#they deserve warmth while the rest of the world keeps trying to hurt and separate them

[andiwriteordie]

Tell me abt Mike and his firebending 🔫

there's a moment, out in the middle of the desert during the "two days later" skip happens and the byers-hopper-wheeler family is trying to get back to hawkins, that mike gets a moment alone with his fire.

all of them need to rest. they've literally been going nonstop since will and el first left hawkins, and okay, maybe they could keep going and make it back to hawkins faster, but joyce takes one look at her kids (particularly el and will who are still beat up and exhausted from their time with brenner but then also el is from her fight with henry) and decides they're going to stop and set up camp for the night in the wilderness. she makes hopper pull over, and the six of them set up camp, agreeing to head back to hawkins in the morning.

everyone but will and el are given shifts and told to wake each other up at certain times. el literally passes out in her dad's lap and sleeps through the whole night, while will curls up close to his mom. jonathan and joyce fall fairly asleep too, since they're both tired, and mike takes the first shift.

he sits there and absently plays with the fire, making sure everyone else stays warm in the cold of the desert, and he can't help but look over at will.

the two of them... they haven't really talked since their fight back at mike's house. will looks different. will is different now, and mike can't help but think about the fact that he just keeps on losing more and more parts of his best friend as the years go on. he hates it. he gets will back, only to lose him again, and no matter how hard he tries, it keeps happening to both of them.

will is so close, but he feels so far away. and a campfire separates the two of them, which mike feels is maybe a little bit ironic and deserved. it was his firebending and his harsh words and how he got into his own head that pushed will away from him. and then, even though mike has been thinking about how to fix things with will since will left his house, he screwed up their reunion too. he had been so stunned and so horrified to see will like that, his head shaved and his tattoos exposed and soaking wet and shivering and just not fully there, that mike had panicked and had brushed will off.

he regrets it now.

and so, in the quietness and stillness of the desert, where the only sounds that keep them company are the crackling of the fire and the whistling of the wind, mike quietly says will's name.

because he knows will. and he knows will probably isn't asleep.

will doesn't respond, so mike keeps going. he tells will that he knows he's okay, but that... that it's okay if will doesn't want to talk to him right now. that he gets it. but that he wants will to know how sorry he is for what happened. that he didn't mean to burn will like that. that he should've gone after will. that he wishes he could've done something to help will, that he could've protected will, that he could've prevented all of this from every happening to will. mike doesn't know why, but the words start tumbling out of him—reckless and honest. how he feels like he keeps losing will. how he feels like it's his fault. how he wishes he could be enough and how he could get better, so he could help will. how more than anything else in the world, mike just wants will to be happy and safe and to know that he's loved.

(that mike loves him.)

and staring into the open flame, mike feels more honest than he's been in a long, long time. the flame grows in size and in warmth, as if somehow, it recognizes this too.

will is still quiet; he doesn't say anything. it hurts a little bit, but mike deserves that, he thinks. he deserves the coldness from will. he doesn't deserve the warmth and love that their friendship has always given him. maybe he never has. maybe will has always been too good for mike. maybe mike has never been good enough.

so, mike just sighs, and he pulls his knees close to his chest. and the fire dwindles with him, getting a bit colder and shrinking in on itself again.

(all the while, will sleeps soundly—exhausted from the ordeals of the day. and he doesn't hear a single word mike says.)

#andi's asks #atlagate #stranger things/avatar au

[rinstars]

𝘠𝘖𝘜 𝘔𝘐𝘎𝘏𝘛 𝘓𝘖𝘝𝘌 𝘏𝘌𝘙 𝘕𝘖𝘞, 𝘉𝘜𝘛 𝘠𝘖𝘜 𝘓𝘖𝘝𝘌𝘋 𝘔𝘌 𝘍𝘐𝘙𝘚𝘛.

PAIRING: Gojo Satoru X Reader

GENRE: Angst

TAGS/WARNINGS: Hurt/Comfort (or not you decide hehe). Break-up. Falling out of love. Just hurtful shit. He loves someone else now but he didn't cheat. Can't explain shit omg just read sorry

NOTES: Listen to Madison Beer's new song Reckless while reading, the title is from the lyrics of this song !!

Hard as you try, there seems to be no anger in your heart. No burning rage that makes you want to set the whole world on fire. The urge to inflict the same kind of pain he's caused you not even making an appearance in your heart and mind. If it's resentment on the other hand, maybe you do bear some. Pain, too, if you're being completely honest. But you don't really feel like acting on it. Don't feel like looking for ways to release the negative emotions bubbling inside you. You just wanted to be at peace, wanted to cry everything plaguing your heart.

Maybe it's because he said it in such a soft voice, like he didn't want to hurt you but then not telling you at that moment will only make it worse, so he decides to. His palms were rubbing the back of his neck, eyes looking anywhere but you when he announced the feelings he's been desperately trying to contain.

"I'm in love with somebody else."

He wouldn't cheat on you. To the very bitter end he endured for you, and you knew that. He must've seen how desperately you were trying to save the relationship. How you still try to melt the cold that blankets over your relationship with your warm hugs, kisses lingering on his cheeks just a little bit longer than usual so you can make sure he feels the love that still blooms so beautifully in your heart.

"I understand." No matter how hard you swallow, the lump in your throat doesn't seem to go away, straining your voice. "I'll pack my things tonight and leave tomorrow."

"You don't have to go right away, Y/N," He looks at you sadly, almost pitifully, and you hated it—the fact that you're faced with the reality that it's all beyond saving.

He wouldn't run after you. Not this time.

You realized your high school days were over. He's not going to chase after you, hands on your waist saying sorry and kissing your neck under the rain every time you run away after an argument. He's no longer going to bring you flowers, thrusting it straight to your chest when he gets home because it makes him too shy to be even more sentimental than he already is.

Gojo Satoru is no longer yours.

"It's fine, Gojo." you smile at him, not missing the way he winced at the mention of his last name. Nothing like the usual "Satoru" he's been used to hearing for years. No baby's, no love's, just Gojo. Perhaps he deserved that. He's always been stupid with words, constructing sentences doesn't seem to be a thing of his. Yet this one request he was sure he would beg you for, if you were ever to refuse.

"Will," he begins, closing his eyes shut shortly after then taking a deep breath. "Will you share the bed with me?" He smiles at you sadly, guilt plaguing the beautiful frosted eyes you've always loved. "For the last time?"

Biting your lip to prevent it from shaking even more than it already it, you nod at him, heading to the kitchen as he looks at you with a confused expression. A sigh escaping his lips when you turn around to answer him.

"I'll cook us dinner before bed."

That night in bed, when you couldn't keep bottling it up anymore, you ended up crying in his chest. His arms around you as he runs his fingers through your hair. None of you spoke a word. After all, what do you say to a lover you'll be losing tomorrow? To another woman you think you probably will never be.

He assures you, though. It's not the fact that she's prettier, not that she's kinder, sweeter, or more well-spoken than you could ever be. It's just that he doesn't feel it anymore, doesn't hear his heart beat with you the way it did before—and he hates it, God, does he despise the realization. Yet, while he couldn't imagine his life without you, he thinks he also couldn't imagine a future without her.

You look up at him and he stares down at you, with eyes full of warmth and melancholy—but no longer of love. His frosted lashes almost a painful reminder of what your relationship has gone to—cold and unforgiving. His eyes speak to you the words he somehow couldn't bring himself to say.

He's sorry for hurting you, but he's not for loving her. After all, he just loved. Just started to harbor the same feelings he once did for you.

The morning was both harder and easier than last night. The closure you got before the separation more than you could have ever asked for—a temporary solution to your breaking heart. However, the pain persists as you get closer and closer to leaving the house you've spent so many years with him so he can stay in it and make new memories with her.

The door is heavy, heavier than the luggage he's helping you to carry. Turning back to him when you've stepped a foot outside, your eyes catch the sight of the necklace hanging around a chain on his neck—your present to him for your first anniversary. He must have noticed, delicate fingers suddenly wrapping around the ring.

"I'm not taking it off," Gojo Satoru smiles, goodbye dripping from every syllable of every word coming out of his mouth. "So never take yours off too."

You reach up to him for a last hug, arms wrapping around his neck as you let your tears fall the moment your face is out of his sight. He was your best friend, your anchor, your life support. He was everything to you and you like to believe that once upon a time, you were too.

You whisper your last I love you before driving off in your car, the response you were used to hearing every single time not echoing in your ears this time.

Gojo Satoru was more than a lover to you. He's taken up more memories in your mind than the thoughts you have for yourself, your heart filled with nothing but a space for all the love you would have given him for the rest of your life, had you been given the chance. You spent years experiencing the beautiful kind of love he could give and maybe, this time, it's time for others to experience it too.

The same fantasy you once did.

The sun shines down through your windshield, reflecting on the ring shining on your finger as it grips the steering wheel. The shimmer a bittersweet reminder that while he might love her now, he still loved you first, and you guess—no, you believe, that it's enough.

To be loved by Gojo Satoru and bask in the affection he once offered.

#gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojou x reader #gojo angst #jjk x reader #jjk angst #gojou angst #jjk fic #it is #the fault of none other than #SINCERELY NOT #HEKGSKAHSKS ITS LIKE I GONE THRU 56 DIVORCES READING THAT #the pain and anger still lingering #BY AI #AS IN SAINTOBIO #read it if u havent :D

[universalistotalis]

You fool

Gojo Satoru x Fem reader

Angst

1.7k words

Masterlist!!!

“Do you Y/n, take this man as your lawfully wedded husband?” Your eyes glowed as you looked at the love your life standing in front of you. This feeling of elation was something you never thought of experiencing in the past but here you are, fueled by passion and love for the person made for you.

“I do.” Your voice echoed in the venue.

Gojo Satoru’s dazzling eyes burned on your form as he too was fueled with the same passion and love for only you. The both of you had been through so much together. And as his sight was fixated with the image of your eyes, he can’t help but have a trip down to memory lane.

La la la la

La la la la

La la la la la la ~

Gojo’s voice echoed the halls playfully as you walked down the makeshift aisle lined with a red carpet in one of the hotels you both went to. The sides were designed with white and pastel colors of cloth, dotted with pink roses and yellow daisies. No one was around the marriage booth exhibit so the both of you, being the wacky couple that you were, barged in and played pretend.

Although this wasn’t pretend for Gojo. He may be smiling as if he was about to share a joke but his heart was beating like crazy while he’s looking at you, walking to him, who’s standing in front of the printed altar. He was singing the Bridal Chorus but stopped as you made your way in front of him.

“You’re so damn beautiful, babe.” He whispered as he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear.

He was delighted as you blushed dangerously at his words. After all these years, you were still affected by his charms.

“Y-you’re not bad yourself.” You stuttered.

He laughed loudly at how cute you were being. It amazed him at how comfortable you were in his presence now. In the past, you could barely look at him in the eye, let alone talk to him... but now look at you!

Your chuckles mixed with his in the silence. After catching your breath, your eyes scanned the vicinity before pulling one of his hands. “C’mon, Satoru. We have to go.”

You expected him to agree and walk away with you to another place but he held his place, a foreign smile formed on his lips. It was not the playful smirk you were so accustomed to seeing, but it was so sincere, so full of love that you stared at it for a while. His hands removed the blindfold that covered his eyes and you silently gasped at the sparkles in them as the light illuminated the magnificent pale blue orbs. Then, he encased your hands in his before he took a deep breath and said…

“I love you. I thank all the gods everyday because out of the billions of people they built, they led me to you. I’m so glad I found you.”

“I mean you have six eyes so…” You snorted, even though you felt electrifying tingles from your head all the way to the tips of your toes.

He laughed again and hissed. “Stop ruining the moment!”

“Okay, okay. Continue, my lord.” You bowed respectfully, playfully.

He chuckled once more and hooked your chin on his fingers. “This. The way you make me laugh, the way you make me this happy, it’s enough… more than enough for me to stay and fight for you. Sometimes I wonder if it ever is legal for someone to be so perfect. You understand all parts of myself that I don't even notice. When you look at me, you don’t see that all powerful being everyone is talking about. You see me… the real me.”

A sigh escaped his lips, his eyes gloss over his thoughts. “I can never let them take you away from me. They’ve taken so much already and I am not going to just stand here and lose you.”

“Satoru—“

You suddenly felt a pang in your chest and the rapid fatigue overcome your body. After all the fun and games, you two were still in hiding. Hiding from the world, hiding from his family, both of which would never see you as a worthy match for the most powerful sorcerer of all time. He was destined for someone greater, someone better, someone of another godly descent! They didn’t care if she wasn’t born yet or was still wandering the streets of the world, clueless of his existence, but they are sure as hell that it wouldn’t and can’t be someone like you. Over their dead bodies!

Sometimes you believed them. You let their words and judgments cloud your mind but before they can take over, his voice guides you out.

His grip tightened on your fingers, eyes finding yours and holding your gaze. “I will not lose you. You’re the only right thing in my world and I intend to keep you with me for as long as I shall live. You showed me the love I never thought I deserved. You showed me immense kindness that I never thought someone could possess. You made me believe in the good. You gave me a reason to live everyday with a purpose in my head. You keep me sane. Alive. Free.”

“Oh Satoru.” You smiled through your tears at his revelation.

“I’d choose to spend all my infinities with you. No pun intended.” He joked, even when there were tears brimming in his eyes.

“I’d gladly spend them with you too.” You whispered, marveling at the warmth of his hands, wiping the tears away, erasing all the pain of the past, of the judgments and hurt…

“Stay with me.” He whispered back but you hear the tone of desperation in his voice. He was no fool. He could see you cracking at all the comments of his family and strangers alike. He would always thank you for being strong and for holding on…

You sighed as his lips found yours. Warmth coursed through your veins as you felt his soft breath brush your face. This is what home felt like. Suddenly, his tongue darted out to lick your bottom lip, asking you to give him entrance to the warm interior. And you did. It was a desperate kiss of tongue and teeth clashing, of heavy breaths and tight grips. There were no inhibitions, no doubts. You both were so in love with each other, refusing to let one another go, refusing to leave each other’s sides…

But eventually, both of you faded. There were trying times, too much of trying times actually… and you two are but victims to emotions, and it came to a point where love just wasn’t enough. So you let each other go, breathe, and fly away.

“You may now kiss the bride.” The pastor announced.

Gojo had to look away from the sight of you landing your lips on another, other than his. He thought he was going to be alright when the both of you agreed to go on separate ways. He reasoned that you both needed to grow in your respective fields, to grow as a person. He deluded himself that you could only do this when you both were away from each other. And maybe after, you can both come back to each other's arms but he knew that was too much to ask.

He was the one who kept asking you to shun out the harsh words from everybody even though he knew how much pain you had to endure. Now, he can’t help but feel guilty as he was the one who got swallowed up by those judgments until it ate him whole. It was supposed to be you and him against the world but he turned against you too.

The pain in your eyes were unbearable when he said his goodbyes. What happened to his speeches about making you stay with him? What happened to his promise of protecting you from all the barriers that separated you from one another? What happened to his love for you?

“Gojo sensei.” Megumi called while patted his back. “Are you alright?”

Gojo pushed his dark- rimmed glasses to the bridge of his nose while displaying a playful smirk. “Of course! I’m so happy for her! Look at them! Such a lovely couple!”

His blood boiled at the sight of you. He preferred to be battling cursed spirits than to be in this damned wedding. But he had to see you. He had to see if you were alright. He had to see that you were truly happy without him.

-

“That should have been me, Megumi.” He whispered to the man beside him.

“You’re crazy, sensei.” Megumi scoffed.

He chuckled. “No, no, I’m serious! I was supposed to propose to her that day! Can you believe it?!"

“Sensei—“

“This ring…” Gojo’s fingers reached for his pocket where he fetched a dazzling, silver, and diamond band with both your names engraved in it. “...is supposed to be resting on her finger, not that trashy one the other bastard got her.”

He sighed. “I never knew why I postponed though. Live in the moment, my ass! I'll do it next time, my ass! I'll make it the grandest, my ass! Look where she is now!"

"Hush!" Megumi's hands flew to his babbling mouth that was shouting all of his regrets.

Gojo's body deflated at the millions of ways he could have done the proposal right even when it's now useless to think of. "Maybe I took her presence for granted. Maybe I thought that she would always be there. Maybe I thought she would never leave. Maybe I thought that she would want to spend all her infinities with me.” His voice faltered at the end as he heard your voice saying the same words.

His eyes closed shut, remembering the promises you made to each other. “She meant it though when she said that. And when she said she loved me. She was so ready to be with me, so ready to fight for me. I’m the fool for letting her go.”

Megumi’s eyes filled with concern for his teacher, much like an older brother. He has never seen him at this state, all weak to the knees.

“Say, Megumi- chan.” Gojo’s lopsided smirk appeared again but everybody knows he’s not in the mood for any jokes.

“Yeah?”

“Does she look genuinely happy?” He asked, staring into the void.

Megumi’s eyes trailed from Gojo to you, who was smiling dearly at your beloved husband as you shared a dance in this reception. Your eyes were visibly twinkling under the lights and you looked like you can’t see anybody but the person in front of you.

“Yes, she does.” He replied.

“Then, let’s go.” He smiled sadly before sighing defeatedly. The ring was again tucked in his pockets, hidden, never to be seen by you, worn by you, cherished by you.

As he walked out of the doors, he took one last glance at the love of his life.

“If I could, I’d carve all the roads of infinity to lead you back to me. Maybe by then, I could have a chance with you again. I love you, I always will.”

His footsteps led him away from the venue. Away from you. But his heart stayed in your presence and his mind repeated the same thing over and over again.

Gojo Satoru, you fool.

---

Just painted Gojo Satoru and my head was like, "Why not write angst about this guy?" Lol

I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Hope you're all okay!

Reblogs are appreciated! <3

Masterlist!!! Read more here hihihi

#gojo satoru #gojo angst #gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo hcs #jujutsu kaisen satoru #gojo imagine #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #jujustu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk angst #jjk x poc!reader #gojo satoru scenario #gojo satoru fanfic #gojo satoru imagine #gojo satoru angst #gojo satoru x reader #i legit ugly cried at this #why do i hurt myself #gojo deserves the best i know lol #imma make fluff next time #gojo saturo #satoru gojō x reader #gojou satoru x reader

[seijorhi]

Thirty Seven Seconds

Soulmate AU commission for @pokemonfreak666, hope you like it, bby!

Bakugou Katsuki x Female Reader, Kirishima Eijiro x Female Reader

TW non-con, minor character death, nsfw

Part II

It’s funny how easily the things you think are important get pushed aside and forgotten when everything goes to shit.

For over twenty years you’ve watched the timers on your wrists slowly tick down, day by day, hour by hour, second by second. Separated only by a fraction of a second, counting down to the exact moment you’d meet your soulmates. And for as long as you can remember, those two timers have meant everything to you.

Twenty-four hours out, and you could barely focus, buzzing with nervous anticipation.

Twelve hours. Six. An hour and forty five. Down the timers tick.

Nine minutes.

Five and a half.

Two. 

It’s hard to describe the almost dizzying excitement you felt walking down the street, your arm looped with your friend’s. Giddy and grinning like a fool, it’d felt like nothing in the world could possibly touch you - you were moments away from meeting the ones - your soulmates, your happily ever after. 

And even though the timers never lied, you couldn’t help but keep your eyes peeled, desperately searching for an early glimpse of them while your friend (two months away from meeting her own) just rolled her eyes and laughed good-naturedly. 

Thirty seven seconds out, and the ground shook as an explosion ripped through the sky.

Funnily enough, you don’t remember too much after that. Just a wave of searing heat, an aftershock that knocks you clean off your feet and the sound of your best friend screaming.

There’s a hard body colliding with yours, the smell of burnt sugar and musk choking the air around you-

“Oi, shitty hair, get the other one!”

And then there’s nothing.

—

You wake up in the hospital hours later and a nurse with a sombre face tells you that your friend didn’t make it, and for the first time in years your soulmates are the furthest thing from your mind.

It was a villain attack, some no-name wannabe trying to make a reputation for himself. It doesn’t really matter, you don’t really care. 

It’s all white noise.

She tells you that you have visitors if you’re feeling up to it - the two Pro Heroes who rescued you stuck around to come see if you were okay, but you just shake your head. 

It’s not their fault, you know that, but the timers stopped ticking and your best friend died and you’re honestly not sure whether you’ll ever be able to reconcile those two things in your head. 

You spend just under a week in hospital, and every day they come to see you.

They never make it past the nurses station.

—

Two days after you’re discharged, there’s a rough pounding at your front door. 

