bartender and made your way back to the Crest, confirming Grogu’s safety in his pram and fixing a couple glasses of Ne'tra gal for you and your Mando. He swallowed and tried to shove down the one thought in his brain since dinner. You smelled like him. 

“Thanks for trying to save me. Even if I didn’t need your help.” You hand over his glass and sit on a crate across from him in the hold. 

“I just didn’t hear you respond to my comm, I was worried,” He looks at the bottom of his cup. 

“Yeah well, this bad boy here had my back,” You lightly tap your thigh a couple times where your knife sheath lies and his eyes zero in on the spot as he moves up his helm slightly to sip. 

“I- know you can handle yourself. I just-” He trails off. 

“You just what?”

“.. I just want you to be- protected.. From everything.”

You smile gently at his visor and he can feel his cheeks heating at your stare. 

“You know that’s not possible, Din.” 

He wishes he could show you the power you hold over him. He has to look away from your eyes when you say his name. 

“Have I,” You swallow and steel yourself, “Have I ever shown you any of my scars, Mando?”

He looks up again, your face looks different now. You look more.. hungry?

The ale in your blood and food in your belly fuels your courage and you stand from your crate, walking over to stand in front of the Mandalorian. You place your hands on his shoulders and bend your knee up and place your foot on the ledge of the crate he sits on, inches from where his dick is imprinted into the fabric of his flight suit. 

He says your name and looks up at your face, “I- what are you-”

“Do you want to see, Din?”

He realizes then, you feel it too. He’s been so blind and his head swims at the confirmation of this.

“Yes, show me.. please,” He places a gloved hand at your ankle under the hem of your robe and begins moving it up your calf. 

You press on his shoulder to stop his hand and raise the hem of your robes up to right above your knee, down the skin right in front of his visor runs a jagged line of skin thicker than the rest. 

“This one I received when I killed a man who was trying to stop me from leaving his bed.” Din swallows and looks at your face, he’s speechless.

You move your hands to pull the hem higher and stop again, right above your knife sheath, so that the fabric is caught in the crux where your thigh meets your hip and is tucked under your belly. 

“These are from a cat on my home planet,” What looks like little claw marks blossom from the side of your thigh. He moves his thumb up to brush over them, and you smile at the memory of your friend from home. 

“And, Din,” You step down from the crate and stand between his open legs. He’s aching to touch you now. Running his palms up and down his thighs to avoid doing something he’d regret. You move your fingers up to the buttons at your neck that fasten the robe to your body and unbutton each one carefully, taking deep breaths, “These will be a different type of scar. Ones on the inside, ones I won’t soon forget.” You drop your robe to reveal your body to him, your underwear the only remaining coverage. Din sucks in an audible breath from the vocoder and stands from his spot. 

He chokes out your name, backing you over to the wall next to his sleeping quarters. “Do you know what you’re doing? Do you want this? If we do this, things will be different.”

“I know that- I want them to be,” You lean up to whisper into his ear. “You think I can’t hear you in your bed nearly every night. Rubbing yourself raw at the thought of me- of this?” You place your hand where his thighs join and he buckles, dropping his helmet down to your own shoulder and thrusting his hips into your palm. You reach your other hand from where it toys with the curls that peek out from under his helmet to cup his ass, pushing his hips forward into you. 

“Please,” He moans. 

You turn to his bed and pull yourself inside, moving backward into the dark space. “You liked that the creature smelled you on me, huh?” You chide him. He stands at the threshold as if deciding whether to make the leap. To change his life forever. 

“You wanted to come save me from it yourself so something would know I belong to you, right?” He leans forward into his room, hands resting on the top wall, tent in his pants more than obvious now. 

“Or were you just too busy jacking that cock in the forest to notice anything?” 

The choice is out of his hands now, he’s not acting of his own volition. He kicks off his boots and crawls in above you, quickly closing the door and locking you both into silent darkness. 

When he continues to say nothing even as you hear the ruffling of clothes and sheets as he arranges himself you whisper out, “Din?” 

From mere inches above you, you feel his breath fan down on your face and realize he’s removed his helmet, his hand moves over your belly, between the space where your breasts splay out and up to cup your throat. “Yes?”

You shudder at his unfiltered speech. “Do you- are you-” Suddenly you’re the one at a loss for words when he leans his forehead to rest on yours, and runs the hand that was holding you down your side to your thigh. 

“I did like that you smelled like me. I really liked it.” He punctuates his words with a thrust into your belly. 

“I want to lay you in this bed and fuck you every day so that you never stop smelling like me.” Another thrust. “Would you like that, sweet girl? Would you like to lay here and be my cock sleeve? Just for me to use whenever I want?” You’ve never heard someone speak to you like this, much less the ever-reserved Mandalorian, you’re shocked into silence by his tongue and he continues. 

He moves your legs to open for him and you reach down to stroke over his thighs where he kneels above you. He groans at your touch, “So sensitive, Din. C’mere.” He moves down to lay his lips on yours, he gets more comfortable the longer you lick and nip at each other, and he keens when you run your hands up over his scalp and give his hair a very light tug, 

“Oh, please, do that again, mesh’la,” You continue running your fingers through his hair and move to lick up the column up his throat. His noises are free-flowing now, heavy breathing floating through the air in his bunk. 

He lifts his head to make room between you and presses his crotch into your clothed pussy. You can feel your arousal making your underwear slick against your entrance, and clench to thrust up against his stiff dick. 

“Fuck, that's- that’s perfect, sweet girl.” He does it again, setting you into a rhythm of humping while he rubs over your tits, rubbing your nipples between his fingers when you show him that’s what you like. 

“Fuck Din, you feel so good,” You moan out to him and his hips stutter, “I’ll cum if we don’t stop, I- want you to feel good too-” So you slow your movements and move to push down your underwear, “Take off your pants Din, we’re gonna start slow, okay?” 

You maneuver to be on top and line his cock up at your puffy entrance. “Do you feel that, Din? How, mmm, how wet you’ve made me?” 

“Y-yes, I’m so hard for you,” He moans out. 

You rub your clit with his tip a few times and notch his head just inside “I don’t wanna come yet-” he huffs into your ear.

“You won’t, I’m gonna slip down and then we’re gonna get you used to me, okay?” 

A deep rumble leaves him when you start to slide down his thick length, stopping when your clit rubs into his pubic hair. “Jesus, Din- you’re.. fuckin’ big” You flutter around him unintentionally and he thrusts against you, holding onto your lush hips. 

