#then i had to go through all my depression room clothes pile to sort through what im keeping bc like
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a simple life (e.m.)
summary: you try to clean your depression room while eddie's over, but he keeps distracting you.
warnings: none except mentions of a dirty room and panties. also... a lot of nicknames. womp womp. not edited.
pairing: eddie munson x gn!reader
wc: 1.4k+
a/n: just a little sweet something i wrote thinkin' about eddie while i took on the task of finally cleaning my depression room after a few months of putting it off. idk. this is boring. i'm sorry.
“Where did you even get this postcard?”
“Eddie.”
“Or what about this choker? Is that a bat? It’s a- oh my God, babe. Why don’t you ever wear this? This is hot.”
Originally, you had thought it was a good idea. Invite Eddie over, allow the body-doubling tactic to work its magic, and voila – you’d finally have the clean room you’d been talking about achieving for weeks now, within a few hours.
“Baby,” you scold, trying to reach across the bed to snatch the necklace he’d found out of his hands. It proves to be difficult, a small pile of laundry you’d been folding hindering you.
“Sweetheart,” he mimics right back, quick to hold the necklace out of your reach, as if you were anyone near from stealing it back from him.
“I asked you to come over to help me, not distract me,” you sigh, crossing your arms and trying to look as pitiful as possible. When you’d first invited him over, you’d assured him that he needn’t lift a single finger. You didn’t want him here to help by aiding in throwing away any of the trash that had begun to litter your desk or taking any dirty plates to the kitchen. No, the intention had been him helping with his mere presence – quiet presence. He was supposed to be working on a new campaign for Hellfire, not being so damn nosey and going through the few items you’d tossed onto the bed from the floor, “I just recently bought that necklace, I haven’t had a chance to wear it.”
His eyes light up mischievously, a small grin tugging at his lips, “Why not wear it now, then? Perfect opportunity, yeah?”
“I’m not fulfilling any slutty maid fantasies you have, Eddie.”
“What if I say please?”
You huff and decide to give up the fight about the necklace, returning back to the laundry before you. You were almost done. You were almost done after a full day of cleaning. If your adorably curious boyfriend would just stop picking at your belongings, you’d probably be able to finish within the hour.
He stands from the small space on your bed he had made for himself, a nest of sorts that he had taken from simply curling up into for a ‘nap’ (which never happened’ to sitting up as he had just been as he clearly grew more bored with each passing moment. “Want some help with folding?”
“You just want an excuse to get your grubby hands on my underwear,” you grumble, folding a shirt with slightly more vigor to emphasize your point.
You’re right, of course. The first article of clothing he grabs is a pair of lacy black panties.
“Guilty,” he coos jokingly, but to your surprise, he actually folds the lingerie. Neatly, at that. With careful hands, he folds it even nicer than you would have in your haste, going as far as walking to your dresser and putting it away into the correct drawer. And then, he takes it a step further, and begins to put away the other clothing you’d already neatly wrapped up, suddenly depleting the mountain of laundry by half, “You know, I don’t mind helping you clean.”
“I already told you, you’re helping by bein-” you start to protest, hands grabbing at a random jean leg but not quite yanking it from the pile.
He’s quick to interrupt you, taking that pair of jeans right from you, “I don’t want to just lay there while you do all the work, contrary to all the sources that say men enjoy that.”
His face isn’t quite as taunting as it had been moments before. Some of the joking has vanished, replaced by something more serious yet somehow softer. The jeans are slung over his arms, neatly halved twice before he sets them to the side and looks at you.
Your shame is palpable, though. You’d just gotten over the embarrassment of having him over when your room would get this filthy. Disastrous in the worst of ways. Dirty clothes strewn everywhere, plates left for days on any surface you could find in your laziness, coke cans and random trash littering the floor. It was embarrassing. You know he had promised to love you through the good and the ugly, but this was far uglier than he could have ever imagined signing up for.
It was bad enough to have him see it, let alone clean it.
“It’s embarrassing,” you finally say quietly. His head tilts, so adorable it tugs at all your heart strings, and you take it as your queue to continue in a near whisper, “It’s gross - I’m gross.”
“Sweetheart, have you even seen my room?” he scoffs. He’s quick to shove some of the clean clothes up into a pile just enough that he can take a seat at the corner of your bed, quickly reaching out to grab your hands and guide you between his spread legs, “Shit happens. Life gets stressful, work gets busy, sometimes we just don’t feel like cleaning up. Shit happens,” his thumb is sweeping soothingly over your knuckles, clearing the impending storm you hadn’t even been aware of. Maybe he hadn’t either – a naturally caring and comforting aura has always been his thing rather than yours, “Out of everyone in this world, I am the least qualified to judge you.”
You don’t really understand it. How he can sit there, looking up at you so dreamily when the two of you are situated in the middle of your still unkempt room, your neck still chilled with a layer of sweat and your hair tumbling out of the bun you hadn’t properly secured. But he is. He’s looking at you not as if he doesn’t see the mess, both of the room and of yourself, but as if he does and simply doesn’t care.
“Besides,” his lips are splitting with another grin, his hands squeezing your hands three times, “It’s kind of domestic. ‘M kind of into it.”
“Me? Doing laundry?” you snort, blinking away any fears that had crept up. It’s hard to feel inadequate with his eyes on you, spilling so many sweet nothings like it’s just another casual Tuesday conversation and not the fuel to your beating heart, “Didn’t you just say you don’t want to just sit and-”
“Us,” he cuts you off in correction, “Us doing laundry.”
“You… like the thought of doing laundry with me?” you say slowly, carefully, unsure of the words as they fall from your lips.
Doing laundry sounded like the least romantic thing the two of you could ever partake in.
“I like the thought of doing laundry with you,” he repeats with a nod, “I like the thought of doing laundry with you, of doing dishes together after we just made the world's most mediocre dinner ever, of you complaining when I won’t get up so you can make the bed on the weekend,” he tugs you even closer. You have no choice but to let a knee fall to each side of his hips, straddling his lap as he wraps his arms around you and he leans forward to press a chaste kiss to one of your collar bones, “Call me cheesy. I like the thought of a simple life, but only if it’s with you.”
Something warms inside of you. The thought of a life of simplicity, of lazy mornings and boring afternoons, all brightened up by the boy in front of you. A boy who creates magical worlds with his words on a weekly basis, a boy obsessed with fantasy novels and all things adventurous, who wants his greatest life adventure to just be a mundane lifetime with you.
You can imagine it would be anything but mundane with Eddie, but the tranquility still exists and blankets the two of you.
You lift a hand, carding it through his scalp, careful not to let your fingers snag on his messy curls, “Does this mean you’ll do your taxes with me next week?”
With a quick snort, he buries his face into your chest, shaking his head furiously, “Don’t push it, sweetheart.”
You know he will, though. He’ll help you fold the laundry, he’ll help you wash the dishes, and he’ll certainly sit through the dreadful hours of doing taxes if they’re spent with you.
A few beats of silence. His arms have wrapped just right so that his warm palm presses into your lower back, the other hand tracing a mindless circle over your shirt a few inches higher. Your breathing matches his, fingers rubbing a matching pattern into his scalp that has him humming periodically.
The laundry will get done eventually, but it can wait. For now, you just want to hold your boy, and let him hold you.
“It’s a date,” he finally gives in, voice muffled, making you smile widely, “I’ll light candles and everything, sweetheart.”
eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea @kellsck @cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking @witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore @mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog @vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria @loveryanax @stylexrepp @princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles
#my writing#ghost's stories#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#this is so boring lmao my bad#i do believe he'd be such a lil nuisance if i was trying to clean with him in the room#this was written in under an hour and definitely not edited my bad#just wanted to stretch my legs with our favorite metalhead idk#look at me#finally writing and posting again#ooooooooo#i want a simple life with him please
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hii! i wanted to ask if you could do a yandere kidnapper x yandere darling? like rich depressed yan that can't imagine living without their darling and ended up taking drastic action, only to find out that darling is way more insane and obsessed passionate than they thought
A/N: I've never been super big on the yan x yan trope but I think this came out kinda cool! Hope this is what you were looking for <3
Synopsis: Sneaking into your beloved's bedroom bent on getting pictures for your stash, you're quickly found by him, who's surprisingly enthusiastic to find you breaking in.
CW: Kidnapping, mutual obsession, shrine dedications, murder (offscreen lol)
WC:3000+
“Nice… new pics for the blog.”
Your camera click click clicked with a shutter noise each time you rapid fired its capture button, eye so close to the screen you might as well be looking through the viewfinder solely itself.
“I can see it now… his unkept bedroom revealed, beautiful little face plastered beside this… heap.”
You looked at the pile of dirty clothes that had yet to be picked up by the estate's cleaning ladies. Well, if you were as filthy rich as he was, you’d probably do the same. Who would waste time cleaning their room when you have the whole world to see? Or in his case, a million press conferences to attend.
Your eye was drawn to a slightly ajar closet, an odd lock seeming to have been hastily unfastened, now leaving the doors peeking open. Something red was inside. Oh boy, you could hardly contain your excitement.
What kind of secrets would the famous, wealthy heir Elijah Walsh have in his teensy private closet? Mayhaps some drag dress up that no fan would expect? Dead bodies? Or even, the rumored cocaine stash his poor daddy was accused of hiding?
You knew Elijah like the back of your hand, unable to imagine any kind of hidden truths that you haven't already discovered. For you, a superfan, (and ultimately, the soulmate he doesn't know about yet) were aware of far more than the average tabloid who didn’t cross trespassing boundaries for love like you had.
You ripped open the doors without hesitation, snapping pics before even turning the light on.
But what you saw, was something you weren’t sure you’d want to keep on camera.
It was you. Well, a picture of you, from some yearbook or singled-out group shot that you couldn’t pinpoint the exact year from. Around your awkward grinning face was a series of items, pinned on a pretty red board like it was a crime scene of sorts. Or maybe… a shrine?
“What the f… is that my underwear??” You looked at the old pair of stretched out undies you had since middle school. Definitely not the pair you’d want some kind of stalker or investigator to get their hands on.
You saw a few old chapsticks taped to the board, one of which you had been searching for in some old bag you swore you left it in. “I was looking for those!” You grabbed the chapstick and a broken brush, the exact same you thought you had thrown away months ago.
Out of all the things you hoped to find-- used Q-tips, one of his musky jackets, maybe even some dark sex toys-- this wasn’t on your list. But you couldn’t help the spike in your heart, the flutter that made your toes point inward.
You had been running this journalist (really a stalker-ish) blog on Elijah since before he got big in the press. You went to the same elementary school and for a short time in middle school, and ever since you couldn’t get his name out of your head. Now, you had a justified reason to keep tabs on him, since his family was currently in the public eye for a variety of deeds.
Along with professing your obsession with him since childhood, your blog dated the shocking events of his controversies-- keeping it all under an anonymous pen name, of course. You had information news sites couldn’t get their hands on; the dedication you put into watching him was a trait of pride you could never let go.
Memories of him comforted you at night, and seeing his pretty face in the grocery store magazines hoarded under your bed made you drift off to daydream land where, maybe, you’d be more than just some heavy breathing keyboard jammer fawning over him from a distance..
And here was, you. Your things. In his room. Even from the times you climbed the tree beside his window, you never saw this… anomaly of items.
“What’s this even… mean.” You whispered, dumfounded and growing antsy. Elijah would be coming back now any second, the route of his driver dinging on your phone.
‘Wait.. does he, know? That I’ve been watching him? Is this all evidence to… incriminate me??’
Worry was creeping up inside of you. But there was no time, not when a heavy vase clunked against your head from behind, letting out a resounding ‘crack!’ from the contact. The chapstick fell from your fingers, camera sliding with you as it lingered loose around your neck.
The last thing you could think of before darkness hit, was ‘man, I hope I don’t fall on my camera… can’t replace it again. ‘
The unconscious darkness blinding your eyes was snuffed out what seemed hours later, replaced by a buzzing yellow light hanging from the ceiling. You groaned outloud, feeling groggy; an aching pain throbbed in your slumped neck and a sore bump on your scalp.
‘Got a killer headache…’
You tried to pull your hands up to the bump to feel for a bruise, but fell flat with your arms tucked behind your back. You jerked them around, not realizing that they in fact were stuck together-- tied by rope, or some kind of fabric.
“Thank god, you’re awake. Thought maybe I hit you too hard-- I don’t know what i’d do if that happened.” A familiar voice rang out in the musty, echoing room.
“What…?” You croaked, trying to look up without facing the wrath of your headache the more light entered your eyes.
“Here, drink some water.”
A bottle came in front of you, so close to your lips all you had to do was bend down to touch it. You did so without thinking, tasting the sandpaper of a tongue you were stuck with. As soon as the cool water touched your throat, you thought about potential poisoning. Who was this person bottle-feeding you water, why couldn’t you do it yourself??
You were too thirsty to care about the consequences, gulping it down as the bottle lifted higher to accommodate you.
Letting out a pant, you sat back, trying to rub water off your lip with a shoulder shimmy.
“Where am I? What’s going on--” It all started to come back to you, being in Elijah’s room, trespassing on private property, seeing the closet hoard of you. “Wait, please don’t report me, I promise it isn’t what you think it was…”
“Report you?” The masculine tone scoffed, a hand falling to your shoulder. “I was worried I’d never get a chance like this… you made it so easy, how’d you get in? The window?”
“...Yeah.” You sheepishly replied, looking up at your captor. “It’s not as easy as it looks.”
Oh shit. That was Elijah right in front of you. In the flesh, pretty pearly teeth grinning only inches away from your face as his hand rested on your left shoulder, gently massaging it.
“Is your head okay? I feel bad but.. I wasn’t thinking, could only think about how to keep you here.”
Keep you here? Oh no, does that mean the police are on their way??
“Now.. I don’t have to worry about sending people out to your apartment anymore.. No more security cameras, no more blackmail… just you.” He stroked the side of your cheek that was inflamed from falling against the floor. “Damn. I thought i’d have to go through the trouble of taking you in the middle of the night, I had just sent my driver out for my tools too- but, looks like that’s not even an issue anymore!”
Well, sounds like your fears about the cops was no where near the truth. But now, you were even more confused. Taking you? Stalking? Blackmail? It almost felt like you were listening to yourself talk for a second.
Behind the dark glare covering his eyes, you could see Elijah’s trademark dimples, his pinkish lips covering the slight overbite he had, constantly showing off his front few teeth. You knew those downturned eyes were there somewhere, even with their shine dulled by the shadows of what looked to be a dark cellar around you.
His hair was unkempt, thick, dark strands covering his ears and going so far to the base of his neck. Wow, you had never seen him look so scruffy, even when watching from outside, seeing him brush his teeth in shirtless pajamas. He looked worried, shirt untucked and pants wrinkled as he ran a hand through his hair.
“And I’m sorry to say.. But don’t even think about trying to run away now. I made up my mind long ago, and if I find out that--”
“Urk, I wasn’t planning on it. I saw, the uh, dedication board. Or, shrine?”
At that, Elijah stopped. His baby blue eyes went wide for a moment, forgetting that was where he originally found you until now.
You hid your head down in discomfort.
“I have the same one…of you, in my apartment… in a box under my bed. There’s even a piece of hair from middleschool that I c..ut, from you.” You held back a nauseous gag at the admission. But here you were, this was your chance to prove how much you loved him, how much dedication you put towards understanding his every move, every like and dislike, the intricacies of his family history. “Do you know why I was in your room?” You asked, wondering if he already had seen your worship blog.
Elijah took a step back, lowering to sit on a pulled out fold-up chair across from you. His knees touched yours, still dressed in his black slacks and matching loafers, rolled up sleeves on his cream-colored button up that showed he had taken liberties to get more comfortable for the night.
“I’ll be honest I hadn’t contemplated that… just about how perfect of a chance it was, that you-- my uh, small, obsession since fifth grade.. Was here.” He looked down, a small red tint creeping from his cheeks to the rest of his face. He was bright crimson, like a kid again confessing to his crush behind the bleachers. “But you remember me?? From so long ago? I can’t… Its hard to imagine, i’ve been watching you for years and thought you had completely forgotten about me.”
“Are you kidding?” You watched Elijah rub his eyes, trying to hide his face behind his knuckles. “You’re all over the news, even if I wanted to avoid you. But I haven’t stopped following your every move since, I can’t remember. Every house change, new school, shopping trip with your mother… anytime I was free I dedicated it to watching you, or my--”
You cut yourself off, stepping one foot off into the deep end on a subject you desperately wanted kept hidden.
“If I knew any better I’d say you sound like a bit of a stalker.” Elijah tried to hide his grin behind his hand, leaning forward to get a closer look at you. “What were you going to say?”
“My…blog.”
“Blog?” He parroted.
“It’s a…. Dedication blog. To you.”
“Oh, like an obsessed fan?” He jeered, laughing with bright teeth as he braced his shaking from on his knee. “Don’t tell me-- you snuck in here for content to your blog?”
“No-! Well, yes. But some of it was going in my private stash…” You pouted, knowing you’d never get that chance again now that you’ve been discovered. Your days of fawning were going to come to a close.
“So you must be the one who keeps finding a way to get pictures when I never see any reporters around. By, breaking into my home.”
“That sounds really bad.. But I promise I wasn’t going to try to steal, or hurt you!”
That only made him laugh harder.
“I can’t… can’t believe I never saw you..” He wheezed, face flushed as you sat rotting in embarrassment and shame. “I had drivers chase after you for hours when you disappeared-- but you were five steps behind me the entire time!”
Drivers… your brain clicked two and two together as he tried to stop from giggling while hunched over.
“...Drivers?” You question. No way this is what yout thought it was.”So you’ve been spying on me?”
“Don’t sound so offended, little stalker,” He settled down, a permanent smile still on his mouth as he dragged the steel chair somehow closer. “ You’ve been hard to catch, but i’ve been keeping tabs on you, as unseemingly as it is. I couldn’t do it myself but I wanted to make sure you were, okay. Before it was safe to bring you home. Though I had nothing to fear about you forgetting me at all!”
You swallowed, mouth having gone back to a dry desert as you contemplated what this all meant. YOUR Elijah was spying on you in your home? Sending out underlings to watch and make sure you were safe? The man who you’d lay your life down for? You fantasized, imagining him at your window, you-- freshly out of the shower…
“What do you mean by home? You don’t mean.. Here, in the estate, right?”
Elijah observed you so fully, it made you nervous. He had never given someone this much attention in interviews, nonetheless in the photos and videos you managed to snap of him alone. And he was looking at you, with those eyes.
You didn’t know how much longer you could take it. Smelling his sandalwood with his knees pressing against yours, his finely ironed shirt toned against him-- right here, in the flesh. You always thought you’d be at a distance, never able to come in contact with him.. And now, you were tied up in his family’s wine cellar.
“Of course my darling. Where else? I can’t possibly send you back to that dungeon of an apartment. And you,” He stood, intent on coming closer. “Came in so willingly, huh? Didn’t think you’d return my love so… earnestly.”
“W-well who said anything about staying?” You sputtered, looking at his eyes glower in an exceedingly dark fashion. “I mean…. You love me? I’d accepted I’d never be seen by you but… you’ve been watching, the entire time?”
He stood up from his chair with a slight creak, causing your neck to strain upwards to look at him. A small touch caressed the end of your chin, his finger smoothening as it lifted your head to meet his gaze.
He hummed, Elijah’s eyes full of an expression you’ve never seen him wear before. Something in the mix of a sentimental possession, and a lover. But it was so tender, you couldn’t look away. It was so safe, so familiar. You recognized that look in the mirror, visible in your own eyes when you planted kisses on his printed photo taped to your vanity.
“Haven’t been able to keep you off my mind since you plucked that leaf off of my spoiled head. Love doesn’t even begin to describe it. I need, you.”
His gaze was so genuine, your eyes soothed by the glazed over grin he gave you, leaning down to hunch on his knees to be closer to you.
“I…” You breathed, wondering if this was a dream. “I’ve wanted you to see me.. for so long. Is this real?”
You stopped working. There was no chance that he had been watching you, wondering and waiting for you to recognize him, when you were longing for his attention, having convinced yourself long ago you’d only be able to possess him from a distance.
Soft fingers that hadn’t worked a day in their lives creeped up your knees, Elijah’s face only inches away as his eyelids lowed, looking sultry as he watched you squirm.