You know, even before you glance through the peephole that it’s them. And even with your hand resting on the doorknob, your heart hammering away inside of your chest, there’s a part of you that wants to walk away, to shut them out entirely until they get the message that you’re not interested.

But it’s not their fault, you remind yourself, and you can’t be cruel.

Tentatively, you twist the knob and let the door swing open just a touch, catching on the chain deadbolt. 

The sight of the two towering Pro Heroes - Dynamight and Red Riot, unmistakable even out of their Hero costumes - standing out in the hall would be enough to set anybody on edge, but it’s the way their gazes snap towards you, red eyes zeroing in like you’ve caught them in the middle of a conversation that makes your heart squeeze uncomfortably.

They know. They have to. 

“H-hello?”

The blond’s still scowling, but the redhead (Kirishima, a voice inside your head supplies. He was your friend’s favourite, wasn’t he?) grins brightly at you.

“Hey babe! Y’know, you’re one tough chick to get ahold of,” he laughs, and your eyes flicker to Bakugou’s just in time to see the muscle in his jaw twitch. “Mind if we come in, sweetheart?”

Your stomach twists at the casual endearment, even more so when you catch sight of the pink and red flowers in his hand.

The polite thing to do would be to say yes; soulmates or not they did technically save your life and they deserve that much at least, but you just- 

You can’t. 

Not when you buried your friend yesterday. You need time. You need space. You’re just not in the right place and now… you’re not sure if you ever will be.

Swallowing tightly, you nibble on your bottom lip, “Um… look, I-I’m really sorry, but-”

“Nah, fuck this shit,” Bakugou snaps. “Move,” and you have all of a split second to process the command before his foot’s on the door and it’s splintering inwards, ripping the deadbolt clean off.

A shriek tears its way free as you flinch in on yourself, and vaguely you register Kirishima loudly chastising him, but you can’t focus on that when the blond’s hand is on your arm, fingers digging in, dragging you unceremoniously inside.

“Shut up, Kiri. ‘m not gonna let her push us away because she’s too fuckin’ stubborn for her own good.”

And then those red, glaring eyes are fixed on you, and it feels like you’re a little rabbit, caught in the maw of a hungry wolf. “What are you- stop!” you cry as he painfully yanks you forward again, this time in the direction of your open bedroom. 

But Bakugou doesn’t listen, doesn’t even pause, and despite his earlier protests, neither does Kirishima.

It’s too fast, too sudden- 

Your heart is pounding, fear gripping at your throat, squeezing. You don’t understand what’s happened, why they’ve forced their way inside your home, why they’re hurting you.

“Wait, please! I-I don’t-”

“You don't what, princess?! You’re our soulmate, aren’t you?” he snarls, and you can only sob. “Then just…” he breaks off with a frustrated huff, “just shut up and enjoy this.”

Against two Pro Heroes, you never stood a chance. 

It’s all too easy for Kiri to manhandle you back onto the bed, impossibly strong arms encircling your torso, drawing you back to prop you up against his chest while Bakugou busies himself with your lower half. Clothes are ripped off of you, greedy hands palming at exposed flesh, and you choke on another sob as heated red eyes gaze up at you from between your forcibly spread thighs.

The first lick of his tongue against your sex has you keening, writhing against the redhead’s grip. It’s useless - Kiri has no intentions of letting you go anywhere, and Bakugou only growls, fingers tightening on the meat of your thighs as he pushes his tongue further between your folds.

He eats you out like a man starved - sucking and slurping gracelessly at your cunt, messily, with no rhythm or technique, fucking his tongue into you while you shake and tearfully beg for him to stop. Yet you can’t fight the shameful warmth that burns at your cheeks, the way your toes curl and your breath stutters when he decides to add two fingers into the mix.

“Please,” you sniffle, choking back another moan as his tongue wraps around your clit and he suckles the swollen bud, but neither one of your soulmates pays the cry any heed.

You can feel Kiri’s own hardening cock nudging at your lower back as he plays with your tits, cooing at you and laughing when he rolls your nipple between his thumb and forefinger just as Bakugou’s fingers hit that sensitive bundle of nerves and you scream, shaking and trembling in his grip.

“Yeah, you like that baby? You like Bakugou eating your pussy out?” His lips trail along the curve of your neck, sucking hot, wet, open mouthed kisses against the tender flesh while he ruts his hips against you. “Don’t go all shy on us now, wanna hear how good we’re making our pretty girl feel.” 

And while his fingers relentlessly pump into your dripping cunt, Bakugou pulls back, lower jaw shining and wet with your juices, and grins, “Course she fuckin’ likes it. Little slut’s practically clamping down on my tongue with how badly she wants to cum.” His smirk deepens, something dark and feral burning in those crimson depths as his tongue darts out to lick at his lips, “But we’re just getting started, aren’t we princess? Gonna fuck you till you’re a drooling fucking mess, begging for your soulmates’ cocks, and you’re gonna love every damned second of it.”

Trapped between the two of them - your soulmates, the two people on earth who’re supposed to love you, protect you - you can only sob.

#yandere bnha #yandere bakugou #yandere bakugo katsuki #yandere kirishima #yandere bakugou x reader #yandere kirishima x reader #yandere kirishima eijiro #yandere bakugou katuski x reader #yandere kirishima eijiro x reader #tw non con #tw death

[whumperooni]

Belonging

Pairing: Enji Todoroki x Daughter!Reader

Word count: 3k

Tags/Warnings: incest, possessive behavior, exhibitionism, mentions of being roughly handled by your big bros while daddy was away u.u

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is written in response to a big brained, beautiful minded nonny <3 I was going to put it in the answer to the ask but I’m gonna chuck this in ao3 too so I’m making it a separate post.

THANK YOU nonny for this /chef’s kiss of an ask and please feel free to slide into my inbox again because this is primo content right here.

I hope you enjoy your crumbs <3

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

How long has Enji been away from home? Two days? Three days? Four? Certainly not away long enough for you to be in this condition.

Enji frowns despite the sweet kisses you’re peppering all over his face and grabs onto your waist, lifts you up and holds you back so he can look you over. You’re a mess- bruises on your wrists and hickeys mottling your neck so much he can’t see a speck of your natural color. You look tired, worn out and Enji can tell that you’re exhausted, that things have been busy since he’s been away for his team up. He’s not happy about the vivid bruises on your thighs or the fading carpet burn on your knees. He is really not happy about the bandage on your forearm. Enji’s frown deepens and you grow nervous before him- smile twitching anxiously and hands clenching at the fabric of one of Touya’s shirts that you’ve been made to wear. When he puts you down and reaches to grab your arm, you flinch- barely noticeable, so tiny in your movement; something that anyone who wasn’t him would miss. Enji’s eyes narrow, big hand circling over your wrist and he tries to soften his expression when he feels you tense up underneath him. Whatever has happened while he’s been away is not your fault- he knows this. He is furious that you’re so skittish from it, though. Again, not your fault- his sons are sure to blame. “...what happened?” You tense up even more- eyes darting anxiously around the room and smile wavering and fading from your face. He thinks that you might pull away from him whenever he runs his thumb over the bruises on your wrists, but you remain as good and obedient as ever and simply twitch in place where you are standing. “N-Nothing, daddy,” you mumble, lips trying and failing to smile once more. Enji frowns at you and you squirm under your father’s stern gaze- anxiety whipping through you and upset starting to creep all over your face. “It was just...they didn’t mean…” Oh, yes, they did mean. Enji scowls and he sets his irritation toward the bandage on your arm, has to clench his free hand into a fist so he doesn’t hold onto you too tightly. “What is this from?” he demands. “Give me the truth, little one.” Your bottom lip quivers and he can tell that you are torn. You are such a sweet daughter, a sweet sister- you cannot bring yourself to lie to the father that you love so much but you also do not want to get the brothers that you hold dear in trouble either. You are a good girl- you should not be in this position right now. Enji breathes in deep and he lets it out slow, tries to keep a leash on his temper. You are the only thing he truly loves in this world- his little one, his youngest, his perfect little girl. He doesn’t want to see you cry over something your brothers have done. Enji huffs and he pulls you closer to him, picks you up. Your legs wrap around his waist on reflex- arms looping around his neck and face burying into his chest as he positions you. There’s a quiet whimper from you whenever he cups your bottom and Enji feels his anger grow even darker when he feels you sniffle against him. “Are you sore there?” he asks, gruff as he totes you off to his bedroom. You don’t answer him for a  moment and even then you can only give him a tiny nod in response- arms clinging tighter to him. Enji lets out a tch and he’s careful as he sits down on the bed, as he sits you in his lap. Your upset is more than clear on your face now- bottom lip wobbling and eyes glistening with unshed tears. Enji frowns as your head lowers and he rubs your back with one big hand, touches your cheek with the other. “Did they spank you?” he asks. Your squirm in his lap- eyes averted and fingers curling into his shirt. Enji waits, patient, until finally your lips tremble and you give a tiny nod. “Touya-nii...he wasn’t...he wasn’t happy that I slept in Natsuo-nii’s bed,” you whisper. “They’ve been…” You trail off, nerves and upset skittering over your expression, and Enji grunts his annoyance as he eyes the bruises littered all over your body. “They’ve been fighting over you. Again.” A wince passes over you and you hang your head as if you are ashamed. There is a sniffle and that is all it takes to further cement Enji’s decision that his sons need a reminder of their place. “I- I’m sorry, daddy,” you whisper- eyes wet, lashes wet, voice trembling. “I- I tried to be good so they wouldn’t fight, but- but Touya-nii told Natsuo-nii that I- that I belong to him and it made Natsuo-nii mad and then- then Natsuo-nii was sad after and I tried to cheer him up and then that made Touya-nii mad and then- then they started fighting and then they kept dragging me to their rooms and I couldn’t- I couldn’t make them happy and I’m sorry, daddy! I didn’t mean to make them fight!” Your voice pitches with a whine of a sob and Enji grits his teeth, wraps his arms around tight so he doesn’t let his temper explode. “It’s not your fault, little one,” he tells you- gruff, stern, but soft for him. You sniffle against him, tears wetting the fabric of his shirt, and Enji rubs your back, places a kiss to your hair. “Tell me how your arm got hurt.” You sniffle, again, and it is pathetic, weak. It grinds at Enji’s fury more, but he closes his eyes as you press against him and seek comfort. “I- I fell,” you mumble to him, voice wobbling. “N-Natsuo-nii was holding my hand and- and Touya-nii didn’t like it so he...he grabbed my other one and he yanked me away, but I- I lost my balance and I fell...I hit it against the table and it...cut me…” Your voice gets smaller and more quiet with each word- reluctance to get your brother’s in trouble making it so hard to admit what happened to your father. Enji’s control snaps as he listens and his fire flares from him- something he is quick to put out whenever he hears your panic sounding against his chest. Enji breathes in deep and he buries his face into his daughter’s hair, holds you just a little too tight in his arms. “...okay, little one,” he says once his temper calms down enough that he can talk without growling every word out. “Did anything else happen?” You shake your head against him and it’s a bit too swift of a denial for his taste. He senses that there is more- knows that there must be- but he does not push; he does not want his little one to collapse further into upset. Enji takes another deep breath and lets you go, cups your cheek to smooth away one stray tear. “You’re a mess,” he tells you. “Come- take a shower with me and then we will relax.” You nod- one small, upset sniffle leaving you- and Enji presses his lips to your forehead before gathering you up in his arms and carrying you to the bathroom. He strips you down and reduces Touya’s shirt to ash- letting it fall into the waistbasket with a scowl. You do not comment on it, but you hug yourself tight- eyes wide and worried and body littered with bruises. They have been especially rough with you this time and Enji is not pleased. He is careful with you as he washes you- big hands moving as gently as he can manage but still firm as he washes your tangled hair, scrubs down your tired body. You relax as he takes care of you, melt under his warm fingers and let out soft, sweet noises as your father eases the anxious tension that has wound your body up so tight. He kisses you when you tilt your head back to look at him- your eyes half-shut and sleepy, a serene look on your face as he runs his hands over your breasts. It is a chaste kiss- loving and brief- and Enji feels a certain satisfaction whenever you sigh after, lean against his broad chest. “Daddy takes good care of me,” you mumble- words fuzzy with exhaustion and the gooey warmth spreading through your body and making your mind melt from much needed tenderness. “Not like…” You trail off softly, guiltily. Enji knows what you mean, though, and there is pride in him from it- a possessive, vindictive pleasure as his little girl nuzzles against him adoringly. You are daddy’s little girl- you always have been and you always will be. Enji finishes cleaning you and he sets you out of the shower to wrap yourself in a towel and wait for him. Your clumsy attempts to clean him before he does are cute, but he knows that you are tired and does not wish to push you just yet- he has plans and he needs you to rest while you can. He cleans himself and you wait for him obediently- wrapped up in a towel and yawning, propped up on the sink where he had sat you down. Seeing him emerge from the shower is a treat- water steaming from him and dripping down rippling muscles, through chest hair and a thick happy trail. A soft noise leaves you as you watch him dry himself and your cheeks pinken without notice despite heavy eyes and a fuzzy, tired mind that’s begging for sleep. Enji watches your soft thighs rub together and he goes to you, kisses you like you deserve- lovingly, hungrily but not forcefully. He breaks it once a sweet, low moan sounds from you and then he kneels, parts your legs and hooks them over his shoulders before burying his face into the honeyed crux of his little one. The bathroom echoes with your whimpers and mewls as Enji runs his tongue through your folds and burrows his tongue deep inside your cunny. He keeps your hips still whenever they begin to twitch, but he allows you to grab onto his hair, grunts with approval when you arch your back and whine out a needy little, “Daddy, please!” You come whenever he slips a thick finger into you- slick and warm insides fluttering and clamping down onto the digit as you cry out, grip his hair tight. Enji works you through it and he slips a second finger in at the peak of your orgasm, makes it trip into another and has you whimpering, gasping out “daddy, daddy, daddy!” “That’s right, little one,” he praises- voice coming out low and husky as your cunny clenches and cums around his fingers. “Who makes you feel good?” “Daddy does!” Enji hums, pleased by your mewled answer, and he allows you to ride out your pleasure before slipping his fingers from you. You look so sweet as you pant and flush- so worn out and vulnerable; a tender girl flustered by the dulcet, mellowed pleasure that you have been craving for days. You whimper whenever Enji stands- arms reaching for your father and eyes bright with needy tears. He picks you up and he kisses your cheek, cups your bottom whenever you wrap your legs around him and teases your wet, fluttering hole with a stretched out finger as he totes you off to the living room. The boys are there- arguing as always, in each other’s faces with heated, hissed words and glaring eyes- and they only look up when Enji slips a finger inside your cunny and coaxes a moan from you. Their reaction is immediate- heads snapping up and shock halting their anger only to multiple it. Touya’s lips pull back into snarl and Natsuo’s eyes widen, narrow as he watches your hips grind down against Enji’s finger. Enji glares them down as he eases another finger into your eager cunny, kisses your cheek when you whimper and cling to him even tighter. “Little one,” he asks, voice gruff but calm even as he glowers down at the furious brats that he calls sons, “who made you feel good earlier?” “Daddy did,” you mewl out- sweet and sleepy and showing the pleasure that is slowly wrecking your tired body. Enji hums and he spreads another finger to smooth over your clit, makes you moan softly and try to grind your hips against him. A growl rips from Touya and your lashes flutter from it, a tiny noise of worry leaves you and is instantly forgotten when Enji curls his thick fingers inside of your honeyed insides and causes your mind to blank from pleasure. “And who is making you feel good now?” Enji demands- hard and nearly imperious as you tremble and cling tighter to him. “D-Daddy is!” “Do you want your brothers to fuck you, little one?” Enji asks, narrowing his eyes in challenge when Touya takes a step toward him. A hiccup of a sob leaves you and you shake your head, bury your face against him with a whimper. Enji’s lips twitch with the hint of a smirk and he pushes you to answer with, “And why is that?” Another sob and you shake as guilt, frustration, repressed anger and upset at your brothers twine through you along with the honeyed, warm pleasure that your father is giving you. You sniffle- hips rocking against thick fingers and your syrupy, sticky juices leaking from you and coating your father’s hand. “Because- because,” you whimper as your heart pounds and your cunny throbs with need. “Because they’re- they’re mean! I don’t want- I don’t-” Guilt causes you to whine against your father and Enji hums as he teases a third finger against your entrance, looks over his sons. Touya is furious- hands clenched into tight fists and shaking with anger that’s close to exploding out. Natsuo, at least, has the decency to look guilty, ashamed. He ducks his head and looks away as Enji spreads your little cunny wider and makes you cry out as he slowly stuffs your squishy, warm insides full even more. “Who do you want then?” Enji asks- voice low and gruff. He grunts as your insides spasm around his fingers and his cock flexes against himself- hard and big and so ready to fill his sweet baby girl. “Who do you want to fuck you, little one?” You choke on a sob- the questions overwhelming your tired mind and your body racing toward another orgasm. You arch against him, head tilting back with a cry whenever he places a hot kiss to your neck. You can’t help the way you pant and shake against him and you can’t help your answer either, the way you moan out a loud, needy, truthful- “Daddy! Want- I want Daddy!” You cry a little after from guilt and need and the pleasure that is making your mind melt and your head spin. Enji lets out a growl of satisfaction and he slips his fingers from you- soothing you with a kiss whenever you let out a panicked whine. Enji slides you lower down his waist and presses the head of his cock against your fluttering hole, looks at his sons with challenge and superiority in his eyes, the set of his lips. “And who do you belong to?” Enji asks- voice low and demanding, making a desperate shiver crawl up your spine. You whimper and you lift your head from him, turn it so you can look at your brothers. There is no fear in your gaze- not like how there was over these past few days whenever they yanked you to and fro between them- and you shudder against your father- eyes heavy and cheeks flushed, body soft and pretty and clinging to him with pressing, loving adoration and need. “Daddy,” you mewl out sweet as honey. “I belong to daddy.” “Good girl,” Enji murmurs to you, sliding his cock into your eager cunny. “My good girl.” Choked anger tears itself from Touya and he snaps out a “fuck you” to Enji before stomping out of the room- singing the doorframe whenever he slams his hand against it in fury. Natsuo is frozen in place- eyes wide as he watches you come along your father’s cock- and he flushes from frustration, from anger whenever he finds himself hardening at the sight of Enji’s dick stretching your pussy and making your glistening folds part as he slides into you slowly. He clenches his fists whenever your moan and then he stomps out of the room- angry and needy as your chanted mewls of “daddy, daddy, daddy!” sound behind him. Enji smirks as his sons flee in a temper tantrum, smiles as he kisses your cheek and rocks his hips up to make you moan and go limp against him in pleasure. You nuzzle against him with a needy, tired whine and Enji hums his satisfaction at that, turns to carry you back to his room and his bed. “Shh, little one,” Enji tells you. “Daddy will take care of you.” A whimper leaves you and you tremble before giving a weak nod against him, clench around his cock even as he slips out of you to lay you out on his bed. “Love you, daddy,” you slur out through your pleasure and exhaustion, the overwhelmed feeling making your mind melt. “Love you so much.” Enji braces himself over you and he kisses your forehead, soaks in the soft mewl that sounds from you as he sinks his cock back into your honeyed insides. “I love you too, little one,” he tells you. “My little one.” You nod, panting and dizzy, and Enji kisses you, starts to fuck you slowly. You’re his. You will always belong to your daddy.

#enji todoroki x reader #endeavor x reader #enji x reader #bnha #rooni's shit #tw: incest #this ask made me so dreamy #thank you nonny <3 #i hope it scratches that craving for you #todoroki degens

[pot-of-terv]

Disclaimer: This starts soft but very quickly goes to a place I did NOT expect it to go so, just, be prepared. I guess there were some things my muse just couldn’t leave untouched :_D There’s also an additional drawing in there somewhere among the text. The ending is kind of a cliffhanger (dun dun duuun... part three is coming!!) but it’s happy (hurt/comfort y’all, MY BRAND)!

Also I have to say- oh my goodness this ended up having over 2,000 words and I’ve never written a fic this long! This feels pretty amazing but also, very scary, because as you know I’m a Finn so English is not my first language and this far I’ve stuck to just writing itty bitty things. Writing a story with multiple parts is also new to me, so wow, actually, thank you PuzzleJune for making me challenge myself in fresh and exciting ways 🥺

tw: breakdown

PuzzleJune2021, Week Two: Space (Quiet)

It is mesmerising. Intoxicating, even, Atem muses as he reaches up to rub his own sleep-soft face, eyes never leaving the still sleeping figure beside him. He shifts to lay on his side, slowly, with deliberate movements, trying to not disturb the quiet of the early morning.