You lay down over him and he roves his hands over your back, resting one against the back of your head and the other ghosting over your ass. 

“Can we just stay like this for a minute?” He asks.

“We can do this as long as you need,” You tell him, reveling in the way his pubic bone bumps against the hood of your clit. He stretches your walls deep, which you can’t say you didn’t expect- but to know you were right feels good. You sit up some when he pulls his feet up the cot, giving you room to lean back against the top of his thighs, and, with him still inside you ghost your fingers down over your breasts and belly to tease over your cunt. 

“Are you touching yourself?” Din questions. 

You clench at his voice, “Yes, Din. I’m– gonna rub my clit until I come around your cock and then you’re gonna come too, okay?” Your voice is much more high pitched and your usual level-headedness has obviously gone.

“Fuck, I wish I could see you, your tits bouncing in my face,” you feel his cock twitch inside you and rub two fingers around your clit, working up speed. 

“You wanna watch my face when I cum, huh, Din? Wanna see me give in to your pleasure?” 

“Ngh fuck yes, that's all I want, my sweet girl, my mesh’la.” He’s grasping at the sheets of his cot now, desperately thrusting up into your cunt. 

“Mm, fuck, are you ready?” You whine out as you feel your walls start to flutter from the stimulation, “Are you ready to come for me, sweet boy?” 

“Oh fuuuck, yes I’m gonna- I’m-” And he does. He pushes your hips down onto his cock to keep you still as he empties inside you, limply thrusting for another few seconds as you come down. 

You move to get off his cock and he holds you still again, so you opt to just lay back down on his chest resting your face next to his. 

“Can we just.. stay like this for a while?” You can hear the smile in his question. 

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x reader smut #din djarin one shot #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #the mandaloria/reader #one shot #kinktober #mandalorian smut #din djarin smut #x reader fanfic #reader insert #plus size reader #chubby reader #spankbank

[inkskinned]

i had not been taught love, so i couldn't apply it to myself.

i liked the idea of self-love, but it felt sanitized, opulent - white. it was always depicted by pretty people with lots of money; vaguely familiar but entirely at-odds with my lived reality. it was "treating" yourself, long vacations, taking time off of work, reminding yourself that grades cannot hurt you.

but i did get hurt if my grades were low. i could not take the time off from work. i couldn't stretch the budget to run-off-into-the-sunset.

my life is not full of peaceful morning coffee. my life is a string of ants, crawling over the abandoned mugs i've left out for weeks. it is stepping over broken glass over-and-over rather than just picking it up. it is spending a huge amount of money on food because i can't make myself just remember to cook. i have bought a pair of earrings pretty much every week for a month, i keep losing just-one. at the same time, i can never remember that i need to buy a new toothbrush.

self-love was presented to me as a sort of - end goal. a variant self. what the kids are calling "becoming that girl." she works out while drinking smoothies and running around her large apartment in the city. i understood why she would have self-love; she clearly had her shit together. if i also could get my shit together, maybe then i'd be worthy.

i always thought of it as important for others to strive towards, but not really meant for me. when i sit in a long bath, i feel weird and cheesy. i'm not particularly drawn to meditating. i drink water because it's just a necessity. i know my own personality - i am never going to be someone wholly-at-peace. a lot of self-love approaches aren't comforting for me. any time i engage with them, i hear my cuban father scoffing gently: this is greedy. latins don't waste time by sitting in idyllic locations reading poetry - that's a white-people thing.

i am almost 30. i have only just-now realized that i didn't believe i can find self-love because i simply didn't believe i was deserving. that i grew up without an image of what being-loved would even look like, much less how to apply it on a daily basis. that any form of self-love feels false, defiant - because it's foreign to me, and i have always been denied it. i thought it was "not for me" because nobody had ever provided it.

i learned almost a self-tolerance instead - a gritted-teeth approach. i will do the things i have to do in order to prevent my mental illness from dominating my life.

i am treating myself, more and more, like a scared animal. i don't force myself to keep everything perfect. i clean up the glass, but i let myself leave the pile of clothes until later. i let myself "half-ass" things. i treat self-love as the protection of my future self - as taking care of someone who will be here, later. it's okay if i mess up in the process. it is often ugly and unrefined and. absolutely glorious. i am training myself what it is like to have someone care about me. i am training myself to trust in safety.

i am training myself - there is no one image of finally being happy.

#this loses the plot halfway thru i don't like #it #yes i realize the irony of saying that in a post about self love shut up #just come over and kiss me idk #edit: word change bc otherwise it looked like a typo but it wasn't a typo i am just #very annoying

[pastel-peach-writes]

Hello! Can I request a caitvi x reader where the reader is really clingy due to some...unforseen event in their past? Sorry if it's a bit too vague😓😓.

BTW I REALLY LOVE YOUR WRITING. ITS AMAZING KEEP IT UPP 💯 👌

Hola hola!! It's not that vague at all! Thank you so much for your kind words! Here's your request, Anon! Also, do you guys mind if I reuse gifs? I try to find different ones each time, but there are only so many LMFAO

Cling Onto the Words You Say | CaitVi x Reader

╰┈➤ PLOT: Every morning it's the same thing: Vi and Caitlyn get ready for work and you cry about them leaving. It's not like they didn't come back. Vi didn't understand your being upset. After a conversation with Caitlyn, Vi realizes she has some maturing to do and an apology to curate.

╰┈➤ WARNINGS: F-Bomb, Hurt/Comfort(?), Comedy, Cheesy Costumes, Dramatic Use Of Rain and Water, No Use of Y/n

⍣ ೋ Enjoy!⍣ ೋ

"You can't go," you plead, tears stinging in your eyes. It was around 5 in the morning. Soft pellets of rain hit and ran down the glass window while the orange haze of the light strained your eyes. This morning was cold, the air nicking your skin and rattling your bones.

Your socks, thick comforter, and heater were doing nothing to keep you warm. Only your partners can keep you warm.

"Muffin," Vi sighed. She tore your hand off her sleeve. It was too early for this. Every morning you cling to her and Caitlyn as if you'll never see them again. She didn't get it. Every morning they'd leave and every night they'd return. It was like you had some sort of separation anxiety.

"We'll be back before you know it," Caitlyn's voice soothed the heartache in your chest. Vi's thick boots sloshed together as she met Caitlyn near the en suite's bathroom. You sat in the middle of the comically large and now empty bed.