“I pray it’s not.” He exhaled.
“...Well, I’m not staying tied up in this chair, no matter how much you beg. Though… I can’t say I’d mind staying with you. Being with you.. Here, together.”
“Good. It wasn’t really a matter of choice, anyway.” He grinned, pressing a slow kiss to your cheek.
You involuntarily hummed in content, pressing closer to his lips as you arched out of the chair, longing to touch his warm body. He was kissing you; somebody get you out of these ropes before you jump the man.
Elijah couldn’t help but grin like a maniac, drugged on the way you relished his touch and pressed your chest forward to him. He rushed kisses to your chin, bites to your ear and licks to your neck with a groan.
But a sudden stop brought your blissfully closed eyes to an open.
“I’m sorry… want you too much, it’s getting to the better of me.”
“I’m not sorry,” You mumble, hoping that if this was a dream, you wouldn’t ever wake up. “Please, don’t stop.. I’ve killed for this, don’t stop now.”
“You tempt me too much,” He chuckles, gripping the sides of your chair seat to stablize himself leering over you. “So lucky you were my little creepy stalker, and no one else’s. Wouldn’t be able to control myself otherwise.”
“Stalker, murderer of your old lovers… I have many names.” You joked, but the bitterness on your tongue remembering those placeholders you got rid of was sour.
“Many talents, too.” Elijah’s eyebrows furrowed. “You’re the one that caused my fiances to dissapear? I wondered how they kept doing that,” He looked keenly, seeing right through your little ‘joke’. “Even I couldn’t shoo my mothers’ arranged partners away.”
You tried to look away, embarrassment showing on the way you bit your lips clean and your heartbeat wrapped. “I did it in your name…. I couldn’t stand them thinking they were worth being so close and casual with you! It was infuriating every time I saw it I-- I just couldn’t take it anymore. Even if it meant I’d never have you.”
Elijah buried himself in your hair, holding you tight. The squeeze was so personable, hungry and desperate to hold all of you.
“You have me now, you have me completely. I want you-- what a favor you have done, and you hadn’t even known.”
It felt so good, praised for such hard and hateful work you carried out. Their bodies were mangled, your rage manifesting in the corpses buried under the old golf course near your dingy apartment complex-- and he was happy you did it. Oh, you wanted to hold him, to smell him fully. These binds were stopping you from caressing the lover, the dream you had fantasized holding you to sleep so often, spooning the jackets and dresshirts of his musk in replacement for comfort.
Elijah still snickered in your ear, playing with the tips of your hair.
“But now, I have to see this blog. I’m too curious-- though I can’t say seeing it will help my small obsession for you. A stalking blog-- too cute.”
You were still so shameful of it, now that he brought it up. You didn’t want your soulmate to see the virtual shrine you had dedicated to him, your unseemly thoughts and hungry urges that were far too detailed and graphic to be shared with their perpetrator. But what choice did you have? He’d find it, one way or another.
“F..fine. But you’d you atleast untie me now? My arms are getting sore.”
That seemed to cease his light-hearted expression, frowning against your skull as he inhaled the sweet scent of your hair. It was the same as he remembered, now a decade later.
“You’re not gonna try to leave, are you?” He murmured, caressing pinching your ear with a light tone. But something dangerous was held behind it. It was frightening.. But oh, as if the possessiveness didn’t fuel how much more your insides craved him.
“Do you think I’d really try to go anywhere? Not when you’re so accessible to me now.” You looked over. Elijah’s lashes looked so long up close, sweetly deadpanned eyes watching as if you were being tested, hunted.
He seemed to find your answer appealing, getting up and pulling something out of his back pocket. Leaning down once more, you saw the switchblade bobbing between his hands, a pretty and simple hunting blade. He leaned over you, pressing it against the knot above your wrists.
You focused on feeling for the blade as to not get cut, only for your attention to be pulled back to the spoiled one-percenters lips pressing yours directly. It was a shock, more than anything. You wished you had seen it coming, wish you had been better prepared to share your first kiss with your darling!
Elijah left your mouth nowhere to run as he pressed up against you, fervidly ensnaring your lips between his.
You gladly accepted the pull away for a second kiss, leaning up as much as you could while hiding your desperation. He was so soft, lips gentle and big as they enveloped your bitten ones.
“Sorry,” Elijah broke away slowly, not straying far. “I’ve wanted to do that for ages.” You watched his eyes stare wonders at your lips, fingers brushing against your trapped ones from behind as the task at hand was forgotten.
“Me too.” You uttered, pulling forward to kiss him again with an open, insatiable mouth.
#writing#yandere#reader insert#self insert#x reader#yandere x reader#male yandere#yandere imagines#yandere writing#yandere boyfriend#yandere male#yandere aesthetic#yandere boy#yandere oc x reader#yandere scenarios#yandere x y/n#yandere x you#yanderecore#yandere x darling#tw yandere#yandere darling#yandere x yandere#yan x yan#yandere community#yandere thoughts#yandere blog#yandere x yandere reader#yandere reader#yandere reader insert#gn reader
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subject: write to me.oneshot
━ type: Jungkook x gn! reader ━ masterlist ━ word count: 6k
━ summary: Jungkook is certain of it — you have disabled your work email and as such what's the harm in finally spilling everything that he's ever felt for you? You certainly won't read them...right?
━ connected to: "you think it's unrequited"
━ genre: pining!!! extreme pining!! angst, barely any fluff
━ c/w: Jungkook goes through a depressive episode
━ leave a comment otherwise I’ll feed you mouldy cheese, don't test me. If you like my work and want to tip, here's my ko-fi. Thank you so much if you do!
Seoul in particular is the kind of city that never sleeps. Jungkook is once again made aware of it when he arrives late at night, kicks open the doors to his apartment and goes to lay down on the bed. Traffic, endless traffic and long strings of people trembling the air with an incessant series of enraged horns. Half-heartedly he greets Bam, plucking the squeaking toy out of the dog's mouth and flinging it to the far side of the room.
Fuck, he thinks, these are outside clothes; I should probably change.
He doesn’t.
Eagerly, Bam noses at his owner's arm, trying to get the man to play with him but at most Jungkook lazily pats his head. Lately, the only sound in his home had been the scratch of Doberman's nails against the glossy tiles. As he gets up Jungkook finds his head slightly spinning.
Eat, you should eat, he reminds himself. He has to do it himself now.
You didn't care for him and left, and he had to do this stupid thing all by himself. Immediately he shakes his head, chasing the resentment away. It wasn't your fault, none of it was your fault. And maybe it wasn't even his. It was just...not meant to be.
For the first time in weeks he actually manages to put forth some effort. Brushing back the hair from his face, the headphones squeeze tightly on his ears, preventing any sort of noise of traffic or ambulatory sirens. He cringes when seeing the biochemical weapon that is a half-finished bowl of ramen sitting next to the sink. There's even an egg there. Some days had gone by good but lately….it all grew to be very bad.
"When did I...? When did I even have this?" he mutters to himself but Jungkook lives alone. There's no one to answer.
The trash that veers dangerously over the side of the bin has to be split into two separate trips. The plastic bag is thin and it rips easily from the strength that Jungkook has to grab it with. Hence, two trips.
The floor needs cleaning, he does so. Laundry...he takes a disgust ridden glance at the array of dirty socks and underwear littered all over the bathroom floor that cannot even be seen from the sheer scale of used clothes piling on top of it. Yeah, laundry definitely needs doing.
As the washing machine goes off in the distance, with no small amount of guilt Jungkook looks at Bam. The dog's eyes are wide and glistening, holding no grudge towards his depressed owner. His tail wags expectantly the longer Jungkook keeps staring.
"Who's a good boy?" his voice though betrays him and cracks, failing to at least simulate the same joy Bam exudes. Jungkook reaches for the snacks — the empty paper crumbles between his fingers. He should go out and buy them. Thank god for Young-mi; had she not volunteered, Bam would have probably not been going out for his much needed walks. He should go out...not just for Bam. The dog has probably seen more sun than Jungkook has, but the mere thought of leaving his house kills a small part within him. It takes all of his strength to even make this empty home of his a somewhat habitable environment.
When he's done, hours into cleaning, there's almost a sense of accomplishment washing over him but before the pleasant feeling can fully settle into Jungkook's bones, finally turning his life back into somewhat normal form, the realization hits him. You won't know that he deep cleaned his apartment, you won't know that he cut his finger washing the knife and neither will you point out the choice of his band-aid (green sharks) with that distantly curious gleam in the eye because Jungkook himself won't be able to tell you any of this. Because you won't be here. Sometimes it hits him too hard and he cannot find his way back to the surface anymore.
Bam comes up to his leg, poking his wet nose into Jungkook's knee. Numbly he turns to look down.
"Sorry, boy, no walks tonight."
Bam's head droops lower and it isn't long before he waddles sadly away, settling in the corner to disinterestedly chew on his favourite toy. Whatever scraps of seaweed and rice Jungkook can scrounge up from the deserted fridge, he eats quickly and with little interest. The bed and his subsequent need to rot in it is begging for his attention but the glint of his laptop — open and left behind on the coffee table — catches his attention at the very last second.
He won't be able to tell you...in person that is. It's been a week since he last wrote to you. He misses you.
Grabbing the laptop, he digs himself underneath the covers, waiting for the email to load.
How many messages has he written to you? 100? 200? By now he's stopped counting. What's the point?
Clicking on a new message, he gathers himself. Despite knowing that you've certainly deactivated your email by now, knowing that you won't ever read this he still feels some semblance of anxiety ripple through his body. Gasping in a deep breath, he relaxes himself, finding strength in the newfound mantra.
They don't care about you. They won't read any of this. It's like talking to yourself.
Hey, no one said mantras had to be happy, right?
subject: btw I did a deep clean :D
Hi!
It's been a week since I last wrote to you. Can't say it's been fun. How are you? Are you fine? Are you still liking life back home? You used to complain that you couldn't get the proper ingredients here in Korea...
"Still" liking the life back home...Jungkook scoffs at the choice of his own words, aggressively bringing his finger of wrath upon the backspace button. "Still"...as if you had liked it here. As if you had liked him! He shakes his head once more. For all the supposed numbness that he felt instead of pain, there was a surprising amount of bitterness breaking ever so often through the flimsy pretense he had constructed ever since you left.
“You need any help?”
He didn’t even particularly want to help you. It was 2:30 in the morning and only now he could go home. He was drenched in sweat and undoubtedly stinky, the strands of hair clung disquietingly to the back of his neck and he just wanted to go home. But you looked so damn…confused. Frankly, if he wouldn’t help you it most likely would be a violation of the civil law.
Your tired eyes travelled from the dimly lit phone in your hand to his face and as you scrutinised him from head to toe, he unwittingly shivered.
There’s no such thing as ghosts, Jungkook told himself, ghosts don’t use phones.
The blankness of your stare disturbed him and after hearing a quiet, barely audible “no” fall out your lips, he bolted, jumping into an elevator without a single glance backwards.
So much for a meet-cute.
He blinks out of the frayed memory, taking in the newly reviewed mail
subject: btw I did a deep clean (of my house) :D
It's been a week since I last wrote to you. Can't say it's been fun. I hope you like being back home.
I like you.
He reads it with a heavy sigh but proceeds to send it anyway tossing then his computer aside with an easy flick of the wrist. Not like you’ll ever read it.
subject: where did you go? :0
Hello, _____________. This is Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook. Of BTS… but I’m sure you probably know that.
I got this email address from one of my managers, well, I may have bullied them a little bit (ヾ;￣▽￣)ヾ but it was for a good cause!
Anyways I was wondering about next week’s show. You promised me to help with the speech, you know my English is not good╥﹏╥ but I’ve been trying to find you for the whole week and it’s like you disappeared! Even my managers were all incredibly tight lipped about it. Just let me know if you’re still up to helping me. If not, it’s fine.
I hope you’re not sick, health is important you know!
Whichever it is — whether you’re sick, out of Seoul or just don’t want to see me, please, write to me so I’d know (⌒_⌒;)
Sincerely,
Jeon Jungkook.
subject: are you okay?
So uhh…the show is over and I haven’t seen or heard from you. The speech didn’t go so well since I was so worried about you my head was fuzzy but it’s whatever. Life goes on hahaha. I am starting to get a bit worried haha don’t scare me haha. I asked even other members about you but no one knows. The staff is telling me you didn’t have a desk to begin with so it’s not like I could just wait for you there…not that I would do that. I wouldn't….haha. Well, you were our jack—of—all—trades little helper, right? You always helped me with my jewelry and mic, and papers so it makes sense, doesn’t it? That you didn’t have a desk? Idk idk I’m suddenly shy (,,>﹏<,,)
Maybe you’re on vacation? I just thought of that lol it’s probably that. Sorry for bothering you, I hope you rest well! You deserve it, our little fairy!
Still if you could be so kind as to answer this message when you receive it, I’d be forever in your debt if you would!
Sincerely,
Jeon Jungkook.
subject:
You’re not on vacation. It’s been a month. HR hasn’t approved of you going away and you’re not on a sick leave.
Yes! Yes! I went to them! You’re not answering and I’m worried, and angry!
I thought we were friends! If you’re going through something then, please, let me know! How can I help? What can I do so you come back to us?
Sincerely,
a very pissed Jeon Jungkook.
subject: you left
The truth is out. I already said it in the subject but I’ll repeat it again, maybe to make it real. Maybe so that I would believe it.
You left. Wrote a resignation, packed up your shit and left. Just fucked off without saying why, without saying goodbye.
That’s what hurts the most. I wasn’t even worth enough to say goodbye to.
I really hate you.
subject: i don’t know, something
….hi.
It’s been a month.
How have you been?
I’m…not too good. I’m still here but…eh, I don’t know. The members say I’m sulking and I am in a way but more than anything I’m missing you. I’m missing the chances I had but didn’t take.
You know it took me a while to even like you. I thought you were so cold, in fact, I thought you despised me, hehe, well, maybe you do but I won’t know now, will I? I can’t exactly ask you, can I? Not to you who would answer as I’m fairly certain this email has been deactivated.
It’s the possibilities that hurt the most, you know. I don’t really know you, do I? I’ve never been at your home, never met your family, friends. I don’t know what type of water you like and I don’t know how soft your blanket is. Whether you use mouthwash or whether you shower in the morning or night. I don’t know these things but…I could have. Why didn’t I just ask? Why didn’t you for that matter? Was I…not the one for you?
Did you think the same as I did?
I remember when that first thought of you crossed my mind, of us being something…different. It was in the middle of a concert, remember? After the one we had in Seoul. You were maybe 6 months in, still awkward around everyone. You didn’t speak much I remember that. In those days whenever I asked anyone about you, they would say “real quiet but reliable”. I was sitting on the sofa, trying to catch my breath. It was Jimin’s solo so I could have some few seconds of peace and you were there, right in the centre of the pandemonium, absolutely calm. I remember how I wondered: "How can they be so collected? Do they not care?” but you did care. You were working on Namjoon’s jacket, weren’t you? Wardrobe malfunction. You weren’t even supposed to. Little helper is one thing but you’re not a stylist. Still you stepped in and calmly, diligently you made it whole again.
You probably don't know but you did the same thing to me. Only, of course, you undid me as well.
The decorations on top of that stupid jacket broke, just after we were finished but you didn’t mind. Namjoon showed it to you and you laughed. That was the first time I ever saw you happy. You said that it has fulfilled its duty and there’s no reason to worry anymore — it was all fine.
You never knew it but as I watched you from the sidelines I thought what if I would join you, offer a joke, make your smile last longer. I really wanted to but…
…but I didn’t. I wasn’t blind — you found it hard to fit and I didn’t want to intrude. You didn’t seem to enjoy my presence and if some people would see me with you, they’d give you a hard time and I didn’t want to burden you. You were just blooming open, my touch no matter how well-intended would just damage your petals so I didn’t. I packed up my things and I walked past you without saying anything.
What if I had? Would you have stayed then? Or would you have left all the same? Neither of us know the answer.
I don’t hate you, I’m sorry for writing so in the last letter. I didn’t mean it. I would never mean it. All I can hope for now is that you’re happy wherever you are.
Sincerely apologetic,
Jeon Jungkook.
subject: april again
Hello!
It’s April and you know what that means, I get saddled with a new tutor yey (⋟﹏⋞) It’s strictly formal now and honestly kind of boring. I know you weren’t really my tutor back in the day, just helping me on the side hehe but I still appreciate you. It was also April then, April 28th, that we finally spoke like two human beings. Your voice was so tired but you seemed curious—
Jungkook lifted his head from the laptop of his home, suddenly feeling the betraying sting bite at the bottom of his eyes.
“Don’t cry!” he scolded himself. “What’s the use of crying now that everything's done?”
Sensing his owner’s distress, Bam cautiously approached the crouched man and pressed his nose into Jungkook’s shin. He stared down at the dog, surprise in his expression hinting at the fact that for a second he’d forgotten Bam existed. For a second he was back with you.
April 28th
“What are you doing?” the voice sounding near him was quiet. Somewhat curious but even more so perturbed. Jungkook detached himself from the table he’d slouched upon in the throes of his utter defeat.
Seeing you though, the sleepy disquiet within him frayed and he swallowed nervously, trying his hardest to appear at complete ease.
“Regretting life choices,” he groaned conversationally. “You?”
“Just getting a soda,” you tossed your head towards the vending machine. It had an indent at the side. Rumour had it that one night Jin kicked it because he didn’t have enough money on him to buy a candy bar. It was, of course, just a rumour and Junkook knew it because he was the one who kicked the machine.
He did sort of feel bad about it but he had been hungry.
“Nothing nearly as dramatic.”
An awkward quiet settled between them. What are you thinking, Jungkook thought. He noticed the way your eyes lingered on him, a touch too long to be absolutely casual, and then quickly averted away as your lips pursed into a straight line, almost like you were reprimanding yourself.
Maybe because you were prohibited from talking to him? It wouldn’t be the first time such an order took place as much as Jungkook hated it.
“Do you need help?” your voice had been low, so deadpan he entirely missed that you’d spoken at all but when the realization hit, he had to force himself to not be too happy.
“It’d be nice if you did,” he gave a small smile, shuffling to make space for you on the couch. You stared at the newly liberated spot for a second but ultimately sat down if a bit stiffly.
Peering into his notebook, you asked him:
“What do you have to do?”
“Answer these questions using 10 words or less.”
You leaned your head to the side and as he took the next, shuddering breath, the scent of your shampoo filled him whole. It fit you like a glove. Immediately, he wanted more of it.
“That’s a strange exercise,” you muttered and as Jungkook’s throat grew dry, he only shrugged in response. You’d given him details, solid answers and explanations but he still failed miserably. He hadn’t heard a thing you said over the sound of his heart rushing.
Only the wet cold of Bam’s nose roused him from the memory. With a sad smile, he patted the dog’s head, feeling suddenly guilty to be looked at with such adoring eyes.
“Good boy,” he whispered as Bam’s tail thwacked against the floor of his empty and quiet apartment. “Good boy, Bam.”
subject: what’s next
Hello!
Have you been eating well? Have you been meeting up with friends? I remember you told me once, probably thinking I’ll forget it, that they’ve been missing you and you’ve been missing them. I didn’t forget — I remember. I hope you’ve gone out with them and that your cheeks glow the way they do when you’re really, really happy. I haven’t forgotten that either. I don’t want to.
I…uh…I’ve stopped crying. I don’t why that’s so awkward to say, I mean you’re not even here. If anything I’m talking to myself. It’s a bit sad, isn’t it hehe. Don’t judge me, please.
Anyways I’ve stopped tearing up at random times. Now I’m just…I don’t know — numb? Unmotivated? In those few rare free days I don’t do much — just lie in my bed. I don’t have the strength to get out of it. Though some days it’s not so bad — I’m almost the way I was before. I go out, I eat ice-cream, take Bam out for good long walks — it’s almost normal but then inevitably I crash and I don’t want to move or go anywhere, or even speak with anyone.
