#what is it about lingering depression that makes me think 'relationships are too exhausting and too much work and i cant do it' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

morganitering · 4 months

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Pink Purple and Blue

Pairing: bestfriend!Geto Suguru x fem!reader

Contains: AU!University and no sorcery, smoking, fluff, tiny bit of angst, smut, soft dom, thigh riding, choking, fingering, hand job, first time(?), satoru and shoko mentions, no beta

Word count: ~4,3k

Summary: Love. Everyone wanted that, but the pursuit of it is not without its obstacles. Relationships run their course, text messages get left on read and ignored, when the only thing you want is to be seen. Suguru Geto was your best friend and as you both supported each other in your respective heartbreaks it led the two of you experimenting on his bed.

A/N: I really needed to write something less dark than the stuff I usually do so here it is. An ode to liking your friend like that! Happy New Year everyone!

Read on ao3

“She’s such a fucking ass sometimes,” you complained and took a hit from the joint in your hands. Suguru had rolled it up earlier, but neither of you had lit it up yet. You didn’t want to get high per se, mainly just take the edge off.

It was a beautiful summer evening, the sky in various shades of orange and blue. You sat on Suguru’s bed that he hadn’t bothered to make this morning. It wasn’t like you'd care anyway.

“Hey at least open the window properly, if you’re going to smoke inside,” Suguru said and hurried towards the small opening, dragging it open more.

“You smoke inside anyway,” you rolled your eyes.

“It still smells like shit,” he sighed and patted the small stool next to him that he had quickly placed in front of the window. Unfortunately for Suguru, he did not live in an apartment with a balcony on it.

He let out a small puff of smoke between his lips leaning towards the window, so that most of it would go outside and not linger in his room. He had his hair mainly down, but he had tied a small bun on the back of his scalp from the upper layers. He looked exhausted, but you weren’t sure if it was the break up or just general school stress and depression. He looked like a university student 101 with the joint in his hand as his eyes watered like he was about to start crying at any moment.

“So what did Shoko do?” He asked and flicked the joint against the small ashtray made out of clay on his window sill. It looked all sorts of wonky, it was one of your first attempts at pottery, but Suguru had nonetheless accepted your handcrafted gift. You stared at his slender fingers and the way the veins snaked around the back of his hand. Suguru offered the joint back to you, staring outside and watching the quiet street where few children kept on playing with a football.

“I don’t know. Nothing and everything,” your shoulders slumped down. “I confessed to her at a party and now she’s been avoiding me like a plague. It’s like, if you’re not interested in me then just say it, but like don’t run away y’know?” You blabbered on fidgeting with your fingers.

“That sucks. I’m sorry,” Suguru looked at you apologetically.

“Yeah. So nothing is exactly wrong. We’ve just been skirting around this whole attraction thing,” you added. “I still want to be involved in her life even if she doesn’t like me like that,” you gulped down. The words felt heavy in your mouth. It wasn’t the first time you had acted on your feelings with women, but you had a shit luck with them and guys? Guys weren’t really all that interesting to you – at least not usually.

“Maybe she’ll come around. I’ve known Shoko for a long time ever since high school. It’s not really like her to just leave things like that, even if she is reserved. I think she’s going through something. Don’t know what though,” Suguru mused. Your fingers brushed against each other as you exchanged the joint back to him for the last time.

“I hope so.”

The silence enveloped the two of you as you kept on people watching. One of the kids had kicked the ball too far and it had landed on someone’s fence making the dog bark loudly as it pawed against the railings. You could hear a neighbor grandpa yelling his lungs out to the pet as the kids hurriedly picked up the ball, slightly shaken by the commotion.

“How are you holding up with the whole Satoru thing?” You dared to ask. You knew that this topic was quite touchy for him, but you did not want to be the only one pouring your heart out and you knew that if you did not ask, Suguru would not tell. He’s the type of person to keep everything in his heart unless someone actually shows interest in his emotional side.

Suguru groaned exasperatedly, stubbing out the remnants of the roll-up and pushing himself away from the window, the wheels of his office chair squeaking at the action.

“I want to call him constantly,” he shook his head a little bit in defeat.

You got up from the small stool with wobbly legs when the weed was finally taking effect. You threw yourself back on his bed and rolled around on the duvet. It smelled like Suguru. The sheets were clean, but you could still pick up hints of his sweat. Usually that would gross you out, but now it made your stomach turn in a way you usually did not associate with your best friend.

“This is probably too much information, but I miss the sex.” He smirked as he reminisced.

“Ugh, don’t even talk to me about sex,” you groaned as you thought about your own frustrations.

“I mean, you were the one who broke up with him. I bet if you just sent him a simple ‘you up?’ he’d come runni-” Suguru threw a throw pillow at you and it landed on your face.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I can’t do that. It’s not fair to him.” Suguru took your joke too seriously. You muffled your giggles as you realized that you need to be there for him.

“Sorry. I was just trying to lighten up the mood.”

“It’s fine.”

You rolled to your side and hugged his pillow as you looked at the sulking man in the office chair. He was lightly swaying himself side to side.

“I downloaded a dating app and tried to hook up through there, but it felt off,” Suguru looked at the floor rather than you. “I’m okay with hooking up with people, but now that I’m used to having a connection with someone, it just doesn’t feel the same.” You recognized yourself from his words as well.

“A lot of people think that guys can do it with anyone and I suppose that it’s true to some. But it’s not for me.”

You and Suguru met at the university when you were both first year students studying education to become teachers. You had been both at the same course. He sat next to you, not really paying attention as he unpacked his stuff, taking out the laptop from his bag. You had been slightly intimidated by him.

When the professor announced the group assignment you had shyly asked him if he would like to do it with you. Suguru had smiled at you in a way that made your heart stop briefly. He didn’t look intimidating at all anymore. For the first few months you had a massive crush on him, but you stifled it when you realized that he only had eyes for Satoru, although he had said that he feels some sort of attraction to women as well.

You became one of his closest friends. It was easy to talk to him in an open manner, no matter what the subject was. You stayed over his place and vice versa, often stirring up rumors of your possible coupling, as if it was their business what you did or did not do.

Suguru grabbed a stress toy from the table and started throwing it in the air just to catch it over and over. “I love him. But I can’t stand him. I want to kiss him. And I want to smack him.” Every sentence was emphasized with the rhythm of his fidgeting. He’s so dramatic, you thought to yourself as you watched how the trinket spun around in the air before it landed on his palm.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say or how to help,” you confessed. Suguru answered with a hum. You knew that he knew that only time helps with heartbreak, but you did not want to spew out the same cliches that everyone said. Besides you had said them all before during their multiple breakups.

As much as you cared for him, you had frankly been at the end of your rope with this Satoru stuff. Neither of the guys knew how to have a stable relationship and you had to be witnessing that with Shoko and some other students that made up the friend group. You wanted to tell both of them to get their shit in order. This would be the last summer break before graduation and both of them needed to focus. You. Needed to focus.

“If you can be my wingman to find some level headed company, that would help a lot,” Suguru snickered, laughing slightly at his own joke.