"I just-- I don't understand why you have to go so early. Can't you go at a later time?"

Vi closed her eyes to suppress an eye roll and a groan. You warned them before you three started dating that you were clingy, but she never thought it would be this much. It annoyed her how much you thought of the worst. She's proved herself over and over that she'll come back; Caitlyn too, so why can't you ever believe them?

Caitlyn put a patient hand on Vi's shoulder. "You know we can't. We're going to be okay, darling. I'll check in at lunch." She then leaned over to Vi's ear. "Come on," she whispered, "let's go."

The two of them left the room, giving you soft smiles.

The tears that have been threatening to fall finally do. The hot liquid rolls down your cheeks and the strain of the light is no longer.

You're now alone in your room, sitting in the dark while the rain clatters down your windows.

-

"I just don't get it," Vi huffed, throwing her hoodie over her head. Caitlyn offered her umbrella, but Vi pushed her hand away. "Every morning it's the same exact thing. The tears, the clinging. It's getting too much for me."

"Vi, now come on. You don't know what they went through."

"Oh, what, and you do?" Vi scoffed. She sharply turned her body towards Caitlyn, blocking the woman from walking. Caitlyn sighed. With the readjusting grip of her umbrella, she vaguely moved her shoulders.

"That's not what I meant."

Vi rolled her eyes. "Wow, okay. What a morning for me, huh, Cupcake? I'm not already annoyed that I have to come in early, but then I have to find out my partners are keeping secrets from me!"

Caitlyn thinks this could've been due to the weather, but she swore she saw Vi's eyes darken in color.

"Vi, let me explain--"

"And it's fucking raining too!" Vi barked. She stormed to the curb to violently kick her foot through the puddle of water. The disturbed water further soaked the concrete underneath the two women. "I fucking hate the rain."

"Violet!" Caitlyn shouted. Another eye roll came from the pinkette. She squared her shoulders to Caitlyn and gestured, saying "Now what?" with her body.

"You need to calm down," Caitlyn's voice calmed down as she eased towards Vi. "It's nothing personal and no one is keeping secrets. You also wouldn't be soaking wet if you got under the umbrella."

"I don't need no umbrella."

"Right. I'll be sure to remember that when you're ill on the couch, claiming you're dying when you have the common cold." Caitlyn motioned to the spot beside her. "Come on."

Vi huffed. "There's no point of me being under the umbrella anyone. I'm soaking wet," the woman complained, yet found herself beside the taller woman.

Caitlyn's face lit up with a warm smile and squinted eyes. "We'll get you fresh clothes back at the office. For now, listen to me with your head, not your heart."

On the walk to work, Caitlyn explained to Vi the reasons behind your clinginess. At first, Caitlyn was hesitant. It wasn't her business to tell, but your lack of storytelling was putting a wedge between you and Vi. Caitlyn didn't want her partners to hate each other. You were meant to love each other and her.

Throughout the work day, Vi spent most of her time processing the information Caitlyn told her and reflected on her actions. God, I'm an asshole.

Honestly, Vi should've known. She went through something similarly traumatic with her parents and even her sister. You would think going through such events would make her more emphatic, but nope. Instead, the past created a hothead with a big head and thick skull.

As Caitlyn promised, she checked in at lunch, but in a different way than she was planning...

"This is ridiculous," Caitlyn pouted at Vi. They were at your shared doorstep dressed in cheesy costumes they found at various stores.

Caitlyn was dressed in a red and shiny halter top with a Barbie pink mini skirt. She had black straps around her shoulders that held up white angel wings. She also wore a headband halo, white garters, white and lacy thigh highs, and finally, oh finally, cheesy ass face paint with hearts and "I love you" plastered all over her face.

Vi grinned. "I think you look hot, Cupcake."

Vi herself was wearing a red tank top, a doctor's coat, and black jeans. She also wore "hipster" glasses. Whatever the hell that meant.

"Of course you do," Caitlyn scoffed. "What is the point of this? We're supposed to be delivering lunch and we have," she stopped to check her watch, "30 minutes until our lunch is over."

"Oh, come on! That's plenty of time!" the pinkette beamed.

Caitlyn sighed, fixing the hold of the basket she was carrying. At least Vi had the smart to pick up lunch before forcing Caitlyn into this ridiculous costume and painting her face with childlike mischief. "What the hell are we supposed to be anyways?"

Vi's grin hasn't left her face once. She was enjoying this so much, the joy she felt overlapped the pain she was feeling in her cheeks. "I'm glad you asked. We're Dr. Love," Vi gestured to herself, "and his Cupid! Tada!" She gestured to Caitlyn who wore a stoneface.

"Who the hell is Dr. Love?!"

"I don't know!" Vi pouted, bringing her shoulders to her ears. "Look, I only had a few minutes to put this together and I really want to make it up to Muffin for being an ass, so, if you won't do this for me, do this for Muffin. Please?"

Vi's gray eyes stared into Caitlyn's blue. Her pupils were large and her bottom lip protruding from her mouth. At work, Vi was distant and closed-off like her mind was somewhere else. She had a permanent frown on her face and this was the first time all day Caitlyn saw joy in her eyes.

With a heavy sigh, Caitlyn pressed the doorbell to the house.

"Yes! Oh, yes, yes!" Vi grabbed Caitlyn's face, careful to mind the paint, and pressed a big kiss to her cheek. "I owe you one."

Caitlyn shrugged with a bashful smile, her cheeks matching the color of her top. "Oh, well..."

The dark wood door creaked open, revealing your frame. You didn't look much better from this morning, but at least you were dressed. "Hello--?" you blink at Caitlyn and Vi. Vi grinned proudly, holding her hands in front of her while Caitlyn shyly smiled.

"We brought you lunch," Caitlyn said.

With your eyes shifting between the two of them, your heart couldn't help but skip a few beats at the gesture. You had no clue what the hell they were dressed as, but the colors hinted towards something with love. "Okay," you said dragging out the word. You stepped aside and invited Vi and Cait into their own home.

"Why the getup?" You finally ask them once they settle themselves on the couch. Caitlyn was peacefully sitting with her legs crossed at the ankle. With her perfect posture and angel wings, she looked something short of ethereal. With her outfit, however, she looked like a drunken college student on Halloween night.