Watching him sleep like this... I can feel the bed move when he moves and his warmth whenever he's close enough. I never had that before, he thinks and his heart clenches. I have it now.

Yuugi snorts in his sleep and Atem can't help but smile. That boy... no, that young man, has been through so much, too much, and yet he still sleeps so soundly. It's nothing short of incredible and the pharaoh wonders if he's ever met anyone more deserving of respect and admiration. Their journey thus far has only lasted for a couple of years and during that short time, the former spirit of the Millenium Puzzle has had the first-row seat to witnessing Yuugi's strength, his growth - how he slowly but surely had begun to trust himself.

Atem turns his gaze away from Yuugi and mulls over that thought. It hurts him somewhere deep in his core to remember how little worth Yuugi had seen in himself during those first months after Atem's consciousness awakened. He touches his chest where his heart is and leaves his hand there, feeling the slow rhythm beating under his palm.

That feeling of self-doubt could as well be his own, for he did think he was Yuugi for a while back then. It's a troubling realisation and he frowns at the ceiling. Despite not having any memories, how many of those insecurities had been Atem's own that he subconsciously reflected towards Yuugi's heart and by doing so unknowingly meddled with Yuugi's self-image as a whole? Objectively he knows that his emergence helped Yuugi gain confidence even though he didn't remember those first few times Atem took his place, but subjectively...? Atem's brows knit tighter together and he balls the hand that rests on his chest into a fist.

To call these thoughts troubling is an understatement. Suddenly Atem feels uncomfortably restless, he can't keep still, he needs space, he has to move. But moving would mean leaving the warm blankets and the even warmer form next to him and risk waking him in the process.

His chest feels so tight and it aches in a way Atem hasn't felt in millennia and he squeezes his eyes shut, holds his breath and with one swift movement pushes the blankets off of himself, sits up and rolls to the side to plant his feet onto the floor. The wood is cool under the bare soles of his feet and that sudden feeling makes him pause for a moment. He releases the breath he was holding.

It's almost funny how he already feels better. He glances over his shoulder to see if he had woken Yuugi up but the other youth seems undisturbed, still fast asleep. Relieved, Atem stands up... and doesn't know what to do. It's still practically night time and the house is silent. Mama Mutou and Grandpa will be getting up in one to two hours and Yuugi much later than that if his previous findings are to be trusted. Normally he would happily snooze the morning away with Yuugi but he doesn't want to go back to bed, the restlessness still buzzing under his skin even though that unpleasant tightness in his chest has ebbed and is now just a nuisance instead of actual, painful anxiety.

He turns around to face the bed so he can take another look at Yuugi, properly. A glance wasn't enough. Will never be enough, he realises all of a sudden. I want to be looking at Yuugi, and only Yuugi, forever. How can his heart feel so big and full but so small at the same time?

Atem is overwhelmed, not yet used to the absolute link between his feelings and his physical senses, and he lifts his hand once more to his chest, almost desperately grasping his shirt and pressing his fist against his heart, to feel the beat of it, and the warmth of his body.

He has this body now and he should be so, so thankful for it, but at this moment he can only feel guilt. He loves Yuugi but has still put him through so much and he knows, oh how he knows, that the trip to Egypt broke him. Atem had felt Yuugi mourn him weeks beforehand, felt his grief he so valiantly tried to conceal - too bad their bond at that point was the strongest it had ever been and Atem knew. It took everything in him to keep on going, to keep on telling himself that this was the right thing to do, this was how he could repay Yuugi's kindness and let him go on with his life, let him be free. He had heard the modern phrase “if you love them let them go”, and wouldn't that have been so grand? To prove his love in such a poetic, profound way?

All that in spite of Yuugi's feelings screaming at him that to be separated was the last thing he wanted.

Atem chuckles, a bitter taste in his mouth. Despite having shared such an extraordinary bond, communication had never been their strongest point, duels usually excluded, and talking about their feelings was not an exception. Still isn’t. They both had just kept on doing what they thought was the best for the other and in the process ended up wounding each other in ways that Atem isn't sure he can ever truly understand. Yesterday he had come down to the kitchen to find Yuugi folding laundry, eyes puffy and red, yet when he talked he sounded so happy. Atem had left it at that because there's nothing he could do when confronted by that smile that can put even the Sun in shade.

Slowly he realises that he's been staring at his partner for such a long time that it must be bordering on creepy. How did he get here from that warmth he first woke up to, from that love he so deeply feels for Yuugi? Why hasn’t he thought about these things before? It's like all he has in his head are questions with no answers to calm his mind. It's only been a week since... since it all should've ended, but didn't, all because of Atem's selfishness. Selfishness... and love. His own heart had broken when his life points counted down to zero and he saw the utter hopelessness he felt surface in his heart reflected right back at him on Yuugi's face. The memory of it is still so strong that he has to grit his teeth together to keep his jaw from trembling.

He hadn’t been able to stand that expression, to stand the knowledge that he was the cause of it. He wasn’t good enough. He wasn’t good enough. The pride he had felt toward Yuugi's skill was completely overshadowed by the grief that hit him in waves, his legs feeling like lead as he slowly walked to Yuugi, his own voice distant to his ears as he offered words of consolation and praise. Empty words, they were, he knew it then and he knows it now. How could he ever leave this person who had gone through so much for him, because of him, who had loved him so fully, who had risked it all to be there for him in his quest to regain his memories even when knowing that the price for that would be too steep to consider if Yuugi ever stopped to do that?

Atem had never wanted to leave. He had learned to live again, to have friends, and grow as a person, no matter how minuscule that growth might have been. Yuugi had been him and then Yuugi had become his world. There's no other way to explain it. As much as Atem had longed for his memories, for those people he loved and lost all those thousands of years ago, he couldn't bear the thought of losing another family. Even when the prize would be to regain his first one. 

But he had to. He had thought he had to.

Yet when he was just about to take the last step, he had faltered. Had wondered - does it have to be this way? What if there's another choice he could make?

And the gods had answered him. He didn't have to beg, he didn't have to fight, he just had to ask.

Just ask.

It had been so simple, in the end, so effortless. Of course, Atem asked for that third choice - or didn't really even ask, he didn't dare, he wished for it, his heart on the verge of breaking a second time. He had been painfully aware of his friends behind him, holding their breaths, waiting for the end. Atem felt their feelings wrap around him like a cloak and he bore the weight of it, accepted it, as he couldn't quite believe that it would be that easy to stay. So he had wished.

And that wish had been granted.

And now he is here.

Standing in the middle of the floor in Yuugi's room while Yuugi sleeps, hands closed into fists, both grasping his shirt now, holding back tears that threaten to spill forth. Wondering why did he even put Yuugi through all that, when in the end, it was for nothing? Oh, he thinks, oh, how it hurts. His own shortcomings, his own pain, the pain that he had caused others. Especially the pain that he had caused Yuugi. He hadn’t deserved it, he never deserved something so cruel and insincere as Atem's decision to leave had been.

A sob wrangles itself up and out of his mouth, he's not able to stop it in time and that breaks his resolve. He sways on his feet as tears force their way out and streak his cheeks, fall into his shirt and seep into the fabric as he hiccups and tries half-heartedly to stop it. He shouldn't be crying, not after everything he’s done. He doesn’t deserve to feel so sorry for himself - he should be the one to take responsibility, to carry that burden without a hitch. But, the thing is… at this moment, he’s no longer the prince-then-pharaoh from 3000 years ago. He’s no longer the amnesiac spirit occupying the Puzzle. He’s not the King of Games.

At this moment, he’s just a 16-year-old boy who is desperately trying to deal with every responsibility he’s imagined are only his to bear and failing spectacularly. So he cries, and cries, and he can no longer see with how blurry his eyes have gone. He prays Yuugi won't wake up to it, he just has to suffer through it and he'll be fine. Crying is fine, actually. He would laugh at himself if he could - aren't tears an actual luxury, after all? He wasn't able to cry his own tears with his own body before, but now he can.

There's a hand on his shoulder and Atem's heart drops into his stomach - oh no, now he's woken up - then another on the other side, then a tug, and Atem follows blindly. He's guided back to the bed and coaxed to sit down where a warm body presses against him and he's enveloped in an embrace.

Atem finds that he can't talk, he tries to draw breath to get the words out but sobs are the only thing he can produce and finally, he hears a voice call his name. It's so soft and warm and loving that Atem somehow feels worse and buries his head into Yuugi’s shoulder, his chest heaving and he almost wails from the struggle of it.

“Shh, other me. Cry it out. It helps. I know.”

He listens to Yuugi and does just that. It’s not easy to give up the reins but with Yuugi by his side, he finds the will to allow himself to succumb. He clutches his partner's shirt, holds him and is held in return, and lets himself cry. Lets his tears come like he's never done before and faced with the force of them, he feels like there's no end to it.

But there is an end. After a period of time that feels like an eternity, his sobs subside, his tears slow down, and he feels like he can finally loosen his hold of Yuugi's shirt to let blood flow into his fingers again. His nose feels snotty and he's sure there's no dry spot left on his partner's clothes and somehow that thought makes him laugh.

“See? All better now,” Yuugi murmurs against his temple and presses his lips there. That sign of affection almost makes Atem's eyes well up but he squeezes them shut, refusing to start crying all over again. He feels drained and empty and he's pretty sure he should be ashamed. He had woken Yuugi up and made him comfort him without asking but all he can feel is gratitude. Gratitude and love and endless adoration.

“Aibou,” he sniffles, voice congested and raw. He means to thank him but his throat closes up, yet Yuugi seems to catch his meaning.

“No need,” the shorter of the two says and Atem can feel his smile against his skin, “it's okay. You're okay, we're okay, everything's okay.”

Atem wants to argue but finds no energy for it. And - as he thinks about it, he realises that Yuugi is right.

They're okay.

He wraps his arms properly around Yuugi and squeezes, sighing softly. His mind is comfortably quiet now and he presses his ear against Yuugi's chest, listening to the beat of his heart (his heart's heart?) and feeling his own fall smoothly into the same rhythm. It's natural, it's right.

“I think,” he manages to croak out, “that we need to talk.”

Yuugi holds him closer and nods before pressing his face into Atem’s hair.

“Yeah,” he replies, sounding relieved, “we sure do, other me.”

#ygo dm #yugioh #puzzleshipping #puzzlespace #puzzlejune2021 #puzzlejune #puzzlequiet #atem #yuugi #tervdraws #tervdrabbles #fanart #fanfic #this bad boy can fit so many headcanons and projection in it #i am in the possession of the crybaby beam and i'm not afraid to use it (for real though. my agenda is to Normalize Boys Crying) #(no i will not be taking criticism)

[arvandus]

can i request Bakugou and 47?

Sure!  You didn’t specify if you wanted fluff or angst, so I went with angst because... well... this dialogue prompt is dripping with it.  This turned into another big one, just under 1600 words. 

On the upside, I’m learning that I’m much more wordy with angst than I am with fluff (a little self discovery happening here).  On the downside...

Dis is gonna hurt.

47. “Just pretend we’re okay, just for tonight. I’ll be gone by sunrise.”

“We need to talk.” Katsuki said.

The two of you sat across from each other at the dining table, but the distance felt like an ocean separating you. Vast.  Infinite.  Impossible to cross.

Those words… those dreaded words.  Everyone knew those words never carried anything good in them.

It also didn’t help that he avoided looking you in the eyes, his face pulled into a frown.  Not the grumpy frown he normally wore either. This one came from deep roots, from something that had been troubling him for some time.  It had twisted around his heart with thorny vines, locking it in a cage as it fed him dark fruit, poisoning his thoughts.

Your mouth was dry as you struggled to keep the panic from your voice.  “Okay…”

There was a long pause as Katsuki mustered the courage to say what he’d rehearsed countless times.  Even then, the words fell out in a rush, clumsy and rude.  “We should stop seeing each other.”

You knew the words were coming, but it did nothing to lessen their blow.  You felt like you were drowning.  You stared at the wood grain on the table, your vision blurring as tears immediately began to slip down your cheeks.  You wiped them away quickly with your hand. 

“Why?” you asked.

Katsuki clenched his hands together on the table. You stared at them, longing to hold them.

“Shit, Y/N… don’t make this harder than it has to be…” he muttered.

Your eyes shot up to pin him with an angry glare. “Me?  I’m not the one ending our relationship.  If you want to break up, I can’t stop you.  But the least you can do is give me the courtesy of telling me why.”

Shame filled him and he broke eye contact with you. You had a point.  You certainly didn’t ask for this.  And he should have known better than to think this would be anything but a clean, mutual separation. He ran his hand through his platinum blonde hair.  Shit.

“I don’t have time for a relationship.” He said. “I just want to focus on myself for a while.

His words didn’t surprise you… you always knew he was very career-oriented, with an almost obsessive, single-minded focus.  And the two of you had been growing apart, lately. He was working longer hours, and when he was able to see you, he was often too tired to talk or really spend time with you outside of watching TV.  But you had been patient with him, giving him space, and respecting the demands his life was putting on him.  It was wearing on you, more than you wanted to admit to yourself, but you had definitely never said anything to him about it.  You were willing to wait for him, to not stand in his way or ask for more than he was willing to give. You had hoped that all of that self-sacrifice would be enough.  That the pain you were putting yourself through by being with him would eventually pay off once he reached his dreams.

But now… none of that mattered anymore.  Was it really all for nothing?

Anger flared in you. You stared at your hands, balled into tight fists in your lap, as your tears dripped onto them. “If that’s how you feel, then why did you even get involved with me?” you demanded.

Katsuki ground his teeth together in frustration. “Because I thought I could do both, okay?”

“I never asked anything of you.  I’ve done nothing but support you.” You stated.

“Don’t you think I know that?” he retorted, his voice raised slightly.  “Do you think I like knowing that I can only give you the bare minimum?  Do you think I like knowing that I can’t make you happy?”

“Whoever said I wasn’t happy?” you huffed.

“Tch. Don’t lie to me. You think I can’t hear the disappointment in your voice when I have to cancel our dates, or when I have to work late? You think I don’t notice when you hide away in the bathroom at night to cry, after you think I’ve fallen asleep?”

The words hurt to say, but they hurt you more to hear.  You stared at him, stunned.  He wasn’t supposed to notice those things.  He was supposed to be asleep when you snuck out of bed on those nights.  And if he was awake, why didn’t he ever come and hold you?  Why didn’t he ever try to come comfort you?

Why did he let you feel alone?

“You know I hate failing at anything.  And I’ve failed you most of all.” He muttered with his head hung low.  “Let’s face it, Y/N… I’m a shitty boyfriend, and you deserve better.”

It wasn’t fair.  It wasn’t fair how he was in pain, when you were the one who needed comfort. It wasn’t fair that he still seemed to care about you, but not enough to love you.  Not enough to try harder… not enough to keep you.

You couldn’t stand to be in the same space with him.  You stood up from the table and moved to the couch in the living room, your arms wrapped around yourself protectively, a vain attempt at keeping yourself together as you felt your world unraveling.  You wanted to fall apart.  You wanted to scream, to cry, to bang your fists onto something.  But all you could do was sit there, letting the empty ache overtake you as his words bounced around in your mind, cutting out every bit of hope you had hidden away.

He was right.  Deep down, you knew he was right.  You did deserve better.  But you didn’t want better.  You wanted him.

You had thought that he would have left you there like that.  Either retreat to his room or leave the apartment entirely, staying away until you’d managed to gather your things and leave.  But instead, he came over and sat next to you on the couch.

Katsuki hated this.  He hated confessing to his inability give you what you needed.  He hated it even more knowing that he couldn’t change it, couldn’t be better.  He had tried… whether you ever noticed it or not, he had tried.  But the sadness in your eyes never left, and the longer it went on, the more he hated himself.  And eventually… well, eventually he just stopped trying.  He had given up.

“I’m sorry.” He finally said.  Finally.  The first words out of his mouth that he didn’t immediately hate.

“I know.” You whispered. You wiped at your wet cheeks with a tissue before balling it up into your hand.

“Katsuki…”

“Yeah?”

“Were you ever happy with me?” you asked softly.

His garnet eyes widened. Your question cut him deep, but he couldn’t be angry at you for asking it.  Why wouldn’t you question his feelings for you, after all he’d said?  All he’d done?  Without thinking it through, he took your hand in his calloused palm.

“Of course I was.” He replied.

“But it wasn’t enough?” you asked.

“…I guess not.”

You leaned against him with your head against his shoulder, your fingers twined in his.  His body stiffened.

“Y/N…” you could hear the hesitation in his voice, the warning.

“Please… I just need you to hold me.” You whispered, as more tears dripped down your nose.

He hesitated, the pull of your touch, threatening to drag him back into uncertainty. “I…”

You looked up at him.  Your tears had momentarily stopped, but your eyes were red, your lashes wet.  “I’m not asking you to change your mind.  But please… give me time to say goodbye.”  You rested your head back onto his shoulder.  “Just pretend we’re okay, just for tonight. I’ll be gone by sunrise.”

He couldn’t say no to you.  Not after those words, not with that look on your face. He wrapped his arms around you.  God, it felt good to hold you.  But he steeled his heart, cemented his resolve.  He could do this.  He could give you this one thing, even if it hurt him to do it.  It was the least you deserved.

“Okay.” He whispered.

But the night was anything but normal.  It was anything but okay.  There was no way to pretend, not with everything out in the open and sunrise lurking like a ticking time bomb beneath the horizon.  Sometimes you cried.  Sometimes you didn’t.  Little was said.

Katsuki held you nearly the entire night.  First on the couch, and the later in bed.  But no kisses were shared, no soft words of affection, no gentle touches.  And no matter how tightly he held you, the ache never dissipated.  It never got easier.  The curtain was already drawn, the decision made; all that came after was a courtesy, a final gesture of kindness in the mourning of what was already broken.

Katsuki had finally drifted off in the early morning hours, exhaustion dragging him down into slumber.  But sleep evaded you, and come sunrise, you were true to your word. While he slept, you left the warmth of his arms to gather your things and left, leaving your heart behind you.

Katsuki woke to the sound of the front door latching closed and laid there for a moment before finally sitting up in his bed. The silence was deafening, the emptiness suffocating.  Your side of the bed was already cold.  He put his head in his hands as the emotions he’d been forcing back all night finally bubbled forth. 

You were gone.

#Arv's 500 Followers Event #Bakugou #Bakugou Katsuki #Bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #Bakugou x Y/N #Bakugou angst #bnha angst #bnha drabble #bnha #mha

[astriefer]

Just Let Me Breath With You

Pairing: Thomastair

Word count: 3033

Warning: CHAIN OF IRON SPOILERS, injury, blood, mentions of trauma

It all happened in a swift blink of an eye. The demon attack, the fighting, it all passed in a great swipe of Thomas's boleadoras.

The attack was surprising - not because it was an attack, but because it was close to the stronghold of London's enclave- the London institute. Demons lurked in the road, near Fleet street. A get-together at the institute was held that gray, hazy day in London. What precisely they celebrated was beyond Thomas; what mattered was that old and young Shadowhunters as one joined the battle against the horde of Achaieral demons. Their numbers were the larger he has seen ever since the Mandikhor. It didn't pass smoothly - some injured, although Thomas hadn't registered who. During the fight, Henry or Christopher threw at the demons one of their newest innovation. He noticed only a blur, a small grenade-like object, thrown close to where he was fighting one of the demons. He tried to stop the nasty-looking Achaieral demon from flying - with Thomas himself- when smoke swirled from the thrown grenade. There was a hollow thud of metal hitting something, an explosion followed afterward, and the demon disappeared.  Maybe it was better not to inhale, but he was surrendered by the weird, thick smoke. He wasn't blown up from his inside out, so he considered it safe enough. As for now, the gates of the institute were behind him, hanging open to carry wounded and hurtling carriages. 

Thomas's hands were sore and calloused as he rubbed them against his neck. He swayed slightly, an expression of a fool sprawled over his face. He surveyed his surroundings in bewilderment. Soon enough, worried and relieved faces gathered around him. His friends and family crowded him, mumbling altogether to make no sense at all. It felt utmost importance to note to himself not all of his friends and family truly were there. Matthew wasn't, and so was Cordelia. He heard the word "overwhelmed" in all the havoc. He didn't understand what they were talking about - surely they had been fine if they were running around the way they did.

He kept his eyes on them, trying his best to decipher what they were saying, but his gaze inevitably slipped away from them. He caught a brown blur of torn red jacket, grey pants, and tousled dark hair. That instant, the world turned down, and all left was him and this man in another corner of the institute. Even the voices surrounding him ceased to exist.