In fact, for the last week this is the most speaking I’ve done — writing this to you. I don’t why I keep it up but it helps. I myself don’t quite understand haha. I hope that tomorrow it’ll be a good day. My house has been a mess, my hair is kind of dirty and I think Bam is getting antsy cramped inside for extended periods of time. I have been declining my mom’s calls cause I don’t want to hear me like this. She’ll only worry and it’ll make the whole situation worse. I need to move but today I’ve sat here all day and thought of you.
subject: why?
wh do i =kep writinng to u? u;re nhot here whats the point?? whats the goodammn point>
jimin found ou t about the leterc
he didnt saay nuthign but the way he lookred at me…
pity
is ti a crime?????? to lvoe someone?? to want to tlak to them?? everyien else is lucjkf they cqan talk to thei r loved cnes but em?? im aloen so yesh i write yo you!! i wan t to be delusionalf i dont care fwha anyer says! youre my friend! iw ill talk to you aven if tis patheti c even if tish thoguht lettters youll nevar read! i dont caare1
jminn thiggks im crayz
an I?
have u maed me crazy?
subject: I’m sorry
So…I got really drunk yesterday (≡ε≡；) I can hold my liquor, don't get me wrong, but Jiminie drinks like he’s got a new liver lined up °՞(ᗒᗣᗕ)՞° But reading it over this morning (barely, my eyes are swollen) I recalled the fight that we had and that I never did apologize. I’m sorry that I took my anger out on you that one time. I should have said sorry already then. I didn’t but I was. Still am.
May, 22nd
“You were supposed to go home hours ago.”
By now, he was well familiar with the voice and its disinterested tembre. You always sounded so…bored and for some reason today of all days Jungkook got pissed off because of it.
You were always…looking down at him. Just like the others. You were judging him, weren’t you? Why else were you so distant? Why else did your face not change expressions as he got near you? You couldn’t stand him. You could see what he was behind the carefully curated smokescreen of what Jeon Jungkook was supposed to be. You saw him. Those weary, disturbingly observant eyes drilled right through what was supposed to be a charming, yet impenetrable wall. He didn’t truly know anyone and no one was supposed to truly know him. Yet in front of you he suddenly found himself bare.
“Why? Because you say so?” he spat from where he’d fallen on the floor. His ankle had given out and one point and when you came in he was panting from the pain. Of course, you’d see him in such a humiliating state.
You blinked mutely at his sudden harshness. You weren’t friends, you weren’t allowed to be friends but still the relationship was amicable. For coworkers. Barely.
“You’re upset,” flatly you stated, one hand gripping the door handle far too tightly.
“Yeah, no shit,” he grumbled. Why were you looking at him like that? Like you saw him?! Who even were you?!
“You’re upset but that’s no reason for you to talk to me like this.”
As cold as a bucket of winter river. Your voice washed over him and Jungkook found himself not an injured wolf baring his teeth and protecting his den but a puppy, sopping wet and scrambling uselessly against the palm that had seized him by the scruff.
“I’m a grown man.”
“Not right now.”
You both came to standstill, glaring obstinately at each other.
It had been the longest eye-contact Jungkook had with you. Shame it was out of anger.
You drew an exhausted sigh as Jungkook brittled.
“I understand you’re in pain and wanting perfection but be nicer to yourself.”
He scoffed harshly.
“I don’t need your pity.”
Something in your gaze grew utterly frigid and all at once he was rendered deeply afraid.
“And I’m not offering it to you.”
subject: I’m sorry
So…I got really drunk yesterday (≡ε≡；) I can hold my liquor but Jiminie drinks like he’s got a new liver lined up °՞(ᗒᗣᗕ)՞° Reading over that garbage this morning (barely, my eyes are swollen) I recalled the fight that we had and that I never did apologize. I’m sorry that I took my anger out on you that one time. I should have said sorry already then. I didn’t but I was. Still am.
For these last few days I keep thinking about what you said afterwards — when I finally mustered up the courage to grovel three days later. That I’m not someone you would pity and that I need not to apologize just change. You were so different then. You were strong. Stern. You didn’t take any of my shit and for that — thank you. I don’t know why but it made me love you more.
Huh. I just said it.
It’s kind of sad that you’ll never hear it.
subject: catching up! :D
HELLO!
It’s been two whole weeks since I last wrote to you. We’ve been so busy, I’ve barely had the time to sit down >⌓<｡
How are you? How is life back home? Did you meet up with those friends of yours? Did you find a new job? Did you find someone…new?
Maybe don’t tell me that last one haha
I’ve been…good. It’s a surprise really. I don’t miss you any less than I did yesterday or I will tomorrow but there’s not that horridly heavy sense in my chest today. I don’t know what happened in the moments before I wrote to you last and now. Maybe because I remembered how miserable you were here. You ate alone, no one really spoke to you. They liked you! They really did! I just guess…it’s too different here. It couldn’t have been easy to always think about what to say, how to say it and how people will perceive you. I pondered how I feel when overseas and I…I understand now why you were so closed off. You must have been protecting yourself, weren’t you? Like I was that day when my ankle was twisted.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful that you came here at all, that we met but…I don’t want you here at the cost of your happiness. I think I’ve finally come to terms with that you left. Better you’re happy somewhere else, at your home with the people and things you know rather than you’re miserable here with me. I was not much of a help to you, wasn’t I? Always so scared of my own feelings and possibilities of future failings that I never even considered the present and how lonely you must have felt. I’m sorry that I wasn’t better for you.
I hope you’re among better people now. You deserve the world.
subject: something weird happened
So as I said in the subject, something weird happened?? Do you remember Eun-joo? She came to the studio one day and you asked me whether she was my lover. I blushed so hard then (>\\\\\\<) I don’t even know why. Just hearing you say the word “lover” aaaah it sounded so scandalous hehehe I must be crazy
Anyway, back then I said no, well, I yelled it and your face scrunched up in that adorable way it does when you’re both surprised and confused but yesterday she…uh…asked me out? On a date?
You never knew this but uhm…I kind of had a crush on her before you came along. I never asked her out because our schedules conflicted so much we barely spoke and I’ve always liked better to ask someone out in person, you know. And then well you arrived and uh…
I think you get it.
But now you’re gone and I said yes to Eun-joo.
Uh…was I allowed to do that? Why am I asking you? 「(°ヘ°)
subject: hah
So….I went on a date and uhm…
I rejected her.
Well, somewhat. By the end of the evening, she was asking me about whom I was thinking about so much and well…it is true. I spent the entire night thinking about what you would have done, what you would have said instead of her. Unwittingly I found myself yearning not for her enthusiastic compliments but for your dry ass remarks.
We’ve decided to stay as friends.
I don’t think I’ll be dating anytime soon.
I’d say that I’m absolutely okay with you seeing someone but you know me — I’m jealous as all hell just thinking about it (￣ε￣)
Seoul in particular is the kind of city that never sleeps. Jungkook is once again made sure of that when he tries to sleep but cannot. Bam’s snores fill up the otherwise quiet room as he tosses to and fro. This last letter, about the deep clean, is not giving him rest. He keeps recalling that rainy day in the park, not even wishing he’d done things differently but just wishing he could still see you. That this…hope, twisting around his neck like a noose, would end. If he would bear no hope he wouldn’t still dream, would he? He would be able to rest, wouldn’t he?
God, he needs to rest. He’s given you his mind and soul and if you were his sun, you could spare him at least some clarity. He didn’t care anymore — be it cold or cruel. He needed to be let go even if he probably won’t let you go himself.
Jumping out the bed, he makes a quick beeline to the still running laptop. Bam rattles in his cage, disturbed by the sudden movement but his eyes fall too heavily to muster up a bark. Seconds later, he’s already slumbering. While Jungkook is wide awake, fingers clattering noisily against the keyboard.
June 16th
The small bottle of milk flowed just underneath his nose as heartless rain continued to pelt the ground below. Thick smell of petrichor swirled the air around. Stunned, Jungkook lifted his head and traced the hand that held the milk for him.
Seeing you he gave a feeble smile.
Of course you would be here when he thought he was alone.
“How did you find me?” he rasped, accepting the bottle though not moving to puncture the small foliage.
With a sigh, you settled on the swing next to his — it produced a horribly dragged out screech.
“I didn’t,” you shrugged. “I just walked by and saw you.”
“And just so happened to have my favourite brand of milk?” he arched an eyebrow and because the rain made his eyes blurry, he thought, he deluded himself for a second that you blushed. Blushed and darted your gaze guiltily away to settle upon the crowded Seoul horizon.
“I’ve noticed you drinking it so I bought it…to try,” you coughed and silence fell upon the world.
The day was hot, extremely humid, even the falling rain did not help in the matter. Why did he come here, to this empty park on the far side of the city Jungkook did not know. Could it be….no, that was impossible. Nothing so childishly romantic could not take root in a cruel, unforgiving reality.
“You’re feeling down again?” you inquired, swinging back and forth, the plastic bag swinging next to you. He wondered what you bought, what you ate to feel good and full.
“Yeah, just a bit,” he lied, scuffing the soles of his shoes against the ground.
“A bit,” you repeated in a barely audible mutter. “Are you sure it’s a bit?”
“Do you think I’m lying?”
But despite the shortness of time, Jungkook had changed. His voice held neither malice, nor challenge. In fact the irony was all but obvious in the lilt of his tone. He was lying and you knew that he was.
“Yes,” easily, you replied, pulling a snort of amusement from the depths of his chest. “You’re mostly a terrible liar but also surprisingly good when it comes to hiding yourself.”
“And are you?” Jungkook asked, daring for the first time to take a proper look at you. It was so…difficult. For him it was like staring at the sun. It was oftentimes easier to not look lest he dreamt too much. “Are you a good liar?”
You stared at the ground, closing your eyes for a brief second of what seemed to be utter heartbreak.
“I’m an excellent liar,” you murmured. When you opened your eyes once more, the bout of sudden vulnerability was gone. You shuck it off like dogs did water and once again Jungkook sat absolutely mesmerized at how you were able to do it.
“But it can’t be helped,” you concluded firmly.
“Why are you an excellent liar?” Jungkook teased you further, feeling the beat of his heart stumble and clamber. Maybe…
“I’m in love with someone but…it’s not reciprocated,” you swung back and forth, purposefully avoiding his gaze.
The excited dash of his heart came crashing down, punching up arid bile at the back of Jungkook’s throat. In love with another, huh.
“Why do you think it’s not reciprocated?” gently, he questioned, gripping the milk between his trembling fingers.
“It just can’t be,” you refuted stubbornly. “I think he sees me in the same way people do…desks. Or notebooks.”
“Notebooks?”
“Yeah, you know,” you pursed your lips and the sheer amount of grief that passed your features made Jungkook sick. Whoever this son of a bitch was that made you this said deserved a motorbike in the face. “People can genuinely like their stuff until they’re in good use but once that use runs out,” you sucked a breath through your gritted teeth. “They replace it and forget all about them in the end. It’s that sort of like.”
“That smooth-brained son of a bitch,” he cried out angrily. “Damn, I should beat that foul smelling dickwad to the last inch of his life. How dare he treat our fairy like that?!”
Tearily you laughed and more than anything Jungkook wanted to hold your hand and lull the pain. But he couldn’t. He had no place in your life. Not really. So he held the milk instead — the bottle popping up from the pressure underneath his palm.
Dumbly, you both looked as it leaked down onto the ground.
“Smooth-brained,” you chuckled to yourself. “Perhaps. But he smells nice.”
Jungkook tried not to sulk at this new piece of information. Too many nice-smelling but dumb people rolled around the circles of his acquaintances — he couldn’t track the son of a bitch down even if he tried. He had no idea how lucky he was. Jungkook’s sun was giving him warmth and he dared not to care for it.
“What’s got you looking so dour yourself?”
“Oh,” he swallowed nervously, his gaze rapidly growing so hazy, even when staying still, he could swear the world was trembling. “I like someone myself. They’re kind to me, strict albeit kind, however…” he sat, transfixed somberly on the ground. One glimpse at you and he’d break. One glimpse and he’d force this ocean of his feelings upon you. He’d make you feel bad — it was always awkward to hear a love confession from someone whom you did not like. So he had to be strong. Had to be strong for you, as strange as it sounded. “I’m not good enough for them.”
“That’s nonsense,” you scoffed, beginning to swing back and forth. The ends of your shoes grew wet as briefly you found yourself amidst the rain.
“I meant me, just Jeon Jungkook, is not good enough,” he clarified with an eye roll. “I didn’t mean Jungkook the idol.”
“Neither did I."
The rain kept pouring the entire afternoon and it was one of the happiest days Jungkook had ever lived through.
Shame you left soon after.
subject: please
Even if...even if the year we spent together meant nothing to you, that the kindness you extended towards me, that the help you sent my way unknowingly pulling me from a pit of inescapable darkness is nothing but an empty void, no more deserving of your attention than the dirt on the side of the road, I beg of you to be gracious once more. Just write to me. Just one letter is all I ask for. No matter what you have to say, should it be something as little as one singular "bye", please, write to me. I'll keep you in my thoughts, forever most likely as you've made your home in them.
Sincerely,
Jeon Jungkook.
tagging: @pinkcherrybombs; @devilsbooksworld; @btsiguess-kpop; @belladaises; @halesandy; @seok-jinnies; @themochiverse; @cuteipat; @ratherbefangirling; @manchuria; @chimchimmarie; @smalliechelle; @koostarcandy; @flitzerj; @royallyjjk; @dreamamubarak; @anti-social-mochi267; @jung-nika-hoseok; @silverliningsandstorms;
© soraviie, 2023
#bts scenarios#bts angst#jungkook x y/n#jungkook scenarios#jungkook angst#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#bts drabble#bts oneshot#jungkook drabble#jungkook oneshot
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Revenge pt. 1
synopsis: Y/N is Tengen's fourth wife and a Hashira in training. After a sudden turn of events, she decides to leave her home and divorce her partner(s). Not before enacting revenge.
pairings: Tengen Uzui x Reader
genre(s): Hurt, No Comfort
warning: ANGST. neglect. crying. mention of dead parents. Lying. Insults. whining. betrayal. favoritism. mention of depression. minor grammar mistakes
w.c : 1.6k
I didn’t know he was married.
Not until after he proposed to me.
Tengen Uzui had three wives and no one told me.
Not the master, not the other Hashira, who I considered my colleagues— no one.
But, I didn’t let the new knowledge deter me. I still loved him with everything I had, so I decided to marry him. I became his fourth wife. A title I grew to tolerate over time. Hina, Suma, and Makio were darling women. They always managed to make me feel loved. Invited me to missions and helped with personal errands. I grew fond of them. They comforted me when my parents died from a demon attack and encouraged me to take a break from slaying. They stood by my side during my grieving process and even hit Tengen when he was being insensitive. As time went on, I managed to fall in love with them as well.
The five of us grew to be a family and I couldn’t be any happier.
“I’m home!” I yelled from the door, tossing my weapons to the side.
I waited for the familiar pater of multiple pairs of feet rushing my way, but nothing ever came. I slipped off my shoes and walked into the home. I peeked my head into every room, hoping to catch a glimpse of at least one of my wives, but the estate seemed to be empty. Even the servants had seemed to disappear, which made my heart beat quicken. Worry stripped through my being as I checked the outside perimeter of the house. I gazed at the nearby trees and looked for any abnormal footprints in the snow— there weren’t any. I didn’t find any pools of blood or piles of flesh anywhere on the estate, so I ruled out a possible demon attack. But that left me with more questions than answers; where did everyone go and why was the house so goddamn quiet?
After spending the last hour or so raking through the possible answers to that question, I decided to take bath to ease my nerves. I unbuttoned my uniform and allowed the clothes to fall in a heap by the entrance. I eased into the water and practically moaned from the way it graced my skin. I leaned against the edge of the giant tub and stretched out my arms. My fingertips brushed against something coarse, completely catching me off guard. I looked over to the pile of towels nearby and saw something hidden underneath. It had been a diary. It belonged to Sumi. I eyed the book, carefully considering if I should invade her privacy. But, then I thought back to all the times Suma would snoop through my room and “borrow” my accessories. I guess it was my time to shine.
I flipped through a few pages, lazily skimming random sentences.
Tengen is so handsome!
I love it when he wears his hair down.
He looks so good when he’s shirtless.
EVEN HIS SCARS ARE ATTRACTIVE
I chuckled at that line. “This girl is down bad for her husband, how cute,” I said aloud.
Just when I decided that I had seen enough, I found my name at the start of a new page, in a sentence I never expected to see.
I wish Tengen would’ve never married Y/N.
Shock pierced through me, but I continued to read the entry.
I don’t know what she sees in her. She pretends like she’s some sort of queen or something. She walks around with her head held high and her chest puffed out. Kinda like she owns the place. Lord Tengen calls it confidence, but I think it’s arrogance. When I train with her, she doesn’t ever give me words of encouragement like everyone else. She simply tells me that I would “eventually get the hang of it” or to “better luck next time”. She never compliments me on anything and makes me feel like I’m doing everything wrong. She doesn’t give me hugs or cuddle me after we have sex. I asked Makio and Hina about it. I had to see if I was truly going insane. And they agree— Y/N is a horrible wife. She barely cooks and refuses to do anything but train. From sun up to sun down, this woman is training. Maybe she thinks that training will bring her parents back or something—
I closed the book before I could see more. I tossed it to the side and simply closed my eyes. I paused for a moment and attempted to gather my thoughts.
Suma didn’t like me.
And, according to her, neither did Makio and Hina.
I was a horrible wife because I didn’t show physical affection or give her compliments. To say that statement pissed me off was an understatement. I hated being touched, at least without consent. Whilst living a plus-size body, I noticed that many saw my flesh as some sort of playground. They would point and squeeze on my rolls. Jiggle the fat underneath my arms and slap my ass without giving it a second thought. Strangers viewed me as if I were a dough ball and manhandled me as result. So, with that being said, I was not too fond of Sumi randomly hugging me whenever she had a meltdown. She would bury her face right into my breasts and wrap her arms around me so tight it was almost hard to breathe. As much as I tried to get used to it, I found myself detesting the action altogether. I tried to let her down lightly in the beginning, but she would just cry harder. Hold me tighter and make me even more uncomfortable. And, as for compliments, I was never really given any growing up with my parents. They would simply tell me “no, that’s not how you do it” or “yes, you finally got it right”. They never said “you’re an amazing fighter” or “you’re improving every day”. So, whenever I would try to complement Suma it always came out a little awkward.
What pissed me off about the entry was I had told Sumi about this, before the date it was written. I told them all about my trauma and my rocky relationship with my parents. I made myself an open book to my spouses and that was how they repaid me.
I washed my exhausted being and excited the bathhouse. I placed the diary back under the pile of towels and attempted to put the contents to the very back of my mind. I slipped into my favorite pajama set and tucked myself into bed. It didn’t take long for sleep to wash over me, since I already had a long day.
I was in a state between consciousness and unconsciousness when they stumbled in. I could feel the gentle moonlight sitting on my brown skin. The night breeze made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and shivers spilled down my spine. Yet, I refused to fully wake from my slumber. Something was pushing me to remain silent and half-sleep. I could hear their hushed voices bouncing off the wood walls. Their footsteps grow louder and louder as they grew closer to my room. The door was pushed open, creaking loudly from the action.
“Suma!” Makio hissed quietly. “Must you be so goddamn loud?”
“I’m sorry!” She whisper-yelled. “I just wanted to see if she was asleep.”
“Well,” Hina started, pausing for a minute. “She has that purple thing on her head, so she must be.”
“It’s called a “bonnet”, Hina,” Makio corrected. “She’s wearing her bonnet.”
“Well, she only wears her bonnet to sleep so. . .” Hina trailed off.
“So, she’s asleep,” Suma chimed in.
“Yes,” Makio said.
“That’s a relief,” Suma sighed. “I am not in the mood to hear her boring travel stories, anyway.”
“Ain’t that the truth?” Hina mumbled.
“Come on, guys,” Makio tried to lighten the mood. “They aren’t as bad. And, Sumi you don’t get to judge. You suck at almost everything!”
“Shut it, Makio,” the younger wife countered. “You’re just trying to be nice because Y/N always gives you the best gifts.”
“Well. . .” Makio trailed off.
“It’s because she’s so easy to please,” Hina added. “All you have to do is give her some kind of weapon and Makio is putty in your hands.”
“Hey!” She hissed. “That’s not true!”
“If it weren’t for those gifts, you’d hate Y/N as much as I do,” Suma added.