"I wanted to do something special for you," Vi explained. She was setting up the arrangement of your favorite treats and lunch foods on the coffee table. She was comfortable sitting on the floor while she did this. "Especially after this morning."

"Oh," you pursed your lips to the side. You sat on the opposite side of Caitlyn. "That? I don't even remember," you say as if you didn't cry for 2 hours after they left.

"Yeah, you do," Vi and Caitlyn said in unison.

You shrugged. "Who's to say?"

With a soft chuckle, Vi turned herself around to look you in the eye. "Muffin," she took ahold of your hands. "I love you. I love you more than I can put into words. Never, ever, in my life, will I abandon you. Never will I say one thing yet mean the other. Never will I say one thing and do another.

"You," she pulled herself off the floor. She situated herself between you and Caitlyn. "are my life," she continued. She turned to place a hand on Caitlyn's knee. "You both are."

Just like this morning, tears stung your eyes. Your heart ached and wept, yet unlike this morning, for a happy reason. Someone took the time to understand you, to get you, and to apologize for what they've done to you.

You don't know how Vi came to this realization, but you're thankful to any force that helped her along the way.

"I love you," Vi said, her eyes on you again "and I'm sorry."

A sob broke past your chest as you threw yourself onto Vi. You wrapped your arms around her shoulders, sobbing into the nape of her neck.

"Oh, hey now," Vi whispered, wrapping her arms around you. Her heavy and comforting hand rubbed your back. She closed her eyes, taking in your scent and feeling you sob and break down against her chest. "It's okay. It's alright."

Caitlyn frowned at the sight though her heart was smiling. You were allowing yourself to be vulnerable with them, something she knew was hard for you given your past with your family. You trusted them. Finally, your heart knew you were safe with them.

Caitlyn reached to wipe away any tears she could see.

Snotty and emotional, you pulled yourself off of Vi. "I forgive you. Th-Thank you for apologizing to me."

"Hey, don't thank me for the bare minimum. I upset you and apologizing should naturally be the next step. I don't want to lose you, Muff." Vi held your face between her hands.

Her eyes danced around your face, taking in your features as her heart broke to see tears. She kissed them away, licking off the saltiness left on her lips. "Now, tell me," she whispered, a smirk showing on her lips. "How hot does Cupcake look right now?"

"Hm?" you peered from behind Vi. There, you see Caitlyn with her legs still crossed at the ankle. Her posture was still perfect, her wings and halo standing tall, and you didn't notice it before, but her top had a heart-shaped boob window. You snickered. "Very," you whispered back to Vi.

Seeing your lips move but not hearing you, Caitlyn raised a brow. "Hey," she pouted. "What are you talking about? Why is Vi laughing? What's so funny?"

"Nothing, Cupcake!" Vi laughed. "Let's just eat lunch, okay?"

Caitlyn pouted but complied nonetheless. They're running out of time to be with you anyway and she's hungry. She grabbed a tea sandwich and nibbled on it.

Vi grinned at you. "We good?"

"We're great."

WC: 1,989

#pastel-peach-writes #gender-neutral terms #pastel peach writes #gender neutral terms #lesbian #arcane fanfiction #caitlyn x reader #vi fanfic #vi x reader #vi x caitlyn #caitlyn fanfic #cait x vi #caitvi #caitlyn x vi #caitlyn arcane #violyn #vi #vi x you #vi arcane #caitlyn x you

[julemmaes]

Stuck

Elide Lochan x Lorcan Salvaterre modern au

A/N: idk wtf this is, I got an idea and then it spiralled into something completely different and considered how I ended I might write a second part where they fuck it out of their system, just for the sake of it

Enjoy!:)

Word count: ~2300

"No. Nonono, fuck no. Not today, please!" She cried, running her fingers through her hair and pulling at the roots until it hurt. 

Elide groaned, shutting her eyes closed. 

She tried to draw a deeper breath in and when the tight skin dress didn't stretch enough for her to do so, Elide felt anxiety crest. 

"Fuck me," she whined, running to her living room, where the biggest mirror in her flat leaned against the wall. Maybe the problem was that she couldn't see properly and something was obstructing the way. 

Turning with her back to the glass, she started slapping at her back, trying to reach for the zipper. Once her fingers closer around the tiny chip of metal, Elide yanked the thing down. 

Nothing.

She closed her eyes in despair, breathing through her nose. When air got stuck in her throat again she blew it from her mouth. 

Her eyes started stinging. 

"Please, not today." 

She had had the longest day at work and she needed to get out of this dress, so she could decompress after the tiring shift. But no, she couldn't. Of course not. The universe hated her and she was cursed. 

And she was stuck. 

She tried again, slower, gentler. The zipper didn't even shift. 

Elide never really considered herself claustrophobic, she easily got into elevators and toilet stalls without windows. She never felt any kind of panic whenever she was in tiny, crowded spaces and such. 

But she was starting to doubt how much she truly knew herself at this point.

She clutched her neck with a hand, forcing herself to take small, slow breaths, trying to calm down and think of a solution. 

Before she knew what she was doing, she was out of her apartment and striding down to the only other one she was sure wasn't vacant. 

She couldn't waste any time checking which neighbor was home or not and the music coming from apartment E24 was proof enough someone was in there.

She reached the door in the blink of an eye and started slamming her palm against the flat wood surface, so hard that her skin tingled with pain.

"Fuck!" A clearly masculine voice came from inside, “The Police!”

“Shut up, Fenrys, it’s not the Police,” another male voice came through. Whoever it was, they were immensely calmer than the former speaker. 

“Fuck you, Ro, you can’t know!” 

Elide called out, “I’m not the Police, please open the door!” 

“You open it, Dorian." 

“Are you for real?” Another person. 

"You're closer to it—"

"It's your house."

"—and I'm scared."

"Hellas above, I'll get the door." 

Elide didn't have time to step back that the door unlocked and a second later a guy larger than life stood in front of her. 

She sagged, leaning forward. She couldn't help the relieved whisper that escaped her. "Thank gods." 

He opened his mouth to speak, but she was already turning her back to him.

"I'm fucking stuck and if you don't help me right now I might collapse." 

Dramatic much, she could hear her best friend's words in her head. 

"I've been trying to get out of this hellish trap for twenty minutes and I–" she paused, panting as if she'd just ran a marathon, "–I can't really breathe."

When her plea was met with silence she turned her head enough to look over her shoulder and she only then realized how tall the man standing there was. 