You chewed your lip thoughtfully as you racked your brain. You had an idea, but it was a risky one. Maybe it was the weed or maybe you wanted to use it as an excuse. You chose your words carefully drawing them out slowly with several awkward stops in them.

“You know. We are in pretty much the same situation.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I relate to the stuff you’ve said about wanting connection.”

“Yes?”

“So.. why don’t we do it?” You asked, not daring to look at him. Your voice sounded small reflecting the way you felt inside.

Suguru stopped fidgeting on the spot and stared at you, his mouth slightly open in surprise.

“Are you serious?” He asked you with his eyebrows raised. You had a hard time interpreting what he was actually feeling, but nodded nonetheless.

“Yes. Most people already think that we fuck and we’re both pretty pent up. And you’re my best friend and I trust you. That’s a connection too albeit a different one,” you tried to defend yourself a little bit feeling your cheeks warm up with the topic.

“Oh yeah, cause best friends just casually get each other off because they trust each other,” he said sarcastically, but you saw that he was nervous as he grazed a spare strand behind his ear.

“Are you saying you want to get me off?” You tried to keep your voice husky, but you felt the giggle boiling underneath. It made you feel ridiculous speaking like that to him seriously.

Suguru went quiet and walked over to his own bed, where you had been lounging. He was subtly grinding his jaw as a nervous tick of his. He had a very simple outfit consisting of an oversized t-shirt and joggers, but somehow even that looked like high fashion on him. You admired the skin that was exposed through the droopy neckline.

You shifted on the bed making him some space when you felt the mattress dip as the tall man lay down next to you. You could already feel the warmth emanating from his body.

“I don’t want this to affect our friendship negatively,” Suguru stated as he turned to his side to see you directly.

“We don’t have to go far, we can just.. kiss?” Your voice was just a whisper as you stared into his brown eyes. Your heart was beating fast as the anticipation filled your body. You touched his cheek tenderly with your fingertips and saw his lashes flutter when he closed his eyes and leaned into your touch.

He took a deep breath in as if to ready himself. Then he moved your hand away that you had used to pet him to close enough distance for a kiss, yet he left enough space to keep it chaste.

His lips were soft as they worked against yours languidly. The kiss was awkward and felt like learning to walk again. Your noses bumped into each other as you both looked for a good place to put your limbs, almost as if asking wordlessly is this okay. You felt Suguru tremble next to you as he nipped at your lower lip and parted off of you to chuckle at the absurdity of the situation.

“I can’t believe what we’re doing.” He mumbled, but he did not attempt to get away from you.

“Do you still want to continue?” You asked cautiously.

You shared a fit of laughter with him, you swatted his arm half heartedly telling him to pull himself together, but you could have just as well given that instruction to yourself. After the childish giggling dissipated you pulled him towards you with a new passion, tangling your hands in his luscious hair. You raised your leg over his hip and pulled him towards your core. Suguru swiftly rolled on top of you, slotting himself between your legs, pressing up one thigh close to your middle.

It felt more heated as he deepened the kiss, caressing you, but not too brazenly. You parted your lips slightly to let his tongue explore yours as you trailed your hands around his back, dragging your nails against the cotton. You felt safe under his bigger frame, his weight calming you as much as setting you ablaze.

Suguru parted from you and kissed your neck eliciting a moan from you. You felt impatient, wanting to get more friction, more passion, more of everything he could offer to you.

“Please,” you panted as you pressed your clothed sex against his thigh.

“So sexually frustrated that a few kisses is all it takes?” Suguru grinned as he teased you.

“Stop it, you’re so mean,” you complained embarrassed about his remark. He didn’t have to say that type of stuff out loud, even if he was right.

“Do you actually want me to stop?”

“No,” you whispered.

“Good.” The way he looked at you was so gentle and affectionate that you wanted to scream. Your skin burnt under his hazy gaze. You had not really realized how much you had wanted this. “Since you seem to like my thigh so much, why don’t you ride it?” He asked you, cocking his head to the side as a challenge. He seemed to have regained his confidence.

Suguru spun around to lie on his back and lifted up slightly one of his legs and looked at you waiting as you shuffled around to saddle him.

“Can I take my panties off?”

“Yeah. I kinda wanna see how quickly you’ll manage to make a mess,” he added a sly smile on his face.

You lifted up your skirt dragging down the simple black underwear to expose the normally hidden part of you, swiftly throwing the panties on the floor before you saddled Suguru’s thigh. You pressed yourself slightly against the fabric of his joggers, feeling the rough texture of it against your sensitive skin and you could almost feel the way the moisture seeped into them, yet you did not move as the insecurity took over you.

“I feel embarrassed,” you admitted as you balanced yourself by pressing your palms against his stomach.

“You don’t have to. It’s just me.” He raised his hands to your hips, caressing you with his thumbs. As much as you could see the effects of lust on him, he was being careful the whole time with you.

“What if I help you?” It wasn’t really a question as he guided you to move. You whimpered as the delicious friction and small creases on the cloth pressed onto your bud. Slowly, you started moving yourself on your own and closed your eyes to focus on the pleasure since having direct eye contact with him felt still a bit weird.

Lewd moans filled the room when you started to increase your pace. Suguru watched the way you grinded onto his leg, desperation and pleasure playing on your features. His mouth was slightly ajar, almost panting with you even if he wasn’t the one who was getting off. He wanted to touch you, play with your breasts and mark your skin with so many bruises that you’d have to wear only long-sleeve polo shirts for the summer, but he did not want to interrupt you too much. Instead he tried to vaguely bring to his mind the drunken conversations about shared kinks so that he could possibly excite you more. Suguru found it amusing that he could use those conversations that had been shared as friends in his advantage

“You’re doing so well. Keep going,” he tried to say the words confidently with a lower voice, but he turned out to sound more breathy and boyish rather than what he was intended to go for. But honestly for you, this Suguru turned you on more than any type of dominant roleplay he could pull off right now. It was your Suguru, your best friend, your – ah fuck – something.

You moaned out his name as you moved your pelvis frantically.

“Suguru… Suguru.. I can’t finish like this,” you whined, opening your eyes for the first time after you had started.

“Tell me what you need,” he said.

“I want to be on your lap,” you panted out, “I want you to finger me.”

Suguru nodded and propped up a pillow against the wall pushing himself to a sitting position. He admired the wet mark on his gray pants. He spread out his legs to leave you a perfect place to sit in between.

He pressed his face into your forehead and gave you a little peck as he let his left hand wander on your chest, massaging your breasts. He quickly moved to the one place you really needed him.

He spread your folds open to swipe some of your wetness up to your clit, tapping the part protruding out of its hood gently. You jolted slightly due to the overwhelming sensation and you ended up rubbing against Suguru’s erection on accident. It felt like heaven to him so he decided to repeat the little tap again which earned him a high pitched squeak.

“Sensitive aren’t you?” You felt his hot breath next to your ear. Some of his hair pooled over your shoulders as well mixing to yours. You weren’t exactly sure if you like the direct touch or not but right now at this moment it was all you were looking for.

“Stop teasing,” you moaned.