A silence amongst the three women and a tear rolled down my cheek.
“How about. . . we just get back to Lord Tengen?” Hina broke the silence. “I’m sure the bath is ready now.”
The room door closed and I lazily opened my eyes. I had spent too much time here. I had gotten comfortable. These women didn’t see me as their wife, nor did they see me as their equal. Their little conversation was just confirmation of what Suma wrote in her diary— they despised me to varying degrees. Hina seemed to tolerate me, while Suma just outright admitted she hated me. Makio just liked me for what I could give her. It was sad because I knew Tengen would enable them. Make excuses for them and neglect my emotions. It didn’t matter how much he loved me, he still loved them first and they were his priority. No matter how mad I was at that moment, I couldn’t act on impulse. Tengen would smell it right away. He would pay extra attention to me, which would make it harder to leave. I needed him to resume the hierarchy he partook in, so I could come up with a conducive plan.
I could no longer be with someone as flamboyant as him.
It was too much for me.
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Smut in the next part.
Let me know if you would like to be on the official taglist!
Masterlist Part 2
#uzui tengen#lord tengen#kny#kny tengen#kny fandom#kny fanfic#tengen x you#tengen x reader#tengen x y/n#tengen x wives x reader#betrayal prompt#trauma#uzui x y/n#uzui family#kny uzui#sumi uzui#hina uzui#makio uzui#chubby reader#x chubby reader#chubby!reader#demon slayer#kimetsu no yaiba#polyamory#polycule#suma tengen#black reader
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I just wanted to say regardless of whether you've seen the show that you're my favorite ST writer. I dont know how you capture the characters so well while further developing them perfectly but it's genuinely incredible. I must've read your steddie fics like 97 times just because I adore them <3 If you're still taking prompts, I'd love to maybe see Steve and Eddie! Maybe with "Oh this is too good to pass up" as the dialogue? Either way, you're incredible and I can't wait to read all your other work <3
Okay, wow this is VERY sweet ;w; You are so so kind anon. I think I'm getting better at writing them now after having practiced. Those first fics have a fond place in my heart for being the first ones, but every day I am tempted to rewrite them LMAO
anyways, I'm certainly far from perfect but I'm grateful that you enjoy them!! This warms my heart so much. I really do love writing them and the positive response to those fics made me wanna keep going and improve. Still haven't seen the show yet but honestly I'm chilling in this little niche I've carved for them.
Hopefully this fic makes you happy and pushes me a lil closer to being worthy of the honor of being your fav. Really hope you enjoy--I fuckin love these boys <3
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Ahoy, Sailor
You can read this as a season three au or as season four. Either way, Steve and Eddie have a bitchy will they/won’t they rivalry situation going on. Eddie REALLY likes pushing Steve’s buttons.
It’s not unusual for Eddie to find his way to the Harrington house for some excuse or another, but he’ll admit it’s unusual to be invited. He tends to just appear and haunt Steve unasked. It’s more fun that way.
Steve had called him, muttering something about how Eddie needed to come pick up his vest because it ‘smelled like a depressed hippie’. Eddie had fired back that Steve’s room couldn’t possibly smell any better without it, and their usual bickering had Eddie leaving fifteen minutes later with a grin on his face.
He loves Steve. Messing with him, that is. So, naturally, when Eddie ascends the stairs and sees Steve dressed like a little schoolboy, he takes a minute to compose his best jokes.
“Ahoy, sailor.” Eddie whistles, leaning in the doorway to Steve’s room. He drinks in the Scoops Ahoy uniform and all it blessedly has to offer.
“Wh—oh, fuck off. It’s laundry day.” Steve rolls his eyes.
“Aye aye, cap’n.” Eddie salutes. Steve flips him off.
“Cool the attitude, sassy lost child.” Eddie snorts. There’s piles of clothes on every surface in the room, arranged in a way that suggests intention but would baffle even the most equipped psychologist. Eddie wants to ask about the system here, but he knows he’s no better, so he just watches Steve flit around with a little pout on his face.
“You look like Donald Duck’s worst cousin.” Eddie snickers into his fist.
“You done?” Steve puts his hands on his hips.
“For now.” Eddie shrugs. Steve huffs.
Steve keeps rooting through the piles on the floor--slow enough to be mesmerizing, but fast enough where he’s clearly looking for something specific. Oh, his vest. Laundry. Eddie scans the room until, aha--he spots it hanging over the back of Steve’s desk chair, smooth and loved. Striking, compared to the state of everything else. Eddie smiles before he can catch himself.
“My vest is over there.” Eddie jerks a thumb towards Steve’s desk.
“Yeah, I see that.” Steve gives him a perplexed look. He shakes his head and keeps drifting through the clothes.
“Then what are you looking for?” Eddie ventures, stepping into the room properly. As much as he wants to, he doesn’t shrug his vest on. It feels like a conclusion of business, a visual excuse for Steve to kick him out despite the olive branch he’s inexplicably extended.
“A shirt. Robin’s got a date to impress.” Steve sorts through a pile. He looks between a yellow sweater and a green one, sighs, and tosses them both aside.
“By wearing…your clothes?”
“Yes, Munson, keep up.” Steve puts a hand on his hip. “She’s gonna be here eventually, probably freaking out, and I wanna give her two options. Just two. She’s gotta look good, but she’s gotta be comfortable.”
“Right.” Eddie nods slowly, as if this makes sense.
“Hey, make yourself useful. I’ve got this shirt, uhm, dark blue? With a little stripe? If you find it, let me know.” Steve flaps a hand at him. Eddie knows precisely the shirt--it fits Steve distractingly well.
“I’ll get right on that, sweetheart.” Eddie flops backwards on the bed. Steve shoots him a withering look. Eddie gives his most charming smile and folds his arms behind his head.
God, he loves this part of their little dance. The way Steve looks at him, the undeniable fondness buried beneath the exasperation—it’s a thrill.
Steve tugs at a shirt underneath Eddie’s body, but he can’t get it free. He heaves a belabored sigh.
“Do you mind?” Steve’s eyebrow twitches.
“Not at all. I’m enjoying myself immensely.” Eddie smirks.
“If you stretch out my shirt, I’m gonna push you in the goddamn pool. Get up!” Steve jabs Eddie in the side. Eddie giggles and flinches violently.
Steve Harrington is looking at him as if he’s the best present he���s ever received, and while some deep and unacknowledged part of Eddie does flips at the sight, it’s terrifying.
“Oh, this is too good to pass up.” Steve crawls onto the bed after him, his devilish grin curling wider by the second. Eddie’s face burns and he scrambles to flee, but Steve’s already on top of him.
“Don’t you dare, Harring—aaah!” Eddie’s soul and dignity flee him in a high-pitched shriek.
“Holy shit. I’m barely touching you.” Steve staccato pokes him everywhere he can reach, quick and light, and Eddie can’t stop the giggles bursting from him in waves. He wants to think of something witty to say, but it tickles, and Steve’s smirking—it’s a lot to ask of man under these conditions.
Steve starts tickling him in earnest, his fingers skittering wherever they can reach. When Steve trips up his ribs, Eddie arches like he’s being hit with a defibrillator. He smushes his face into his hands, hoping maybe he’ll smother himself and they can call this a day, but Steve tuts at him and pulls his hands away from his face.
“No way you’re this ticklish,” Steve says again—does he really need to rub it in—and gives Eddie’s sides a curious squeeze. Eddie shrieks and flips himself over, attempting to crawl towards freedom.
“Where’re you going?” Steve drags Eddie back into place by his waist. He makes an incoherent whining noise that breaks off into laughter and goes limp on the bed. He tries to roll back over but Steve is solid on top of him. Being face-down gives him the small mercy of being able to hide his face while he cackles.
God, he didn’t even know that the back of someone’s ribs could be ticklish. Holy hell.
Eddie grabs at Steve’s knee and releases a desperate jumble of syllables. Steve yelps and falls backwards off the bed.
Eddie peeks at him over the edge of the bed, laughter petering off into gentle embers. Steve stares up at him, wide-eyed. Eddie backtracks, trying to figure out why a simple touch would’ve elicited such a big reac—oh. Oh.
Steve’s halfway down the stairs before Eddie even realizes he’s gone.
“Hey! Get back here!” Eddie skids after him two stairs at a time, swiping at the back of Steve’s shirt.
Eddie tackles Steve over the back of the couch, both of them a tangle of screeching, flailing limbs. Steve’s stronger but Eddie is scrappy, having long since abandoned his self-preservation instincts. Steve tries to roll them over and Eddie goes limp. Steve grunts under the deadweight, and it gives Eddie the two seconds he needs to clamber on top of him properly.
“Now—“ Eddie finally wrestles Steve down, huffing a lock of hair out of his eyes— “What the everloving fuck was that?”
“Nothing.” Steve’s poker face is good, but Eddie can see right through that easy smile. He walks his fingers across Steve’s stomach. Steve inhales sharply.
“Didn’t sound like nothing.” Eddie raises his eyebrows innocently. Steve narrows his eyes at him, but his fake smile is very slowly twitching into a real one.
Spurred on, Eddie kneads into Steve’s stomach, gentle and a little clumsy. Steve trembles under him, wrenching a hand free just to cover his face. Little huffs and snickers wobble out of him.
“Dishing out what you can’t take? Oh, this is precious.” Eddie snickers. Steve shoves his hand into the side of his face to push him away. Eddie licks it.
Steve screeches, but that breaks the dam. The first beautiful sound from him is a snort. Eddie gasps happily, then laughs right along with Steve.
It’s not that Steve doesn’t laugh, he does, but it’s often the restrained chuckle that Eddie loves to give every royal NPC in his campaign. Eddie’s never heard anything like this, this bubbly rush littered with voice-cracks and little bouts of nose-scrunched hiccups. He didn’t know Steve was even capable of these kinds of noises.
The stupid little Scoops shirt rides up and Eddie takes advantage of bare skin. Steve squeals and goes boneless on the couch. He hits Eddie with the full brunt of his smile, unfiltered and radiant, and something in Eddie’s chest flutters.
“EddieEddieEddie--” Steve snorts again, and the speed at which his face turns scarlet suggests embarrassment. Eddie can’t imagine why.
“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.” Eddie reaches behind him and finds Steve’s knee, tickling just where the goofy shorts stop, and Steve wails. He curls his head into Eddie’s chest and seems to resign himself to die there. Eddie has absolutely no feelings about how warm Steve feels or the desperate little leg kick he does.
Steve grabs Eddie’s wrists and he relents, figuring the promise of future mischief is a sufficient tradeoff for a truce. Steve collapses back into the couch cushions with a delirious little giggle, rubbing his hands over his beaming face. Steve peeks at him overtop his hands, then snickers again.
The longer they sit here, both breathing a little hard, the longer Eddie has to notice the gentle warmth and curve of Steve’s eyes. A hysterical man would call them doe-like. Eddie accepts this new state of being and leans a little closer. His guitar pick necklace dangles over Steve’s chest. Steve’s jaw falls slack, eyes flitting to Eddie’s lips. Eddie’s hair falls in a frizzy curtain around them both.
Eddie doesn’t see Robin so much as he hears her—the screech of disgust bounces off every wall. He pops his head up and they make direct, unfortunate eye contact. She shoots him an all-knowing look with her beady, accusatory little eyes and he gives her his most threatening zip it gesture.
Steve decides that that’s the moment to counterattack, sending a cackling Eddie toppling off the cushions and onto the floor. Steve slides down after him, ducking under a flailing arm and scribbling his fingers wherever he can reach. Eddie curls up like a pillbug. He can hear Robin saying something but it's unintelligible over the sound of his own laughter.
“I know, right?” Steve grins back at her, then looks back to Eddie. Softly.
Steve has the audacity to wink at him. Eddie files that little moment away for Tonight Eddie to scream into a pillow about, and instead focuses on launching a counter-counterattack that’ll save his life.
#my fics#steddie#stranger things#eddie munson#steve harrington#ticklish!steve harrington#ticklish!eddie munson#me answering this ask and sweating: dont write an essay dont write an essay there's already a fic attached to this dont--#anyways thank you anon ive been sitting on these kind words for a little bit and it really means a lot to me. <3#kind anons carry this blog on their backs fr#also codependent besties stobin are everything to me. robin steals steves clothes and then he just starts giving them to her#also at the end robin definitely is saying that eddie laughs like a goblin and steves like yeah. he does <3#continuation of the 'robin has a key to steve's house' saga
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This is sorta random and personal so apologies for how out of place this is haha \(//∇//)\ But today I cleaned my room.
I’ve been going through a bad depressive episode these past couple of months. While I’ve had problems with depression for several years now, I’ve been able to maintain a decently neat room because it really helped me with my motivation and stress. I enjoyed cleaning everyday and sorting out my things just for the fun of it. But these past months, stuff was piling up. Clothes, dishware, just random clutter everywhere. Every time I wanted to clean, I just felt too ashamed of myself to getting to this point, that I was too overwhelmed to even start. I got used to the clutter on my desk and chairs and bed and floor, to the point I couldn’t walk around or even sit as freely in my room without moving the piles from one place to another.
So today I cleaned. Im not sure why I did. I think today was the first time I didn’t feel so ashamed with myself when looking at the mess. I would say that I forgave myself, but I think there was nothing to forgive in the first place. I never have believed that someone was a bad person because of a messy room, so neither am I. I made my bed, hung up the clean clothes and put others in a basket to wash. Threw away the trash, and even washed my trash can before putting in a trash bag to make it easier to remove future messes. I took the dishware out my room to wash. Put away the clutter on my desk by putting items back in their rightful place. I wiped and sanitized my desk, and I almost wished I took a picture of how it was before because I can’t believe how clean it looks. There’s actually space now to draw again comfortably, and surprise surprise, I’m in the mood to draw after weeks of not doing so! (*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)
After all that, I was pretty exhausted so I left to make something to eat. When I came back into my room, ngl I cried ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´ω`ﾟ)ﾟ｡ It felt like I was coming home after months of being gone. I find myself looking around my room repeatedly, because I’m still in disbelief over how nice and neat it all looks. I got so used to the mess that I forgot how it used to be. I cried again writing this haha, I’m a very emotional person. I don’t know…I was reminded of how happy cleaning used to make me feel. A burden inside me has been sorted out, alongside the piles of clothes and clutter. I still have some work to do, but I’m going to vacuum soon since my floor is clear again. I can’t say for sure if this is a step forward towards better days, but I will hold onto this happiness and try my best to be kinder to myself.
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So I was in the hospital for three weeks in May with severe fungal pneumonia. I needed to have a bronchoscopy and they found my right lung completely blocked with phlegm. No breath sounds. Super fun, let me tell you.
I actually ended up telling my nurses and the charge nurse that I was autistic when they wanted to move me to a louder, busier floor. Thankfully they let me keep my quiet room on the quiet floor.
While I was in the hospital I got a call from my brother (who I live with), checking up on me and letting me know that he was super pissed about the state my room was in (papers, stuffed toys everywhere, unmade bed, clothes folded in a corner because I have no dresser, which he's responsible for). He told me that he and my sister-in-law were going to clean it for me. I told him not to touch anything, my therapist was helping me with it and we were making progress. He said they were starting next weekend whether I was there or not. Of course I wasn't there in time because I developed a secondary infection and needed to stay longer.
After I was released from the hospital, I found most of my bedroom in the living room. Bags of clothes, bags of stuffed animals, blankets, pillows, medical papers, my stories, almost everything. Despite me being exhausted and just wanting to nap, my brother gave me a bunch of my papers to sort through. Then he dragged in bags of stuffed animals. The rule! He'd dump out a bag, I could pick one toy. Each bag held about eight. I had around thirty stuffed animals. These were all important to me. They all had names, some I'd had since childhood, all were great for my anxiety and doctor appointments. It was really really difficult, and I lost my words and could only point. Some choices I made, he wanted to know why instead of just setting them aside. I made myself talk because the thought of losing them because I couldn't speak was intolerable. He gave me a couple extra here and there and then accused me of trying to manipulate him.
After the stuffed animals we went through my baby dolls which is a whole other level of trauma. I still have some of them, thankfully. I'm working with my therapist regarding this because I'm so incredibly angry and depressed about it. I'm an adult and he has no right to my stuff even if he does pay the majority of the rent, but I get SSI and can't afford to move out. I'm here as long as they'll have me.
All my stuffed animals are in a scented garbage bag in my closet (brother and sister-in-law know I have asthma in addition to pneumonia recovery, but nah, why not).
Other annoying and frustrating bullshit relating to this:
- I'm not allowed to close my door anymore unless I need to change. I thought it was because he was worried I would pile junk up again. Nope. It's because "you don't deserve privacy". Wow, flashback to my actual childhood. At least he hadn't taken the door off the hinges like my loser father did. Anyway, brother dearest wanted me to keep it all the way open minus changing, and I had a panic attack because I hate being stared at/NEED PRIVACY GODDAMIT and he just blew it off. I begged all day and finally got the okay to keep my door closed halfway. I'm still completely screwed when perfume/smoke/garlic wafts in, but whatever. Better than nothing I guess.
Things I lost:
About 15 books out of roughly 170. I got lucky here, he wanted to cut my books way down. Yes, they were all already in bookcases.
35 stuffed animals. This includes my bulbasaur, eevee, umbreon, and beanie baby collection (new, not vintage) that he 'accidentally' threw out before he let me look at them.
My Monster High dolls, because they're against his religion? I guess? He just grabbed them and told me, "You know why these are going" and threw them in the trash.
Five or six of my Funko pops. I actually only have a few displayed now because I hid the rest.
My three extra backpacks, which used to come in handy for clinic/hospital shit, but oops, not anymore.
MY WHOLE ASS SQUISHMALLOW COLLECTION, WHICH WAS MAYBE FIVE, HE JUST THREW THEM THE FUCK AWAY.
ALSO WORTHY OF SCREAMING: THE LOSS OF THREE OF MY BABY DOLLS.
ALSO ALSO FUCKING STITCH
Stuff I still have:
Lots of books, thank God.
My six American Girl dolls and one bitty baby.
All of my current barbies and some of my vintage.
My Polly Pocket collection (new, not vintage)
My Kingdom Hearts and Final Fantasy figures
My L.O.L. dolls, but only because they were in my backpack.
The rest of my Funkos
My dvds
Gundam model kits
15 stuffed animals/childhood cabbage patch doll/rainbow brite
Bumbly is at the bottom of the godforsaken scented trash bag (I think. I hope so. I need to look when my lungs get back to baseline), but he's gonna need to be washed anyway. So as some form of rebellion, I bought another Bumbly bear. Her name's Elora.
#teddy bears#autism#anxiety#sensory overload#actually autistic#depression#rant#tw: some form of abuse
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Sigh this fuxking sucks dude
#i was like yeah im cool im fine new clothes that fit pretty alright but then i remembered big :/#then i had to go through all my depression room clothes pile to sort through what im keeping bc like#only half of it fits and just. i forgot about a lot of clothes i really loved. i have to get rid of so much.#theres these little shorts i loved that i bought fall 2019 in the after summer sale and i was so ready to wear them and only got like#maybe five uses out of them. the same for another little pair of denim shorts. then i didnt go out at all last year and got fat and oh no#they dont fit anymore boo hoo so now i have to get rid of them but they were so much MONEY and i barely wore them and we just had to like#buy a whole new wardobe for me because i didnt FIT anything even the clothes i took to school like#barely fit i had to go and buy more pants for myself and just. ugh. i hate gaining weight i do i hate it so much#and its like im fine i am but also sometimes im just reminded of how fucking massive i am and im always gonna get bigger and ugh ugh ugh#so now im lying here on the AIR MATTRESS! NOT EVEN THE BED! BECAUSE I HAVE TO CLEAR IT! AND JUST. GOD.#there isnt even anywhere to PUT my clothes. there isnt. its all on my chair when its off the bed. this sucks.#ill just get yelled at for it too like :/ ugh maybe the way to do things isnt to make your kids feel responsible for you being overwhelmed#and making you feel like shit. i hate this. i forgot how depressing being home is.#roxy talks
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oh can i request fluff prompt 3 with pieck please 🥺
Stay (Even If Just For Tonight)
Mars' Valentine's Day Event | Wattpad | Ao3
Prompt: “Can you stay? Just for tonight, please. I don’t want to be alone with my thoughts.”