He towered over her, by two heads. 

He was staring at her with parted lips and a furrowed brow.

"I'm sorry what?" His voice was rough, scratchy in a way that made Elide blush.

She whined, not above crying in front of strangers if it came to it, "The dress, it won't come off, I need you to zip it down. Please."

A loud, barking laugh came from inside the apartment and then a chorus of various voices started.

"I can't believe this is happening."

"No one will believe us when we tell this story."

"Lucky bastard." 

"I can't believe it myself and I'm living through it." 

Elide ignored the others and focused on the giant guy, looking him straight in the eyes, "Listen I just need you to pull it down, I can't do it myself and I live alone, please I…"

"Okay," he murmured. He stepped forward, lifting his hands toward her dress. He looked at her back before his eyes flitted to hers, "Can I?" 

"Please," Elide repeated. 

She tensed when his fingers brushed her skin, and held her breath when he brought the hems of the dress together and tried to pull the zipper down. 

"It doesn't work," he stated.

"No shit, Sherlock," someone said from inside. "She literally told you that." 

Elide brought her hands to her face and groaned for what felt like the thousandth time that night.

When he stepped back, she turned and eyed the others—there were seven guys, plus the titan standing next to her, in total. They seemed to be in the middle of some kind of videogame tournament. Snacks and joysticks lay everywhere and they were all wearing some kind of comfy clothes.

She had to hold back her smile when she realized she'd walked in on a slumber party.

"Do any of you know how to fix zippers or am I destined to die in this?" 

"I heard using soap works, come inside." 

Elide's attention shifted back to the guy next to her. She had to bend her head back to look him in the face. 

He was wearing black pants and a black sweater, and he had his arms crossed over his chest. He was eyeing her curiously, as if he was studying her. Elide couldn't say she minded the attention.

He was pretty good on the eye, too. 

Another one of the guys shot up, "Sure, let the stranger in, it's not like this is my house."

"You're right, I'm so sorry," Elide looked back at the room. She stepped inside nonetheless, "I'm Elide. Lochan. I live in E27? I think we crossed paths a couple of times?" 

"Oh, maybe." The owner of the house came up to her, extending a hand and flashing her a shit-eating grin, "Fenrys, Moonbeam." 

"Nice to meet you, where do you keep the soap?"

He seemed taken aback for a second and slowly lowered his hand. A few surprised snorts sounded in the room. He pointed a finger down the corridor, "Bathroom."

Someone brushed past her, murmuring a curt come as they passed. 

She didn't have to be told twice and followed the Wardrobe-wide Guy into the flat. 

He moved around the bathroom like he owned the place, and Elide would probably be embarrassed later when she realized she'd literally just barged into someone's house and demanded their help, but she needed to get out of this dress and couldn't really think of anything else at the moment.

"Turn around." 

Elide did as told without a word.

She hissed as a few droplets of cold water slid down her back. 

"Sorry," he grumbled. The soft sound of the soap bar grating against the zipper was the only audible thing. And she was growing aware of her surroundings.

"What's your name?"

"Lorcan." 

"Cool," she cleared her throat. "Cool, cool."

He huffed a breath. His version of a laugh, perhaps?

She felt the dress being pulled down, but nothing unzipping, then he clicked his tongue. 

"It's not working, is it?"

"Nah," he said, putting the soap back and washing his hands. "I could try with some oil." 

Elide let go of a shuddering breath, she just wanted out of it.

When she said nothing, Lorcan rounded her and stood in front of her, glancing down at her face. His chin jutted out, "You okay?" 

She nodded swiftly, offering a tight smile.

Now that she knew someone else was taking care of the issue at hand, she was feeling calmer. And she could think more clearly. 

The guy in front of her was stunning. 

He had long, black hair that reached his waist. Eyes just as dark and a white, deep scar that ran from the side of his forehead down to his temple that appeared even paler in contrast with his dark skin. She wondered how he'd gotten it.

"Are you claustrophobic or some shit like that?" 

That question brought her back to reality and made her aware of the fact that he'd been watching her just as closely.

She shook her head, "I'm just exhausted and I want to sleep. But I can't sleep in this."

His lips curled on one side and after a few seconds where they just studied each other, he jerked his head toward the living room before silently heading back. 

She was on his heels in a heartbeat.

The moment they stepped into the full room, Elide dared looking at the crowd. She stopped in the hall when one of them talked.

"Lorbear, I see you're no good at undressing ladies in distress." 

Lorbear. This group was close.

Elide snorted, rolling her eyes back and then fixing her stare on the blue-eyed prince charming that sat on the only armchair. "You think you could do better?" 

A white-haired guy chuckled, addressing her directly. "Our Dorian here hasn't seen a single dress in his entire life, he wouldn't know where to start." 

She smiled knowingly, enjoying the distraction as much as the friendly banter between the boys.

"Do I need to remind you how you met your girlfriend, Rowan?" Dorian grinned back, lifting a foot to poke at the other's leg.

Rowan—she supposed—tensed and clenched his jaw, slapping Dorian's foot away, "Please, don't."

Elide's interest was piqued, so much so that she wanted to ask questions, but Lorcan's voice called for her from the kitchen.

She waved at the others, "Wish me good luck." 

A chorus of good luck rose from the couches.

"Sorry," she said as she sauntered in the small kitchen, "I got stopped."

Lorcan gestured at her to turn around, "Don't mind them, they're all jerks."

"I like them," she shrugged as she positioned in front of him. "Plus, you're the one hanging out with them, if you really thought that, I don't think you'd be here." 

His fingers slipped under the fabric on her back and something coarse scratched at her skin.

"It's paper, so you don't get oily," he warned. 

"Oh," she was surprised. By the small kind gesture, and by the reaction her body was having to the infinitely unimportant brush of his touch. "Thanks."

"No prob," he drawled, his voice traveling over the back of her neck.

Elide scrunched her nose. What was she doing?

"Would you mind leaning forward a bit for me, 'lide?" 

'Lide.

She was going to die. 

You're not, Manon's voice sounded amused in her head as she obeyed. 

They went through the process again, just for the zipper to not even budge.

He cleaned the metal, wiping it until it was dry enough that it wouldn't dirty her. 

She turned to face him again and he bent his head to the side, scratching his jaw.

"Can I cut it?"

A laugh bubbled up in her throat, "No, it's my work uniform, you can't cut it." 