“And where’s the fun in that?” Suguru hummed as he started rubbing circles on you, getting guided by your increasing or decreasing whimpers.

He placed a middle finger curiously against your entrance and pushed inside with almost no resistance, your wet warmth enveloping him. You sighed in relief as he quickly added his ring finger to the mix searching for your g-spot as he tried to grind your clit against his palm.

You wiggled, this time on purpose as you tried to guide him deeper. The waves of pleasure rendered you incapable of staying put. Suguru’s pants and your guttural moans mixed together as you started to near your end.

“One fun thing about being friends who discuss almost anything is that I know you on paper as well as your past lovers,” he said as he pressed his fingers against the spongy spot in you. His voice was almost inaudible as the warm breeze from his breath played against your ear. It was just the two of you even if you vaguely heard his neighbors banging the walls.

“You once told me that you like to be choked,” he mused, preparing the question with a slightly too long explanation than what you’d like, “Would you like me to do that to you?”

“Yes please.”

He wrapped his right hand around your neck and caressed your pulse point. The way you moaned rumbled against his palm. It felt intoxicating to him, to have himself buried in you as he watched the way you writhed against him. Suguru held onto your windpipe relishing in the power you freely gave away to him.

“Take your time,” he whispered. “Show me how you come.” Suguru tightened his grip on your throat. It felt like floating in the clouds as you mentally became smaller on his arm, caged underneath the pleasure he was giving you. Your ability to breathe came and went and it did not matter to you.

Suguru nuzzled against your neck as he felt you clenching around his fingers, your voice getting louder as you came. You gripped on his forearm digging your nails into his skin feeling the muscles moving as he kept on going, fucking you through your orgasm the pleasure soon turning to pain when everything became too much. He removed his grip on your throat and let you finally breathe properly.

“Stopstopstop!” You pushed his hand away. Suguru laughed and wiped your juices on your inner thigh.

“Fuck.” You breathed out and slumped against his body. You felt satiated and happy.

“Thank you.”

Suguru found the afterglow to suit you.

“Can I..?” You asked, turning around sitting on your knees with your legs folded under your butt. You rest your hand on his thigh expecting him to understand your hint. He nodded and you smiled shyly as you curled your fingers around his waistband. “Help me a bit.”

Suguru shuffled himself out of his joggers. The bed squeaked underneath his movement. You admired the wet spot on the cloth before it got discarded on the floor with his boxers. Your breath hitched softly as you stared at the way his cock curved up with the small trimmed hairs working as a decoration. You admired his thick thighs the way the muscle moved when he settled back to the bed to the same position he was in before.

The way he looked at you was a mixture of smugness and reservation, almost like he did not dare to start bragging about how he knew that he was more than the average man. You quickly took off your own shirt leaving you in your bra and skirt.

Suguru pulled you into a kiss holding onto your neck and you placed your hands on his torso caressing his chest. Your touch was heavy on him, passionate and needy as you made your way to his cock. You had no energy to tease him and frankly you did not want to. You wanted to see him come undone just as he had seen you.

Your hand moved across his length looking for the way he liked it. “Teach me,” you whispered in his mouth.

It didn’t take long for Suguru’s warm hand to wrap around yours.

“Like this,” he panted out as he gripped onto your hand showing the right pressure and movement. You studied the way his body spoke to you, as you separated yourself slightly from him to see his half lidded eyes, and the lips partially hanging open when he panted. His long lashes hid his brown eyes that varied in hues of gold and dark brown. Suguru finally let go of your hand, trusting you to be able to mimic him.

You kissed his neck as your hand moved faster and you relished in the sloppy sounds the hand job produced.

“You’re doing so good pleasing me” He groaned when you swiped his tip in a way that drove him crazy. You moaned at his simple confession as you clenched your thighs together once more, wetness dripping on your thighs.

Suguru threw his head back and moaned. You watched the adam's apple bob as he rode his orgasm stilling against your palm. You felt the come trickling on the back of your hand. You looked at the mess he had made, his shirt unfortunately on the line of fire.

Suguru looked at you as he calmed down, cheeks slightly red. You bit your lip nervously as you let your instincts take over. You raised your hand holding onto the eye contact with the man. He seemed curious at first of what you were going to do, but once he saw the pink tip of your tongue lick across the back of your palm he almost moaned again. He watched the erotic show you put on for him with great interest as you essentially cleaned yourself of his come.

“Wow, that’s so fucking sexy,” his voice was breathy as his gaze followed you sucking on your fingers.

You bursted out laughing and hugged him. He embraced you happily. “Can we cuddle?” You asked.

You lay down next to him and placed your head on his chest. His hair smelt like his favorite conditioner that probably cost more than any piece of clothing you owned. He had gone on long tangents of how he takes care of it more than once. Neither of you wanted to really address what this was, so instead of that the two of you stayed in the moment quietly.

It’s funny how easily you can muddle the line between friendship and something else. Break it too many times and you’ll lose sight of where it was to begin with. A delicate touch here and there, a joke a little too flirty to stay in the bounds of the silently agreed on boundaries. The question is: How far can you bend the rules till avoidance is no longer an option?

Suguru was the first one to break the silence.

“I’m probably going to get back together with Satoru at some point,” His voice wavered when he said out loud what you already knew to be true.

“I know.”

“Does it bother you?” He simply wanted to know.

“No, because I know you love him.” More. You wanted to add the word more.

“Thanks, I’m glad you’re my friend. I hope you know that.”

You smiled and buried your face against his shirt. The summer breeze grabbed onto the thin curtains and swung them around wildly. Suguru caressed your arm with his fingertips barely touching your skin when the both of you were deep in your own thoughts.

#geto suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #jjk smut

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audible-smiles · 9 days

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tumblr seems like a pretty heavily medicated website...have any of you ever decided to stay on a psych medication despite libido suppressing side effects?

I've been trying to get off of Venlafaxine for a year and a half. If I go too low on the dose, symptoms of major depressive disorder return immediately. That's an unacceptable quality of life, to me. The various medications that we've tried as adjuncts to facilitate a safe/smooth reduction in dose have caused a variety of secondary side effects, including my recent acid reflux/regurgitation issues. I'm now stable on a dose of Venlafaxine about half as much as I was on originally, without much of a change on the libido front. From my understanding I'd need to discontinue it entirely and wait weeks to months for things to get back to normal (assuming they ever do; for a small number of people the effect lingers for years).

I tried to do a cross-taper onto a newer medication, Trintellix, which is known for causing fewer issues with libido, and got unbearable dry mouth pretty much immediately. This could be temporary while I adjust to the medication, or it could be permanent. Psychologically, I don't think I can handle constantly feeling thirsty for more than a few days; it really sucks.

Most of my options from this point seem pretty drastic. If I go off of Venlafaxine claiming I can't tolerate the side effects, it will throw me into another depressive episode, which would make me eligible to try TMS, but 1. there's no guarantee that would work, 2. it's wicked expensive, and 3. this would seriously disrupt my life and could effect my ability to provide for myself.