“I'll stay for as long as you need.”
“Rain. Again.” You think to yourself as you watch the cars drive by outside the window. The water splashes against the grass and it creates piles of mud, another thing you aren’t too fond of.
It wasn’t uncommon for a certain type of depression to come crashing over you during rainy days and Pieck knew it all too well. So she always made a point to come over to your house and spend most of the day with you before she had to go back to work.
“Love, stop looking outside.” She says in a sweet voice as she enters the room, a tray in her hand that holds two mugs filled with some warm tea she had just recently made. “Come sit on the couch with me.”
“It’s the third day in a row that it has been raining.” You reply, adjusting the blanket that covers your legs. “The once beautiful blue sky has been gray for so long that I now feel like it’s a part of who I am.”
“Y/N, it’s going to be fine if you just stop looking out the window.” Pieck replies as she tries to hold back a giggle. She is the only one who can deal with you in these dramatic times.
“Oh but these dark days cloud my soul.” You begin your dramatic speech once more but she raises her hand, immediately forcing you to shut yourself up.
“I have chocolate chip cookies, come cuddle with me.” She says and immediately a spec of light returns to your eyes.
But before you could have time to stand up, a loud thunder came crashing down and suddenly, all the power was gone. Not only at yours but at every other house around the neighborhood, the darkness swallows it all whole.
A yelp makes its way past your lips and you can’t help but curl yourself into a small ball, throwing a blanket over your head much like a scared little kid.
Gently, Pieck places down the tray and walks over to you, arms wrapping around your body as she tightly squeezes you. Her head rests on your back and she doesn’t let you go until you have stopped shaking, which takes a few minutes.
“It’s ok, you’re safe in my arms.” She repeats quietly, hands traveling up and down your back in the hopes of giving you any sort of comfort.
The wind outside becomes stronger and you can see the light post the fell to the ground, causing the blackout. Leaves fly from the trees in a similar way as if they were running away, branches hit the window and the sound makes your heart race.
Though soon, you give into Pieck’s warm embrace and allow her to comfort you. The sound of her breathing covers the loud bangs coming from outside and the tightness of her hug washes away every negative feeling you have at the moment.
Carefully not to startle you, she takes your hand. Her fingers are still pruney from the dishes she was doing not too long ago but they are still soft. Gently, Pieck manages to get you to stand up and guides you towards the blue couch.
The blanket that once covered your legs now hits the floor and a cold breeze hits your now exposed skin. You can’t help but shiver in response.
Once you are seated, she reaches for the cloth that was once wrapped around your legs as you were sitting on the window and, with all the love in the world, she covers you with the blanket, though you miss the feeling of her body against yours.
After that, Pieck turns on the flashlight on her phone while she searches
It doesn’t take her long to sit beside you once more. She picks up one of the mugs and purses her lips together, blowing the steam away before taking a long sip out of its content. She hums delighted once the flavor takes over her taste buds.
“You should try it. It’s your favorite.” She says, pointing towards the mug with a drawing of your favorite cartoon character on it. You smile, noticing the small details she went through to make sure you have a nice afternoon.
“Thank you, Pieck.” You reply and she nods, taking a bite out of one of the cookies. “Chocolate chip you said?”
“Yes, I baked some before I came over, so they are somewhat fresh.” Pieck responds with a smile of her own. Some crumbs fall onto her lap and she sighs, swiping them away with the back of her hand.
“Pieck.” You whisper, averting your gaze. You can feel as her curious eyes watch your every movement and a few rebellious tears begin to burn in your eyes. “Can you stay? Just for tonight, please. I don’t want to be alone with my thoughts.”
“I'll stay for as long as you need.” She responds, her fingers slowly traveling through your cheeks all the way down to your chin as she turns your head, ever so gently forcing you to look at her. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” You respond in a heartbeat.
���So what shall we do with the rest of our day?” Pieck asks, take another sip out of her tea.
“We could make a fire and cuddle in front of it.” You offer and her eyes light up. She immediately stands, rushing towards the fireplace and picking out wood, always careful not to trip over her own skirt.
You giggle at her excitement, following closely behind in the hopes of assisting her. You grab the matches while she places all the necessary ingredients to make a fire in their designated spot by the fireplace.
Once lit, you bring a few chairs together and unused bed sheets molding it all in the shape of a pillow fort. While you adjust everything inside, Pieck rushes to the kitchen to begin preparing some basic snacks such as chips, more cookies and something to drink, other than the tea of course.
When you are finally inside the fort, you realize that all the pillows muffle away the sound of the rain and you feel a little more soothed.
You settle yourself underneath a blanket and immediately your body warmth draws Pieck closer. She smiles at you constantly, a beautiful smile you could never get tired of seeing. As she nuzzles herself against you, you pull up your phone to watch an episode of your favorite show, the one you never had time to watch together.
When she moves, you can see the mark of her body engraved on the sheets and it is enough to make you smile. Pieck lays her head on your shoulder while her arm wraps around your waist, pulling you close to her.
The brightness from the cellphone illuminates the small tent while the lightning outside causes the whole room to light up. At every clap of thunder, you dig your nails into Pieck’s skin gently and begin to shake, much like a puppy but she is understanding and wants nothing more than to help you.
So Pieck strokes your hair until you have calmed down and the cycle repeats itself again when another clap of thunder fills the air.
Eventually, the storm becomes a lot lighter than it once was and you are finally able to catch some sleep. In the middle of the night, you wake yourself up clutching the air and you realize that Pieck is gone.
Tears now shine brightly in your eyes as your heart sinks in your chest. You make your way outside of the tent only to find Pieck sitting by the spot near the window where you were once seated.
“I thought you left…” Your voice cracks and her head immediately snaps back to look at you, her arms wide open to receive you.
“Of course not.” She whispers, taking you in. “I just love to watch the rain.”
“I love you so much, Pieck.” You whisper, planting a kiss on her cheek. In response to your actions, she blushes and looks away, though a smile still remains on her lips.
“I love you too.” She responds, placing a gentle kiss on your nose. She proceeds to spread her legs, opening up the perfect spot for you to spend the night.
In her arms, you roll over to watch the raindrops that race among each other to see which one will fall first and maybe, just maybe you realize that the rain isn’t so bad, not as long as you have Pieck by your side.
#pieck finger#pieck finger x reader#pieck aot x reader#aot x reader#snk x reader#attack on titan x reader#pieck finger x you#pieck finger x y/n#shingeki no kyojin x reader#attack on titan#attack on titan fanfic#attack on titan fanfiction#aot#snk#shingeki no kyojin#shingeki no kyojin fanfic#shingeki no kyojin fanfiction#mars' valentine's day event
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advice from a friend in recovery
[part II: the depression edition]
since my last advice post is somehow still getting traction despite having been posted almost three years ago, i thought it might be a decent idea to expand it into a series! when i wrote that post i was dealing with the aftermath of traumatic events, experiencing a developing post traumatic stress disorder for the first time. what i needed most out of recovery was a way to build moments of solace and joy into my daily life, so that’s what that post focused on.
three years down the line, my recovery goals have changed quite a bit. my focus right now is on learning strategies to cope with major depressive episodes and figuring out how to pick up the pieces after days or weeks of barely being able to get out of bed. here’s what i’ve got down so far!
does waking up (and staying awake) in the morning feel like an insurmountable hurdle right now? same. it’s rough.
make your alarm impossible to ignore. turn the volume all the way up and set it to a song you can’t physically resist screaming along to (or a song you hate so much you would do literally anything to turn it off. either works). bonus points if you know you’ll have to sprint to turn it off before it wakes up others in your household.
you will feel worse if you turn the alarm off and crawl back into bed. trust me. you will. if you hit snooze, you’ll feel groggy and annoyed in ten minutes. if you turn the alarm off entirely, you’ll wake up in five hours and still feel like shit anyways.
make it as hard as possible for yourself to get back into bed. keep your alarm across the room from your bed, behind an obstacle course. the more things you’ve had to do before you can turn the alarm off, the easier it will be to just get up instead of going back to sleep.
if you can, use an app like this that sets your alarm to only turn off when you scan a certain barcode. set the barcode to something you keep on the complete opposite side of your house.
better yet, set the barcode to your tube of toothpaste. by the time you’re able to turn your alarm off, you’ll already be in the bathroom holding the toothpaste. while you’re still on half-asleep autopilot, it’s much easier to say “fuck it” and brush your teeth before you can think twice.
having a hard time with personal hygiene, but your own body odor is making you feel a thousand times more depressed? yeah, i’ve been there.
get yourself some really strong deodorizing soap. drag yourself into the shower, spend ten seconds lathering the parts of your body that smell the worst (armpits, groin, anywhere you sweat a lot). rinse and repeat twice. the smell will be completely gone with minimal effort on your part.
don’t have the energy to shampoo, but greasy hair also making you feel gross? just use the bar soap on your hair too. yes it will dry your hair out, but it’s effective and you can always condition later if you feel better.
don’t have the energy to get into the shower or turn it on? if your pits are sweaty, just take the bar of soap and rub it in the sweat until it lathers. wipe off the soap residue. it will smell a thousand times better. (if your pits are not sweaty enough for this, a splash of water works great too).
your bedroom is such a mess that you can’t even imagine how you could start cleaning it? i know the feeling.
pick a corner. designate this your “clean corner.” literally shove the clutter away from this corner until you have a space big enough to sit down in. cleaning is less overwhelming when you have somewhere to retreat to.
personally, the bulk of my mess is usually dirty laundry that i have been putting off washing. forget about washing it right now. if you have a separate closet, pick up every piece of laundry on the floor and throw it into that closet to be dealt with later. close the door.
if you don’t have a separate closet, stuffing it into trash bags is another way to collect your dirty laundry and make it less visually overwhelming. trash bags can be stacked better than individual items of clothing, leaving you with more empty floor space.
the next easiest thing to get rid of is trash. if there’s so much trash around that picking up all of it at once is daunting, start with food waste. it is easy to identify and probably making your room smell.
out of sight, out of mind. the more you can shove the clutter into boxes, bags, closets, etc. to deal with later, the better. you can sort through it, pile by pile, when you have the time.
you don’t have to be perfect all of the time. or any of the time, even!
depression making it impossible for you to do the dishes? if you’re able to stock up on paper plates, cups, and disposable utensils, just use those instead. i promise, you are not singlehandedly destroying the environment by doing so.
out of clean clothing, but can’t muster up the energy to do laundry? spray your clothes with febreeze. wait a minute and then shake them out as hard as you can to air them out. congrats, you now have a single outfit that smells more like car air fresheners than body odor. (please do not do this with underwear. if you need to reuse underwear, turn it inside out).
cheat on your assignments. for fuck’s sake, if it won’t get you in trouble, just do it. academia is a sham, you have more important things to worry about, and you can always learn the information later when you’re not working against a deadline.
know that sometimes it is all you can do to stay alive. every breath you take is an accomplishment. on the days when you can’t even stand up, rolling over to the cooler side of the pillow is an accomplishment.
you are quite literally winning at life, by sheer virtue of not being dead right now. congratulations!
i’m proud of you.
#recovery#depression recovery#depression relief#major depressive disorder#self care#mental health#advice#mental illness#studyblr#studyspo#college#mental health tips#shit i dont remember any of my old tags#academicsunite#studyblrgetsreal#kaz posts#kaz here#masterposts#resources
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Can you do a young sirius black x reader fic where sirius and the reader are supposed to go to hogsmeade but the reader is having a depression episode
Thank you so much for this request, I absolutely can write a blurb(fic) for this! xoxo, I hope this helps!!!
One where you have a depressive episode [ Sirius Black ]
Word Count: 1.4k
[ Warnings: gender neutral reader, mention of triggers (nothing described), mention of depression, slight mention of nsfw (very brief), use of the word "pup" ]
You feel a type of dread fill in your stomach, wanting so desperately to get up and move. Your mind didn't care, holding you hostage with no motivation. Your dorm mates had already left, they all dressed in clean clothes and brushed teeth. They offered for you to join them, but you only let out a small; "Nah". Without much of an argument, they left you alone.
You remembered your date with your boyfriend, hoping he would just leave without you and hang out with his friends. Though, your wishes weren't compliant as you heard a loud knock on your door.
"I'm coming in. Please be naked," Sirius hopes with a laugh, usually his funny comments would make you laugh. You watched as Sirius walked in, his head peeking through the door with his hand over his eyes. You pull the covers closer to your body, watching as Sirius wiggles his fingers so he can look between them.
"Why are you still in bed! We're going to miss our date," Sirius exclaimed, walking in as he peered around your dorm. He closed the door behind him, making his way over to you.
"I'm not feeling well," you explain loosely, not given much of an indication of what part of you wasn't doing well. Sirius frowned, placing the back of his hand on your head.
"You don't feel warm, do you want me to take you to Madam Pomfrey?" Sirius asked, sinking onto his knees. He brushed some of your hair away from your face, waiting for your answer.
"No Sirius, not that kind of sick." You drawled, feeling some sort of embarrassment. You didn't want him to see you like this, though Sirius was too clingy not to tell.
"What kind of sick? Like you have a headache? Because surely madam Pomfrey has a potion for that," Sirius suggested, but you only rolled onto your back and stared up at the hanging curtain.
"No, like my mind is sick. I just don't want to do anything, 'm sorry," you apologize, feeling guilty for keeping him away from a Hogsmeade trip. Sirius fluttered his eyes, clueing in on what you meant.
"Oh pup, no need to apologize. Has this happened before?" Sirius asked, moving to sit on your bed. His knuckles rubbed your cheek, pinching it gently to get you to smile. Usually, it would make you giggle, but you only gently slapped his hand away.
"Few times, but I'm okay, go to Hogsmeade without me," you declared, taking in a heavy sigh. Sirius tilted his head, much like a confused dog.
"It's no fun without you, I'd rather stay here and hang out than go alone," he interjects, standing up. You give him a look, ready to protest but he only shakes his head and places a finger to his lips.
"Shh, just shhh," Sirius said, you go to say something again but he only moves his finger to press over your lip. "Shh,"
"I'll be right back pup, 'gonna go get some things to make you feel better," Sirius explains, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead. "But Sirius-"
"No buts, just stay here and look as beautiful as always," Sirius winked, skipping out of the room. You let your eyes closed, waiting for him to return.
You must have fallen asleep waiting because Sirius had gently woken you up with soft head pats. You blink your eyes open, looking towards your desk. Your desk is filled to the brim with all sorts of stuff, making you lean on your elbows to see what it is.
"How did you carry all this?" You asked, confused as you saw things range from Gatorade to a cute octopus plush. "I have my ways," Sirius shrugged, a smirk on his lips.
You pointed to the octopus plush, hoping Sirius would understand. Sirius had known, he leaned over to grab the plush and passed it to you.
"You can turn it inside out," Sirius explained, watching as you turned it around. The once yellow happy octopus turned into a frowning blue one. You raised your eyebrows, looking over at Sirius for an explanation. "He's unhappy,"
"Yeah, James suggested it to me. I want you to use this to explain to me how you're feeling," Sirius said, a sheepish grin on his face. "We don't have to use it, but if you like it and want to use it, we can,"
"No, I like it. So, whenever I'm...like this, I'll just turn it to the blue side and you'll understand?" You asked, playing with the plush as you squeeze it between your hands. Sirius nodded.
"Yes. If you're comfortable, can you just tell me some of your triggers so I can try and prevent this from happening?" Sirius asked, grabbing one of the Gatorade bottles as he opened it. He passed it to you, letting you take a drink before answering.
You told him some of your triggers, him being encouraging the whole time and thanking you. You smiled, feeling safe. You drank half of the Gatorade but felt your stomach pinch for food.
Sirius picked up on your expression, turning to the desk of stuff as he rummaged through it. You noticed his jumper, one of your favourite ones. Sirius turned around, one of Remus's chocolate bars in his hand.
"Did Remus let you take this?" You asked, Sirius made a shrug and a 'pshhh' sound. "Who cares. He'll understand, it's a dire situation. Now eat,"
You opened the chocolate bar, breaking off a piece as you held it out for Sirius. The raven-haired male only shook his head, curls shaking with his movement.
"You eat first," Sirius explained, his hand coming to rub your cheek briefly. You nodded, bringing the piece to your mouth as you chewed. It melted instantly, filling your mouth with a delicious taste. You instantly broke off another piece, doing the same process as the first one. Sirius watched with loving eyes, he felt a sense of proudness for you complying and eating.
Once you got through half of the chocolate bar, you passed a piece to Sirius. This time, he gladly excepted the offer. He groaned, flopping against your bed beside you. "Moony's chocolate is so much better when you take it without his permission,"
You laughed at his comment, letting him take another piece. Once the chocolate bar was finished, Sirius chucked the wrapper in the garbage. He rummaged through the pile of stuff again, finding some of Peter's exploding snaps.
"Wanna play?" He suggested you felt much better than you had at the beginning of the morning. The chocolate must have helped because you sat up and nodded.
"Only if I can wear your jumper," you negotiated, making eyes towards the jumper. Sirius chuckled, grabbing the jumper as he casts a small warming spell. You pulled the jumper over your head, feeling warmth and love. "You look so adorable, darling,"
"Oh shush, are these even your exploding snaps?" You asked, seeing Sirius look up with wide eyes and a guilty expression. He waved it off, shrugging as he distracted you with more compliments. "Look at your cute cheeks, I could just eat you up,"
"Sirius, who did you take this from?" You asked, brushing his hands away from you. Sirius shrugged, sitting on the chair. He passed you half of the exploding snaps, you watched him throw one to the ground, a loud snap appearing.
"It's only Peter, he won't care, he'll probably think he lost them," Sirius smiled, hoping to charm you over. You responded by throwing one of your exploding snaps. You both continued for a good while, snaps and crackles were the only exchange of words. After you both ran out, Sirius looked towards you with the most genuine smile he could produce.
"I care so much about you, I know I can't take this pain away from you. But if I could, I would. There isn't much I can do, but I'll try and do my best to make it bearable." Sirius said in a comforting tone, he meant it. You could almost see some tears in his eyes, but you distracted him by opening your arms for a hug.
Sirius instantly jumped from his chair to your embrace, wrapping you in his arms. His face buried into your neck, holding you in fear that he would lose you. You rest your head onto him, feeling his fingers rub your back. Sirius didn't care if he missed a Hogsmeade trip, he cared more about your security than he did about a silly date.
#james & peter & remus & sirius#sirius black#marauders#young marauders#young sirius x reader#young sirius black#young peter pettigrew#young remus lupin#sirius black x you#sirius black x gender neutral reader#sirius black blurb#sirius black fluff#young sirius imagine
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Everything Comes at a Price (Demon!Dark/Fem!Reader) Chapter 2
You can find Chapter 1 here!
Commission prompt: Reader is really depressed, and Dark decides to roughly Fuck the depression out of them.
Important: Reader has female pronouns and is a vagina owner!
Warnings (For this chapter specifically): Depression, talks of death, smut, dom/sub, rough sex, Demon!Dark, demon-like anatomy, shadow tentacles, oral (male receiving), very minor breath play, teasing, pet names, dirty talk, minor degradation, praise kink, unprotected sex, primal/power play, and multiple orgasms!
A/N: Other than the kink warnings, this one is safe to read! No gore/death. No beta- there may be a few errors.
As always, if you would like to support me, I have a Ko-Fi (here) for donations and I usually have a few slots open for commissions (unless life gets in the way)!
Tags: (If you want to be tagged in my writing, just let me know!)
@when-the-sun-goes-dark
@underthedark13
@fruitypieq
@another-thirsty-blog
@hcrystal02
@just-a-little-bat
“You’re sure? The doctor is sure?” you questioned earnestly.
“Yes! Yes! They say it’s like some kind of miracle. They expect her to make a full recovery after some physical therapy. Isn’t it great, Y/N?!”
You could feel your lips twist up into a bittersweet smile as tears poured from your clenched eyes. The taste of salt was bitter on your lips as you nodded asininely into the phone.
“Yeah, that’s- that’s amazing,” you whispered, “Listen, auntie, I’ve got to get ready for work but please keep me updated if anything changes.”
The phone fell into the fluffy blankets across your lap and you let out the choked sob that you’d been holding back. Wish number four had been a success. You’d done some actual good with your imminent death.