He stared at her for the longest time, then went, "Are you wearing a bra?" 

What?

Someone laughed from the other room, "Smooth, Slavaterre. Really smooth." 

Lorcan huffed, running a hand down his face, "I was wondering if we could take it off from the head. You know, like a shirt."

Elide suddenly felt stupid. She blushed lightly and muttered, "I didn't think of it." 

"So?"

It was her turn to stare at him, in silence, contemplating her next move. 

The way his gaze didn't falter for half a second gave her a kind of confidence she rarely possesses these days.

She shook her head, "Yes, I am." 

"Do you think you can do it by yourself?"

She nodded.

Lorcan hummed, "I guess my part is done here, then." 

"I guess," she replied, never stepping back from the staring contest. 

When his eyes slid lower, slowly, to her mouth, she smirked. He mimicked her, and his tongue came out to wet his plump lip.

It wasn't her style, not really how she found hookups, but Lorcan was attractive and seemed to be really appreciative of whatever he was seeing in her. 

"What if," she added, speaking so softly that only he could hear her, "I get stuck?" 

Something glimmered in his eyes, and he took a step forward. The movement forced her head further back and when his hand lifted to play with the hem of her sleeve, her arms covered in goosebumps. 

"I could help with that," he rasped, caressing her shoulder. He ran a finger down her collarbone and Elide took a sharp breath in. 

Their eyes met again and she swallowed. 

"Then I'll make sure to call you, if it comes to that." 

Lorcan's lips curled again, tempting, "I would love that." 

Fenrys' scream came sharp as a needle, bursting their bubble of tension and longing. 

"Don't you dare make out in my kitchen!" 

Elide averted her gaze, pushing her tongue against her cheek to avoid laughing. She really liked these people.

Lorcan stepped back until a good two meters distanced them and then inhaled, extending a hand toward the living room. 

She walked out of the kitchen first, heading directly for the front door. 

She spared a long look at Lorcan, letting him see the sincerity behind her next words, "You know where to find me, Salvaterre, if you ever need company." 

She loved the taste of his name on her tongue.

He smirked, taking his stance next to the kitchen door. He nodded his head once, clearly letting her know he would take up on her words. 

She didn't even look at the rest of the guys as she said goodbye and left, closing the door behind her.

She was halfway down the corridor when shouts and cheers exploded from Fenrys' flat.

Oh, just how fast things had changed.

tog tag list (if you wanna be added or removed, just dm me or send me an ask)

@maastrash @ireallyshouldsleeprn @sleeping-and-books @gwynethhberdara @thegoddessofyou @ghostlyrose2 @claralady @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @letstakethedawn @tangledinmysoul @post-it-notes33 @booksstorm @nalgenewhore @queen-of-demons-and-hell @imagine-me @vasudharaghavan @cupcakey00 @bri-loves-sunflowers @queen-of-glass @thewayshedreamed @the-regal-warrior @fangirlprincess09 @januarystears @rowaelinismyotp @starbornsinger @bookstantrash @thegreyj @feysand-loml @autumnbabylon @a-court-of-milkandhoney @highqueenofelfhame @story-scribbler @mariamuses @rhysandswingspan @whoever-you-choose-to-love @endlessdaydream

#elorcan #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #tog fic #meet cute #ill try to write some smut as a second part i swear

[cherrycola27]

afterglow

Series Warnings: Language, alcohol and drinking. Military inaccuracies. Allusions to and smut. Friends to lovers. Mutual pining. Unrequited love. Minors DNI. 18+. Banner Credit: @thedroneranger

Masterlist Previous Part Next Part

...........................................

Chapter 3: I Don't Wanna Do This

When you woke up the next morning, you expected to feel the warm press of Jake against you. But you didn't. You kept your eyes closed, praying that he was just in the bathroom or downstairs.

But when you rolled over and felt the cold sheets and sat up to see that your room was empty, your worst fears had been confirmed.

Jake had left in the middle of the night.

He had told you he was going to stay and he didn't. As much as you wanted to, you couldn't will the tears away. You flopped back on your bed and buried your head in your pillow, and sobbed.

Jake had broken your heart.

He'd been splintering pieces off it off for over a year, but this time—this time was the final swing of the axe.

Really, you should have known this was coming. You should have known you were going to get hurt, but it still didn't make the heartbreak hurt any less.

You wanted to spend the day buried in your sheets and feeling sorry for yourself, but the longer you laid there, the more you realized Jake's scent surrounded you.

So, you stripped your bed and shoved your bedding into your washing machine and covered them with more soap and fabric softener than necessary. If that didn't get his scent off of them, you might just burn your sheets and get some new ones. You'd been looking for a reason to go to Target anyway.

Speaking of burning, when you flopped down on your naked bed and tried to relax, you realized that Jake's scent had permeated you pillows, too.

"Fuck!" You screamed as you threw each one of then off your bed and they hit the wall with a soft thud. As you flung the final pillow, you missed the wall and knocked the picture frame on your dresser off. It clattered to the floor and shattered.

You sighed and begrudgingly got up. You didn't want to step on broken glass later.

You knelt down and picked up the pieces of glass and grabbed the frame. More tears came to your eyes as you looked at the image.

Looking back at you was a picture of a slightly younger you and Jake, with big bright smiles. It was taken right after the two of you got your first confirmed air to air kill. You can still remember the anxiety you felt as you helped guide him in taking down that Cold War museum piece.

You can also remember the pride that you felt when everyone cheered for you when the two of you landed on the carrier.

That day and that night would change the relationship you and Jake had in more ways than one.

...................

Facing death together is a connection that can only be understood by a few.

But what changed even more was that you and Jake crossed the line that the two of you had been tip-toeing around for months.

That night, when everyone was asleep, Jake came to your bunk. You had been fortunate enough to not have a roommate.

When you heard the knock on your door, you weren't sure who it could be. You certainly weren't expecting to find Jake, shirtless, grey sweatpants slung low on his hip, still wet from his shower, standing there.

He stood there silently with wide eyes. You could feel the heat radiating off of him.

"Jake. Wha—" You weren't sure what to say.

"Glow— Y/N," He breathed out as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. "Tell me to go. Tell me you don't feel what I feel. Tell me we shouldn't do this." He had whispered to you.

You'd stood there, taking him in. You knew that the two of you could never come back from this. That this was the point of no return.

If you'd known, then what you know now, you would have sent him packing. Instead, you'd reached out, looped your fingers around the chain of his dog tags, and pulled him against you.