On the spur of the moment, he briskly departed from his family and friends and walked to him, barely restraining himself from storming toward him. A hand rested on his forearm -  an attempt to stop him - but he shook it off without glancing at whomever it was. Sensing his intensive look, Alastair stared at him with a puzzled countenance. The short man was sitting against a wall, letting another Shadowhunter draw an iratze on his left arm. Thomas remembered Alastair charging to battle, now and in other battles they fought side by side, and relief I've washed him because he didn't seem to be wounded. By the time he reached them, It didn't matter who the other person was. The moment he captured Alastair's forearm, he broke into a run, not bothering to look at anyone as they hastily evaporated from the forecourt. Bad-mannered indeed, but Thomas was sure whoever that was would've understood urgent matter to talk with Alastair if he had known.

The tall man led the other through hurrying servants and leery eyes. Thomas almost knocked over a few people, but he did not find himself to care much more than mumble a half-hearted 'sorry'. He hadn't let go of Alastair, just loosened his grip slightly so he could slip his hand into Alastair's. His hold was firm nonetheless.

"Thomas!'" Alastair called out and caused him to turn his head over his shoulder. By the look of annoyance on his face, Thomas assumed the other man called his name a few times. Or perhaps, it was a result of being publicly dragged by Thomas for no apparent reason. Then he understood. Alastair had to run in order to follow him at this pace. For the first in entirety, Thomas cursed Alastair's shorter legs; but he quickly took it back because Alastair was, of course, the most beautiful the way he is. e slowed down his pace enough for Alastair to walk beside him, still dragging him after him. He felt a jolt of surprise Alastair didn't fight him about that, that he just let him take him to wherever he had in mind. Perhaps he was too stunned to really do anything else but stare at Thomas.

Thomas hadn't stopped to ponder over his good luck and no fuss from Alastair's side. He navigated through the maze of rooms and corridors, guiding Alastair to a casual unused guest room. He thrust the door open, let Alastair and himself enter before releasing his hand and shutting it close. He couldn't quite catch his breath.

He spun around to confront Alastair. Beautiful, he thought. The man in front of him was beautiful. Alastair - with torn clothes and dirt on his face - looked as charming as ever. In the last rays of the London sun, Alastair's eyelashes cast shadows upon his face. His cheeks seemed a bit red - was it because of Thomas or because of the previous fight? - and he chewed his lower lip. Thomas had the sudden urge to raise his hand and separate his lip from his teeth, pass his thumb on the soft mouth of Alastair Carstairs. The older man clearly tried to look expressionless, but he could see he studied him with concerned eyes. Thomas saw the question in them as well. Out of self-awareness, he looked down at his own clothes; they were rumpled and he lost his waistcoat in the fight, leaving him with trousers, a jacket, and a white shirt. All stained Ichor. He peered at Alastair, his clothes, and Alastair again. He must have looked like a corpse. Alastair, however, kept his captivating eyes on him, endearing-looking with his normal composed facade slightly off. 

Alastair's stopped biting his lip and opened his mouth to talk, yet before he could voice a word, Thomas stepped closer and buried his face in the soft hair of Alastair Carstairs. He relished the feeling of Alastair close to him, of his smell and heartbeat and warmth. "You're here. You're fine."

His voice was just above a whisper, but it filled the quiet room. "I wanted to talk with you for days now." Alastair's breath hitched. He hadn't pulled away. He hadn't tried to push Thomas aside. It was Thomas who backed away from their position. Alastair tilted his head up to look at his face and gasped loudly when Thomas crushed him in a hug. He groaned in pain, and it struck him Alastair had been injured.

"You are hurt." Thomas's voice was almost offended. He loosened his grip on Alastair, whose hand came to rest protectively on his side, where his bruise must have been. Thomas recalled all of sudden he had been given an iratze. Was his wound worse than just a bruise?

"It's nothing," Alastair wheezed and took a careful breath.

Their gazes met for a long moment. Alastair didn't squirm. Thomas leaned forward leisurely, testing his boundaries. When his lips collided with Alastair's forehead, he let out a sigh against the soft skin. Alastair stood strained at first, then slowly relaxed. it had not even been a week since the sanctuary, since Belial and his schemes, since Cordelia and Matthew disappeared to Paris. Alastair was avoiding him like the plague, and Thomas couldn't blame him much. He wished he could. It hurt seeing Alastair and knowing he could not be with him the way he craved to be. He suspected Alastair would back away soon, leave him alone in this room, disappear without a second glance. Come and leave like in a dream. Like in their time in Paris. 

Then, "I am glad you are okay as well."

Thomas's heart skipped a beat. Or a few. He abruptly ducked his head into Alastair's neck, close to his pulse. His body lost its tense as he devoted all his heed to the marvelous sound of Alastair's heart, beating strong and fast, addicting to Thomas's mind. Not a minute later he felt small palms pushing against him gently. He drew away begrudgingly.

His eyes were unclear, while Alastair's were shining brightly. Too brightly. He lifted his arm to touch the side of the fair hair on Thomas's head. When he lightly caressed it, Thomas winced. Letting his arm fall to his side, Alastair said, "You are hurt too. You need treatment."

Alastair dismissed his injury because he didn't want to worry Thomas and make it about him; Thomas dismissed it because he didn't want to be away from Alastair. His head was throbbing; it didn't matter. "It's nothing." he tried to enfold the small figure in his arms once again, but Alastair didn't let him. Thomas didn't try again, just silently observed Alastair. The dark man's eyes were conflicted as to if debating over himself what to do now. He sighed. "We can't, Tom. Please."

It was like a heated knife to his heart. He swallowed tightly. "I know," he forced himself to speak. "I am - I keep remembering all you are. All I love about you. Your hair," he counted and planted a kiss on his damp hair.  Alastair looked at him, surprise written over all his face. "Your haughty smile, your dark colors, your eyes-"  sparks of gray in a pool of black that reminded him of a starry sky. "Your lips," He closed his eyes. "your heart, so wide and loving, despite how much you try to conceal it. Your stubbornness, kindness, and selflessness. Your love for mundane movies and history and art. All of it. The feeling I can twirl around you for hours without getting a tad bit tired."

"Thomas," Alastair whispered.

"You deserve to be happy. I wish you would let me show you some of it," he continued tentatively. The man in front of him stood rigid, and it made sprouts of doubt rise in Thomas's chest. 

"Thomas. No. No. We cannot. Don't act like we- as we could ever happen. Don't say those things to try and convince me we can be more than heartbreak for each other."

The knife twisted. Thomas blinked. "I am not telling this to try and win you over, Alastair," he said slowly. "I am telling you this because you deserve to know. Because I want you to know how much you mean to me," he inhaled, feeling a bit lightheaded, and went on. "With my friends, I always hide this part of me. The part you take in my life, in my heart. I can be all I am with you. You understand me so easily, that it takes my breath away. I- I am not as good at words as James is. I am not as wild or charming as Matthew. I am not as talented as Kit. I am me, and with you, I feel it's enough."    

"Tom, it always has been enough."

Thomas sucked in a breath. How could he say this and expect Thomas to keep his face straight and his heart in control? He tried to push Thomas away but didn't let him think less of himself. He didn't let himself what he deserved, what they both did, because he believed they would both end up hurt. "I know so many things are - complicated," Alastair snorted at that. "But right now, everything is lucid, with you here."

He gazed deeply into those dark eyes. They held depths inside them he wanted to learn off by heart. Depths he wished to explore but could not reach.

Alastair shook his head and stubbornly kept his gaze at his dusted shoes. "You think we have reason by our side, but all we have is the burning yearning and stolen time." He knew if he let himself fall this time, he could not stand back. He would lose himself those kind hazel eyes, his deep voice, his brave heart, in everything that is Thomas Lightwood.

"We have more than this," Thomas declared. "I trust you."

Alastair piped his head up, "What?"

"I trust you," he repeated."And I want you, Alastair. I know you do too. But I want you to trust me as well. Trust me when I say I will never say those things just to make you give in and be with me. I am saying them because they are the mere truth and because I care for you."

Alastair glanced away hastily, eluding his eyes. "You are in no condition to make this decision. You- We can't -"

"But do you want us to be? Do you wish us to be together? "

Electricity filled the room, and both couldn't take their eyes off the other. Thomas knew it wasn't fair of Alastair to ask such a question. He knew on his flesh what it is to admit- even simply to oneself - you want something and believe you would never have it. That is how Alastair seemed to perceive them - a false fantasy, a feverish dream that would never come true. Thomas knew as well that Alastair had made it clear he didn't think they had a future, and making him fumble with those pieces of broken fantasy could hurt worse than words could. Yet, a part of Thomas couldn't help but wonder what the other had been through to be so hesitant to let himself be happy.

Do not say it's not possible on my behalf, he wanted to shout. If you wish to break my heart, do it because what you want is not a future with me in it.

"Yes."

Relief came so fast he felt abashed. His heart pounded ear-piercingly through his body. "Tell me," he asked gingerly. " Will you allow me to kiss you?"

Alastair drew in a sharp breath. Color flooded his cheeks. "Thomas..."

Thomas searched his face, which for so long was emotionless when he saw him the past week. He saw the hurt -  how much it must be for Alastair?  he pondered - and the fear. The dark-eyed gentleman wouldn't believe Thomas's words. He wasn't sure he could trust him with his heart. For now, he shall have the certitude for both of them. There was a voice telling him he wouldn't have come to Alastair after the fight if he could think clearly. He pushed that part away, locked it in a cage, and threw away the key. 

He swallowed down the odd, stinging feeling of being rejected. "Will you allow me to embrace you, then? " Just let me breathe with you. Let me hold you in my arms, to reassure us both, to know you are here. "You don't have to. I swear to it." He took a step back to prove his statement.

The judicious decision was to ignore the offer. To turn away from Thomas and all the comfort he had to give. Alastair was on the verge of tears. Thomas hated those tears were because of him. Because of them. Alastair opened his eyes and hummed acquiescently, soft and low.

The shreds of resistance left Alastair's body as Thomas swooped him into a hug. His big hand passed his head on Alastair's back, between his shoulder blades, and to his lumbar. He absentmindedly caressed Alastairs's side, touching Alastair's wound lightly. The smaller man shied away from the contact but immediately calmed back into the hug. He stifled a whine, and in the back of Thomas's mind, he knew they both had to get checked on. Thomas put his cheek on the other man's forehead. He closed his eyes and let out a pleased noise. Alastair's arms slowly cloaked Thomas's waist, holding him close. 

"We should return," Alastair whispered. A few minutes had passed. They were alone, far away from anyone who might hear, but the moment was so dreamlike and tender both were afraid to break the air around them. That alternate reality they formed in this godforsaken room, for a glimpse of a moment.

"I find it so tremendously difficult to do," his breath felt heavy; so did his heart. "Because I don't want to ever let go of you."

He heard Alastair gasp, and Thomas's own breath was quivering. The pulse beating deep in Alastair's chest raced, and Thomas was sure he could listen to it forevermore. The hug felt more private than a kiss, more overwhelming and welcoming and warm and protecting and trusting. "I missed you."

"Tom," Alastair's voice was suffocated, and thick from emotion, as if he was a boat that slowly sank because it's full of water. Thomas tried to retreat, suddenly fearing he passed the line. He must have passed it long ago, and yet Alastair let him, despite his own warnings. Thomas was about to apologize when he felt Alastair's hands tightening around him, and then the blazing understanding hit Thomas that It was Alastair's way of telling it was fine. Haltingly, he returned to their previous position.    

They were hugging, nothing more. But the proximity made Thomas feel a sense of internal peace, like a calm wave hitting the sand lightly. It made his lungs protest because he was out of breath. How could he ever let go? It was better than nothing at all, better than air and staring long at the wall of his room. It was Alastair, and he was ready to take every drop given to him. Yet, because it was Alastair, he could never get enough. It was hard to capture it - the soft looks, the thumping hearts, the yearning and the hurt. Thomas's cheek was still pressed against Alastair's forehead. He shifted to hide his face in his strands, dark like the night, soft as a feather. Alastair's smell was intoxicating. The words slipped his tongue before he knew it. "I am glad I am here with you."

There was a beat of silence. The voice of the man he loved - Thomas almost startled himself by the heedless use of the word love - barely reached his ears.

"I am, too."

#alastair carstairs #the last hours #tlh #chain of gold #chain of iron #tsc #the shadowhunter chronicles #thomas lightwood #chog #cordelia carstairs #thomastair #thomstairs #thomastair fanfic #thomastair fics #my fics #chain of iron spoilers #choi spoilers #coi spoilers #coi #I am sad :) #PLS TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK OF IT I'M ANXIOUS #I feel like Thomastair will be rushed in Chot #so have this #april fool you thought they might kiss and they didn't #Thomas respecting Alastair's boundaries is my life #also I am very not sure about this one #I like writing canon compliant things so imagine them talking between choi and chot and still showing they care for each other? #I actually want them to be slow burn #BUT TO SEE THE SLOW BURN

[braunbakery]

salvation, maybe (iv)

☞ reiner braun x reader [fem bodied] [chapter word count: 2.5k]

☞ sfw, angst, fluff, post-season 3 [after 4 year time jump], season 4 spoilers

☞ cross-posted on ao3 (very much ahead on ao3, just wanted to bring it to tumblr)

☞ fic plot: you have walked these streets many times before. you have passed this bench many times before. you have seen this man (lost in his thoughts, always drifting, always looking lost) many times before. but this time, this time you take a seat.

prev. next

iv. whisper

when reiner wakes up in the middle of the night, it’s not lurching forward from his bed in a cold sweat grasping at nothing. it’s not choking back a scream or scrambling up from under the covers. it’s because he can feel the weight of your head just below his shoulder, your head tilted up and to the side towards his chest and your nose pressing against his shirt.

his muscles tense before he can comprehend what’s happening. he’s frozen, stone still, watching your chest rise and fall in your sleep. your hands are tucked into yourself (thankfully) and your knees are bent towards your chest, like you’re trying to make yourself as small as possible (in an already small bed.) reiner considers slowly moving his arm from underneath you, but any movement might wake you up or end with him falling off the edge of the bed (or him no longer feeling the warmth of your breath against his shirt, or the weight of your head that somehow makes him feel lighter.)

so he stays still, trying to ignore how the hands currently bundled up to your chest would fit around his shoulders perfectly, or how this bed would fit both of you better if he could just hold you. (if you could hold him back.) he’s had sleepless nights before, he’s had restless nights before, but staying awake right now and watching you use his arm as a pillow doesn’t seem so bad. it doesn’t seem bad at all.

when you wake up in the middle of the night, it’s not jumping up from a dream where you’re falling endlessly into nothing. it’s not with a heart pounding so hard against your chest that you feel like it might just rip out of you or your legs trembling. it’s because you can feel reiner take a sharp breath. and then you realise that’s because you’re lying on his arm.

you don’t know if he can tell you’re awake, but you know by the way his body is practically a statue underneath you that he is. but your lids are heavy and you don’t have the energy to lift yourself off his arm, nor deal with the excuses already trying to bleed their way out of your mouth. and you also don’t want to.

you just want him to hold you. and you want to hold him.

you swear you can hear his racing heart from your position (slightly tucked into his side), and a part of you knows that he’s not going to dare to touch you unless you say something first. you both lie in silence for minutes that seem like hours, listening to each other breathe and unsure if the other knows that one of you is awake. reiner stares at the ceiling, chastising himself for not sleeping on the floor despite your protests. you would’ve had the whole bed to yourself, and he wouldn’t have to think about how much he wanted you to come closer. you stare into the white button-up shirt separating you from reiner’s chest, trying to lull yourself back to sleep by watching his stomach rise and fall. eventually, you give up.

“reiner?” you murmur, your voice thick with fatigue. you can feel him jolt under you. well, you think, he knows i’m awake now anyway.

“yeah?” reiner replies, raising the arm you aren’t lying on to rest his hand on his stomach. and even though he knows that logically, he should be lifting his other arm out from underneath you and telling you to go back to sleep, he doesn’t. he’s happy to hear you call his name in the dark, even if he’s so tired that he can barely tell whether or not this is a dream.

“are you…” you trail off. you don’t know where you’re going with this, or what elaborate excuse you can concoct for reiner to feel like he absolutely has to have you in his embrace. you’re just so tired and you just want to go back to sleep. but you can’t when reiner is lying like a rock underneath you. you won’t.

“hm?” reiner quizzes when he realises that the words he was waiting for never followed. he feels your head slowly tilt upwards to try and look at his face, your neck craning, then returning back to its original position when you realise it’s no use and you can’t see past his shirt. it feels like decades have passed when the words tumble out of your mouth, and relief washes over him when he hears your weary voice speak again.

“are you…are you going to put your arm around me?” you ask. and god, you’re just too tired to be mentally slapping yourself for being so forward and pathetic. you don’t want to tiptoe around each other anymore; you just want to get to sleep. and you want him to get to sleep as well. and you want him to be happy to be in your arms, and be happy to have you in his arms, and be happy when he wakes up in the morning and realises he wants the same for the next night and the night after that and the night after that. it seems so stupidly idealistic and optimistic, but you find yourself still hoping and waiting.

moments pass.

reiner is acutely aware of every rustle around him. he feels like he can hear the footsteps of particularly no one from the other side of the street, and the blood being pumped through his veins, and your lungs expanding and deflating. and he’s elated to hear you say that you want him to be with you for the night. and he’s elated to hear you still awake when you slightly shift in the silence that is yet to pass. but it hurts.

it hurts so, so bad.

he doesn’t deserve this. he doesn’t deserve someone wanting him to hold them, or someone sitting next to him on a bench when he’s so obviously alone, or someone offering (insisting in your case) to walk him home, or someone lying about where they live for an excuse to spend more time with him. and he especially doesn’t deserve it if that someone is you.

what are you doing? he thinks, say something, idiot.

“no,” reiner whispers into the darkness. there really is no escape from this remorse. because even when he follows his own orders, he’s still consumed by such an overbearing stinging at knowing he’s rejecting you. but he can’t let himself do this. he can feel himself heating up minute by minute as the conflict inside him grows more and more violent and he hopes, prays, that you won’t notice and decide to go back to sleeping on your pillow.

instead, you’re thinking. you can’t lie to yourself and say that hearing him say that didn’t hurt, at least a bit, but you’re so drained that your thoughts are starting to fog together and you can feel every one of them begging to come out of your mouth. until, finally, one does.

“how come?” you quietly say. you don’t want him to do something he doesn’t want to do. you don’t. but if he didn’t want you here, why did he ask you to deliver a paper to him tomorrow? why did he let you come in? or tell you he was glad that you had asked to stay? or take the bed against his better judgement? or let you stay lying on his arm?

and you’re not an idiot. you know he’s hurt. you know that war has torn him apart. you can tell from the circles under his eyes, the way his fists are always clenched, the way his jaw always seems snapped shut, the way his gaze is always menacingly focused or drifting far away. the way he didn’t think he was a good person.

the way he was so shocked when you said that you thought there was more for him in life than death.

so the pang of hope still flutters on in your heart as you wait for some kind of response, both of you staring into the room basked in the glow of the moon.

how come? reiner asks himself like he doesn’t already know the answer. like he isn’t constantly stuck living through the answer.

“because…” because…because he’s a monster. because he doesn’t deserve it. because if he tries to spend one night in someone’s arms and pretend that the world doesn’t feel like it’s playing a sick joke on him, it will just hurt more when the sun rises again, and the days go on.

“because i’m…”

a murderer.

“…a murderer.”

a traitor.

“…a traitor.”

reiner wants to sink into the bed. he wants to go back in time and never sit on that bench. he wishes you never had to meet him and deal with this shell of a person, this husk of a man. he wishes it were someone else in his place being offered some kind of salvation. bertolt. annie. marcel. god, even fucking porco deserves this more than him. what is wrong with him? why can’t he just pick up his fucking arm and wrap it around you and have you in his arms and pretend everything was okay and wake up and have you still there beaming at him? why was everything always so…hard?

“because i’m…” there’s a pause. and another and another. you stop yourself from jerking upwards and checking if he’s okay. but before you can, his arm is shifting from underneath you and he pulls it back towards him, the back of your head now resting back on your own pillow.

“a coward.” he finishes. he can’t look at you. he can barely stand looking at his ceiling, knowing you’re gazing up at the same one. and you are, the feeling of the pillowcase beneath your head one that is unwelcome and missing the feeling of the warmth of his skin radiating through his shirt and comforting the back of your neck. you don’t know what to say. you don’t know if there’s anything that you should say, or if he just wants to lay in silence. your hands clasp each other across your stomach as you lay on your back.

you know you can’t bring him back from the things he’s done. you know you can’t bring him back from the things he’s had to be. but you don’t want to let him fall down this hole anymore. you want him to at least think that you thinking he deserves more in life (that he should hold you, that you really really want him to) is enough to keep him going. even if it’s just for a while.

even if it’s just for the time between falling asleep and waking up. and then you’d gladly do it all again.

so you turn to your side and face him, propping yourself up on an elbow and reaching for his shoulder that’s closest to you. you lightly rest your hand on it and reiner instinctively turns his head to you and locks eyes with you momentarily, then quickly glances away. you look at his face, really look at the way the moonlight is hitting his cheekbones, the way his sharp jaw is casting a shadow over his neck, the way his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows quietly, the way his eyebrows furrow at your touch.