Despite the good news, the oppressive cloud around you didn’t dissipate; Unsurprising but disappointing nonetheless.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” you hissed, smacking your cheeks a couple of times.
Suddenly, a terribly wonderfully awful idea popped up and there was a modicum of relief in your chest. You snagged up the coin from its perch on the bedside table and clutched it to your chest close.
“Dark, I think I know my last wish. Is it possible to wish for death?”
There was no immediate answer, nor did you die immediately. A tremor in the atmosphere of the room was the only sign that something had changed and you brought your head up in surprise. The sight of the debonair demon standing amongst your depression room instantly filled you with shame. Great. Just what you needed to be added to your already heaping pile of negative emotions.
“Hello, darling.”
You managed a weak little hello in reply as he began to stroll your way. You weren’t sure whether you should stand up to greet him or just allow him to come to you, but he quickly made that decision for you as he came to a stop at your side.
“I regret to inform you that you’ve managed to find one of the three types of wishes I’m unable to grant. Is there something els-”
“Please, Dark!”
He leveled you with narrowed eyes and stated factually, “I can’t kill you. Killing you negates the contract. That includes putting you in any imminently dangerous situations, so don’t try it.”
Finally, you found the power to stand and glared up at him through tears.
“Can’t you break the rules, just this once?! I give you permission to keep my soul after I die if you do it! I just- I can’t take this anymore! Maybe you don’t understand it because you all Mr. Powerful Demon but I’m so fucking tired. I’m tired of being alone! I’m tired of hurting when there’s literally nothing wrong! I’m tired of not being able to do a damn thing to make it better or change anything or- or-”
You fell into a messy pile of limbs and blankets on the bed, wrapping yourself up as best as possible, sobbing into your hands to keep a modicum of your dignity intact. Much to your surprise, you felt fingers brush against your hair as sharp nails began to massage through your strands.
“I must say, you’re definitely one of my more interesting clients,” he hummed lowly, “Even so, I’m unable to bend the rules, even for you. There’s a lot at play here that you’ll never understand but the short of it is that even I do not play with Death’s dealings, darling.”
As he spoke, you could feel the first peek of daylight glimmering through the shadows of your mind. Whether it was from his odd praise or the sensations his fingers were provoking, you weren’t sure, but it was nice. Ever so slowly, you found yourself leaning into his touch, chasing the dopamine rush he provided.
He let out a humored chuckle as you nearly fell off the bed in the pursuit and you could only manage a subdued apology in reply.
“Don’t apologize for being adorable, pet,” he teased.
Cheeks warming harshly under the sudden pet name, you buried your face in your hands and groaned slightly.
“Now that that’s sorted, I will leave you be. When you’re ready to make your last wish, you know how to reach me.”
There was a strange catch in his voice that you couldn’t quite place but it was enough to put you into action.
“Wait!” you called out when he turned away.
Carefully wiping the tears from your face, you stood up and took a steadying breath before reaching out to him. It was such a simple request but you could see the curiosity and confusion plain on his face. Nonetheless, he took your hand and allowed you to pull him in close. It had been so long since you’d even held someone else’s hand. More of the demons in the back of your mind were backing down, the sudden influx of serotonin of skin-to-skin contact turning them away.
“Okay, I get it, you can’t kill me,” you murmured, licking your lips nervously, “But you said you find me… interesting, right? Erm, do you think you would be able to do something else for me instead?”
It was like you had flipped a switch, the way his eyes clouded over with the devious smirk that curled up his lips and how his head tipped to the side in obvious inquiry.
“I’ll need you to be more clear on what you’re asking for, pretty little pet,” he cajoled, “It would be quite remiss of me to act without being completely sure what you want from me.”
Oh, the asshole! He was going to make you say it out loud! It was obvious in his gaze that he knew he had all the power here, in every sense of the word, and he was using it to his advantage… and you couldn’t deny that you loved it.
Face hot with mortification, you chewed on your lower lip before whispering, “I- I can’t. I can’t ask.”
Fangs peeked out in a grin as he leaned down, tipping your head up until you were nose to nose with him.
“Do you want me to kiss you? Touch you? Fuck you?”
Gods, he made it sound so dirty, so sensual. Shivers rolled through your bones as he teased the apex of your jaw and throat with his sharp claws.
“I need to know.”
You gathered every last drop of confidence and finally stammered out, “Fu-Fuck me, please?”
“With pleasure, darling,” he hummed softly, “But first…”
Fingers tangled in your locks once more, jerking your head back and his mouth slammed against yours. A choked sob passed from your mouth to his as he guided you back onto the bed, following with the grace and ease only an inhuman being could manage.
“If it gets too intense, just tell me to stop,” he breathed out as his lips fell to your jaw, “It’s been some time since I’ve allowed myself to indulge with a human and you are just so damn breakable.”
A sick thrill shot through your body at the warning. Why did a part of you want that? It was terrifying, thinking of a demon losing themselves and going feral on you, and yet it sounded so deliciously taboo.
“Okay,” you finally replied when you realized he was waiting for an answer, “I will.”
“Good girl.”
Oh. OH. It felt like all the air left your lungs and you couldn’t stop the tiny little noise that escaped your lips in embarrassment and desire.
His lips curved up against your throat as they slowly moved. Nibbles and kisses blazed a path up the sensitive column of your neck until teeth toyed with your ear lobe and he let out a little chuckle.
“You are going to be so much fun, pet.”
Your hands found his hair and held on for dear life as his fangs dug into your neck; not deep enough to draw blood but rough enough to tear a pained scream from your lips. Throbbing agony blossomed through your skin and still, you found your body arching into his, silently eager for more of what he could give you. Oh and the endorphin rush! The moment he released your abused flesh, it was like your body was on fire.
Moving without thought, you guided him by the hair into a frantic kiss, hoping to convey your need without words. Thankfully he didn’t seem offended by your little takeover of power and allowed you to soak in all you needed until he finally put a stop to it with a nibble on your lower lip.
“Enough, it’s time to prove that you really want this, darling,” Dark purred as his fingers dug into your cheeks symbolically.
You nodded the best you could and followed his lead as he pulled you to your feet. With a snap of his fingers, suddenly his clothes were gone and you were left staring at him in awe. While he looked incredible in the suit, it did a complete disservice to the glorious form hidden beneath. Black tattooed tendrils encircled his arms and legs, tapering out somewhere on his back, creating the most tantalizing contrast of shades against his toned limbs as he flexed them teasingly.
As your eyes traced the designs down his solid form, he suddenly gripped your shoulders and pushed you down onto your knees, tossing one of your pillows down after.
“If you’re going to worship me in such a way, you might as well do it from in your rightful place on your knees,” he purred.
Lips parting in surprise, you felt your insides curl up with embarrassment as you slipped the pillow under your knees and nearly apologized, but then he was stepping closer and you lost all thought.
Fuck, was he ever right; It was akin to staring up at a god! Not only were you given the best view of his body, but the way he stared down at you with desire and complete superiority had you trembling with need.
“Now, show me what that pretty mouth can do, pet.”
Oh, that, that you could do. Scooting in closer, you reached out to grab his cock but your hand was smacked away instantly. It stung more than hurt but it was surprising nonetheless.
“What-”
“Hands behind your back,” he demanded.
Cautiously, you did as he asked and were rewarded with a much softer smile.
“Good girl.”
Those words again. It was like they had a direct line to your cunt. Clenching needily around nothing, you let out a soft whine and let him pull you back in. As his cock neared your lips, you were finally given the chance to look it over closely. Despite being only half-hard, he appeared average length and a bit thicker than most you’d encountered. It was also darker than the rest of his skin but what set it apart the most was the ridges encircling it. Every inch or so down his cock were these ridges, smooth but creating quite an obvious size difference.
As you pondered over the way it would feel inside you, you let your tongue tentatively trace the tip and moaned at the familiar taste. He let out an encouraging sigh and tightened his hold, subtly pulling you closer until you threw away hesitation and took him in your mouth as far as possible.
“Mmmm, that’s it pet,” he praised huskily, “Get me ready to fuck you.”
Clenching your thighs in hopes of relief, you shifted higher onto your knees and followed the pace he set. Another difference you began to notice was the massive vein on the underside of his cock, the way it throbbed against your tongue with every swipe quickly became an addicting sensation. It was like his body was praising your efforts in its own way.
“Take a breath,” he warned.
You barely got a lungful in before he arched into your face, hastily fighting back the urge to gag as he slid into your throat. Tears welled up in your eyes as saliva pooled in your mouth. You were mortified as both spilled out the instant he began to fuck your mouth. Embarrassing noises escaped your throat, far beyond your control with each thrust of his cock, but it didn’t seem to bother him one bit.
“Look at you,” he rumbled out huskily, “What a good little pet you are, swallowing my cock like you were made for it.”
As suddenly as he had started he stopped, releasing his hold on you so fast you nearly toppled over as you coughed for breath.
“Impressive, now get up here.”
Once you felt you were stable enough, you climbed to your feet with his assistance and were immediately thrown back on the bed. As your skin rubbed against the cool sheets, you were suddenly made aware of your lack of clothes.
He apparently sensed the shock in your expression and offered you a sly grin.
“What can I say, pet? There are some things I am impatient over.”
Dark kneeled on the bed and gripped your ankles, spreading your legs so he could easily fit between them. Rather than climb over you as you had expected, he instead traced gentle lines up and down your legs, slowly bit by bit growing closer and closer to your cunt but never actually touching. It was maddening. You could feel yourself quaking and twitching uncontrollably under every pass of his claws; your silent pleas coming out louder and louder each time until you were nearly sobbing with need. Teeth soon joined in the effort, searing bite marks into the meaty parts of your thighs while his tongue lavished the wounds fondly after.
“I haven’t even touched you and you’re dripping wet for me,” he groaned quietly as he traced the crease between your sex and thigh, “Imagine what a mess you’ll be once I’m finally inside you.”
Desperation tore from your chest in the form of a whimper at the mental images burning in your mind. Your heart nearly flipped on itself in pleasure as he finally moved up the bed.
“You look like you’re struggling, darling,” he teased, “Is there something you need?”
You nodded frantically and whimpered out, “Please!”
Tantalizing shocks ran through your core as his fingers oh-so-tenderly ran over your lips, ghosting just where you needed him the most. Frustration began to well up like the sweat beading your forehead and you couldn’t help the huff that escaped.
“Tell me that you need to be used,” he breathed, ghosting sharp canines along your throat, “And I’ll give you what you want.”
“I- I need to be used,” you gasped out.
His responding moan was pure ecstasy as his fingers finally found your clit; the way his cock twitched again your leg an overwhelming aphrodisiac. The scrape of his facial hair prickled against your chest as his head ducked down and his lips pressed chaste kisses along your breasts. Swallowing hard, you bit back the overwhelming urge to demand him for more and were rewarded with the gratifying sensation of his tongue across your nipple. Pain and pleasure coalesced into one as he mercilessly sucked and bit into your flesh, drawing louder and faster moans from your chest by the second. When he finally pulled off with a pop, your entire body felt the bombardment of endorphins.
“And who do you want to use you?”
Pride shone through his playful teasing as you attempted and failed to whimper his name multiple times, ruined over and over again with each pass over your clit.
“Hmm? I can’t seem to understand you. Who do you want to ruin you?”
Thighs shaking and heart pounding, you fought through the onslaught of pleasure coiling in your belly to gasp out, “You, Dark! Please, fuck- fuck me!”
It was too much, not enough: The ache in your throat, the rawness of your lips, the imprints of his teeth burned in your flesh, the throb of your cunt under his fingers.
When he finally slipped his fingers in your core, you cried out. Relief! It didn’t take more than a few seconds for his stretching and thrusting to put you right on the edge of no return. Unfortunately, he jerked away before you could fall and, before you could even complain, you were tossed over onto your stomach with a sharp slap to your right cheek.
“Perk that pretty ass up for me, pet,” he demanded, gently guiding your hips up.
As you came to rest on your knees, you let your face rest on the pillow and arched your back until you could feel his cock brush against your cunt. Instinctively you pushed back against him with a little moan and were immediately rewarded with fingers to your clit.
But… his hands were on your hips…
“How-?”
When you stilled in thought, he let out a husky chuckle behind you.
“I hope you don’t mind,” he crooned lowly, “Sometimes they just have a mind of their own.”
Lifting up just enough to peek under your body, you were both startled and aroused to find black shadow-like tentacles where you expected fingers to be, and in turn, his legs were now free of those pretty tattoos. Realization hit hard and a pathetic moan fled your lips as you buried your face in the pillow.
“Glad to see you approve, darling.”
In the next breath, he slammed forward and yanked you back simultaneously. You were immensely grateful that he had taken the time to prep you as he sunk in, inch by inch, stretching you open like none ever had before. A wicked thrill sent a tremor through your body as you realized you could feel each and every ridge as it pushed into you.
When his hips finally came to a stop against yours, the noise he let out had your hair standing on end. Animalistic, inhuman, primal. You wanted to hear it time and time again.
He finally started rocking his hips, taking his time with deliciously languid strokes, until you begged him for more. It was with a cruel laugh that he gave into your desires.
“Oh fuck!” you whined, fingers snarling in the blankets for balance.
There was no more hesitation in his movements, gentleness abandoned in exchange for all-out fucking you in a way that made your toes curl and tears fill your eyes.
“You are so fucking wet,” he snarled out between breaths, “Taking me so well.”
A noise of agreement escaped your lips as you arched back to meet his thrusts. You couldn’t form words even if you wanted to, too focused on the raging storm brewing in your core.
Pain blossomed through your hip as one of his hands squeezed tighter, his growls and panting growing in volume to rival your cries, while the other found your hair and yanked your head back. Your body reacted instinctively, clenching down hard around him and startling a moan from you both.
“You feel so good! You going to come for me, pet?”
Reaching back, your hand found his and your nails found purchase, returning a sliver of the savage pain he bestowed upon you. All the while you bounced back harder on his cock, chasing the edge that was just out of reach. The tendrils between your thighs suddenly came back to life once more, their cool touch contrasting so perfectly with the heat of your bodies as they swirled around your clit in time with his thrusts.
“A-Ah! Dark, yes, pleeaaasse! Fuck- Fuck!”
“That’s it. That’s my good girl. Come for me and let me claim you, pet.
As if mimicking the hold on your hip, another tendril slithered up your back and encircled your throat. The unexpected pressure elicited a tantalizing response, your body suddenly feeling both free and trapped in the best of ways as he bound you to him
“Mine. All mine. My filthy little slutty human whore.”
Something in your psyche broke at those words and ecstasy rushed forward like a tidal wave. Every inch of your body trembled with pleasure as you screamed his name, voice cracking under the duress of it all. You could feel the proof of your indulgence dripping down your inner thighs, the sounds of your debauched pleasure growing louder with every slap of his hips against yours.
“Fucking hell!” Dark bit out harshly, “Good girl. Good fucking slut. Who do you belong to?! Say it!”
“You! Only you, Dark! O-Ooh, f-ffu-fuck!”
With inhuman speed, he slammed into you, over and over until the smack of your bodies was almost continuous. His choked roar filtered through your senses but it was was easily washed away with your second climax teetering on the edge. There was a sudden torrential shift of energy, pulsing eerie screeches filling the room as his voice echoed off the walls when he finally buried himself as far as possible inside of you. Any pain was quickly washed away by the thunderous roll of pleasure brought on by the touch of his tendrils mixed with the throb of his cock releasing deep in your cunt. Claws trailed down your spine as he practically purred your name, leaving behind five raw lines that stung under the combined sweat of your bodies, and somehow you found yourself okay with it; loved it, in fact, knowing that his marks would be on you for quite some time.
Quaking with bliss and exhaustion, you collapsed to the bed the instant he slipped out of your core and let out a little delighted whimper. You reached out blindly for him and were appeased when he laid down beside you, pulling you against him so your face was resting on his chest.
“I didn’t realize how much I needed that,” you murmured, fingers tracing up and down the little scar in his abdomen, “It goes without saying but that was fucking phenomenal, so thank you.”
Your head bobbed up and down with his laughter and you couldn’t help the grin that turned up your lips in return.
“I have to say I’m in agreement, pet,” he hummed back, “It’s been far too long since I’ve been able to let go in such a way.”
With a hand on your bicep and the arm under your head, he pulled you up and shifted you over his hips until you were perched on quaking knees. You almost questioned him but were silenced when he leaned up and captured your lips in a stinging kiss. It started out rough and slowly devolved into a passionate tangle of tongues.
It wasn’t until he pulled back for a breath that the reality of what was to happen started to sink in; the serotonin in your veins being replaced with anxiety.
“So, does this mean I die now? You have to take my soul, right?” you asked softly, “Since I made my last wish?”
“Hmm? I never heard you make a wish, pet,” he replied as he stretched back languidly.
Eyebrows furrowing, you let your confused expression convey your thoughts as one of his hands began to travel down your curves.
“But I asked-”
Your words were cut off by your own gasp when you felt his cock rising between your thighs. Wide-eyed and warm-faced, you gaped at him in shock. Apparently, a very short cool down period was also a demon perk?!
He smirked at your awe as a thumb traced your lower lip seductively.
“You asked and I gave freely,” he explained, fingers dipping to trace sharp claws along your throat, “You still have one wish remaining. Although, I’d suggest you save it for later. I feel like we have much more important things to attend at the moment, darling.”
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chapter 9
𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 2.61K
𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: romance | slice of life | fluff | angst | bts x female!reader | ot7
𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: You watched them from the sidelines ever since you were a young teenage girl. Now you’re grown up, they’ve returned after 2 long years and everything has changed. What happens when you pull back the mask and find the darkness within? What happens when you see that they’re broken?
𝔞/𝔫: this chapter makes me laugh, especially the scene with Jojo and Namjoon.
𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: cliffhangers | angst | fluff | slight mentions of self hatred | depression | mental health illness | self harm | occurs in the year 2024 | set in a timeline where BTS went to the military together | slight language
tags:@kookaine |@fangirl125reader |@kookiebbyxx |@taradevonne
You’ve been waiting for an hour.
Tilting your head back, you sigh, extremely bored.
You've tried everything you could think of to bypass the time. Reading, writing, watching YouTube, then switching over to Netflix, even attempting to doze in the slightly uncomfortable waiting room chair.
None of them have worked.
Currently, you're doodling in your sketchbook, but no concrete idea comes to mind for the sketch. Leaving you with tiny flowers, faces, and body parts on the page as though it were a practice sheet.
Peering over the sketchbook, you scan the room for any sign of life, but as the day has dragged on, so has the crowd.
You don't see any sign of Kim Namjoon anywhere, and the receptionist hasn't called you over ever since you turned in the forms she gave you. Uninterested, your eyes glazing over, you pull out your phone, peering at the time.
12:30 pm.
Heaving a sigh, you tilt your head back, the music playing through your GalaxyBuds. Yet it does no good to lift your spirits.
You suppose it's only fair, you made him wait, now it's his turn.
Setting your phone down once more, you purse your lips, as your gaze falls on a flower swaying in the wind outside.
It's the only flower you can see amongst the bush. It stands almost forlornly in the midst of multiple of its fellow brethren withered around it. Still, it stands strong, unwilling to fall victim to the harsh weather outside.
A thought crossing your mind, you turn to your sketchbook, quickly turning the page and beginning a vigorous sketch before you lose your idea.
Unbeknownst to you, as you progress halfway through the sketch, Kim Namjoon bursts into the lobby, looking out of breath and flustered.
He wears a bright white T-shirt, one with a small black Nike emblem across his left pectoral muscle. It hangs sort of loose around his neck, his collarbone visible as cooling sweat causes him to glisten like a bright star.
It's not as noticeable, considering that he wears a thick black sweatshirt zipped down around his shoulders. It's simple, with thin white stripes running down the sleeves and white soft underlining to it.
The black sweats he wears seem to fit with the outfit, the same white stripes running down each pant leg. Each piece of clothing has a Nike emblem on it and pairs well with the white Nike AirForces he wears on his feet.
They’re simple but rich clothes and bring to mind the same clothes Jungkook was wearing before.
The cooling sweat on his skin and the way his hair falls a bit messily underneath his cap could lead to the presumption that they were doing a major dance practice before all of this.