The first time your lips met, you knew you were a goner. You knew that your relationship with him would never be the same.

That was the first night you had gotten a taste of him. It was the night that he ruined all other men for you. And, it was the first of many nights that he had loved you and then left your bed.

................

After cleaning, you threw on some clothes and went to Target to get new pillows and some, "I feel sorry for myself because I'm facing the consequences of my own actions," snacks and wine.

Around Saturday afternoon, Jake realized that he had fucked up. He had really fucked up. He realized that he should have stayed and that this morning he should have made you french toast and told you that he cared about you, that he loved you.

He should have brought his midnight confession into the light of day, but he didn't. Jake didn't because he was a coward, and because he could stand the thought of you not loving him back.

He got out his phone and tried to call you. You sent him to voice-mail after one ring. He deserved that. Jake tried over and over again and sent you text after text, begging for you to talk to him.

He was half tempted to drive to your house and bang on your door until you let him in, or he could just use the extra key you'd gifted him. But, he thought better of it.

Instead, he went to the Hard Deck with the rest of the squad.

When they asked about you, Jake lied and said that you weren't feeling well. Maybe it wasn't a whole lie. You probably did feel like shit right now, and it was his fault. He was the one that burned the two of you down.

He went through the night wearing a mask. He put on his million dollar grin and Texas sized ego and went through motions. Some blonde by the bar had tried to hit on him, but he turned her down.

She'd laughed at his jokes, twirled her hair, been a little too touchy feeling and gave him her best fuck me eyes, but it didn't matter. She wasn't you.

Jake ended up calling it an early night after that.

By Sunday night, Jake still hadn't heard from you, and he was worried. He threw logic out the window and drove to your house. He wanted to make sure you were alive at least.

When he turned onto your street, he parked across from your cottage. The lights in your bedroom were on. He so badly wanted to walk up and knock on your door, but before he could get the courage too, he saw the light turn off, casting your room into darkness.

Jake quietly drove back home to prepare himself to face you tomorrow.

On Monday morning, both you and Jake drug out your morning routine as long as possible.

When you entered the briefing room on base, you noticed Jake in his normal seat at the front of the room like the kiss-ass he'd always been that you had always teased him for.

You also noticed what appeared to be your favorite iced latte sitting on the table next to him. You deliberately sat in the very back of the classroom and blatantly ignored him when he turned to find you before Maverick got started. He'd silently gestured to the coffee and nodded his head for you to come sit next to him. You flipped him off.

As you approach the Super Hornet, you ignored Jake and his stupid perfect smile and his stupid perfect face and his stupid perfect hand outstretched to help you up.

"I don't need your help." You said to him coldly.

"Glow. Can I— can we please talk?" Jake asked you as he climbed into his set.

"No, I don't want to hear your stupid, half-assed excuse of an apology." You sneered at him.

"Glow—can you just let me explain." Jake tried to defend himself.

"There is literally no explanation that you can give me that would be good enough. Now, can we please just get through this exercise. The sooner we complete it, the sooner I can get away from you and can stop staring at the back of your big-ass head." You spat.

Jake took a deep breath.

He deserved that.

That day, the two of you flew the worst you had ever flown together. Once you were back on the ground, you quickly made a beeline for the locker room.

You slamed your things in, showered, and left.

For the rest of the week, you refused to talk to Jake, unless it was to give him directions, that he didn't follow, in the sky.

Jake could take you yelling and screaming at him. He could take you beating his chest while you cried angry tears and told him he was a son of a bitch. He could take any kind of verbal or physical spar you could dish out.

But what he couldn't take was the silent treatment. He hated that you were icing him out.

Everyone had noticed the tension.

Jake had gone back to his old ways of thinking he was God's gift to the Navy.

"Hey Hangman? Mind if I ask you a personal question? What's up with you and Glow? Trouble in paradise?" Rooster had asked him Friday in the locker room.

Jake slamed his locker. "It's none of your fucking business, Chicken Shit!" Jake yelled before storming out.

"Well, he hasn't changed a bit." Bob muttered under his breath. "Nope." Rooster replied.

Friday afternoon, you waited until everyone was gone before knocking on the door of Maverick's office.

"Lieutenant Briller? Is there something I can help you with?" Maverick asked when you walked in.

"Captain Mitchell, do you have a minute? I need to speak with you about something important." You said as you came in.

"Sure, come in, close the door. We can talk." Maverick said. You took a deep breath and closed the door behind you.

................

The weekend came, and went in a blur. It was the first weekend in a long time that you hadn't found yourself tangled up with Jake.

On Monday morning, you were nervous to walk into work, but Maverick had assured you that everything would be okay.

You took your seat at the back of the classroom and waited. Jake was still at the front, eyes forward and twirling a pen in his hand.

"Good morning, aviators." Maverick said as he greeted the group.

There were calls of good mornings around the room. A few moments later, Admiral Simpson and Admiral Bates entered the room. Everyone stood at attention until told to sit.

"Good morning, everyone. I'm sure you're wondering why Warlock and I are here today." Cyclone stared.

"Well, we've come to give some of you some new team assignments." He continued. Everyone sat up, eyes wide and filled with questions.

"These changes will not affect our single seat pilots, but due to extenuating circumstances, we are changing some of the pilot and weapons systems officer pairs." Cyclone stated.

"Lieutenant Bassett, you will no longer be flying with Omaha. You'll now be the WSO for Lieutenant Seresin." Simpson explained.

"Furthermore, Lieutenant Vikander, your new WSO will be Lieutenant Briller. These changes are effective immediately. That is all." Cyclone said before he and Warlock left the room.

Everyone was silent. You looked down at your boots. You could feel the eyes of everyone in the room on you.

Even though Cyclone didn't say that you were the one who had said something, they all knew.

"This is bullshit." Jake spat before getting up and slamming his hands on the table in front of you.

"This is fucking bullshit, Glow! You give me the silent treatment and then go running to the superiors because you got your feelings hurt? What do you have to say for yourself?!" Jake screams in your face.

"I can't fly with someone I can't trust." You tell him.

"Can't trust? You can't trust me? What the fuck! That's the lamest fucking excuse I've ever heard. If anything, you're the one we can trust!" Jake yells at you.

"Hey! That's enough!" Maverick tells him.

"I can't believe you. You went behind my back!" Jake screams. "You've got be fucking kidding me. Please tell me this is a mistake!"