“i don’t care about that,” you say, shamelessly. his eyebrows slightly raise in shock at your candor, but you don’t care. you don’t care if this makes you a horrible person. you don’t care if you should be taken aback by his confession, or if you’re excusing crimes beyond exoneration. you move the hand resting on his shoulder to the space between his eyebrows, instinctively trying to soften out the tenseness without thinking, “i’m asking you to just…” reiner finally makes eye contact with you, watching as your hand trails down from his forehead to his cheek, “just. let me be with you? for tonight? …for both of us?”

maybe it’s the late hour that’s letting both of your guards down, or the moonlight streaming through the window, or the slight creak of the bed every time one of you shifts, but that’s all it takes for reiner to place his hand over your hand that’s now cupping his jaw. he watches as a tired smile makes its way across your face as you look down at him through half lids, and you watch as his face softens out and the storm brewing in his eyes fades away bit by bit.

before you know it, you’re pulling him to you and he’s pulling you to him. you both meet in the middle of the bed and reiner wraps one arm over your waist and buries himself in the crook of your neck. your legs tangle together and you reach the arm currently in the tight space between his neck and the pillow to the nape of his neck, brushing your fingers over the short hair and pushing him closer towards you until his breath practically passes through the fabric of your shirt and the barrier of your skin.

reiner reciprocates, the arm slung over your waist now pulling you towards him until he’s all you can smell and touch and see. your other free arm grips his shirt at his upper back like at any moment, he could evaporate. he lets out a deep breath into your neck and you run your fingers over the skin behind his ear, pressing your lips onto the side of his neck momentarily and resting your chin on his shoulder. you can feel him relax under your grasp, but the hand snaked underneath you and lightly holding the back of your neck doesn’t fall, and his hold on your waist doesn’t falter.

even though this mismatched bundle of limbs and the constant attempts to pull each other closer and closer, like you’re trying to climb into each other (fall into each other), is going to eventually end up with reiner’s arm that’s underneath you being completely dead when he wakes up, and your arm that’s tucked into the space between his neck and pillow with your hand running your fingers through his scalp ending up in the same state...you can't bring yourself to care. you can't bring yourself to think of anywhere else you'd rather be.

just as you’re about to drift into sleep, reiner’s head lifts up from the crook of your neck and moves backward until you’re both looking directly at each other. the hand that was slung around your waist is brought up to your cheek, and his thumb lightly caresses it. his fingers are calloused, but you don’t mind. you could never mind.

“thanks,” he whispers, before returning the hand on your cheek to its tight grip at the back of your waist and pressing a chaste kiss your jaw. he returns his head back to where it belongs, the space between your neck and your shoulder.

“thanks,” you whisper back into his ear before returning your head to rest on his shoulder and feeling it rise and fall with every breath reiner takes.

and you think, no, you hope, that you can feel him smile into your shirt.

#aot #snk #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot fluff #reiner braun fluff #reiner fluff #reiner x reader #reiner braun x reader #aot fic #snk fic #reiner brainrot #reiner braun #aot x reader #sfw

[heytherejulietx]

Im gonna combine. Bughead + Hogwarts and Soulmates

Never Had Enough Time - Bughead

Masterlists

Requests open!

Read on AO3 here!

Notes - So uh, I apologise in advance for this. It was way sadder than I originally intended it to be - I think I went a bit overboard since I haven’t written anything Hogwarts related since Christmas. But enjoy. And I’m sorry Sara. :)

Prompts - Hogwarts / Soulmate AU.

Warnings - Major character death, death, brief mention of suicidal thoughts, battle.

Word count - 3.5k.

Riverdale tag list - @bucky-j-barnes @adorably-sweet-hufflepuff @kpopgirlbtssvt @booksmusicteaandanimals @happy-puff @cheryllclayton @jesso80 @dietbreadloaf @thebluetint @lilireinhartsimp @camiczzzz @bitchy-broken @crazyninjalight @luella-cane @literarygetaway21 @hopeversusillusions @bc-jh22 @happygmc8

To join my tag list fill out this form.

From the moment he’d started being friends with Betty, Jughead knew that she was his soulmate. There was no way that she couldn’t be. The sweet Hufflepuff girl who had woven her way into his heart by the middle of their first year was his absolute favourite person; she meant the world to him. The way that Soulmates had been taught to them in class matched up with everything he felt with Betty. The adoration, the comfort, the longing to always be with her. It was a way that he had never imagined he could feel about someone before he had met her.

So when it was nearing his sixteenth birthday he knew his theory about them being soulmates would be proven with the timer that would appear on his wrist. He wasn’t so fussed about the timer itself; the countdown to when his soulmate would die hadn’t even crossed his mind as he couldn’t ever imagine losing Betty. He could picture them somewhere away from Hogwarts married and living together; happy. She couldn’t die before they were grey haired and had grandchildren and had lived an amazing life together. No, he wasn’t worried about that. He was just excited to see the timer on his wrist, the timer that would only appear if he had met his soulmate.

He had waited for it the whole of September before his birthday, excitedly talking with Betty about how it could finally be confirmed that they were soulmates. He could picture her excited smile perfectly as he thought about it; the way her giant green eyes lit up as she looked up at him with her huge beautiful smile. She was perfect.

When he woke up on the morning of his birthday, after Sweet Pea had hit him with his pillow on his way out of the dormitories with a shout of “happy birthday, Jones”, as soon as he was coherent enough to do so he sat up and looked down at his wrist.

And his heart fell into his stomach as the air was knocked out of his lungs.

Betty Cooper - 1 year, 238 days.

He didn’t even realise he was shaking until his arm was moving so much that he could barely read the writing embedded into his wrist. It had to be wrong, there was no way that it could be true. Betty couldn’t die, she just couldn’t. It was impossible that someone so perfect and sweet and angelic could just die. There had to be a mistake with the timer, it had to be wrong.

With his eyes blurring with tears he lifted up his hand and harshly rubbed the skin of his wrist, as if he could rub away some sort of mistake. He rubbed the skin until it was red and sore, though nothing changed.

Betty had a year left of her life.

It took him almost an hour before he could show his face from his dorm and head down to the Great Hall. He’d managed to convince himself that the timer was wrong, and later in the day he’d find a book about it in the library. But he had to show his face at some point, aside from Christmas his birthday was one of Betty’s favourite days, and he had to see her. Especially since he might not have that much time left with her.

When she spotted him walking into the Great Hall she immediately sat up with a smile, and it caused his chest to ache to see her so happy now that he knew the time she had left.

Jughead had decided that Betty couldn’t know. He didn’t want her to live the last of her life in fear of when and how she would die. He wanted her to be happy and to enjoy herself. She only deserved to be happy from that moment onwards.

“Hey, what took you so long?” Betty asked as he walked towards the Hufflepuff table as usual, taking his normal seat beside her with a false smile so she wouldn’t know something was wrong.

“Sorry, slept in.” Jughead somehow managed to fake a smile as he put his arm around her once he was seated, dropping a kiss to her forehead which caused her to blush pink and smile bashfully at the action.

“Happy Birthday!” Betty smiled fondly as she moved her arms around his waist, and he smiled a little genuinely as he felt the warmth coming from her body. “So, what does it say?” She gestured to his wrist and he almost blanched.

Nobody but him could see the timer, to make it that much worse, so he had to keep it to himself.

“We’re definitely soulmates.” He smiled slightly, and Betty grinned as she hugged him that much tighter, giggling into his robe as he tried to hug her back.

“I knew it! That’s great! It’s official!” Betty grinned, and he had to try not to break down as he hugged her back, resting his chin on the top of her head as he closed his eyes.

-

In the time from his birthday to Betty’s, Jughead had done everything to try to figure out what could be wrong with his tattoo. With every book he read and every wizard or witch he spoke to, the answer was always the same; the timer was never wrong. After a few days of looking at it he couldn’t bare it anymore, so he constantly kept a black band covering his timer so he could never see it. It hurt too much to even think about.

As her birthday grew closer, Jughead was hoping for another option. If she was going to die so soon, he wanted to as well. He couldn’t live when she wasn’t around. It physically hurt him to think about having to live through her death and carry on while she was gone. If she was going to die, so would he.

Jughead was almost more nervous for her birthday than he had been for his own. Every time her timer was brought up he only had one thought.

Please let mine be the same as hers. Please let me die too.

But on her birthday morning when he walked into the great hall and met her beaming smile from the Hufflepuff table, his heart fell again and he knew that he wouldn’t get the luxury of dying with her.

“Seventy-six years!” Betty had assured his worst thought as he sat down, and he almost threw up. Seventy five years without her was like his own personal hell.

-

Jughead did everything he could to make Betty happy.

He took her to Hogsmeade, he stayed with her and her family at Christmas, and during school was always found by her side. And with every day that passed it ended with his terrible thoughts reminding him that it was all just leading one day closer to her death.

During summer at the end of his sixth year, he knew that he couldn’t go any longer without letting Betty know how he truly felt. All of the love he had for her, that of course she shared as they were soulmates - he had to act on it.

They always had a booth to themselves on the Hogwarts Express at the back of the train; away from loud students and loose pets and Weasley Wizard Wheezes pranks that could probably set them on fire (he’d seen it happen to Sweet Pea once). He always gave Betty the window seat because he knew that she liked to watch the scenery blur by when she wasn’t looking at him.

They’d been on the train for ten minutes and he was a nervous wreck. His palms were sweating and suddenly his tie felt too tight around his neck and he could hear his heartbeat in his ears. It shouldn’t be that hard; they were soulmates for Merlin’s sake, of course she wasn’t going to not like him.

Taking in a deep breath he turned to face Betty, meeting her wide green eyes with his blue ones.

“Betts?” He asked, and she smiled as she hummed and tilted her head a little in questioning.

He swallowed and paused. He physically couldn’t make himself say anything, it was like his lips were glued shut. Instead of trying to force out some words, which he knew would just end in a bunch of word vomit which wouldn’t seem very lovely at all, he lifted his hand up and placed it on her cheek, giving her time to pull away if she wanted, before he leaned in and kissed her. And she kissed him back.

It was like bliss. The air almost completely left his lungs when she felt her smile pressed against his lips, and her hands against his neck as she pulled herself closer to him. She tasted like strawberry lip balm and lemon sherbet and she was so close he could smell her vanilla perfume. It was all making him light-headed.

He pulled away after a moment, and sighed softly as his forehead just pressed against hers. She was warm against his skin as her hand grasped his, and he had to smile as he let his lips press to her temple before he mumbled against her skin quietly in a hushed tone.

“I love you.”

Her dainty hand squeezed his back, and he looked down to meet her eyes and soft smile. “I love you too, Juggie.”

-

After that, he couldn’t be separated from her. He spent practically all summer with the Coopers - a weird experience on his end as Betty was a muggleborn, and Jughead was a pureblood so he had only ever known magical households - and when they were back at school he spent all of his possible time with her. He only wanted to make her happy; to make sure that she would have the best possible year of her life.

With each day that passed he felt more and more sick at the thought of losing her, and the thought of being left without her. He found himself getting more and more upset as the days passed, and often cried himself to sleep every night at the thought of what was to come the following May. Though he never once let Betty see - he didn’t want her to find out and ruin the last few months she had left of her life.

“I really need to get going to bed, if I get caught out after hours I’ll be in trouble.” Betty giggled as Jughead tried to kiss her again, and wriggled out from his arms so she could stand up from the couch in the Slytherin common room. If she was caught out after hours she would be more than just in trouble - with Professor Snape taking the place of Albus Dumbledore, Hogwarts had been all but miserable, and even dangerous for students who went out of line. Though Jughead had given Betty every single secret passage and shortcut through Hogwarts that he knew so she could get back to the Hufflepuff dormitories safely.

Jughead pouted playfully and Betty laughed softly again, a sound that marked him smile.

“I’ll see you in the morning, okay?” Betty smiled, and Jughead nodded as he reached forwards to take her hands, using them to pull her down just enough so that he could kiss her for a long moment.

By the time he pulled away her cheeks were flushed pink and she was smiling a little flustered, and he couldn’t help but be stunned by how beautiful she was.

“Okay. Goodnight Betty. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Betty smiled and gently squeezed his hand before she walked towards the exit of the common room, blowing him a kiss before she left.

And then he was alone. Things were so much worse when he was alone.

Jughead didn’t move from his place on the couch, and just let his head fall into his hands as his eyes closed. Another day passed, one closer until the twenty-eighth of May, when Betty was going to die.

He didn’t even realise he was crying until his throat was thick and his palms were wet against his face. Jughead wasn’t even sure he could make it to May. It was killing him on the inside knowing that Betty was going to die. Part of him still wanted to believe it wasn’t true, but deep down he knew it couldn’t be stopped.

“Jones?”

Jughead looked up through his fingers at the voice, taking in a deep breath to calm himself, though just sighed when he saw Toni hovering by the couch.

Slytherin’s head girl Toni Topaz was probably one of his closest friends. And she was the only other person who knew about Betty’s timer.

“Are you here to kick me up to bed?” Jughead mumbled into his hands with a quiet sniffle, and let his head drop back down into his hands as he heard Toni sigh.

He felt the couch dip beside him before her arm wrapped around him, and he started crying again. Toni didn’t say anything as she rubbed his back, and Jughead appreciated the silent comfort she gave. There was no point in talking about it, because nothing was going to change. Nothing that anybody could say would change what would happen. Betty was going to die and nothing would change it.

-

The rest of the year came and went all too quickly. And as time passed, life at Hogwarts only got worse under the new headmaster. Though even in the darkest of times, Betty still managed to stay positive and happy. Jughead made sure to be with her as often as he could, and one thing he had to credit her for was how she was always so optimistic, even in the darkest of times. Even when they had experienced the most awful day, Betty still managed to make him smile. And it made him fall in love with her even more.

May came too quick, and Jughead spent every second with her. He even resorted to staying in the Hufflepuff dorms with her (after everyone had gone to sleep so he wouldn’t be caught) and even willingly went through his punishment of the Cruciatus Curse when he got caught. Twice. He didn’t tell Betty about that, though, because he would go through it a hundred times just to spend the last month or her life with her.

He walked and met her from every class, ate meals with her, slept with her; he made sure she would be happy.

And then everything went to hell.

Jughead hadn’t even remembered how it had all started, he had been so focused on watching the timer on his wrist go to just hours left, but Hogwarts was being attacked. Severely.

Everything was a mess. Teachers and advanced students were heading out to fight the Death Eaters and countless evil creatures that were breaking into the castle. But none of that mattered to Jughead, as the timer on his wrist changed from hours to minutes; he couldn’t find Betty.

He ran through the castle, avoiding blasts and curses being shot his way that he quickly deflected, despite some injury that came to his way. He met with Toni at the top of the staircase, and after a conversation with her, she told him she had seen Betty in the courtyard.

His legs had never moved so fast as they did in that moment, rushing against the clock to be with her as the timer scrolled down to just ten minutes. Jughead felt sick to his stomach as he ran, pushing past the ache in his body just to be with her. He knew what he had to do.

He caught a sight of blonde hair in the courtyard as five minutes and yelled her name, catching her in his arms as soon as he had reached her.

Betty was sobbing into his robes as she gripped onto him and he held her tightly, promising that it would all be okay. She leaned back from his chest, with tear-stained cheeks and a cut along her eyebrow, and gripped his collar tightly as she leaned up to kiss him. Their last kiss.

Two minutes came around and his hand gripped hers tightly as they ran inside, both of them deflecting any curses that came their way. He didn’t once let go of her hand as he pulled her through the castle, stopping underneath one of the staircase where they couldn’t be seen from one angle.

One minute came and Jughead dropped his wand as he pulled Betty into her arms, kissing her at least five times as he held her tightly, tears in his own eyes. “I love you so much.” He whispered into her hair, and she gripped onto him tightly.

“I love you too Juggie.” Betty whimpered, her eyes meeting his, before they widened as she looked past him at a Death Eater that was stood there, his wand pointed right at her.

Everything went too quick, a blur of colours and actions. The green curse blasted out from his wand right towards Betty, and Jughead held his breath as he moved quickly; pushing Betty out of the way right in time for the green curse to hit him instead.

-

“Jughead!” Toni yelled as she grabbed his arm, stopping him from where he was running to.

His eyes were wide and panicked as he stumbled a little, stopping as her smaller hand grabbed his arm. He didn’t have time for this, he needed to find Betty before it was too late.

“Toni I can’t- Betty-“

“That’s what I need to talk to you about!” Toni rushed, pulling him behind a wall so they could have some safety. “I know it’s today, Jughead, I’ve been trying to find you all day! I found a book in the restricted section that spoke about soulmates and the timer, and it says that someone can take the place of their soulmate and swap their timers if they die instead of them!”

Jughead felt all the air leave his lungs at the news. Betty could live instead of him. Betty could live.

“You have to be with her! I saw her in the courtyard!”

Jughead quickly pulled Toni into a hug, knowing it would be the last time she ever saw him. He mumbled a goodbye against her head and tried to ignore the way she was crying as he pulled back from the hug and ran towards the courtyard to find Betty.

-

His body dropped to the floor and Betty screamed. She didn’t see the spell cast towards the Death Eater that killed them so she didn’t die too, all she could see was Jughead crumpled on the floor.

“No no no, Jug!” Betty screamed as she fell on her knees by his side, her hands cupping his cheeks. He couldn’t die. He still had so many years left. He wasn’t dead.

But when she glanced at her arm the timer had changed. It had one number - zero.

She was shaking as she gripped onto his robes, tears flooding down her cheeks as she cried his name. The battle around her was far from her mind as she shook his body, his limp body not moving no matter how hard she shook him.

Once the battle was over, and his body had been moved to the Great Hall with all of the other bodies, Toni found Betty kneeling by his body. The head girl took a seat beside the Hufflepuff and told her everything; about Jughead’s timer, how badly he had felt for the past year, how she had told him he could die instead. Betty didn’t know what to say in response - she couldn’t say anything. It all hurt too much to try to even talk about it. Toni held her as she started crying again, allowing the blonde to sob into her shoulder as she continued gripping onto Jughead’s now cold hand.

Betty had imagined their lives one day in the future. They would have a house in the English countryside with two boys that looked just like Jughead and a ginger cat that slept on the end of their bed. Their house would always be full of laughter and joy, and they would both love each other as much then as they did when they were teenagers.

But that would never happen, Betty realised with a pain in her chest that was worse than any of those curses that she could have been hit with. They never had enough time.

#amber’s writing #fyeahbughead #riverdale #bughead #bughead fic #bughead fanfiction #bughead angst #bughead hurt #bughead one shot #riverdale bughead #bettycooper #betty cooper #jughead #jugheadjones #jughead jones #betty cooper x jughead jones #jughead jones x betty cooper #hogwarts #hogwarts au #harry potter au #magic au #soulmate au

[novanekoma]

✫ home is where you are

✫ hawks/ keigo takami x reader

✫ summary: You were his home, the place he wanted to keep coming back to, and he knew that no matter what happened, where he went, as long as he had you, he would always have somewhere to call home.       ↳ loosely inspired by the song champagne problems by taylor swift

✫ status: complete

✫ genre: angst, fluff if you squint really hard and implied mature content, again only if you squint really, really hard

✫ warnings: it’s really just a bunch of angst, there is mentions of relationship insecurities and a slight mental breakdown, and implied threat towards the reader at the end, nothing intense though, and not by hawks, this is not a non-con or yandere fic, hawks is hella in love with the reader 

✫ word count: 2.3k

✫ disclaimer: BNHA, the music and any other assets used in this fic, DO NOT belong to me, all credit goes to their respective owners

✫ A/N: So…  taylor swift released the sister album to folklore and I was feeling angst today, and when I heard champagne problems, I cried and got inspired lmao. I hope you enjoy if you decide to read! 

・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

           For the first time in his life, Hawks felt nothing as he flew through the night sky. He couldn’t take comfort in the crisp air that raced through his feathers and tangled in his hair, he couldn’t relish in the freedom that came with flying, the one thing that usually made him feel so free. The brightly lit stars only served to fuel the nightmare he was living, as echoes of warm laughter ran through his mind, and memories of a familiar warm body clutching onto him as he shared the sky with you.