No matter the case, he didn't expect the meeting to take this long, and he feels terrible for making you wait, despite everything. As he looks for any sign of you, he doesn't find any.
Worried that you have already left, he knocks on the front desk, gathering the attention of the receptionist that helped you earlier. Kim Jojo raises her head, and as she catches sight of RM, her eyes widen just the slightest bit, but not enough for him to notice.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Namjoon, what can I--”
“Yes, yes hello.” Namjoon interrupts her, too panicked to care about formalities.
He wants to catch you before you get tired of waiting and leave. First impressions are everything to him, and if he has a bad one…Shaking the worry away, he leans forward over the counter separating the receptionist from him and she flinches away at the sudden closeness.
RM either doesn't notice or doesn't care, but either way, he meets her with an intent stare, every word uttered from his lips urgent and careful.
“Has anyone by the name of Lin Yen come in?” The receptionist opens her mouth to respond but before she can say anything, he holds up a finger.
A thought having crossed his mind, he reaches into his back pocket, bringing out his phone. He tries to bring up the picture of you while Jojo stands there, half in shock, half in annoyance. As soon as he finds it, he lets out a little victory shout, one that startles her.
Grinning, he presents it to her, and she peers at a strange picture of you. After she looks at it, Jojo pulls back, her brows crinkling in confusion.
“She looks like this. If she came in, could you please tell me? I've been waiting since 8:00 this morning to meet her.” Jojo sighs, trying to gain her composure before responding.
“Mr. Namjoon--” she begins, but Namjoon interrupts once more.
“She’s my new assistant, you see, and I need to begin her training today. She needs to know the ropes before our busy season comes back around.” He explains, pulling the phone back and trying to pocket it once more.
Instead, he ends up knocking over a container filled with an assortment of pens and pencils. Surprised, he fumbles to pick it up but ends up spilling it all over the floor. Cursing under his breath, he reaches down to pick up some pencils that have fallen.
Letting out a frustrated sigh, Jojo picks up the container, righting it on the counter with a loud thud. Startled, RM glances up at her eyes wide, and she smiles sweetly.
“Please, just leave it.” She says between her teeth. He shrugs, almost reluctantly standing. She sighs in relief, carefully putting the pens and pencils back in their place.
“Now...Mr. Namjoon, please listen--” once more, she cannot finish, Namjoon unable to shut up to save his life.
“I’m sorry, but if you need any more information on her I could--”
“Kim Namjoon!” This time it's Jojo's turn to interrupt him, her patience finally wearing thin.
RM instantly falls silent, a bit surprised at the outburst.
Jojo takes a steadying breath before continuing.
“Now, the person you are talking about has already come in. I told her you were in a meeting and had her wait in the waiting room for you to return.” At the information, RM turns to the waiting room where he catches sight of you for the first time in real life.
He notices you vigorously sketching out your idea. Smiling, he can't help but smile at the familiarities he finds in you. You look exactly like the picture Jaejin sent, despite how weird it was.
“I had expected to receive a notice of your return, so I could send her to you, but now that you're here….” Namjoon turns away from you and flashes his contagious smile at Jojo who is once more taken aback.
“Thank you,” Namjoon says with gratitude, reaching across the desk and holding her hand as he bows before turning away.
Jojo, watching him go, turns beet red before collapsing behind the desk in exhaustion. Another fellow receptionist cries out with alarm before tending to her in concern.
You, once more, having no awareness of the events happening around you, continue to sketch. Having finished the rough sketch you begin to define every line, detail, and curve. As you work, you bite the inside of your cheek, sometimes licking your lips in your trance of concentration.
When you're lost in your mind of imagination and creativity, nothing from the outside world can distract you.
And yes, that also includes a very tall, very real version of Kim Namjoon striding towards you.
You don't look up as he comes within a few feet in front of you. You don't even notice as he bends to your eye level, trying to catch your attention. It doesn't break your concentration, even as you reach for an eraser, lightly humming to the music playing in your ears. He smiles, almost laughing at your concentration before he covers his mouth, trying to be quiet so that you don't notice he’s there.
Trying to tease you, he carefully (as much as he’s able) sits down next to you. He was planning on pulling out one of your GalaxyBuds and surprising you, but as he catches a glimpse of your work, he’s stopped cold.
It's breathtaking.
You have created an awestruck image of a woman, on her knees. She wails out in agony as she sits amongst a pile of ash, flecks of it falling around her as though there's a fire burning nearby.
However, that’s not what catches Namjoon’s eye.
Amongst the ash, if anyone looks closely, they'll be able to see that there are small, scattered remains of bones hidden.
She sits amongst them, wailing, the look on her face one of pure anguish and sorrow as the ash from the fading bones stains her skin and her dress.
As though she has lost everyone she’s held, dear.
RM can't seem to look away, entranced by the grotesque beauty of the image and the talent of the artist.
He admires the way you set it up, the way you created the girl imperfectly, but still real. Because after all, who in real life is perfect? As he watches your pencil move expertly across the page, he can't help but think that with each stroke, the creation grows more and more lifelike.
As though she were truly crying out in the pain her heart brings. As though she were alive and breathing.
Almost against his wishes, his hand reaches out to touch the paper, if only to make sure that the actual sketch is truly a mere fabrication of pencil and paper.
As his fingers graze the parchment, that is when you snap out of your concentration.
Eyes widening, you jolt up straight, immediately turning to look at your side.
As soon as your eyes meet Namjoon’s, his hand flinches off the paper. He lets out a soft gasp as he flinches away, surprised by your sudden attention.
Just like with Jungkook, you're frozen in place.
Unable to move.
Unable to function.
Unable to speak.
And just like Jungkook, Namjoon is the same way.
But for a different reason.
He was caught in the act, and he doesn't know what to do.
Your eyes hold him in a sort of bind.
For a moment he forgets what he was doing there, he forgets what his purpose is, for a moment he even forgets why you are there.
For a split second, it's just you and him in a pocket in space.
Your eyes holding his, his eyes holding yours.
Kim Namjoon.
The leader of BTS. The first member of the group you have grown to love. Talented, handsome, a practical genius, he is just as mature and intimidating as you expected him to be.
Despite how close the two of you are sitting, he still seems larger than life, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s even real.
He doesn't seem like it after all.
His skin seems too real, too perfect. His hair is too soft, too smooth. His eyes are too warm and too brown.
Almost exactly like the milky chocolate brown you’ve seen so often in so many photos, except for one thing.
As you stare into them, you can see life so clearly alight in them. How they reveal so many emotions at the same time. There are so many that it's almost impossible to read them at all. Serene and peaceful, they are poets' eyes.
So emotional, yet so mysterious and secretive at the same time.
Dreamboat eyes.
“Kim Namjoon?” you whisper, almost unsure if it's him or not.
As you do, his face makes that mixed expression between confusion and amusement as he chuckles softly, looking away and breaking the connection. Holding his hand up to his mouth, he nods, clearing his throat, but not saying anything for a moment.
“Yes, that's who I am, and you must be...Lin Yen?” your heart jumps at the fact that he knows your name.
Speechless, all you can do is nod mutely as he utters another adorable chuckle, one that always seems to remind you of Goofy.
“Jaejin didn't tell me you were an artist.” As soon as he says that, you notice that your sketchbook is still open, and showcasing your imperfect, unready sketch.
Panicking, you fumble to get it closed. Blushing, you hug it tightly to your chest, as though it could erase the fact that he just got a sneak peek into your very soul.
“What's wrong? It was good!” RM asks, worried.
Biting your bottom lip in trepidation, you shake your head, hiding your face.
“Don't lie….” you mumble.
You know it wasn't close to being done, and it wasn't nearly as perfect as it could have been. You're quite disappointed in it at the moment. You feel as though it was too rushed due to the many ideas pouring out from your brain at the exact moment.
As you take an ashamed peek at Namjoon, you find him staring at you, a slight smile playing on his lips.
“What's wrong, are you okay?” he asks, tilting his head as though you were a shy child. You smirk, playing along and nodding very slowly before he continues.
“I see. You should know, however, that you are very talented.” At the compliment, you snort in disbelief, shoving the sketchbook and pencils back safely in your satchel.
“Please.” You sigh. “I know I'm no Picasso, and certainly not talented.”
Finished with packing your art supplies, you are reminded of the reason you are here. A blush of shame appearing on your cheeks, you turn to Namjoon, a bit guiltily.
“And I’m also not known as the bird to rise before the worm.” RM seems a bit confused before you stand and bow to him in apology.
“I am so sorry for being late today. You see I….”
Remembering the receptionist's words from before, you decide to keep the reason to yourself.
“....I have nothing to say for myself. I'm sincerely sorry.”
“Please, there’s no need for that,” Namjoon responds, standing himself and tapping you on the shoulder.
At the touch, you stand straight, only to find an extremely tall man standing before you, looking more intimidating than before. Heart beating fast you gulp, stepping back a bit.
Luckily, he doesn't notice your act of distance and just smiles at you before continuing.
“After all, I was late as well, so let's call it even, huh?”
You smirk and nod, thankful that he’s not too angry about it, but it doesn't completely erase your guilt.
“But now that you mention it….” Namjoon starts and intrigued, you glance up to see him back up a bit as well.
Confused, you raise an eyebrow before he holds out his hand to you.
“My name is Kim Namjoon, I’ll be your boss during your time here. First and foremost, welcome to BigHit entertainment, I hope you enjoy your time working here with us.” He introduces himself, warmly.
Catching on, you take his hand, shaking it gently, and trying to ignore the fact that yours is much more like a child's compared to his.
“Hello, Mr. Namjoon! It's a pleasure to finally meet you, my name is Lin Yen and I look forward to working with you!” you respond, returning his grin with one of your own.
After you're finished introducing yourself, he releases your hand and steps back, taking your satchel in his hands and handing it to you.
“Well, Ms. Lin, are you ready to begin?” He asks, and you accept the offer, hiking the satchel on your shoulder before looking up at him in expectation.
“Where do we start?”
𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢: first day at work is finally starting, yall excited? eheheehehe get ready for some namjooon and yen moments to come
chapter 10 here
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#{infinite stars} updated!#bts ot7#bts ot7 fanfic#bts ot7 fanfiction#bts fanfic#bts fanfiction#fanfic#fanfiction#bts fanfiction series#bts fluff#bts x reader#bts x female!reader#bts#bts angst#angst#fluff#wattpad#ao3#wattpad writer#ao3 writer#series#dudududud#badumdumdum#idk i'm bored#watching fast and furious while i'm scheduling these so
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lipstick criminal moonlight - bruno bucciarati x reader
hello! this is an ao3 repost, my username on there is vityavishneva if ao3 is your preferred format, but I am going to repost all my pics from there on here.
word count: 2.5k
without further ado…..
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It hadn’t been a particularly boring day at work, but you were nonetheless eager to go home. Lately you had been hitting a low point, and while there were moments that had you hurting with laughter, if you weren’t occupied with other thoughts, you were unable to ignore a looming sense of emptiness.
Unbeknownst to Bruno, that is. Though incredibly perceptive to your mood, the mafioso had been particularly busy these days, spending increasingly more time coordinating with his team than at home with you. And you understood. You knew the nature of his work, and you accepted that there would be times when he would barely be able to get away, you just thought it horribly unfortunate that his absence and your depression chose to coincide.
In a way, you were glad he didn’t see you like this; you would hate for him to think your sadness was caused by his absence when in reality it was just something else entirely.
It always seemed to hit you hardest in the moments before he walked in the door. Late at night or early in the morning, the moonlight pooled in your tangled sheets, flooding in through the window. You would stare at the stars and get lost imagining what it would feel like if he didn’t come home. And you didn’t know why you would even think to imagine these things. The one thing that would make you hurt the most, yet you pondered it constantly. You fingers would brush your cheek and you would imagine they were his fingers, closing your eyes and trying to relax yourself, as if preparing for the day that this nightmare became reality.
You hoped tonight wouldn’t be one of those nights as you snapped back to reality at the cash register. It was close to closing, so the store was nearly empty, save for you and your manager. You snapped out of your longing as you heard footsteps on the tile at the store front, preparing yourself to raise your voice an octave or two and greet a customer.
However, he beat you to it.
“Surprise, cara!” As if answering your prayers, he walks in the door. Dressed in a black suit with gold zipper detail that you recognized as one you helped him pick out. He looked gorgeous as ever, hair slightly disarrayed from the walk, but still perfectly framing his tanned face.
“Hey, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with everyone else?” You tried to tone down your excitement, not being one to make public scenes. It was difficult though, seeing him anywhere (let alone a surprise visit) made your heart race.
“I tried to wrap things up a bit early. I’m hoping to take tomorrow off.” He leaned his elbows on the other side of the counter, his smile bright and sincere. That’s another thing you loved about him: you could really tell that whenever he looked at you he was absolutely enamored. His love for you was overflowing, and you could tell in everything he did. Whether it was the way he messed with your hair or placed his hand on the small of your back when you were walking with him, everything he did had this genuine gentleness and care to it.
“Oh, any special plans?” You matched his incline and tilted your chin up to meet his gaze.
“Waking up with you is the most special of them all,” he said softly. “But if you want to do something else as well, I’m sure we’ll have time.” With that declaration, he turned on his heel and wandered around the store, greeting your manager and making a bit of small talk before returning back to you. “What time will you be home? Should I make dinner?”
“We close in a few minutes, I should be out of here by 7:30. I was thinking of cooking but if you insist I won’t complain. We could always order.” You felt his gaze follow you as you paced back and forth behind the counter, moving hangers from here to there and switching around piles of clothes, writing sticky notes for whoever came in to open the store the next day telling them what needed to get done.
“Then, I’ll head home now and have something ready when you get home, yeah? How does that sound?”
You stood up to meet his eyes once again, as bright and blue as ever. The corners started to crease as he smiled upon seeing your face.
“That sounds perfect.” Bruno was a great cook. No need to worry there.
He reached over the counter to pinch your chin before walking away. “Ci vediamo presto, amore mio.”
Your eyes were glued to him as he walked away, watching his hair sway with the turn of his head as he glanced at some of the pieces you sold on his way out.
Shortly after Bruno’s visit, you and your manager closed the store and quickly ran through after hours duties. Your shared apartment was no more than a 10 minute walk from your work, and luckily it wasn’t as cold and rainy as it had been the previous nights. You clocked out and patiently waited for your manager to finish up in the office so she could let you out the side door. Slipping on your jacket and grabbing your bag, you quickly checked your phone before putting it back in your bag, noting the sweet text— something along the lines of “I can’t wait to see you”— from Bruno at the top of your lock screen.
Walking up the stairs to your doorstep, the relief and excitement you felt from knowing that Bruno would be home not only relatively early tonight, but all day tomorrow as well, was immeasurable. You couldn’t think of a single thing you wanted to do with him though, other than actually doing him, but you knew even if you did absolutely nothing it would be the most joyous day in your life as of late. Honestly, even if it was a day out with the rest of the gang you would be overjoyed. Really, any confirmation that Bruno was safe and with you was more than enough. Having him near you was a breath of fresh air, and having him in your arms and you in his would be indescribable.
You unlocked the door with a sigh and brushed your hair out of your face, greeted with what could only be described as the heavenly smell of dinner. You heard the faucet shut off and Bruno rushed around the corner, his hair half up and an apron on, to greet you and take your bag.
“Welcome home,” he smiled and pulled you closer with his free hand, leaning down momentarily to give you a short but sweet kiss. His hand lingered at your back for a moment before he turned and set your bag down on the couch and then promptly returning to the kitchen to finish whatever meal he was working on. “It’s almost ready!” He shouted as you slid your shoes off.
“It smells great,” you turned the corner to head into the kitchen, making a b-line for the wine fridge hidden in the island, ready to abuse Bruno’s collection of fine wines in celebration of his homecoming. But as he noticed the direction you we heading, he mumbled a “Way ahead of you” and poured you a glass of a very nice red that he had already taken out. You looked up at him, letting your gaze linger as you watched him stir and check and taste whatever was on the stove (some sort of pasta dish, you had surmised), watching his hair sway and his lips move and he talked to himself under his breath, watching how his hand came up to scratch his chin or the back of his neck as he stood for a moment or two making sure he knew what he was doing. The his eyes met yours again, and with a smile he encouraged you to go get changed into something more comfortable, motioning to the pajama pants and old t-shirt that he was wearing under his apron. You nodded as you took a sip of the wine. “I’ll be right back.” And you turned for the bedroom.
Sluggishly undressing because of your lingering dark cloud, you eventually found a pair of silky black pajama pants and lacy black camisole that you felt comfortable going from dinner-date to bed in, and threw on an oversized grey cardigan to combat the slight chill you felt in the apartment. You tied your hair back and headed back for the kitchen. You passed the dining room on your way, and noticed Bruno lighting some candles before setting out plates.
“Getting romantic, are we?” You smiled at the way his head quickly turned to you, and it was obvious you may have just sabotaged a little surprise.
“I have nights upon nights of romance to make up for, after all.” He shrugged his shoulders and laughed a bit as if it was obvious. You smiled back and then dove into him, wrapping your arms around his waist and breathing him in for a moment. He froze for a moment, not expecting your sudden move, but then you felt him reciprocate and embrace you, kissing the top of your head.
“I’ve really missed you, not being able to see you all the time has been harder than I think I thought it was going to be.” You said into his chest, breathing out a long sigh of relief as you turned your head and felt his heart racing.
“I’m glad to be home, even if just for tonight and tomorrow. I’ve missed you so much.” He squeezed you tighter, rubbing circles on your back with one hand. You two stood there for a moment, it being abundantly clear how much the both of you missed each other, trying to enjoy this moment as long as possible. Then a timer went off in the kitchen, and Bruno pulled away with a smile, kissing your forehead before regretfully turning away and back into the kitchen. You opted to take a seat at the small dinner table after grabbing your glass of wine off of the counter.
Bruno could barely take his eyes off of you while he served your plates, and he couldn’t help but feel something was wrong behind your eyes every time you broke his gaze to look down at the table or take another sip form your glass.
…
Dinner was amazing as expected, and it felt so nice to catch up with Bruno about how he and the team were doing. He never liked to give you too many specifics, not because he didn’t trust you but because he had a lingering fear that saying too much would mean getting you involved. Nonetheless, you had a good laugh at Narancia and Mista’s antics and made a mental note to try to meet up with everyone as soon as possible. They felt like family, and you wanted to check up on them yourself even if Bruno gave you the rundown. You, in return, caught him up with your life and your friends, telling him about all of the crazy customers you had the pleasure of interacting with while he was away.
You both cleaned up the kitchen together. Bruno was about to insist you go sit down, but he got the feeling that you would rather be with him right now than sit alone on the couch or in the bedroom, so he passed the dishes to you to dry them and put them away after he scrubbed them clean. Once you had closed the last cupboard, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pressed his chest against your back. Your hands traced over his arms and you leaned your head back in an attempt to look at him, but he dipped to the side and kissed your neck instead.
“God, I’ve really missed you.” He breathed and squeezed you tighter, and it was his turn to breath a sigh of relief, savoring the feeling of having you in his arms. You reached up to touch his face, caressing your thumb along the side of his face. He let go of you for a moment, before mumbling “Let’s get ready for bed” and leading you to the en suite in your bedroom.
He took his hair down and ruffled it a bit to check for knots before putting a headband on to push his bangs back and wash his face. You did the same, practically drying your faces in unison before reaching for your toothbrush and mouth wash. Once you finished, you turned and fell onto the bed, listening for Bruno to shut the light off.
He stretched his arms up as he sauntered over to you, smiling before falling beside you. It was clear out, and the moonlight once again flooded onto the sheets like it had the many days when Bruno didn’t occupy the bed, only this time it wasn’t just you who was tangled in the sheets it illuminated.
You two were intertwined with each other in the blink of an eye, limbs getting tangled together and kisses planted between every breath. He stroked your hair and brushed a few strands behind your ear before speaking.
“Earlier, when you said it had been harder on you than you thought, I just…I want to make sure that you’re ok.”
“I’m better now that you’re here and I know you’re safe.” Though an affirmation of you being fine, it had also implied that you weren’t fine previously, and this concerned him. You could tell, and so you continued. “When you were gone, I couldn’t help but lay here by myself and think about what would happen if you never came home. I just don’t know what I would do…I don’t know what I would do without you.” You couldn’t meet his eyes.