I think I can tolerate the side effects, though? When desire is absent, you don't feel like you're missing much. But it's already playing absolute havoc with my ability to maintain a pretty significant relationship. It's like an artificial asexuality; I'll have to entirely rethink what I want/need from my partner, and if I like someone new (relatively rare for me anyways) I'll have to bring up my lack of interest in sex. This sounds exhausting and sad. The alternatives kinda sound worse.

#lifeblogging #mental health cw #tmi cw

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fqiryspit · 2 years

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𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐞𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐬 ; 𝐞.𝐣𝐚𝐞𝐠𝐞𝐫

𝘌𝘳𝘦𝘯 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘓𝘦𝘷𝘪 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

Summary: 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐘/𝐧 𝐝𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐇𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐄𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞?

cw: College!AU, Full smut, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex, getting absolutely railed, Relationship Problems, Love Triangles, Smut, Historia is pregnant with Erens baby, Eren and Y/n are together, Levi is with Petra, Sad sex, Y/n is lowkey depressed, Eren is bad at feelings, Starbucks Levi, Levi is Bad at Feelings, Historia the Hoe, mega toxic, Toxic Eren.

playlist

Chapter 12: 𝘦𝘹𝘩𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥

Masterlist

I'm so exhausted

it's all you can think about as you enter work

"didn't get enough sleep?" Levi mocks as he noticed your weary manner

"heh" you slip a laugh as you were about to explain how vomiting every morning wasn't too pleasant but you stop yourself, remembering that the only people who know about your little seedling is you and...well, the seedling

you tie the green apron around yourself as you catch Levis eyes lingering on you

you turn, slightly scrunching your face together as you notice Levi smiling

Levi. smiling.

"oh no...what happened" you prepared for the worst but an unexpected laugh escape his lips

"nothing your just-...nothing" he catches himself

you shrug it off but made a mental note of him acting weird and went to the drive threw to start taking orders

"cute" Levi finishes his sentence as you were away, a light blush spreading across his features.

you enter your empty apartment as you collapse on the bed, wondering where Eren is but honestly, you were too tired to care

until a phone binged

his phone.

your headshot up as his abandoned phone was left on his bedside table

it doesn't concern me

except...it really fucking does

you cave almost instantly, grabbing his phone and seeing the message, making your stomach sink

Historia: we need to talk, please can we just talk?

The last time you went on his phone you put your face id on, for moments like these.

you go into his messages and click on Historia

Historia: Eren pls come over

Eren: why?

Historia: Please, I'm sorry.

Eren: fine.

these messages' dates were from when Eren snuck out and came back snuggling against you, crying.

Historia almost never calls Eren by his name, what the fuck happened?

you reread the messages, so disappointed in the same shit.

I'm so sick of drowning in dread every time I'm around him

I'm so sick of suffocating in this dying love

I'm so fucking exhausted

you felt the familiar sting of tears in your eyes form, you were about to break until you heard the front door open.

you collected yourself and put his phone back as he walked into the room

"Hey," he said while he dropped the CVS bag on the bed

"Hey" you whispered

"Oh so, you won't believe this-"

"Eren." you cut him off to say the words that made his blood run cold

"I know"

Chapter 13

˜"*°•.˜"*°• see you soon •°*"˜.•°*"˜

an: omg...IT'S HAPPENING. places everyone PLACES!! AHHHH I hope you guys enjoyed this!!! I told you it was short...I'm sorry! 😞 ANYWHO, I'll see you next time my shawties!! MWAUH MWAUH MWAUH!! 😘💞

kinda taglist: @magictrump @jiminslove1y @raiiny-nightght @whatsambiti0n

(if I missed anyone or you’d like to be a part of the tag list you can message me or just comment!)

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whatsk-poppinhomies · 2 years

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"Leave me alone. Please." Pairing : Han Jisung x F!Reader TW : not much ; mainly just reader showing signs of depression, and detachment ; Word Count : 3.0k

“Do you really think we’ll be together forever?” You asked, laying across his chest, marveling at the way the little silver bracelet reflected the orange glow in the fireplace, making the engraving stand out even more. It was a gift that he had gotten you for your one year anniversary, it was a symbol of his love for you, a feeling that he said would be everlasting… And you believed him.

He snorted softly, running his fingers along your back as you laid on top of him on the couch, relishing in the company of one another. “Of course we will… How could we not? We’ve lasted this long, we’ve got the rest of our lives to spend together, don’t we?” He sounded so serious, and maybe at the time he was serious about it, and that’s why you were able to believe him wholeheartedly, to trust him, clinging onto his words and retaining them to your memory. The words held promise, they held in each syllable your hopes and your dreams and you held onto those words with such reverence that they might as well have been words in a scripture.

Your head nodded quickly, your arms instinctively wrapping around him, holding onto him as if he’d leave at any moment, even with the words he said, the fear still lingered. Maybe it was your tendency to be pessimistic, or your natural fear of heartbreak that made you reluctant, hesitant to allow yourself to be truly happy with him, no matter how hard he tried. You wanted him to be yours, you wanted to have the forever that he promised, you wanted everything that he said that the two of you would have, but it felt like each of your days together were numbered, like you were counting down to the inevitable disaster.

“We’re going to be okay, there’s nothing that could ruin us… that could take us away from each other.” He whispered, his lips brushing against the top of your head as he spoke the words so softly, they were barely audible over the crackling of the burning wood in the fireplace. There was nothing that could take the two of you away from each other, nothing but the two of you, and the dark thoughts that invaded your mind whenever he had to leave.

Maybe that’s what set the relationship into a downward spiral, what had the two of you barely even able to sit in the same room with one another without the smallest thing turning into an argument. You were scared, so scared of losing him that you were the one pushing him away, and you didn’t even realize it until it was too late.

Those late nights where you’d sit by the fireplace haven’t happened in so long, the living room felt so cold without the familiar warmth of his arms holding you close as the flicker of the flames danced across your bodies. The relationship was slowly burning out, much like the fire had, and instead of trying to keep it alive, you were unknowingly dousing it in water until there was nothing left but the smoke and ashes to remind you of everything that you lost.

You could feel him getting further and further away, the scent of him that lingered on the sheets was becoming more and more subtle with each passing day and maybe, maybe once the smell of him was gone, he’d be gone as well, disappearing from your life without a single trace of him left behind to remind you of what you had.

He had tried, he had exhausted everything he could, and in the beginning you could see him looking longingly at you, the hope in his eyes that maybe that look would spark something within you, relight the flame of the love that once burned bright in both of you, but you’d turn away, avoiding his eyes, terrified of being hurt, of being let down. How were you to know that you were the one launching yourself further and further down? There was no way that you’d ever be able to get back up, not to where you once were before, and the hand that had been extended towards you to help you up had long since been pulled away.

It was breaking his heart, you could see it in the way he carried himself, hear it in the way he spoke, the way he’d freeze when he’d go through his pictures and land on one of the two of you together, his jaw clenching together and his adams apple bobbing as he tried to swallow down the sadness that was becoming harder and harder to hide. He loved you so much, and he wanted so badly to understand, to know what he possibly did wrong, and that was the hardest part that you couldn’t even explain, because he hadn’t done anything, you yourself were the problem.