"Lieutenant Seresin!" Maverick warns him.

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Hangman. But no, this isn't a mistake. I will not longer be your backseater." You tell him, trying to stay calm.

"No, you're right. It isn't a mistake. The only mistake was me begging Simpson and Bates to get you transferred here." Jake shouts at you as he crowds your space.

"What?" You say, taken aback.

"I said that the only mistake was me asking Bates and Simpson to have you transferred here from Lemoore. What? You think that you were good enough to get them to do that on your own? Because newsflash, you weren't. I begged them to have you placed here. The only reason that you are here is because of me. And you think that you can just go and run to the Admirals on me because I hurt your feelings? Who do you think you are?" Jake sneers.

"Hangman!" Rooster yells as he pulls him back.

"I never asked you to get me transferred here, Jake. You did that for you, not for me." You tell him as you try to hold your composure.

"You know what, I'm glad I won't be flying with you anymore, Glow. Maybe Halo won't slow me down." He spits, driving the knife deeper into your chest.

That's the last straw for you. You leap over the table, ready to claw his eyes out. Coyote catches you around the waist while Bob and Phoenix hold both of your shoulders back. Rooster, Payback, and Fanboy hang onto Jake, pulling him away from you.

"I'm cool, I'm cool he says as he brushes them off.

"Fuck you, Bagman!" You shout.

"Oh, Sweetheart," Jake begins, "You already have."

Taglist: @thedroneranger @roosterscock @shanimallina87 @desert-fern @teacupsandtopgun @mayhemmanaged @lovinglyeternal @lovingbradshawafterdark @wkndwlff @roosterforme @daggerspare-standingby @dakotakazansky @startrekfangirl2233 @hecate-steps-on-me @cassiemitchell @na-ta-sh-aa @milestellerlover @katieshook02 @mak-32 @je-suis-prest-rachel @soulmates8 @ohgodnotagainn @diorrfairy @eli2447 @xoxabs88xox @potato-girl99981 @djs8891 @roosterbruiser @roosters-girl @sebsxphia @roostette @rosiahills22 @dempy @olliepig @seresinsweetie @linkpk88 @my-obsession-spn @eternalsams

#cherrycola27 #top gun maverick #top gun #tgm #hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin #hangman top gun #hangman smut #hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin smut #jake seresin #lt. jake seresin #tgm fanfiction #tgm smut #tgm fic #afterglow

[whoistartaglia]

are we too young for this?

summary: you sleep on the couch after another fight with diluc.

warnings: gender neutral reader, angst.

notes: inspired by softcore by the neighbourhood.

the king sized bed in the master bedroom in the dawn winery manor was especially large. but tonight, the extra space was not nearly enough to separate you from your boyfriend. not after the hours long unresolved fight you just fought. 

you stood in the bedroom doorway, watching as diluc slept. his face was passive, his eyelids fluttering ever so softly. he looked so peaceful, in such a sharp contrast to the anger and annoyance that had contorted his face earlier. it looked as if diluc had never been in a fight at all.

you, on the other hand, still looked a mess. the bags under your eyes seemed darker than usual, a physical manifestation of your tiredness. but despite your exhaustion and instincts to lay down next to your boyfriend, you just couldn’t. 

it didn’t feel right, sleeping next to diluc when you were both very much angry and very much hurt. 

slowly, as not to wake diluc, you gathered an extra pillow and a spare blanket from the closet. with one last glance over your shoulder, you left the room and gently shut the door behind you. 

the living room was decorated with impressing guests first and comfort second. you sat down on the couch. the light brown leather certainly looked expensive, but it was stiff and not at all like a mattress. 

with a small sigh, you proped the pillow against one of the arms and pulled the blanket over you. it was uncomfortable, but you were so exhausted and drained that it hardly mattered. your eyes closed and you soon fell into a restless sleep. 

the manor filled with sound of the master bedroom door being opened. echoing footsteps followed shortly after and a worried diluc appeared in the entrance to the living room. his eyes scanned the room and a wave of relief washed over him when he spotted you, lying on the couch. you were still here. 

but the relief didn’t last long because he realized that you had been sleeping out here. that you were so upset that you refused to share a bed with him. that he was at fault for that. 

he made his way over to you, and you stirred, not quite awake, not quite asleep. you gazed at diluc, now standing over you, with bleary, sleep-filled eyes. 

“diluc?” you asked in a small voice.

“yeah, it’s me,” he responded, his voice also quiet, barely above a whisper. diluc took a seat on the couch and you pushed yourself up into a seated position. 

you both sat in tense silence for a long while after that, not knowing what to say or do to repair the damage between you. even now, hours after the fight, everything you said and heard still hurt like an unhealed wound, still vulnerable to the world. and it never used to be like this. in the past you fought of course, but it was never like the blowout yelling matches you seemed to have every other week. 

you would have never pictured yourself sleeping on the couch, but things have changed and so have you. you asked yourself the unwanted question. are we too young for this?

or are we old enough to know better, but foolish enough to stay together anyways?

you didn’t have an answer. you didn’t want to break up with diluc, but you were tired, so very tired. and as if sensing your exhaustion, diluc murmured a quiet, “come back to bed.”

it might have been a plea. diluc continued.

“i’m sorry i made you feel uncomfortable in our room. we may fight, but that doesn’t mean i don’t want to share my bed with you, [you].” diluc stood up and stretched out his hand. you stared up at it, unsure of what to do. he offered it like an alliance, a mutual agreement to resolve the argument later, perhaps in the early morning, to be together now. 

“i’m sorry, too," you whispered and finally placed your hand in diluc's. he held it so gently, as if you were made of cracked glass he was unwilling to let completely shatter.

“i know.” there was nothing more to be said, nothing that couldn’t wait until the morning. you would talk when you were both rested and rational. you both needed to resolve the argument at present, and dive into the deeper issues after. but for now, you allowed diluc to lead down the hall and back to your shared bedroom.

you didn’t fold into each other’s arms like usual, but sleeping together in the same room in the same bed, was enough. you glanced at diluc. as you drifted off into a deep sleep, so unlike the fitful tossing and turning from earlier, the thought echoed through your mind. it was enough. 

we will be enough. 

#genshin impact #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact angst #genshin impact diluc #genshin impact diluc headcanons #diluc headcanons #diluc x you #diluc x reader #diluc #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin anst