“I’ll always come home. I’ll go wherever you go, I hope you know that.”
“And don’t get me wrong I’m not doubting your abilities, but I just fear that one day— without warning— I’m never going to see you again. And I’ve just felt down lately on top of that. I just didn’t want you to have another thing to worry about, and I didn’t want you to think I was upset at you for not being home.” He held you tighter in response.
“Please tell me when you feel like this. I want to know you’re ok, even if It’s something small, I want to do anything to be there for you.”
The relief of knowing that he cared for you just as much as you cared for him was indescribable, all you could muster was a nod against his chest and an “mhm” before embracing him tightly and curling up under the sheets.
Still, the moonlight was pooling and glowing against your skin, but this time there was someone next to you to bask in it with.
#bruno x reader#jojo part 5#jojo golden wind#bruno buccerati#bruno bucellati x reader#bruno bucciarati#bucci#fluff#sad#depression mentions#he loves you
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[11:25p.m.] kiss in the bedroom + missing each other | lee minho
warnings: hints of depression, self-esteem issues, mentions of anxiety
requested: yes!
a/n: i’ll be super honest. i haven’t been feeling great these last few weeks. i’ve had a crazy amount of work piled on, and even now it’s like looming in the distance. im always stressed, and i’ve gotten max like 5 hours of sleep every night. i don’t usually like talking about my personal problems here on this blog, but this drabble was sorta my way of venting i guess, so i thought there might need to be some context. anyways, i hope it wasn’t too angsty for you, anon! as always, i love y’all so much, and i’m always here to talk if anyone needs it! <3
Minho wasn’t quite used to the feeling of missing you.
Of course, he’s longed for you before, wished that you were sitting next to him rather than only being a crackling voice over the phone, but this felt different. Normally, he was the one leaving, he was the one that had an utterly impossible schedule, the one that would drop by your shared apartment for only a few minutes before heading off again to god knows what.
He quickly realized that this feeling of being the one left behind? Yeah, he hated it with every fiber of his being.
The poor man had been utterly over the moon when he got a week off of work, and Minho had every intention to spent every single minute of it with you. Except, your schedules didn’t seem to line up this time, and for the last three days, you’ve probably been home for no more than a few hours, rushing off to your school’s practice room in preparation for a big piano competition.
Minho was bored. But more importantly, Minho missed you. He wanted to feel you lie in his arms, wanted to see your puffed up cheeks when he woke up before you and didn’t want to get out of bed. He wanted to cuddle with you on the couch along with his cats. He had created a whole checklist of things he’d wanted to do with you this vacation, and none of them have come true yet.
So now, Minho was plopped down on the couch, sulking as one of his cats sat comfortably in his lap, looking up at him.
Reaching down, his gentle fingers stroked Dori’s cheek as he mumbled, “Do you think your Mama’s going to come home today?” Dori only meowed in response, obviously just as distraught about your absence as he was.
Minho glanced over to the kitchen with a forlorn gaze. On the table sat a perfectly good meal of ddeokbokki, rice, and whatever side dishes he was capable of cooking up. He wanted to surprise you, after all. Spending all this time without you but also without anything to keep him busy made him realize just how much he needed your company, how much he longed for it. It made him marvel at the fact that you haven’t broken things off with him yet, especially since you felt this sort of unresolved longing almost on a weekly basis.
But by now, the ddeokbokki was already growing cold, and Minho felt the thorns around his heart constrict the more he waited for you, the more he could only wish that you were with him.
As if the heavens had answered his prayer, his ears suddenly perked up at the sounded of someone punching in the passcode to the apartment. Dori pushed off his lap immediately, rushing to the door along with his two other cats, and Minho wasn’t far behind. They were all eager to welcome you home.
What Minho didn’t expect was for you to open the door sopping wet, your clothes dripping water onto the doormat as you shivered, probably soaked to the bone. What scared him more, was that you seemed almost entirely oblivious to this fact, only standing at the door with your shoulders hunched.
“Y/N!” He gasped, snapping out of his stupor and rushing over to you, fluttering around you like an anxious fairy. Taking your wrist, he pulled you into the bedroom and immediately grabbed one of the towels that he’d cleaned that morning when he’d reached peak levels of loneliness.
“What were you doing walking out in the rain? You should’ve called me,” he scolded lightly as he dried your hair, bending down to do so. His hands froze midway, however, when he caught sight of the expression on your face.
There was no other way to describe it except that it chilled Minho to the very core. The utter hopelessness in your eyes, the way your cheeks seemed to be drained of their usual rosiness. Your lips were pale, and you looked the farthest from okay that he’s ever seen you.
His hands slowly came down and he placed the towel on the bed before very delicately cupping your face with his hands, “Y/N? Are you with me?” He asked, his tone cajoling and gentle.
You didn’t answer him, your gaze still unfocused as if you were looking through him, not at him. Minho was frightened, to say the least. This hasn’t ever happened before, at least not to this degree. You’ve hit slumps before, but you were always able to let it out, throw a little tantrum while Minho was happy to indulge in your rather adorable anger. But now, you looked almost like you didn’t even know how to let anything out, as if everything had been bottled up inside for so long that you were incapable of shedding yourself of whatever burden you were carrying.
“Y/N?” Your name fell out of Minho’s lips again as he grew more and more concerned by the second. He stroked your cheek with his thumb, but you were entirely unresponsive, only staring out in the distance as if you were seeing something that he couldn’t.
Minho was just about to pull out his phone and frantically call Bangchan about how to help you when you croaked out, your voice hoarse from lack of use, “I’m tired of this.”
For a brief moment, Minho felt panic like he’d never felt before. He panicked that you were referring to him, to the two of you. He panicked that he was going to lose you. He panicked that he’d never be able to walk home and see you slumped on the couch waiting for him to return.
But, he kept his cool, because he knew the last thing you needed was someone to act out of anger in any way, “Tired of what, babe?” he cooed softly, gazing into your eyes and trying to get you to look at him.
“Everything,” you spoke softly, and finally, your eyes shifted up to gaze into his. The dullness of your eyes, your normal sparkle completely extinguished, it hurt Minho more than he could even put into words.
“I’m tired of practicing. I’m tired of music. I’m tired of getting up in the morning. I’m tired of having to shoulder the weight of my entire fucking school’s expectations on my shoulders. I’m--” you choked on your words as tears begin to roll down your cheeks, and Minho pulled you into a tight hug.
Minho could feel the moment you physically let yourself melt into his embrace, and he was ready for it. He held up your weight easily (far too easily, he noted), and swept you in his arms, taking this as a cue to help you get ready for bed.
In a rather impressive feat, he helped you change out of your sopping clothes, all while making sure that he always was touching you in some way. That was something he’d discovered over the few months of dating you; you loved physical touch, craved it even more than some of his band members. Especially when you couldn’t control your anxiety and your hands would tremble ceaselessly, it was his touch that always calmed him down.
There was nothing sexual about the act as he slipped off your shirt and jeans, replacing them with his oversized t-shirt and your warm sweatpants. He pressed kisses to your lips whenever he could, understanding your rather unusual silence and taking it all in stride. It wasn’t his place to judge, only to shower you with all the love he could give you.
When he was all done, and you were as comfortable as physically possible, he swooped you into his arms, carrying you to bed.
“Minho,” you murmured his name when your head lolled against his chest, startling him as you quietly began to play with his shirt.
“Yes, babe?” He answered, setting you gently down on the bed and beginning to tuck you in the soft blankets, knowing how much you’d benefit from a decent night’s sleep.
Before he could walk away, you grabbed his sleeve, keeping him standing beside your bed as you asked softly, “Why am I never good enough?”
Minho’s eyes widened as he bent down, brushing the stray hairs away from your face, “No. No, no, darling, who told you that? Where did you hear such nonsense from?” He asked sternly, now genuinely having to struggle to hold his anger down as he wiped the falling tears from your cheeks.
“You are good enough. You’re more than enough, Y/N. You’ll always be enough, no matter if you come home with the medal or not. If you slip up on stage one day, you’ll still be enough. If you don’t get the grant that you were working for, you’ll still be enough,” Minho said softly, sitting on the bed as he comforted you in the only way he knew how.
He felt the tension that was constricting his heart start to loosen as you began to respond more to his touch, leaning your cheek into his hand, closing your eyes as you basked in his warmth, “Y/N, please,” he asked, still biting his lip with thinly veiled concern, “who put those thoughts into your head?”
Oh, how he wished it was some outside person. How he wished it was someone he could confront, someone to whom can be forced to deal with the true force of his wrath. But just from the look on your face, he knew it was more complicated than that.
Your smile was bitter as you looked him in the eye, “Myself.”
Minho sighed, having already assumed that was the case, “Baby…” Suddenly, his eyes widened, and the dots clicked in his head as he looked towards you with horror, “is that why--were you...avoiding me?”
“Not exactly,” you said slowly, “I was totally overwhelmed with practice this week, a-and I was afraid of what you might think of me when I’m running on three hours of sleep and one too many energy drinks.
You looked up at him, gently squeezing his hand, “I wasn’t trying to avoid you, but I was afraid to come home sometimes.”
Minho shook his head, feeling his heart shatter at your confession, “You don’t--you don’t have to make yourself look perfect for anyone’s sake, especially mine,” his voice trembled slightly as he leaned forward to he could rest his head on your chest, still clutching your hand tightly before he spoke not louder than a whisper, “Y/N, do you know how much I’ve missed you?”
The words struck your core, and the dam collapsed. Tears flowed freely down your cheeks as you slowly combed your hand through his hair, watching as Minho’s shoulders shook, and he held onto you as tightly as he could without hurting you. You could feel wetness drip onto your shirt as he cried into your chest, and the two of you held each other, comforting and loving each other with all of your hearts.
When all the lights in the bedroom were turned off save for a dim nightlight on the bedside table, and you were comfortably nestled in Minho’s chest, he murmured softly, his chest rumbling, “Please don’t spend all day at the school anymore. Overpractice won’t make you better.”
You hummed in acknowledgement, your eyes already closed, “I’ll try to come back before sundown every day. Deal?”
Minho huffed, not quite satisfied but knowing it was all he was going to get, “We’re not going to get to anything on my checklist as this point,” he mumbled childishly to himself.
“Checklist?” your ears perked up at that, and you tilted your head to look at him, “What checklist?”
His cheeks grew slightly pink as he explained, albeit very quietly, “I made a checklist of things I wanted to do with you this week.”
If that wasn’t the cutest thing you’ve ever heard, you didn’t know what was. Your lips quirked up into a smile as you let your arm drape around his waist as you looking up at him, “Oh? Care to tell me a few items on your list? Maybe we can knock some of them out quickly.”
Minho was silent for a moment, obviously weighing the consequences and the rewards of spilling his closely held secret. Finally, he said stubbornly, “I want to kiss you every night before going to bed.”
The request was so utterly simple, and yet it made your dulled heart flutter in a way that you didn’t know it could. Feeling warmth, Minho’s warmth and affection, slowly trickle back into your worn out body, you scooted up so your lips were just inches away from his.
“If you want, we can start that today,” you whispered, gazing into his eyes.
Never one to deny you of anything, Minho gave you a soft smile before cupping your cheek with his hand and leaning down, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss. Even in the softest of kisses, Minho had the ability to take your breath away, to make you feel more special than you ever believed you could. His lips caressed yours, gently nibbling and nipping at them until he was finally satisfied.
“I’ve missed you,” he breathed out before nuzzling his nose against your soft cheek.
“I’ve missed you, too,” you repeated the sentiment, leaning into his touch and basking in the love that he always showered you with, especially in the intimacy of the bedroom.
Eventually, he settled himself back on the bed as he pulled you back into his chest, always loving the weight of your head resting on him. It was as physically close as the two of you could be, and he could always wrap a protective arm around your waist like this.
You mindlessly drew circles over his torso as you asked, “What else is on your checklist, darling?”
Minho’s smirk went unnoticed, and he answered your question smugly, “Well, there were a few positions that I wanted to try--”
“Goodnight, Minho.”
“Hey!”
#inkidz#stayhavennet#districtninewriters#stray kids scenarios#stray kids drabbles#stray kids reactions#stray kids imagines#skz oneshots#skz scenarios#skz imagines#skz drabbles#skz x reader#lee minho imagines#lee minho scenarios#lee know scenarios#skz x y/n#stray kids x reader#stray kids x y/n
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for the autumn fic meme.. newmann #20 like newt chasing leaves and hermann outwardly is psh, childish and internally heart eyes and is crunching the leaves around his feet with his cane when newts not looking (this became really long lol feel free to just post it not as a request)
20. Crunching Leaves
from autumn fic prompts here
this is such a cute idea
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"It's weird having a break from things, isn't it?" Newton says.
Hermann hums noncommittally. He prods the small fire in their chiminea with the end of a rusted poker (dug up from a garden shed that's seen better days), and moves his leg back just in time to avoid spraying his trouser hem with sparks. Newton tugs the sleeves of his sweatshirt down over his knuckles and gives him a small smile. "Even a small break," he amends. "It's like a mini vacation."
Hermann is not sure—if given the opportunity to do so—he would've picked the northwestern United States as his ideal vacation spot, nor would he spend three out of their four days there networking and lecturing at an international Kaiju Science conference, but he supposes he understands Newton's point. The location of their rental cabin is remote and wooded, which has made for rather calm, picturesque evenings by the living room fireplace, and everything (even their sparse accumulation of groceries) is on the PPDC's budget, which means it's hardly the hit to the wallet it would have otherwise been. Ideally, he would not have to handle Newton on a vacation, either, but Hermann supposes nothing can be perfect. He watches silently as Newton pours himself another cup of coffee from the rental kitchen's French press. "Mm," Hermann says.
Their flight back to Hong Kong leaves tomorrow afternoon. Over their shared dinner of instant mashed potatoes and fish sticks from a box, Newton had suddenly become deeply incensed that they had not taken full advantage of the rental cabin, and dragged Hermann outside onto the small back patio to do some proper autumn things—to Newton, that meant finding two wooden deck chairs languishing under moss and ivy at the very back corner of the property, lighting a campfire in the dusty chiminea with an ancient book of matches discovered under the sink, and attempting to roast marshmallows with a broken tree branch. He gave up on the marshmallows after he kept burning his beyond recognition, too impatient to hold them anywhere but directly in the flames. Hermann had not bothered in the first place. He's always been somewhat repulsed by their texture. "Have you ever been camping?" Newton says.
Hermann shivers at the thought of willingly spending time inside a tent. Even sitting outside beneath trees right now (where twigs bounce from above onto his clothing, bugs keep landing on him, and all sorts of things to set off his hay fever) is pushing the limits of his patience. "Absolutely not."
"I used to go camping every October when I was a kid," Newton says. "I loved it. This place kinda reminds me of the campground we'd go to. So many—" He waves his hand around, and adds, lamely, "Trees."
Hermann privately thinks that all forests tend to look the same, but he doesn't tell Newton that; it's not as if they can take a stroll through the woods whenever they'd like back in Hong Kong, where they spend about ninety percent of their waking moments toiling away in the dark and the damp of the basement laboratory, and he's not keen to put a damper on Newton's good spirits. He knows Newton has spent more than a few days off of work hunting down the nearest hiking spots, always returning (often the following morning) with his pockets full of leaves and interesting rocks he looks up online. Hermann has always, quite frankly, found it endearing. Not that he would ever confess such a thing to Newton.
He pokes the fire again. This time, sparks shoot out at Newton's boots. Newton doesn't bother moving out of the way. "I never spent much time outside as a child," Hermann says. "Too busy with school, I suppose." When he was not doing schoolwork for his classes, he was practicing whatever his mother and father decided school was not sufficiently instructing him in (for the Gottlieb children were expected to be exceedingly accomplished and well-rounded in their skills)—advanced mathematics, languages beyond their native German, even piano, for a spell, before Hermann finally confessed he loathed the instrument, though he still retains enough of it he reckons he could play some Chopin should you sit him down in front of one. He used to have a treehouse—a hand-me-down from his elder brother, as most of Hermann's things were—he would keep his telescope in, and he would fall asleep there some nights, one eye still pressed to the eyepiece. That was when he still had the full capabilities of his left leg that were required to shimmy up and down a ladder, of course.
"Didn't you live on a farm?" Newton says.
It was not actually a farm, as Hermann frequently reminds Newton, merely a former farmhouse on what was, at one point, likely farmland, but that must've been at least a hundred years before the Gottliebs moved in. The house was certainly old enough. Newton never fails to roar with laughter over it anyway, and Hermann knows it's because he's picturing Hermann's in dungarees and milking a cow or some such nonsense. Hermann can see Newton's mouth twitching into a broad grin even now. "Hardly," Hermann says. "I really do mean I was too busy to have the time to do much else. My mother and father preferred it that way."
"'Much else'?" Newton echoes.
"Childish sorts of things," Hermann says. A dead leaf drifts from a tree overhead and lands near him on the patio. Hermann stabs it with the poker, debates condemning it to the fire, and then flicks it off to the side inside. He drops the poker back on the ground. "Er. Playing. Indoors, or outdoors."
This sobers Newton up. "You mean, like, being a normal kid?"
"I suppose," Hermann says.
"Jeez, dude," Newton says. "That's...kinda depressing."
Hermann shrugs and takes a sip of his coffee. He doesn't think much about it these days. He doesn't think much about his childhood in general, really, and certainly doesn't waste time moping over it—there are much more important things that require his attention. "Is it?" His coffee's gone cold. They've been out here for quite a long time; the sun has almost set on the horizon, and the chill of the October evening is settling upon them fast. Hermann suddenly wishes he'd thought to pack a thicker sweater. Or, oddly enough, a book. It feels like the appropriate setting to read something, perhaps even aloud to Newton (not that they would ever agree on what to read). Perhaps he and Newton might draw their chairs together, and toss a heavy blanket over themselves, and Newton would put his head on Hermann's shoulder and poke fun at Hermann's taste in literature, but listen intently anyway...
The fire pops. Hermann coughs and shoos his traitorous thoughts away. Another leaf drifts down, this one landing in Newton's hair, and Newton's smile returns as he extracts it. He clenches his fist around it with a satisfying crunch. "I love fall," he says. He raises his boot above another leaf and slams it down with an even louder crunch. His smile widens into a grin. "Hey, do you remember if there was a rake in the shed? I kinda want to make a leaf pile."
"It's nearly dark, Newton," Hermann points out.
"And?" Newton hops to his feet. "I'll be right back," he says, and, his scarf flapping behind him like a cape, tears off back in the direction of the shed, taking care to trod on each and every dry leaf in his path.
He returns a minute later empty-handed. "No rake," he says.
He jumps on another leaf. Then another.
"Don't be such a child," Hermann sighs, though his heart twists in his chest at the sight of Newton so unabashedly happy. He often envies Newton for how carefree he can be sometimes, though he has a sinking feeling what he's feeling now is nothing remotely like envy. Newton really is a thorn in his side.
Newton, rather appropriately, sticks his tongue out at him, and then jumps on another leaf. The force of it jostles his glasses so far down his nose they threaten to fall to the ground themselves. "I'm having fun, man. This is the first time I haven't been stressed out of my fuckin' mind in months." He pushes his glasses back up. "I wish we had another day here."
Oddly enough, Hermann finds himself agreeing with Newton. But he'd prefer an additional day without Newton, of course—Hermann would love to have a day all to himself here, where he could sleep in late, take advantage of the bathtub (which he's been too shy to so far, given that their cabin has only one restroom and he shares it with Newton), and devote as little time as he pleased to all things kaiju-related. Well, maybe he'd let Newton stop in for dinner. Or for a passionate debate or two. Or to share a blanket and a book, if only in Hermann's wildest fantasies. It does sound a bit like a bore without him.
While Newton's back is turned, Hermann uses his cane to crunch a few dry leaves littering the ground by his feet. The sound really is quite satisfying. "Can we go inside now?" he says. When Newton turns to him, his hair sticking up at odd angles, his cheeks flushed, and his eyes bright behind his glasses, Hermann must affect a frown to keep himself from smiling. "I'm—er—I'm getting a bit cold."
#newmann#maria's fanfiction tag#newt geiszler: manic pixie dream scientist#we're getting chilly weather up here AT LAST and I am pleased
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