“I’m going on tour soon.” Jisung said from the doorway to the bedroom that you used to share together, but now it had become solely yours. He had moved into the guest bedroom, taking all of the things that made the bedroom his and yours and moving them into the guest room to make it his own. He had hated doing it, but you didn’t even protest, you just let him take it, and that hurt him more, the thought that you didn’t even care enough to try to stop him. That wasn’t the case though, it wasn’t the case at all, you had cried the entire night when he had done it, but you didn’t know what to do. Stopping it would only prolong the inevitable, at least that’s what you thought. “Do you want to go with me?”

The question threw you for a loop, he hadn’t invited you to anything in so long, you didn’t know what to say. “Why?” You whispered, turning off your phone and placing it down beside you, your hand quickly moving to fidget with the bracelet that still hung around your wrist. It had become something of a nervous tick, and while the relationship was falling apart, the bracelet that he had gotten for you was always a source of comfort.

His hand ran through his hair as he let out a sigh, it sounded like defeat, like he had just maybe finally had enough. “I’m trying… God dammit, Y/N, I’m trying. What do you want from me? What am I supposed to do?” His voice cracked as his fingers wrapped around the frame of the door, a means of support as stared at you with glassy eyes and shaky breaths.

You shook your head, your own breaths falling heavy from your lips, refusing to make eye contact with him as you dropped your hands to your side. “Nothing… Jisung.” You mumbled, fidgeting nervously on the bed as you pulled the blankets up around you, but he let out a groan of disbelief that had your fists tightening around the comforter. “You don’t understand… What it’s like to want to love someone so much, but to be held back by the fear of that love being the one thing that hurts you the most. I don’t want to get hurt by you.”

His lips parted, a sharp breath of exasperation shooting from his lungs as he blinked his eyes rapidly with disbelief. “Hurt… You’re scared of being hurt by me?! I’m living in the same house as the girl that I’m in love with and I don’t even sleep in the same bed with her because she’s pushing me away. I haven’t been able to even look at you without getting choked up because I miss you… I miss you so fucking much and I don’t know what I did wrong… And I’ve been questioning it, trying to find the answers for so long… And then you tell me that you’re doing this because you don’t want to get hurt… by me!? You’re hurting me… and you’re hurting yourself too.”

His chest rose and fell heavily after the speech, and the only thing you could do was absorb all of his words, take them as if they were hits and let the pain wash over you. “I’m… sorry…” You muttered between shaken sobs that you tried so hard to hold back, to contain within yourself because the last thing you felt that you deserved was his pity, not after hearing what you had done to him. “Leave me alone. Please.” You whispered, sinking into the mattress and covering yourself completely with the blankets, waiting for the sound of the door to shut before you let yourself cry, let yourself fully break down.

Things only continued to get worse as the day leading up to his departure for the tour drew near. His last ditch effort to try to reignite that old flame, it had all amounted to nothing, the spark hadn’t even caught the wick. He barely even came home at night, and you didn’t blame him, there was nothing to come home to, nothing that would bring him happiness the way it would before. When he was home, the air was filled with such tension that the two of you couldn’t even bear to be in the same room together. Neither of you spoke to each other, he had held fast onto the last words that you had said to him, and he acted by them, and you didn’t know how you truly felt about it. It would have been selfish if you had only said those words to see if he would try harder to be with you, but it was heartbreaking to think that he stopped loving you to the point where he wasn’t trying at all.

Maybe that’s what you needed to put things into perspective for yourself though. His rant and your final words to him and his and your actions from thereon. It made things painfully clear that the relationship was at a dead end and it had been for a while now. No matter how long you sit in the car, no matter how much gas you waste, the wall at the end of the road was never going to move for you… You needed to move, and that’s exactly what you were going to do.

You knew for a fact that it wouldn’t make anything easier for you, it would probably only make things harder, but you needed to let him go, because you knew that as long as you stuck around, he would keep trying, and your own walls weren’t breaking down… You needed to draw him a new path, one that wasn’t going to lead him to a dead end.

He hadn’t come back home in a while, and you weren’t sure why you waited so long to make the decision, not when your things were already packed and waiting by the door. Maybe you just wanted that finality of a final goodbye, even if that would have hurt the both of you more than necessary, you just needed to let him know that it wasn’t his fault, and that he didn’t do anything wrong. He wasn’t coming home though… Maybe he had gotten tired of being around you. Maybe he had already gotten the finality that he needed during the last conversation you had and he couldn’t stand to be in a house, surrounded by the corroded and decaying relationship that he wanted so badly. You couldn’t blame him, because you couldn’t stand to be in it either, the pictures that sat on the mantle of the fireplace just a cold reminder of something that you had stopped.

“Y/N…?” His voice filled the empty space of the house, traveling the corridors and slipping underneath the small space between the floor and the bottom of the bedroom door. “Did you decide to go with me?” There was a hope in his voice, no doubt brought on by the sight of your bags near the door. Was this really what you wanted? To break his heart right before his tour? Would his heart even be broken by the revelation that his assumption was wrong? “Y/N?” There was a panic, and then the sound of footsteps carrying him towards the bedroom.

“It’s just not working… I’m sorry… I am…” You whispered, your nervous tick acting up once again as you tugged at the bracelet on your wrist. “And you did nothing wrong… It’s me… It’s all me. I’m the problem.” You whimpered, your fingers brushing along the clasp to the bracelet, and you knew that keeping it would only be a constant remind of him, a constant reminder that the words that had been engraved into the bracelet held no meaning anymore, they held no promise because you were the one that inevitably turned your back on it.

His head shook at breakneck speed, watching your fingers unlatch the bracelet, and he ran over just as fast, placing his hand over yours to stop you. “Stop… Stop it. Don’t try to throw that… It’s not you, it’s me, shit at me. If you think that you’re the problem, let me try to fix it, let me try to help you figure whatever it is out. I don’t want to lose you… I promised you that I’d love you forever… And I’m not breaking that promise…”

Loud sniffles broke through the silence that followed, and you were sure that they weren’t just your own considering how shaky his hands felt on top of yours. This was as much physical contact as the two of you have had in so long… You had almost forgotten the way his skin felt against yours, the way the heat of his touch seeped through your body and set fire to any part of you he touched. “You’re not happy… I can’t make you happy… There’s something wrong with me… And you deserve to have someone that makes you feel loved…” You said, your words broken off by sobs as you kept your head down, ashamed to even look at him, scared to see the pain of heartbreak shining in his eyes.