           But not tonight.

           Tonight Hawks was making the familiar trip alone, his arms were empty and all he could feel was the harsh cold of the night seeping into his skin. He wasn’t wearing his hero costume, instead the once crisp suit he had on was now wrinkled, the suit jacket missing, discarded somewhere over Tokyo, along with the tie you’d given him the week before. The buttons on his one pressed shirt were coming undone, the buttons unable to hold on with the speed he was flying at.

           And finally, the night was silent. The only sound being the harsh breaths coming from the broken hero as he attempted to catch his breath. Standing on a familiar building top, Hawks was able to see the entirety of the city, from the top of a home, the home you were going to share, he was blessed with the silence of the night, but provided the beautiful view of the bustling night life of Japan. He could see as people went about their night, he watched the friends that laughed as they walked towards their next stop, the couples holding hands and flirting as they continued with date night.

           He wasn’t sure which was worse, watching the happiness around him, or being stuck in his own head with only his thoughts as narration.

           He didn’t want to think, he didn’t want to feel.

           He wanted to be numb.

           It was when he finally caught his breath, slumped against the bench you had forced him to bring up here, the one you made him promise to keep in pristine condition as this was your spot, you and Keigo’s. Where he didn’t have to be the #2 pro hero, where he could just be Keigo Takami, someone he had slowly been beginning to discover again, someone you had supposedly loved. Where you whispered to him that if he was ever feeling lonely, all he had to do is find the brightest star in the sky and he’d think of her, and know you were thinking of him too.

Keigo let out a deep haggard sigh as he flopped down on the bench, not caring about the stiffness that would surely come from laying on his wings. Brilliant stars lit up his vision and he felt his heart break all over again. He threw an arm over his eyes so he didn’t have to see the sky. The one where the two of you spent hours gazing at the constellations as you pondered any and every topic that crossed your minds.

           It was here where Keigo allowed himself to weep.

・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

           You had been skittish the last few days.

           Keigo could always tell when you were nervous and when you were trying to hide something from him. Your calls weren’t as frequent and your texts were short and to the point, it was hard to get into contact with you when you were like this. It had been harder when you lived separately, but once you started living together, you had no choice but to confront whatever it was that was bothering you.

           Whether it had to do with Keigo or not.

           He had a way of making you spill what was bothering you, he was your boyfriend after all and it always hurt him to see you this way. Usually it took a bit of sweet talk and carefully placed touches before you were spilling your guts out, and you worked the problem out together, but not this time.

This time was different.

He could feel the difference in the apartment every time he got home.

No goodbye kisses or welcome home hugs, the air lacked the warmth you always brought into the room. In its place was an unfamiliar cold, half-hearted hugs and barely-there kisses on the cheek. Your hand pulling from his when he tried to link your fingers, and the I love you’s few and far between. You had a habit of telling him you loved him before he left for work each morning, as you never knew whether he would be home or not that night due to his hero work, and when he went to kiss you goodbye and say those words, they were filled with silence as you pretended to be asleep.

He felt hopeless, torn between wanting to beg and plead for you to share what was wrong and not wanting to push you until you were ready.

           But you were the only family he had, the only person who really, truly meant something to him after suffering with loneliness for so, so, long. You showed him the kind of love that he forgot existed, you reminded him who the man underneath Hawks was, the person he’d buried deep down for so many years.  

           You were his home, the place he wanted to keep coming back to, and he knew that no matter what happened, where he went, that as long as he had you, he would always have somewhere to call home. Slowly, surely and without realizing it, you had become his new dream.

・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

           When you finally, finally, let him in on the problem, on the insecurities that had slowly festered and made a home in your mind, did Keigo understand.

           He knew you’d always been worried, publicly dating a pro hero, the #2 hero at that, was not easy. It was full of paparazzi whenever you were in public, and many at home dates (which neither of you minded), interviews and gossip blogs as everyone speculated about the person who had captured the most eligible pro hero bachelor’s heart.

It was even more difficult once the public found out you were the younger sibling of the hero killer Stain.

Now that, that had caused quite the uproar. While the commission had already been unsure of your relationship due to the charming and flirtatious, bachelor persona they had tried to give Hawks, but now he was dating a notorious villain’s relative? Stain’s sibling at that. They had a field day reprimanding Hawks, even going as far as telling him he needed to terminate the relationship and all contact with you instantly.

He didn’t listen.

You however, had different ideas.

You loved him so much, and felt awful about the trouble you were bringing him. You knew just how relentless the commission could be. But still… you couldn’t bring yourself to leave him. Not when Keigo would look at you like you were the stars that lit up his sky, but even so, you knew, you knew that by choosing to stay with you, Keigo could lose everything.

           So you had tried to get him to break up with you instead, that was the reason for the cold shoulder.

           At least that way, that way it would be his choice to leave you, he wouldn’t be as heart broken.

           He’d be able to move on, with someone the commission and the public would accept. Someone who could stand by his side without all the insecurities and uncertainties, someone with a strong quirk, that could give him strong children, unlike you and your quirkless body. And in those heartbreaking fantasies, you imagined he would have found happiness, found someone who lit up his sky even brighter than you ever had, and was receiving all the love and affection he deserved.

           In a perfect world, maybe your plan would work, but fate had other plans.

           Keigo had come home early that day, picking up your favourite take out and flowers in hopes tonight would be the night you finally told him what was wrong, instead he came home to you sobbing in the bedroom, almost in hysterics as the pressure finally made you snap. The weight of the commission and the response of the public had gotten to you, the gossip magazines and random threats, the guilt you felt every time you pulled away from Hawks, every time you denied him a kiss, when you stopped yourself from saying you loved him back, finally taking its toll.

           Through it all, Keigo had stayed by your side. Letting you sob as much as you needed, letting you get out every emotion you needed to get rid of. He let you scream, cry, vent, and anything you needed, Keigo let you get it out of your system.

Through it all he would remind you that he loved you. No matter what anyone else thought, no matter who tried to get in his way, you were his home. The one who lit up his life and made every day worth fighting for.

And he was the same to you.

・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

           After that day, you had bounced back.

           It had taken time, and a lot of communication and work, but things were good again.

           You still had moments of insecurity and uncertainty, and so did Keigo, but you both worked through it. Showering each other in love and support, working on that communication you both had problems with, and he found himself thinking how his sky got brighter and brighter every day you were in his life.

           Yours did too.

And when you and Keigo were lying in bed, your head resting above his heart, faces flushed and heads still drunk on one another, you had looked at him with eyes that held nothing but adoration, adoration and love for him. He felt an overwhelming warmth wash over every part of him, his wings twitching in response, brushing against your smooth skin, pulling a sigh from your lips as you smiled.

He suddenly found himself wishing on every star that would listen that you would never stop looking at him and he promised, swore to each star that was listening that he would do the same for you. And as you pressed your soft lips against his once more, whispering an I love you, against his lips, Keigo felt true happiness.

           That’s when Keigo knew, he knew.

           The weeks before you had been happier than he had ever seen. Keigo noticed a glow that surrounded you whenever you walked into the room, one that seemed to glow brighter whenever you saw him.

           He felt like he was drowning in love and he didn’t ever want to resurface.

・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

           He didn’t see it coming.

・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. 

           “I… H- Kei… I… want, I- I can’t.”

           “I’m, I-, I’m so sorry.”

           Those stuttered words, the look of pure pain on your face as you rejected his proposal. That image was going to haunt him forever.

           The silent room as you ran from the party, the looks of pity from those who supported you, and smirks of triumphant from those who didn’t, were all lost on him as Keigo immediately flew out of there too.

           He was crestfallen, he couldn’t, didn’t understand what was happening as he tried to process the silent tears that streamed down your face. His own expression mirroring the pain clear on his face as he felt his heart beat painfully in his chest as his ears refused to process the last thing he thought he would hear tonight.

           It was only when your shaking hands pulled him to his feet, numb fingers pressing a familiar red feather, a feather that had been on your person the entirety of your relationship, in his hand did it really hit him.

           The champagne glasses that were waiting to be used for celebration crashed to the ground behind you as he lost control in his moment of shock.  

           You would have made such a lovely bride…

・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

           His wallet felt like it was burning a hole in his pocket, the photo he kept of you in there felt like it was made of lead. Your smiling face as he kissed your cheek, a red feather dangling from your neck as Keigo held you like you were his world. It all felt so heavy.

           Though, it was nothing compared to the weight next to it.

Keigo’s free hand slipped into his pocket, fingers tracing the delicate black box that sat in there. Nestled inside was the ring he wanted to give you, the perfect ring, you would have loved it. It was a combination of old and new, the diamonds coming from his mother’s ring, while the band was something he picked out himself. You were the one that showed Hawks that he could still be regular Keigo Takami, and that his past wasn’t something to forget or what his future was dependent on. All he needed was you.

His flipped open the box and his index finger immediately went to the inside of the band, fingers tracing the words inscribed.

           to my brightest star, you’ll always be my home

           And as Keigo laid there, numb to the world around him, slowly, he removed his arm from his face and looked up the stars once more.  

・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

           “This is what’s best for everyone y/n, can’t you see that? You’re the one bringing Hawks down, and we know you love him. But you’re just not good for him.”

           “As you know, we at the commission are very… fortunate to have connections in many, many, places and while Hawks may be the fastest hero, there are limits to his power, as you very well know.”

           “So, I think we can come to an agreement, yes? You want to keep them safe don’t you? You know what you need to do.”

           And as the Tokyo view faded from your vision, you felt the final crack in your soul as you left the only person that was truly home for you.

You needed to keep them safe.

           Letting the final tears fall, you took a deep breath, wiping them from your cheeks and pressed a hand to your abdomen.

© novanekoma 2020

#bnha hawks x reader #bnha angst #mha hawks x reader #hawks angst #keigo takami x reader #keigo tamaki angst #tw mental breakdown #hawks x y/n

[helaintoloki]

A Little Tenderness

pairing: Ben Hargreeves x reader

notes: this is a 1.5k long shameless self-indulgent comfort piece because I am in need of some tlc from my ghost boyfriend

warnings: lots of fluff, slight angst, subtle mentions of depression, etc.

Featherlight kisses brush against your goosebump ridden shoulders and rouse you from your unrestful slumber. It had been a very difficult night, and you’re not sure how you had managed to pull through it, but here you were with the sun shining in your face and Ben’s gentle smile being the first sight to greet you as you wake.

“Hey,” he says gently, pressing another careful kiss to your forehead before carefully nuzzling his nose against your own in a manor he hopes comes off as comforting and not creepy— he’s still learning, but he loves you, and you have to appreciate that. “How are you feeling?”

You let out the quietest of groans before yanking the covers over your head and shielding yourself from the outside world. You really don’t feel like getting out of bed nor do you feel like you have the energy to do anything other than sleep the day away. Unlike those who’ve sat in the very same position before him, Ben does not walk away nor does he scold you for being childish. In fact, his kind smile still remains as he ever so gently peels away the linen shield you’ve wrapped around yourself and gives you a pointed though understanding look.

“I know you’re feeling bad, but it’s only going to get worse if you just stay in here all day,” he says gently. Gentleness is the only way to get through to you, because though you may be stubborn and though you may insist that you can take care of yourself, you still crave the affection and compassion from a lover who can treat you with tenderness and care. That’s why you chose him after all, and that’s why you’re both still here together. “We don’t have to go anywhere or do anything if you don’t want to, but at least get up. You can take a nice warm shower and I can make breakfast. We can take it slow today, step by step, does that sound okay?”

There’s a long moment of silence as you stare at him, throat beginning to sore and eyes beginning to water as you struggle to get the words out, but Ben is patient as ever as he awaits your response. With his warm hand cupping your cheek and calloused thumb brushing away the single tear that manages to escape, you finally utter the quietest, “yes,” he’s ever heard.

“Attagirl,” Ben praises fondly, and without another word he’s helping you up out of bed and scooping you gently into his arms before carrying you into the bathroom. You accept the display of strength and affection with open arms, burrowing your face into his shoulder and clutching tightly to the fabric of his pajama shirt until he sets you back on your feet and turns on the water so that it can warm up.

“Arms up,” he says quietly, and with your arms raised over your head Ben is able to carefully slip off his own shirt from your body and toss it aside into the hamper. When he undresses you like this there aren’t any underlying intentions nor erotic desires floating about in his head. It’s tender and gentle and pure, it’s him devoting his energy into making sure you’re taken care of, it’s his quiet way of showing you how much he loves you without having to put it into words, it’s something that’s very Ben-like and it’s something he knows makes you feel seen and safe.

“I’m going to get started on breakfast, alright? Come see me in the kitchen when you’re done,” he instructs once you’re undressed, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head before excusing himself from the room and allowing you the privacy you deserve.

The water is warm and soothing against your aching muscles, and though your troubles won’t instantly wash themselves away down the drain, it does help improve your mood just a little bit. It’s harder to feel bad about yourself when you’re clean and refreshed.

Ben is waiting in the kitchen for you just like he said he would be, a glass of apple juice— your favorite— and a bowl of strawberries sitting at the center of the table for you while he works on making you pancakes. His cooking isn’t the best, and the pancakes are often lumpy and somewhat undercooked, but you appreciate his efforts and can never bare to tell him otherwise. He had told you offhandedly once that his mother used to make the best pancakes, but you didn’t ask questions nor try to pry any more information out of him. He’d lived a different life before he met you, and he liked to keep his new life with you separate from the one he’d lived in the past.

“Feeling any better?” He asks from his place at the stove, removing his gaze from the pancakes to glance over at you for just a second. Water drips slowly from your poorly dried hair and onto the black cotton of his sweatshirt you’ve stolen for your own comfort but he doesn’t mind it in the slightest. You look absolutely precious in his eyes, and sometimes he can’t help but wonder how a monster a man like him could ever be lucky enough to have someone as special as you.

“A little,” your murmur over your cup of orange juice whilst carefully picking the leaves from the strawberries. A plate of mushy pancakes is set in front of you and you offer Ben the best smile you can muster, immediately taking a big bite of the lumpy breakfast food and swallowing it down without any trouble. They’re the best pancakes you’ve ever had in your life, and maybe that’s a biased statement considering the fact that the chef is your boyfriend, but you don’t really care. As corny as it sounds, they’re made with love and they’re made just for you, and the food begins to fill the empty pit inside of you with some much needed warmth.

Ben insists on doing the dishes afterward, but you stay planted beside him in front of the sink and watch with tired eyes as he cleans up the mess. There’s something comforting about the domesticity of it all, and your heart hurts from the undying, unconditional love it holds for the man in front of you. In your eyes he is the perfect partner, Ben can do no wrong— not that he ever has— and you wish every day could be as peaceful and serene as this one. When he looks to you with that same adoring smile of his you know you’ve found your safe place, and after putting in the effort of standing upon your tip toes does he gift you with a sweet, soft kiss. His lips taste of syrup, plump and sweet and graceful as they glide along your own before pulling away so that he may return his attention to the work at hand. You love him, and you can never say it enough nor truly ever be able to express the extent of your appreciation for the man beside you.

When all is said and done you find refuge together on the couch, curled up in the corner with your weight laid upon him and your head resting against his chest as the rhythmic beats of his heart and careful comb of his fingers through your hair begin to lull you to sleep. He holds a book in his unoccupied hand and reads aloud to you for he knows that sometimes too much quiet can make you feel unsettled. But you’re safe now, you’re protected and cared for in the arms of a man the world had once deemed the Horror, but you’re not afraid of him nor do you care about the secret creature hidden within his chest. Just as he gave you peace, you gave him acceptance and understanding. It was easy to say you’d both been through bad times, but there had also been good, and now together they would always be nothing less of spectacular.

The day is nowhere near over, and you still have a long way to go before you can even begin to feel completely sane again, but with Ben’s arm lazily draped over your waist and his steady heartbeat drumming in your ear you know you’re going to be okay. Because you have your anchor, the man you love, and what could be better than that?

#ghost boyfriend #comfort piece #ben hargreeves #ben hargreeves x reader #ben hargreeves imagine #ben imagine #number six #the horror #the umbrella academy #tua #tua x reader #tua imagine #gif used above is not mine!

[stuckonstarker]

only a kiss

Months of brewing feelings bubble up to the surface as Peter and Tony share a kiss on movie night.

Tony didn’t think much of it when he invited Peter over for a movie night. It was a simple break from their respective responsibilities as Spider-Man and Iron Man. He figured they both deserved it; an hour or so of mindless entertainment with each other’s company.

Maybe he should’ve been more privy to it, though. The way the air shifts when they’re together. He might’ve been able to avoid the inevitable for a little longer, then.

Peter has grown into Tony’s equal. No longer is he the nerve-wracked kid being mentored by Tony. No, now he’s an adult with a certain ease to him that wasn’t there merely a year prior. 

They both acknowledge this development in a silent agreement.

Tony notices that Peter’s once soft features have sharpened. His jawline is much more defined, his eyes less reserved and more emboldened, and his lips often upturned in a subtle smile that brims with confident mischief.

He has an elegant way about him now as he walks with his head held high and he says things with steadfast conviction.

As Peter changed with the seasons so too did Tony’s opinion of him. From a young boy, shy and anxious, to a man, self-assured and sensible.

The shift in Tony’s opinions was inconsequential at first. Nothing more than a mere whisper, the tiniest spark of something wholly imperceivable at the time.

But, as the whisper got louder and the flame grew, Tony came to realize the pleasant warmth in his chest was something else entirely. Something much darker, much more depraved, than the mentorly affection he had previously mistaken it for.

It seemed harmless enough, though, to briefly indulge in the sensual pleasure Peter provides. Only a quick kiss to the forehead or a hug that goes on a second too long.

Tony continued to fan the flames, unaware of how truly bad his passionate need for Peter was getting. But there was something in Tony, almost primal, that demanded he get closer with Peter. To carve an irreplaceable slot for himself in Peter’s life. 

Peter seemed to have no objections to that; for no matter how much Tony wanted to take, Peter was willing to give.

Tony seemed to have found a balance. As he restricted himself just enough to avoid hurting his protege while also having enough connection to satisfy that cruel whisper within him. 

It was working quite well for a while.

And then Peter began reciprocating Tony’s subtle affections.

Thus began months of them sharing lingering stares full of longing; quiet giggles and inside jokes they never bothered to include others in; compliments that edge just on the border of inappropriate. Nothing ever explicit, but the implications clear enough.

It was always a fine line, Tony realizes, they were always a step away from disaster. So, he should’ve expected this - he really should’ve - but denial is such an intoxicating drug.

The mood around them both is often infected with their want for one another; poorly concealed and hard to resist. Even with something as simple as a movie night, there’s an unmistakable longing in the air.

So, it truly didn’t take much.

They laughed together. Tony held Peter close; so close you’d think they were trying to merge into one. Peter shifted so he was in Tony’s lap - to which Tony had no complaints - and the laughter continued. 

The air of ease allowed them to forget the act. As they laid in one another’s arms the rest of the world began to melt away, allowing for their inhibitions to leave them.

So now, after months of impatient buildup, Peter’s straddling Tony and their faces are mere inches apart. Tony’s hands rest on Peter’s hips as he relishes in the sweetness of their bond. He doesn’t allow his hands to drift, however - a futile, last ditch attempt to convince himself that their relationship is just platonic.

The darkness of the room makes it easy for Tony’s resolve to crack, though, as he feels himself being drawn to Peter. A magnetic force that overtakes both of them. There’s a sensual warmth that floods their minds, washing out any rational thought.

Peter’s nose touches Tony’s.

A brief panicked thought of ‘This isn’t right!’ flashes through Tony’s mind before it’s aborted just as suddenly.

Any logical thought Tony might have is dashed by the alluring nature of Peter’s plush, pink lips that whisper his name so delicately:

“Tony.”

He finds himself swallowing around his nervousness. He quite honestly can’t remember the last time someone made him feel such a way, he must’ve been a teenager; much like Peter is currently, his brain supplies quite unhelpfully.

He asks, “Yes?”

“Will you do me a favor?” Peter asks.

Tony nods.

Peter whispers, “Kiss me. Just once.”

Tony feels his grip on Peter tighten ever so slightly. This desperate yearning inside him screaming to do as Peter says, but still, he has a smidge of morality left. While Peter is technically legal, Tony can’t imagine a world where this relationship would ever be right.

Peter notices this hesitation with a small smile, “It’s only a kiss, Tony, just one. That’s all I ask from you right now.”

They’re so close, Tony realizes suddenly, but he doesn’t make a move to change it. He doesn’t want to. And he’s still a selfish, selfish man, so he allows himself this contact.