“I know you love me…” He whispered, his own words choked off by the lump that you could hear forming in his throat, making it harder for him to breathe. “I know you do… Somewhere… And I know you’re scared… And maybe you know why, maybe you don’t… But you have no reason to be because I’ll always love you.” He hesitantly lowered himself down onto the bed, his hands moving from yours to cup your cheeks, making you look up at him, and you swear, the way the two of you looked right now, you were sure that your faces were a mirrored reflection of one anothers. “You make me happy… So please… Please, just stay…” He croaked out through chapped lips from breathing through his mouth for far too long. “And.. If it makes any difference… I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you… I think you’re perfect. I never wanted you to leave…”

A heavy breath escaped you, like all of the oxygen that you had been holding in your lungs that entire time had finally been let go all at once. The wall that you had built up around yourself… It hadn’t shifted, the bricks hadn’t fallen over yet, there wasn’t even a hole in the wall… But the foundation was cracking, it was becoming weak, and you knew that if it went on like this any more that the wall would soon come crashing down. It was a scary thought, to be completely vulnerable, to not have that barricade that you’ve had for so long, to be susceptible and open to any emotional damage that might come along with the dismantling of your protective barrier. It was scary to think of staying with him, to think of all the pain that could be caused if you did, the fears that would eat away at you when he was gone… But it was scarier to think of being without him, of what it would be like without him in your life.

“Let’s just try… Give it a little bit of time… And if you still want to leave afterwards… Well… I won’t try to stop you then. I just don’t want to give up on us… Not when we haven’t tried anything at all. I love you too much to let what we have go that easily…” He swallowed thickly, the sound of his spit trying to squeeze past the lump that was still lodged in his throat made a loud gulping type sound. “But…” He let out a shuddered breath, his head falling as his hands dropped from your face. “If you really want to go now… I’ll take you to where you want to go. I’ll help you get your things, and I’ll make sure you get there safely… I want you to be happy too.”

That’s when the first brick fell… The crashing sound in your mind bounced around for what felt like forever before everything went silent again. He loved you, and it wasn’t a simple kind of love where the three words were dropped carelessly, spoken more as a habit rather than a feeling… He loved you enough to hurt himself, to put himself through the pain of helping you leave him just because he wanted you to be happy… He’d do anything for you, and that much was being made very clear. “I love you, Han…” You started, and it was the first time in a while that you had spoken the words, and you could by the shocked expression that flashed across his features, his eyes going wide and his mouth falling open, but there was a hesitance to his excitement, like he was waiting for that ‘but…’ to be tacked on… “I want to try… I do…” You finished, and it felt like for once in a very long time, the world had color again.

It was like the fireplace in the living room had been lit once more, and the chilling cold that filled the house for so long was chased out by the warmth that radiated from the flame. It would be work, but you both were willing to do it to be with each other, to make everything work, to bring back the warm evenings spent in silence on the couch, surrounded by the heat of the flame and enveloped by the warmth of each other.

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writteninsilence · 2 years

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october 25th, 2022 @ 10:09pm

I feel it creeping in again.

This longing for someone, a wistfulness for some place, a regret of something...and I can put my finger on none of these things.

I don’t know if I always start to feel like this when the weather changes. When the leaves begin to fall and the temperature drops...when snuggling with someone and watching a movie sounds so much better than facing the cold and going out to a bar to get drunk and have meaningless conversations with faceless strangers.

I don’t know if I always start to feel like this when the happiness lingers for too long. When I finally start to feel content and need to fall back into the comfortable, the lonely, the sadness. Because that’s easier than trying to constantly work for this fleeting feeling of “goodness”, right?

But when I think about it, I’m not really sad. I mean, I’ve felt sadness before, and I can’t really say that this is how I would describe how I’m feeling. I’m not crying, I’m not depressed, no tragic event has happened to me that I’m distraught over.

I think I’m just existing. I want to just pass by and not really get involved in much...not try and make my mark or have an effect on anything. It’s exhausting trying to be content all of the time. Sometimes even the little things turn into the most daunting tasks in the world. Clothes are piled up in my bed and I don’t even have the motivation to put them away before I go to sleep, so I just lay with them. Laundry seems like the biggest chore in the world right now. Work hasn’t excited me like it did just last week. I don’t even feel like going to physical therapy to get my ankle checked out.

This longing for someone, a wistfulness for some place, a regret of something...and I can put my finger on none of these things.

This longing for someone. Of course, I’d love to be with someone...but I think I have so many doubts. How do I know how to be with someone again? How do I not fall back into the same patterns, same routines as my past relationships? Were any part of my past relationships even healthy? Is my intuition even correct, or is the line between toxic infatuation and real love too blurred? How do I even talk about myself? What about me is even interesting enough to discuss with someone else? These thoughts play in my mind over and over again, to the point where I am almost not even recognizing myself or am doubting that I have any unique identity to begin with.

A wistfulness for some place. There’s this constant feeing that I need to be somewhere else...that I need to be doing something else. What if I moved to this place, how much would my life be better? What if I’m just wasting my time in Atlanta? What if I am just passing life by and I could be so successful doing something else? What if I invested and made so much passive income? What money am I missing out on from not knowing enough? Social media has become such a competitive and toxic environment for me. I don’t know what side hustles are real or not, what is truly easy to do passively or if people are just trying to scam others. I also don’t know if I’d even be happier anywhere else than Atlanta. I don’t want to pay so much more in rent, I like my job, and I like the walkability of the city for Prince’s sake. There are so many factors to consider and I feel like I am constantly juggling them in my mind.

A regret of something. I put so much blame on myself and I think I am getting too caught up in the what if’s. It’s not even really particular scenarios...more like the butterfly effect. What if this turned out this way, or I did/didn’t do this, what would’ve happened? When I think of certain situations (boyfriends, relationships in general, etc.) I don’t regret them because they’ve made me who I am today...I think I just regret how my life has turned out to be.

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butterflybuckethat · 3 years

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Expectation - Part III

Notes: Benedict x Reader - I don't really know where to put this in my masterlist anymore.

Taglist: @theinfinitenerd @clean-soap @anthonybridgertonsmistress @thatredheadwithglasses

🦋 Part I 🦋 Part II 🦋 Masterlist 🦋

You were still fighting with Benedict into the morning. Both of you were exhausted and sitting on the floor behind the couch. "I am tainted, Benedict. There is no need to bring you down with me." You had been at this for hours. “You are not marrying my brother.” Benedict was nowhere near forgiving Anthony for leading you on or whatever he was doing with you. The Bridgerton’s wanted to deal with this as a family, all piling into the drawing-room and speaking over one another. Benedict was having none of it, which is why you were behind the couch in the first place. “Why do I have to marry? I could move to Paris, live out the rest of my days as a spinster.” You said it in a light tone but you weren’t really kidding. You had no other options: you couldn't stay in London and face the shame and you couldn't marry Benedict and have him resent you for the remainder of your lives. "You cannot move to Paris." "Rome, then." You look towards Benedict with a weak smile but it immediately fell. He pulled you into his arms. "Please don't go. I couldn't bear it." You could feel his tears soaking into the fabric at your shoulder. You had seen Benedict cry before but never as an adult, never like this. You would do anything to make it stop. He looked up at you, his face a wreck with bruised puffy redness. You might have laughed if it weren't all so depressing. "Please, marry me. Please." He begged.

The engagement was longer than you had expected; Violet said it was to fool the rest of the ton into believing that this was always the plan because nothing scandalous ever happens around the Bridgerton's, right? And it seemed to be working. You and Benedict had always been close, best friends and all, so this didn't appear like too much of a leap. Some even seemed relieved, finally understanding your relationship: a long con to marry a Bridgerton- ambitious mamas would remember your name for decades to come. Being engaged was surprisingly freeing. You could truly be alone with Benedict for the first time since your childhood, stand next to him, even touch his arm without having to fret about what it looked like. But that did not mean that you felt any less guilty about dashing Benedict's chances at finding true love.

You and he were in Florence Smythe-Smith’s wedding party. It was a surprise when she asked; you came out together but otherwise, you weren’t terribly close, you hadn’t even met her fiancé. But she dismissed your concerns with the light smile of someone desperately in love and explained that it was lucky to have a happy couple at the party, apparently, all her cousins were unwed and miserably so. You clung to Benedict’s side, throughout all the events, and he was clearly growing concerned: "Are you alright?" You made some high-pitched noise in the affirmative. You were watching Florence and her soon-to-be husband take a private moment in the middle of the chaos that was the evening before her nuptials. They wore soft smiles and he placed light lingering kisses on her nose and forehead and you couldn’t help but feel- "Do you want to dance?" Benedict pushed a loose strand behind your ear, you shook your head. "A drink?" Same response. "Do you want to go somewhere and kiss?" "What?" You shrieked, eyes blown wide. He only chuckled. "Only wanted to make sure you were listening" "How can you joke at a time like this?" "A time like what?" You shook your head in utter disbelief. "Would you, at least, pretend you're happy to be with me? I think I'm beginning to look like a cad,” and finally you saw it: he was hurting as bad as you were. He wasn’t actually chastising you, his tone was light, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes, something so easy to miss but you saw it. You took a deep breath and put on a smile. You were engaged and at your friend’s wedding, this was supposed to be fun. “Do you think we could bribe a footman into telling us where they keep the sweets?” “If that fails, there’s always intimidation.” “Please, you could never.” “I could too!” “Face it, Benedict, you’re soft.” And just like that, everything was back to normal. Or, at least, as normal as this situation could possibly be.

The wedding reception was beautiful, filled with pale pink flowers, dancing, and the best cake you had ever had. You and Benedict were sitting together up on the dais, eating each other’s slices. “Why is your piece always better than mine?” Benedict asked. You watched him lick frosting off his fork. “Because I’m better than you. In every conceivable manner.” “I already knew that,” and he grinned. He wasn’t teasing. Your lips parted. “You just complimented me.” “You act as if I have never done that before,” he laughed and took another piece of your cake. But he hadn’t done that before, not in the same way he did it this time. Something was different. He really meant it. “I’m not,” you put your gloved hand in his and squeezed, “I am not, in any way, better than you.” “You are,” his brows furrowed and he pulled his chair closer to yours, knee resting between your legs. “You saved me, Benedict,” your voice cracked. You didn’t want to do this here, not on Florence’s wedding day, not in front of all these people. Your eyes welled up with tears, “you saved me and I hate that you had to do that, that I ruined your chances at having that,” you gestured to Florence and her husband, laughing and twirling one another on the dancefloor. Benedict took your face in his hands, soaking your tears in his gloves, “I don’t care about that, Y/N. I care about you. I love you.” “You say that now-“ “And I’ll say it for the rest of my life.” Butterflies erupted in your stomach. "Benedict," you gasped. "Why aren't you dancing?" Eloise cried as she and Penelope came rushing over, you jumped maybe a foot in the air. "Startled?" he nudged your knee with his. "Just shut up and ask me to dance."

Your wedding was beautiful. You wore pale blue and there wasn't a dry eye in sight. Anthony and Benedict seemed to make up, whispering in a dark corner before the ceremony and coming out all smiles. Even you were happy, excited that you were going to spend the rest of your life with your best friend. You immediately left for "My Cottage" bringing near half the cake with you. You had been there before, spent some time in the summers, enough for Mrs. Gibbons to begin to actively enjoy your company. By the time you arrived, it was around midnight and you were experiencing a very real sugar crash. "I thought I would never see the day," she cheered as you and Benedict came through the door. "Mrs. Gibbons, I ruined myself." Might as well set the record straight. "Good for you, girl." You looked back at Benedict with a hand over your mouth, suppressing laughter, and he looked much the same. "Come now, I'll show you to your bedroom." "Don't you mean bedrooms?" You tried as you followed her up the stairs. "I am afraid that was not possible...water damage." "Water damage!" Benedict cried, "Why wasn't I notified of this?" "It's all being taken care of." "Where is it? How did it happen?" He ran down the hallway, looking for any signs of deterioration. "Don't mind that, dear." And, with that, she pushed you both into your room. You stood, dumbfounded, staring at the door. “Is she trying to set us up?” “I wouldn’t put it past her,” Benedict replied, taking off his waistcoat. “But we are already married!” "I don't see what that has to do with anything." You whipped around to look at him and let out a little gasp. He was shirtless and you couldn't tear your eyes away, tracing them down the ripples of muscle and planes of his shoulders. He cleared his throat and you shifted your gaze to his face, flushing deeply. "Do you require my assistance?" he motioned vaguely to your dress. Benedict worked on the buttons with relative speed, wedding dress slipping off your shoulders and down your front. He unlaced your stays as well, undressing you until you were left in only your chemise. You turned, catching him staring at your body, and felt a sudden rush of power. You took a step closer, testing your boundaries, forcing him to look you in the eyes. You began pulling the pins from your coiffure and handing them to Benedict. Your hair fell in ringlets all around out. Benedict tugged on one, mesmerized, and watched ad it sprung back. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but nothing came out, and you stood there, looking up at him through your lashes. "I have a headache," you stuck your bottom lip out in a pout. Benedict only rolled his eyes. "Might you having nothing but cake and champagne have anything to do with it?" he teased but poured you a glass of water as you got in bed. "It was our wedding, Benny. It was expected of me," if you were feeling any less exhausted, you might have put up more of a fuss about you and he sharing a bed. But Benedict fell into bed beside you, pulled you flush to him, and was dead asleep before you could even say a word in protest.

#bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton ff #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #expectation

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perpetual-help · 3 years

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If I might ask, how did you return to Holy Mother Church?

Well, the short answer would be by the graces won for me by The Blessed Mother. I owe everything to her intercession.

I was a cradle Catholic who fell away from the Church during my later teenage years. I abandoned God out of anger and also out of a growing curiosity in the occult. I studied and practiced (and eventually mentored in) witchcraft for about six years. Towards the end of the six years, my pursuits into witchcraft grew darker and more sinister. To give you an example of the mindset I was spiraling towards - back then, I was becoming more acquainted with groups who condoned human sacrifice / cannibalistic rituals / cursing for the pleasure of causing chaos and misery / knowingly working with demons. I thank God that I was spared from going any further in these groups than simply learning what they do or what they encourage to be done through text, and nothing more.