His heart lurches, stutters to what feels like a stop, before picking up pace and battering against his ribcage.

All at once, Tony is forced to admit that he wants and he wants badly. And that Peter wants just as badly as well. That there is not a feeling on Earth that could ever compare to being within Peter’s comforting embrace.

“I can’t kiss you,” Tony says, “I… don’t deserve it.”

Peter says, “Oh, but you do.”

The room is dark, illuminated only by the TV playing a long-forgotten movie. It’s silent, save for their breathing. They’re shrouded in an aura of years of pining and want and need. And, maybe at this moment, Peter can convince Tony to take what he wants so desperately.

Tony moves a hand cautiously to Peter’s beautiful curls and it feels like silk to the touch. Peter smiles at the contact, making a noise of contentment.

And then, in a move that’s just as slow as it is swift, Tony guides Peter’s lips toward his and, before those pesky thoughts of right and wrong can object, they are locked in a kiss.

It’s soft and sweet, much like Peter himself. It feels like they’re lips are dancing, they move together in perfect sync and harmony. It’s bliss, Tony must admit, to finally claim the reward he’s been refusing himself for so long. To finally indulge in Peter’s sinfully sweet taste.

The pace is slow as they both take their time basking in the electrifying pleasure that comes with such love. Everything about their movements is gentle, testing the waters and pushing their preconceived boundaries.

Tony’s hands move to Peter’s thighs and Peter holds the sides of Tony’s face as their lips glide together. And, much braver now, Tony tenderly nips Peter’s bottom lip as if asking permission for more. Permission which Peter grants as his lips part like a delicate flower blooming.

Tony’s light-headed from want as his tongue swipes along Peter’s; the action so overwhelmingly intimate that it sends shockwaves through him. Peter moans desperately into the kiss and Tony hums back, acknowledging his sweetheart's want. 

They’re clinging to each other, becoming one and whole together. It’s perfect, it’s everything they’ve ever wanted and more. But, like all good things, it must come to an end.

They pull from each other slowly. It’s like time itself has come to a stop as they look into each other's eyes, foreheads touching.

They, shrouded in darkness and overflowing with warmth and want, stare longingly into one another’s eyes for what seems like an eternity. Everything melts away and the only thing that matters now is them and only them.

They’re both panting and overheating. 

Peter, out of breath, scoffs a laugh and - before he can stop himself - whispers: “I love you.”

The words are raw with real want and emotion. His body so filled to the brim with joy it needed to be expressed somehow. And what way better than such a pure confession?

The silence that fills the room is deafening, as if even the universe itself is watching with bated breath waiting to see what will happen next. 

Everything moves in slow motion as they both come to their separate realizations.

Peter; who’s just realized how much those words weigh, how much he truly means them as well, how his heart - for so long - has ached to be close to Tony, and how he would do anything if it meant he got to spend the rest of his life held in Tony's tight embrace.

He feels like he could fly.

Tony; who realizes how far gone he truly is, how selfish he is, how even when he tries he can’t help but mess everything up, how this was all a mistake from the very start, and how he should’ve never recruited Peter - should’ve never taken such a bright flame in just to snuff it out.

He feels like he could die.

“I think you should go,” his voice strangled as the words are ripped from his throat by force.

In an instant, Peter pulls back -  his eyes wide in disbelief.

He hesitates for a moment before asking, “what?” because he surely must’ve heard wrong, because surely Tony didn’t say what Peter fears he said.

Tony sighs, the words even harder to say the second time, but he resolves himself, “You should go, Pete.”

Peter scoffs, for real this time, and says, “You’re kidding me, right?”

He’s straddling Tony’s legs, still dizzy from the kiss and, yet, Tony has the gall to say:

“I’m not, Peter, you need to leave.”

“Why?” Peter asks, keeping his voice steady and hardening his stare. He refuses to be sent away so simply without even an explanation.

Tony huffs in frustration; telling Peter to leave was already so difficult enough and now, like usual, he has to deal with the boy’s stubborn attitude.

Tony's not quite sure what to say to express his dilemma. There are millions of thoughts racing through his head - millions of things he wants to say. 

Instead, he settles on, “Because I said so.”

He then goes to remove Peter from his lap; a rapid series of bad decisions he will soon realize as Peter - who’s finally reached his breaking point - uses the tiniest fraction of his super strength to keep Tony’s legs and arms pinned.

“No,” Peter says, jaw clenched, “I’m not leaving until you tell me why.”

A tiny flame of lust flickers within Tony at this predicament, but he stomps it out with his indignation.

Tony says, “Because this isn’t what we are.”

Peter laughs humorlessly, “Well, then, what are we?”

“Coworkers,” Tony says plainly.

Peter says, “Oh, yeah, I forgot coworkers have makeout sessions all the time.”

“It was just a kiss,” Tony says, “it didn’t mean anything.”

He didn’t mean it; regrets it the second the words leave his lips. But he’s said it, released those words into the air and they hang there for a moment. And a much thicker, tenser silence fills the room. They stare at each other as time seems to stretch out endlessly. And, then, something in the air snaps.

Peter releases his hold Tony and he breathes deeply.

“...Is that really how you feel?” He asks quietly.

Tony can feel every ounce of his body screaming ‘No!’ but he can’t keep Peter trapped here. It’s wrong, immoral, and selfish. 

He’s caught between his aching for Peter’s soft, loving touch and his need to keep Peter protected. Protected from himself, it seems.

It’s not fair how he has to be the one to send Peter away, Tony thinks, but then again when has anything in his life ever been fair?

So, resigning himself to a desolate fate, he sighs, “Yes, Peter.”

It’s silent, again, for a moment as Peter turns away from Tony’s gaze. Clear as day, the expression of hurt  seeps into his beautiful honey eyes. His lips quiver ever so slightly and he nods with the same forlorn acceptance of someone who’s in mourning. And Tony wants nothing more than to wrap Peter up in a comforting hold - to tell him that everything will be alright - but he’s perceptive enough to know that would only hurt Peter more.

“If that's what you want,” Peter says, voice shaking.

All of Peter’s certainty evaporates. He can feel himself crumbling, helpless to do anything about it. He’s not quite sure what to do next except for leave like Tony had said.

So, he removes himself from Tony’s lap robotically; his body moving on its own as if he’s been possessed. 

The edges of his vision blur and darken as the world around him begins to fall apart.

He spares one last glance at Tony - who, on the outside, looks quite unbothered by this whole situation while Peter’s quite obviously unraveling at the seams - before getting in the elevator and shakily pressing the button for the main lobby.

The elevator doors close and the sorrowful darkness attacks Peter. He can feel himself drowning in an endless ocean of grief; being pulled around by the tides and completely helpless to do anything about it.

Every part of him is aching, the pain almost choking him, and it fills him until he’s overflowing in the form of tears spilling from his eyes. 

He holds himself and sits in a corner of the lift as tears stream down his face.

Anguish builds in Peter’s throat and comes out a broken sob, “Why?”

There’s no answer for him. There never is. Not with his parents’ death nor his uncle’s and he doesn’t see why life would spare him this one either. All this grief always placed on him and - for a moment, brief and fleeting but wonderful nonetheless - he thought he had finally found happiness within the darkness.

He’s so caught in his heartache and can’t bring himself to think about anything besides Tony despite that only hurting him more.

It’s almost comical when the elevator chimes a friendly tune to alert Peter he’s at the main lobby.

When Peter steps off he can feel everyone’s eyes crawling all over him, but he doesn’t care what they think of him.

He speedwalks through the lobby, just wanting to get home as soon as possible. He keeps his eyes firmly focused on the floor. His heart is heavy and weighed down by rejection, but - even if his dignity is long gone at this point - he still tries to calm his crying to no avail. The tears continue to fall with little regard of how he feels about it, which makes him cry harder.

He stumbles his way to his apartment and stops in front of the apartment door. He can hear his breath, shaky from his endless sobbing and from the walk back. He half-heartedly tries to calm himself to no avail.

The first thing his blurry, teary-eyed vision sees when he opens the door is Aunt May sitting on the sofa. She looks at him for only a second before rushing to him and bombarding him with questions.

It’s all in good faith, Peter’s sure, but it just makes him sink even further into his sorrow.

He’s too vacant to truly process any of her questions at the moment, so he just accepts her warm embrace and sobs helplessly into her arms. She pets his hair and coos to him, but it doesn’t help. He’s honestly not sure anything will.

Through the fog of his grief he hears Aunt May say, “This is the second time you’ve come home crying because of that man, Peter, I will go down there myself if I have to.”

“No,” he says, voice wrecked from crying, “no, it’s fine, Aunt May, I’ll handle it.”

Her voice is sharp as she asks, “What needs to be handled?”

Peter hesitates.

The situation is complicated and he struggles to find the right words to properly explain it. Even if he could, May’s done so much for him already and the thought of bothering her with relationship troubles seems useless at best - burdening at worst. And - whether either of them like it or not - Peter’s an adult now which means he has to start handling certain things on his own.

“I just messed something up,” Peter lies, already feeling guilt joining the cocktail of emotions that is his eternal suffering, “it was pretty important, but I’ll fix it later… it’s just been a pretty tough day.”

He sniffles, his tears finally drying out. He rubs the wetness off his face and looks up at her with a smile dampened by sadness.

He forces a reassuring tone as he says, “It’ll be fine.”

May looks at him for a moment, her eyes stern and studying behind her glasses, before sighing, “Okay, but tell me if you need anything.”

Peter nods, “Of course, Aunt May.”

He winces at the sound of his voice which is still cracked and uneven from his crying. But, for the time being at least, May seems convinced that Peter isn’t falling apart which - in his opinion - is a job well done.

Peter slumps off to his room and then flops into his desk chair. He forces himself to breathe deeply to calm his nerves. He’s somewhat able to get his bearings despite still being knee deep in the waters of misery.

His mind’s brimming with questions; all of which are, unsurprisingly, unanswered.

The kiss wasn’t just a kiss. It felt like so much more… or that’s how Peter felt, anyway, and he was almost positive that Tony felt the same way.

For a long while, Peter’s noticed the way Tony’s eyes linger on him; the way Tony watches him with an unreadable stare. And the things that Tony says to him - while always subtle - present very clear implications.

And, sure it took some convincing, but Tony kissed him back and seemed to enjoy it just as much.

Peter struggles for a moment as he considers maybe…

Maybe he has been reading too much into things? Even though that provokes a nigh unbearable ache in his heart it’s really the only thing that makes sense.

Those longing stares, just figments of Peter’s hopeful imagination, those subtle comments just jokes, even the kiss - so meaningful to Peter - just another kiss to Tony.

While it all meant the world to him it was just another day for Tony, he realizes.

He stares at his desk, that’s all he really can bring himself to do. There’s an emptiness in Peter’s heart suddenly and he feels dizzy from it.

Everything’s just falling and falling and - like always - he can’t do anything to stop it. He feels tremors wrack through his body as the overwhelming tides of grief make their unwelcome return.

A sob forces its way through his throat.

It’s like being buried alive, he thinks, alone and helpless; resigned to your grim fate.

He allows himself to cry this time, though, feeling just a little safer in the confines of his room.

He trods over to his bed and plants himself between the covers as his crying continues. He turns and comes face-to-face with an Iron Man Build-a-Bear.

He nearly screams.

He throws the stupid bear out of sight, not really caring where it lands, and pulls the covers close. 

He tries so desperately to force himself into a fitful sleep but he can’t. Tony’s laugh, his jokes, his compliments all play on repeat inside of his head. And, try as might, the only image his brain can conjure is Tony’s stern eyes and sweet smile.

Back at Stark Tower, Tony is going through a similar dilemma.

He wants so badly - almost needs - but it’s his job to do right by Peter. And he knows, even if it kills them both, Peter will be better because of this.

Tony tries to keep his resolve, but it continues slipping. He loves Peter so much and now that they’ve been separated Tony feels like he’s dying.

Peter’s an angel. His curls are soft, silky and brown; his eyes are vibrant - shining like pools of liquid gold; his lips pulled into an almost perpetual smile and flushed carnation.

Tony knows he’s let heaven slip through his fingers, but hell is a comfort few understand like he does.

He continues fighting with himself as the voice in his head, once an inconsequential whisper, screams at him to return to Peter’s side. The moral part of him reminds him why he’s done this and why, despite all the pain it’s caused, it’ll be good for him and Peter in the end. 

Tony feels a familiar, frightening itch under his skin to grab a bottle of whiskey.

He considers, for a moment, that maybe this is hell. That he might’ve died and this is his torture for his lustful attachment to his ward.

He’s quite uncertain how to move forward now.

He wants nothing more than to embrace Peter, kiss him, love him to the ends of the world and back. It eats away at him and rolls through his body. He starves for Peter’s affection; it makes him feel like an insatiable monster.

But, despite it all, Tony forces himself to ignore it. Ignore the way his heart chases after Peter, ignore the forlorn expression Peter wore when he was sent away. Ignore it all, push it down and suppress it until it disappears.

He gets up from the couch. No use wallowing in sadness, he supposes, as he begins stalking off to the lab.

The elevator door chimes, though, stopping him in his tracks. A bright forest fire of hope ignites in his chest. His secret, guilty desire that Peter will come back and demand more. It shocks him how quick and turns and-

It’s Pepper. The lights flicker on as she steps through the elevator (thanks, FRIDAY).

Tony can feel the disappointment tug at his features and he can’t be bothered trying to hide it.

“A couple people saw Peter walking through the lobby crying his eyes out,” Pepper says.

Pepper has an ice cold stare while her lips are held in a stern, straight line. She stands there; her heels firmly planted on the floor with her arms crossed.

Tony’s heart clenches at the thought of sweet Peter walking through the lobby, tears streaming down his pretty face as he heads home hopelessly.

“Oh,” Tony says. He looks at the spot next to Pepper instead of subjecting himself to her judgemental stare.

Pepper says, “Oh? So, you know something about this?”

Her voice is accusatory right out of the gate. Which is fair, she - although while never saying anything outright - has always seemed to understand there was more to Peter and Tony’s relationship than the surface.

“It’s complicated, Pep,” Tony says.

Pepper says, “Well, uncomplicate it then, Tony.”

“We kissed, he told me he loved me, and that’s not okay so I told him to leave,” Tony says, voice getting meeker as he reaches the end of his sentence, truly realizing how much of an ass he sounds like.

“Why the hell would you do that?” She asks.

She walks toward him, her steps so filled with vitriol that Tony’s genuinely worried she’s going to hit him.

Tony says, “Peter’s a good person. He deserves someone who can give him what he needs and that someone is not me, Pep!”

“Do you love him?” Pepper asks.

Tony pauses.

She sighs, “Do you love him or not, Tony?”

“Of course! Of course I love him! Who wouldn’t?” Tony says, “He’s amazing, brillant, beautiful - I would literally die for him, Pepper, but - no matter how much I love him - us getting together would only hurt him.”

Pepper’s unimpressed expression doesn’t inspire confidence in Tony.

She exhales deeply before saying, “It’s not your job to protect him anymore. He’s an adult now, he’s got his own ambitions and his own life and he can make his own decisions. You don’t get to decide that you’re not good enough for him.”

“That’s… no, Pep, no I… just - he’s so-” Tony rambles on, making random gestures with his hands.

She snaps, “Tony!”

Tony’s mouth shuts and he looks at her.

“Listen to me, very carefully, okay?” She says.

Tony nods.

“Okay,” Pepper continues, “what you are going to do, because you love Peter so much, is you are going to find him and apologize for sending him away and you are going to tell him how you feel.”

Tony shakes his head, “I can’t-”

“You can,” She cuts him off, “and you will, otherwise, Tony, you will lose him and you will spend the rest of your life wallowing in regret of what could’ve been.”

She gives him a brief, supportive smile before the clicking of her heels signal her departure.

Tony sighs and rubs at his face.

Maybe, he thinks, being selfish one more time won’t hurt.

*

Peter’s hiding under his covers. He’s blocking out the world in a futile attempt to make the pain disappear. 

He feels the soothing melody of sleep sing to him. And just as he starts to fall asleep, he hears something tapping at his window.

He jolts up from his bed and looks to the window.

Tony Stark is standing on his fire escape like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Peter blinks hard. He briefly wonders if he’s lost his mind; that maybe this is a delusion from his desperate mind.

Tony taps on the window and says, muffled by the glass, “We need to talk.”

Peter shuffles over to the window and opens it.

“What the hell are you doing?” Peter asks; a surge of incandescent rage sparking within him only for it to be snuffed out just as quick.

Peter steps back as Tony clambers through the window - basically falling through it.

Peter watches with a tight expression on his face.

He asks, voice much softer this time, “What are you doing, Tony?”

“I-” Tony says, standing then continuing, “I am… uh… well, I’m not sure what I’m doing, to be honest with you. But I’ve been tormented these past few months by my own soul. Peter, whenever I close my eyes you’re what I see and whenever I imagine heaven it’s you with me.”

Peter breathes deeply, “And what does this mean exactly?”

“It means that,” Tony pauses, forcing down his apprehension, “I love you. I love you with all my might and, for so long, I’ve restricted myself to just dreaming, but I can’t anymore. I can’t watch idly and let you slip through my fingers, Peter, and I must admit that I’ve been a selfish ass these past few months. However, if you can find it within yourself to forgive me, I’ll love you unabashedly and I’ll love you purely.”

A sudden rush of joy floods Peter so quickly he feels light-headed from it.

“Do you mean that?” He asks, his voice so soft he wonders if the words even left his lips in the first place.

Tony nods and grabs Peter’s hands in his own. He presses his forehead against Peter’s and they stare into each other’s eyes for a moment.

“I say this with all my conviction, darling,” Tony whispers, voice raw, “you are the only one for me.”

Peter feels a stuttered breath pass his lips. A fiery feeling, that of pure want, burns throughout his body, infecting his mind, soul, and body until there’s hardly anything left.

He smiles, “I forgive you… I don’t think I could ever bring myself not to.”

“So, we’re together then?” Tony asks as he brims with apprehension.

Peter says with a watery smile, “We always have been.”

The world seems to pause for a moment as they look in longing at each other. It’s a sudden uncertainty, they’ve been gifted the most coveted treasure of all. Love. They are both nervous in each other’s arms as they hesitate; in fear that one wrong move will send it all crashing down.

Tony’s eyes trace Peter’s face. His eyes dark, gentle as they admire Peter with such delicate precision Peter swears he can almost feel it.

Tony studies Peter; his eyes of chocolate, his strawberry lips, and porcelain skin with a flush so perfect it looks painted on.

Tony rests his hand on Peter’s jaw and swipes his thumb across the young man’s bottom lip. Peter’s tongue reacts immediately darting out to lick the calloused fingertip.

The action, simple as it is, sparks a bright fire within Tony’s body. An even deeper want filled with sensuality and sex. He can feel the last of his restraint unraveling until nothing remains, but - unlike before - he does not scramble to stop it. In fact, he encourages the last of his hesitations to slip through his fingers.

“I want you,” Tony admits ashamedly.

For he feels such remorse for lusting after someone as near divine as Peter. 

Peter only smiles; his lips upturned in a knowing smile and eyes glittering with golden mischief. With his voice soft and soothing, like the summer wind sweet in its brevity, he says:

“Then take me.”

#starker #starker fic #mild angst #max writes

[fusionfiction]

Warmer (Steven x Connie x Reader)

Fandom: Steven Universe

Warnings: Angst, homophobia, getting kicked out of house, worried parent of a teen, small references to hankypanky) Words: 1k100 Request: Could you do something with Steven x Connie x reader? Note! Without direction reader will not be gender exclusive. Requested By: Anon!

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             To say that the world is fair would just be a lie. And as Y/n sat on the curb of they’re street, they wondered if they deserved this- if this punishment was what they earned with their choices.

But then Mr. Universe’s van appeared at the end of the street with a figure leaning out of the window. which morphed from a speck in the distance to an understandable form- and a smile came back to their face.

It was a small piece of happiness but it wasn’t the pain that was tearing into their heart, so it’s appreciated.

“Hey kiddo,” Greg said, approaching the curbside.

“Hi Mr. Greg...”

This was one of the moments where something so inexplicably terrible happens and no one knows what to say.

He looked down at them and gave a small, sad, little smile before placing a hand on their shoulder. “Let’s get your stuff all packed up, okay?”

Y/n nodded their head and stood up right as Steven and Connie got out of the van.

“Y/n! Are you okay?” Connie asked, wrapping them in a tight hug, trying to ignore the small tears that started to appear in the corners of her clenched eyes.

“We were so worried,” Steven joined the small group hug.

“I’m fine, I just want to get out of here,”

Greg had already started picking up the larger items-Y/n’s hobbies that had equipment were the first to be packed up, then some of the furniture that used to be in their room.

Steven and Connie grabbed armful's of their clothes, making trips back and forth to make sure they got all of it.

Y/n tried to ignore the hurt inside of their body as they grabbed the little knickknacks that had been thrown onto the floor.

Their heart crumbled into ash when their eyes fell upon a picture frame their parents had thrown out the door. It was a small frame- crudely made in a crafts class the three had attended last summer- but the picture was of one of the happiest moments of Y/n’s life.

The three had expressed an interest of trying a poly-amorous relationship a few months prior, so they had just started to get the hang of it. They had been going on separate dates and hanging out all together, but this was their first official date with all three of them.

They had gone roller skating, strobe lights shinning in the back and a terrible smell plaguing the room full of sweaty teens and young adults. The exercise had left a sheen coat of shine on their skin, reflecting the poor lighting onto the lens, but all the flaws were overlooked when Y/n saw the pure joy on their faces. They were in a group hug- hanging off of each other to stay upright- and it looked like they were glowing.

While walking to place the picture on top of her clothes, the frame cracked along the seem. It was so small, yet is hurt so much.

“Hey- it’s okay!” Connie smiled, resting a hand on their shoulder. “We can make a new frame- it’ll be stronger than last time,”

Connie put her hand over Y/n’s as they placed the broken frame in the back of the van. A small gesture, but it was the little things that were keeping Y/n together right now.

“Alright!” Greg closes the trunk and patted the top of the car, “hop in guys, and let’s head home.”

“Yeah,” Y/n whispered, looking back at the house that stood behind the four, “home.”

—————————————————

“Hey Y/n, can you grab the winter blankets!” Greg shouted from the living room.

“Yup!” They shouted back, rummaging around the closet where the comforters were stored.

“Steven! Are the Hot Cocoa’s ready?”

“You worry about your blankets!” He smiled, on his third attempt at making a good hot chocolate.

“I’ll take that as a no, let me know if you need any help,” Y/n teased, popping their head into the kitchen on their way to the living room. With a sigh, Steven smiled back up at Y/n. 

It was a little awkward at first, living with one of his partners. Greg had made sure to set ground rules before he was completely comfortable. As much as he anted to take Y/n in as purely his perfect child, they were dating his son. He couldn’t have them sharing a room- Y/n would need their own room.

As much as Greg trusted Y/n, he really wanted both of his kids to have a childhood that didn’t include... adult themes. The Gems didn’t quiet grasp the concept of why they couldn’t sleep in the same room or why Greg looked at the teens with a raised brow when they said they were going to sleep earlier than usual, but they typically went with his wishes and kept an eye on the pair. 

He had the same rules when Connie slept over. If they stayed in the same room then the door was open, or they could all sleep in the living room together. He hated being a strict parent, but he honestly thinks that’s best for the kids. 

All three of them sat on the couch right as Connie busted through the door- lightly coated in the snow. “Did I miss the movie?” She asked, tearing off the layers of protective gear until she’s left in her sweater and leggings. 

“Just in time love,” Y/n smiled, scooting closer to Steven so Connie could fit comfortably at the end of the sofa. 

“Perfect,” she grinned, eagerly partaking in the shared warmth under the blanket. She practically squealed with glee when Greg passed her down a hot chocolate with a candy cane resting against the mug. 

The old, black’n’white, foreign, Christmas movie started playing. It had become a tradition in their little hodgepodge family to laugh at the terrible acting, to try and replicate the heavy accent that none of them recognized.

Yeah it was hard to abandon the family Y/n once knew, and of course they still miss their birth parents, but they couldn’t see Y/n for what they were, for who they were. Sexual orientation or Identity aside, a true family accepts you no matter what, and Y/n couldn’t be more pleased with the family they managed to make.

It was complicated and it was messy, there were ups and downs, screw-ups, moments where it almost looked like everything was over. Yet, here, under a knitted blanket, surrounded by the people they love, Y/n couldn’t help but feel like life in general was just a little bit warmer.

#Steven Universe #Steven universe x reader #steven universe imagines #steven x reader x connie #Connie x reader #steven x connie #Steven Universe Connie x Reader #polyamarous #Steven Universe Polyamarous #SU #Steven Universe angst #steven universe requests open #Steven Universe x Nonbinary!Reader #nonbinary #nonbinary reader

[ger-bearofrivia]

Soothe Me, My Dear Heart

Pairing: Jaskier x Bard!Reader 

Summary:  You had heard from the dwarves of what happened up at the mountain between Jaskier and Geralt.You made it your mission to track down your friend and sooth his aching heart. 

A/N; Hello! long time no fic. Im sorry about that I’ve had no creative driver lately these past months and haven't been able to come up with something good to put for you guys. Also I've been really busy with classes, but thankfully I graduate this semester (I hope) and I'll be able to put out some more Pics. As for the CEO Henry fic I've been working on it whenever I get a little spark of creativity and an idea comes up. I hope you guys enjoy the fic. 

You walk into the inn on a hunt looking for someone.

“Hello welcome to The Curious Root Inn and Tavern. What can I help you with? “ the inn keep says

“I’m looking for the bard named Jaskier.”

“Yes, he’s here.” You sigh in relief that you caught him before he could leave. She notices the relief on your face.

"Are you a friend of his?" she asks and you nod.

“The poor thing looked heartbroken. Refused to eat let alone play, he just asked for a room and said nothing else.” She informed.  

"Where is he?"

"Upstairs fourth door on the left."

"Thank you. Oh, and can you prepare some food and bring it up to the room please ” She nods then walks away to place the order. You walk upstairs counting the doors along the way. “2..3..ah 4” you knock on the door and hear a muffled “Go away” from inside. You open the door which to your surprise it’s unlocked. Walking in you see a mass on the bed and assume that It’s Jaskier. Your suspicions were correct as he sits up, gently rubbing the tears from his eyes.  “Jas.”

"Y/n? How did you find me?"

"I’ve been trying to track you down for days. I heard what happened up in the mountain."

"Oh. “ he says quietly looking down at his lap. You slowly walk to the bed and sit next to him, gently placing a hand on his back to rub there.

“We don’t have to talk about it now if you don’t want to. We can just sit here quietly until your ready. I’ve ordered the inn keep to prepare some food for you, you look like you haven’t eaten in days.”

Mm.” He hums sadly in agreement.  It breaks your heart to see him like this, he’s never been this quiet even when he’s upset. Whatever Geralt did to him hurt him on a deep emotional level. Yes, Jaskier’s used to people insulting him and his music but Geralt was a friend, someone who Jaskier cared about and looked up to. You take off your boots and sit back on the bed against the headboard. You pulled him close wrapping an arm around him so he could rest his head on your shoulder. You both sat there quietly until there was a soft knock on the door and a barmaid came in, setting the tray of food at the foot of the bed.

“Thank you.” You say tossing a small bag it some coin to her.

“Your welcome my lady, I hope master bard feels well soon. Some patrons were looking forward to his performance.” A part of you felt flattered that people were wanting Jaskier to play but the other was jealous at the blatant flirting she was doing to get Jaskier to feel better. You kind of wish you hadn’t tipped her. How dare she flirt with him when there was clearly to the blind eye something between you two. It’s not like you had an arm around him and his head on your shoulder.

“Well, maybe you should go suit their needs. Now scram.” You bark causing her to hastily leave the room.

“That was mean.” Jaskier croaked

“Well, she was trying to take advantage of you while your hurting. Lucky for her if you weren’t in my arms I’d drag her out by her hair myself.” You exasperated. “Your my friend and you deserve better treatment while hurting.” You let out a sigh.

Friends.

That’s all you two will ever be.

“Now sit up so I can get some food in you. You look as if the grim reaper is coming for you.” His face one plump showing expressions of happiness and laughter have indeed reverted to being hollowed out and lifeless. His skin a sickly shade of white and eyes in a sad tired haze. He sits up in a proper sitting position while his legs crisscrossed. While he did that you dragged the tray closer to the both of you, stirring the stew then tearing a piece of bread.  

"You and Geralt are the two people who mean the most to me. Well, you more than him. He's pretty much dead to me."

"Jaskier honey, don’t say that. We both know that he means a lot to you. You wouldn't have traveled with him for twenty years. That's half your life Jask and whatever he might have said to you he didn't mean it. He pretends he's all tough and macho but in reality, he's broken and you were an easy target to blame all of his mess-ups on." your voice was soft trying to comfort him with the soothing tone.

"How do you know all this?" he askes kind of confused how exactly you knew about what happened up on the mountain.  

I was performing at the tavern when the dwarves came in. They said there was a massacre at the top of the mountain and the witcher had argued with the which and then screamed at you. I also asked if you'd come down with them and they said yes and that you were outside of the tavern but by the time I got outside you had left. ” you finish dipping another piece of bread in the stew then handed it to him.

So you came after me.” he smiled softly taking the soaked bread from you and putting it in his mouth.

Yeah, the second I saw that you weren't there I packed my things, grabbed my payment, and head out after you. I knew you'd be heading towards Oxenfurt and that you were at least one or two hours ahead of me.  

Thank you. I don't know what I’d without you.

Mm crash and burn” you joked.

He chuckles leaning to the side bumping your shoulders.  ”Oh shut up you love me.”

”Yeah, I do, now eat.” he takes a spoon full of stew into his mouth swallowing slowly.

”Y/n.”

”yes jas?”

”thank you. For everything over the years, for being here now.” he whispers eyes watery.

”Hey, hey I'll always be here for you. You mean the world to me and that’ll never change. You’ve been my best friend forever and I love you, I’d probably even kill for you.”

He smiles looking down his shoulders slumping down. “Y/n can I try something.” He asks lifting his head looking at you straight in the eyes. His shining blue eyes would dart down to look at your lips.

Oh, this is it. Is it finally going to happen?

“I’m going to do something but if it makes you uncomfortable and you want to stop that’s okay. I just hope this doesn’t ruin our friendship.”

“Jaskier”

“Yes?”

“Kiss me.”

“Okay,” his voice was trembling. The corners of your lips perk into a smile as you roll your eyes pulling him by the collar of his chemise into a kiss. It wasn’t a long kiss but definitely one that revealed your feelings towards him. It was short and sweet but strangely at the same time passionate and demanding. It made you crave more. You separate. “Wow that was” he starts

“Incredible.” you finish

“Yeah. Absolutely mind-blowing actually.” You could see the blush start to form on his face, feeling the familiar warmth on yours as well.

“Not bad on your part either. Could need a little more practice from your end but overall an alright kiss. “

“Hey I am a wonderful kisser” he interjects making you laugh.

“Jaskier I was kidding the kiss was incredible. Did you not hear that part?” You giggle

"I heard it but my mind is going a mile a second and I’m trying to get my thoughts straight."

"I can tell," you smirk.

"Does this mean you have feelings for me?"

"Yes, Jas it does. For a while actually"

"I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you because your feelings got hurt. Because I’m not."

“Sweet Melitele get this thing off of me!” he claws at the bowl of still full stew on his lap. You remove it along with the tray by setting it at the foot of the bed. He grabs your face kissing you again, this time more forcibly. “You’ll never wold be taking advantage of me, my love. Yeah, I'm emotionally hurting from what that oaf said but that’ll never change what I feel for you. You have a special place in my heart y/n. Nothing can change that."

"Good. This will be the greatest ballet yet."

"Not if I can write one better." you smiled

#the witcher jaskier #the witcher #the witcher x reader #jas #Jaskier #jaskier x reader #jaskier x you #jaskier fic #jaskier fanfic #jaskier angst

[humbughana]

The Set-Up

Part Two of After. - s o read this first obvi

Lucy comes up with a plan to ruin Kiara.

warnings- absolute kiara hate, cursing.

Fatal flaws. The downfall of a person.

The Pogues had the tendency to believe that the entire world was out to get them; that we should all fall at their feet because they were not handed the right cards in life. As if it was any of our faults but low and behold, they made it their mission to make it our problem. Lucy had always been sympathetic to them but now she realized that the festering within them, the entitlement that they all possessed. 

Kiara was the worst of them. The self righteous bitch that thought she was all too good for the Kooks because she liked to surf for god's sake. As if it made her oh so special that she liked animals and the ocean. 

Oh, spare us all. 

She was a Kook, and when she didn’t fit in as she wanted, she left them all as if we were nothing. At least Lucy and her friends were well aware of what they had but Kiara didn’t seem to realize just how far she could fall. 

Lucy would relish in pushing her and watching just how long it will take her to hit the ground.

A week had passed since the day she went to the restaurant, a week for her to realize the truth and a week to figure out how she wanted to hurt them all. Sure, Lucy knew how the girl pined over JJ but she also knew the girl had a thing for Rafe Cameron when she graced us with her presence at the Academy; before ditching everyone for the Pogue life. 

“Are you sure?” Topper asked with a fighting smile, Rafe and Kelce wore matching full grins as Lucy laid out her big plans for Kiara. Lucy nodded with a smile of her own, “Make her suffer.” She directed at Rafe because this was all in his hands now. Lucy had proposed that Rafe flirt with Kiara, make her feel special, lure her in, and then break her into little pieces so she could watch.

So now the three of them pulled up to the Boneyard in separate cars, a party already in full swing, Lucy jumped out of her car and the boys followed suit as they met up, “Apologize to her, use me as an excuse. Tell her you're sorry for what I said to her.” Lucy turned to Rafe who was looking as confident as ever as he nodded in exasperation, “You know I do know how to flirt, Luce.” Lucy rolled her eyes and gestured for them to go.

She wore a pair of jean shorts that hugged her thighs and a tank top that showed a sliver of her stomach, let them all see, Lucy didn’t really care anymore. So the four of them walked onto the sand, eyes turning to watch them before adverting when they saw the healing marks on her face and body. Topper threw an arm over her shoulder when Rafe split to carry out his part. Topper led her over to the designated Kook side of the beach before placing a red cup in her hand, “water,” he mumbled, placing a kiss on her temple when she nodded in thanks. They weren’t here to party, they were here for something more as she kept a watchful eye on Rafe and Kiara throughout the night. Her entitled, bitchy expression when her friend approached, the little laughs she let out when he said something charming to the red flush on her check when Rafe touched her. Topper kept a hand on her the whole night and it was a comforting thing she relished in. 

But it would be a lie that her eyes didn’t narrow when Kiara touched his arm or when he leaned in to whisper in her ear, Lucy’s hand tightened where it is laid on Topper's leg and he leaned in, “Want me to take you home?” and she nodded, deciding she didn’t really need to watch Rafe flirt with Kiara all night. Topper pulled her up and she looked to Kelce, “Keep an eye on him, please.” The boy nodded with a slight smile as Topper led her back to his car.

She could wait until tomorrow for the good news.

Topper took her home in silence, his hand on her leg the whole drive home, a thumb tracing the welts on her legs carefully. When he pulled up in front of her house, intending to drop her off and go home himself, she grabbed his hand and squeezed, “Please don’t leave me alone tonight.” It had become a common theme for her to coax one of the boys to stay with her, they never said anything about it but they knew she couldn’t stand to be alone. Last night Kelce stayed and the night before it was Rafe. Topper nodded but told her he needed things from his own house and that she could just sleep there instead but she didn’t care about the terms only that he’d be there. 

So when the two of them finally laid down for bed she could deal with the thoughts in her head and close her eyes in peace knowing someone was next to her.

~

She woke up alone. Topper’s white sheets were wrapped around her as the sunlight perfectly shined through into her eyes, Lucy groaned in annoyance, shielding her eyes as she sat up. The sound of loud laughter sounded from downstairs and she followed it, clothed in a long shirt Topper gave her and some running shorts she had left here over the years.

She saw the three of them laughing in the living room, all lounging on different couches, still groggy and tired from the sun waking her up, Lucy trudged to the couch Topper was on and plopped down next to him, “morning luce.” he smiled at her. Rafe only looked her over hesitantly and she grinned, “Well? How’d it go Cameron?” 

Kelce let out a laugh, “Oh this is going to be so much fun.” Rafe shook his head with a shit-eating grin, “He’s got a date tonight,”

Lucy laid down, her head in Topper’s lap as she let out a laugh at the visual of Rafe and Kiara together, “Don’t go falling in love now.” she teased as Topper ran his fingers through her hair but Rafe only rolled his eyes in response. The boys fell into another easy conversation while she stared up at the ceiling in thought. They must have arrested JJ but they couldn’t hold him; there was a large chance they let him go. Lucy wondered if he went back to his friends as if nothing happened or if he thought of her. If he would pretend he couldn’t remember, that it was the alcohol, if he would try to find her and explain himself. The excuses he’d think of or the apology she deserved but didn’t quite know if she wanted.

Lucy didn’t know that Rafe was watching her. The way her fingers fidgeted and the growing look of anxiety on her face before he cut in if only to wipe that pained look off her face, “I’m going to head out. Do you need a ride home Lucy?” And she was gratefully internally as she nodded, sitting up. Lucy grabbed Rafe’s hand when he neared and waved goodbye to her two friends as Rafe took her to his car. She was quiet as he pulled out of the driveway and to the familiar road to her house, “Are you regretting this?” Rafe asked quietly and she just shook her head slightly. It was true, she wasn’t regretting her path of revenge, “Then what's got you so quiet?” Rafe put the car in park in front of her house, the drive a very short one between all of their houses.

How could she admit that she was just scared? It was an annoying fact she had to deal with, she should just feel the burn of anger but the truth itself was bitter; Lucy was scared of seeing JJ. Scared of accidentally running into him in public or seeing him with his friends. Scared of how he would act or how she would react.

Rafe laid a hand on the side of her face to bring her attention back to him. Lucy sighed shakily, “I’m scared. I never want to see him again.” Rafe nodded, he could understand that so he settled for pulling her in, placing a kiss on her forehead, “We won’t let him near you again.” She knew he couldn’t promise that but appreciated it anyways. 

“Come over after your date tonight, tell me all about it.” She smiled as she still slightly teased him. Rafe groaned with a grin, “I'd rather spend the day with you,” His usual sweet words made her warm inside. Lucy just kissed him on the cheek and opened the door, waving to him when she got to her front door. 

She was much too tired to dissect her feelings for Rafe and it was pointless anyways.

~

Lucy spent the day with her mom at the club, lounging in a chair by the pool and basking in the sun. It was something they would do all the time before she met JJ. When the sun began to set they went home and ate dinner. It was a taste of normality again.

That night, she must have dozed off because Lucy awoke to the door opening to her bedroom. She sat up on her elbows as Rafe walked inside looking worse for wear, “Rafe?” Lucy mumbled in the dark room, the sun long gone. 

He only ran a hand over his face before tugging the shirt over his head and sitting on the side of her bed. Lucy slid to where he was and ran a hand up his back, reveling in the warmth he gave off; but something was wrong, “What happened?” 

She laid her head on his shoulder and Rafe turned his head to be able to see her face, “She kissed me,” Lucy’s eyes widened and she couldn’t help but smile against his shoulder, “That’s a good thing, Rafe. That's what we wanted.” He only hunched over, his elbows on his knees.

“Come lay down,” Lucy spoke quietly as she slid back and made room for him. Rafe slid off his pants, leaving him in his underwear before he laid down next to her. The faced each other, Lucy’s eyes scanning over his face to figure him out, “Rafe-

“I don’t want you to freak out.” 

She frowned but his hands reached out, wrapping around her waist under the comforter, pulling her into his chest. Their legs tangled together, one of his thighs wedged in between her legs and an arm behind her head with the other on her waist. Lucy tried to relax, her head resting where his neck met his shoulder, “Not freaking out.” She whispered to try and lighten his mood and was pleasantly surprised when she looked up and saw a slight smile on his face. Lucy could tell he wasn't in the mood to chat so they laid there in silence, in each others arms until she finally couldn’t keep her eyes open and drifted off to sleep.

And so weeks flew past them. Bruises faded, now she only had her memory to remind her of the horrific night. Kiara was as good as a lost puppy whenever Rafe was around; just as we all wanted her. Rafe would come over and spend the night with her after every evening he spent with Kiara, sleeping in each others arms, Lucy grew way too attached to her friend. When he would tell her of the things he did with Kiara she tried not to let it get to her, even though it was all her idea; things had subtly shifted. 

It would be soon now, Midsummers were coming up and Lucy would attend on Rafe's arm, humiliating the girl he had strung along all this time. 

Kiara would fall in front of them all. She made it perfectly clear she wanted nothing to do with any Kooks so we’ll give her exactly what she thought she wanted. 

Kiara Carrera would become nothing to those on our side of the island. You get what you give, baby.

And she would get exactly what she deserved.

x

#rafe cameron #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron x oc #rafe #kiara carrera