I met someone I will call “H” through a mutual friend (in person.) My first impression of H wasn’t a very good one, given that I could tell from our first interaction that H was a Christian. Back then, I could differentiate between Christians and non-Christians by the feeling of the air that would surround them, and if I found them to be Christian, there would be an immediate swelling of hatred towards them. I had a tarot reading done for H and I to see whether it would be worthwhile to humor a friendship with a Christian, and the person who gave the reading claimed that H and I were actually soulmates. I took this seriously and decided that, since H and I were apparently connected in such a way, I had to make an effort towards H’s wellbeing, even if it never led to anything romantic. H attended a small Pentecostal church that would post its service online, and I would occasionally watch some of the sermons in order to mock and laugh at the ridiculousness of it. They would “speak in tongues,” give “words” to people, run around in “the spirit,” and do other things that I found stupid but thoroughly amusing. My interest was especially piqued by the idea of “speaking in tongues” - because, when some of them would “speak in tongues,” I could understand what they were saying. (More on my present thoughts about this later)

H suffered from depression, which I considered a blight to the both of us, given that we were allegedly soulmates. One Sunday, H said they did not want to go to church because of the depression, and so I offered to go with them, knowing that they would leap at the opportunity to drag a heathen to church. On my way to the church, the voices I recognized as my “spirit guides” at the time were leaving me with strong internal impressions such as: “He is going to say that your chains are breaking, ignore him.” And “he is going to single you out, don’t fall for it.” My answer to these impressions was “fine.”

When I entered the Church, I felt an immediate repulsion. People were dancing and singing pop worship songs, and I internally questioned why I had chosen to do this. Sure enough, the pastor did single me out. Most of what he said to me could be attributed to cold reading, but it was entertaining. I was told “Your chains are breaking. You wear your past bad relationship like a scarlet letter on your forehead.” and “You’re going to meet a Godly man and your relationship will be like out of movie. When you do, cling to him.” I’m not sure how to describe some of the sensations I felt during parts of the service. At times, I felt like my skin was crawling, or like my skin was burning, and other times as though my throat were closing and I was being choked. I initially brushed these feelings off and tried to convince myself that it was social anxiety, but that experience lingered with me even after the service. H and I talked a lot after church, mostly about the Bible and different parts in the scripture. I had a lot of questions and H was kind enough to offer loving and well-thought-out answers. I went home and cried, and it was the first time I had properly cried in several years. I wasn’t sure why I cried at first, but the day’s events recurred in my mind’s eye and I recalled how horrible I’d felt while people worshipped around me. At that moment, I genuinely wanted to know the truth - I wanted to know whether God was real. And, if He was real, I wanted to know whether He would help me. So, I prayed. I asked God this: “If you are real, please touch my heart so that I know.” Immediately, I enveloped by this warmth and peace, and something I can only think to describe as perfect love and tranquility. My heart felt this so intensely that it seemed to be overflowing in and through me, and I wept. I only then was able to realize how absolutely miserable and exhausted and anxious and depressed and wrathful I had been for so long. I wept, and I promised to give myself entirely to God. In return, I asked Him to help me to become a servant pleasing to Him - to love Him more, always. The demons I once considered my “spiritual guides” and “deities” showed their true colors after this experience. I would say, for the first year of my conversion, I was tormented a lot in different ways - but especially in my dreams, and by feelings of intense anxiety and despair that would be thrown upon me out of nowhere and that coupled with the sensation that the walls were closing in. The voices and impressions I once recognized as “friends” started to say things like “you can’t be saved, you’ve already given yourself to us.” among other lies. These torments continue today, and in other ways, but they aren’t as constant as they were towards the beginning.

I threw away six years worth of junk I had acquired which left my room essentially empty, but it was a liberating feeling. I started to attend the Pentecostal church, but my time there didn’t last. They hosted a woman who called herself a prophetess who spoke in tongues, but what she would say would be blasphemies. People would shout “amen” and “alleluia” to these utterances, and I began to understand that this group didn’t know how to discern the spirit. The breaking point for me was when the pastor claimed that Jesus had to learn how to perform miracles - that, and, the glaringly obvious inconsistencies between his sermons and scripture. There was an unhealthy focus on titles of ministries and “what God can do for your health and wealth.”

I lasted three months at that church before it clicked in my head that the Catholics were right. This, was also in part due to my rediscovery of the Bible verses that referred to Jesus’ command to eat His flesh and drink His blood, and a dream that followed. So, I went to confession for the first time in probably 8 or more years. It was a frightening experience and I cried during the entire confession like the wimp I am, but the liberation I felt afterwards far outweighed it all. A couple of days after my confession, I attended Mass with my mother. During the Transubstantiation, while the Priest held up The Body and Blood of Our Lord, I smelled a strong incense. I only noticed the smell because I normally disliked Church incense for how strong it is, but this one, while it was strong and impossible to ignore, it was the most beautiful smell I’ve ever encountered. (There was more crying) After Mass, I asked my mom whether she knew what kind of incense they used, and she deadpanned “They didn’t burn incense.”

Now that I have had more time to process the beginnings of my conversion and especially my encounters at the Pentecostal church, I am of the impression that I was able to understand their “tongues” because it was demons speaking through them. I’m aware that there’s a Charismatic Movement of Catholics who also claim to speak “in the tongues” but I am always wary of such claims, and I avoid such practices like the plague.

God is so merciful and so loving, and my entire life is a testament to this. I did nothing but offend Our Lord and hate all things good and Holy, but still, He called out to me and saved me from the miserable state of death I hadn’t realized I was in. All Glory to God.

As St. Germanus of Constantinople said: ”There is no one, O Most Holy Mary, who can know God except through thee; no one who can be saved or redeemed but through thee, O Mother of God; no one who can be delivered from dangers but through thee, O Virgin Mother; no one who obtains mercy but through thee, O Filled-With-All-Grace!”

For this reason, I also attribute these great graces given to me by the intercession of Our Blessed Mother, and I owe her nothing less than my life in return for this favor she has shown me.

I hope my answer has satisfied the question without being too tedious.

God bless you, and keep you.

#catholic #roman catholic #catholic witch #christian witch #christian #witchcraft #conversion #ask

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uwurakax · 3 years

Text

another day ♡

pairing: oikawa x f!reader ♡

genre: angsty // exes // mutual pining ♡

summary: after the constant fighting and bubbling insecurities, you and oikawa both decide that breaking up is probably for the best. too bad that it wasn’t what either if you had wanted ♡

♡ read part one ‘save your tears’ here ♡

word count: 2k ♡

author’s note: super tired, i should be packing but im not lol, 4am gang ayyy. as always not proofread because i cannot stomach the idea of rereading what i wrote. this was what originally ‘save your tears’ was going to be, but part one got too long so haha. spoils of part one, so if you haven’t read it go ahead, or don’t lolol it could be read alone ig hurr hurr ♡

♡ (inspired by save your tears - the weeknd/ariana grande) ♡

At one point in time, you would’ve enjoyed an atmosphere like this; the blaring lights, pounding music, and even the heat radiating off warm bodies in a cramped space. It was much more enjoyable when you had the familiar, comforting presence of him.

Yes him: Oikawa Tōru. Also known as the the guy who broke your heart less than two months ago. You hadn’t seen him since the week after, finally being able to pick up everything and go. It was scary how silent it was between you two. The unit the both of you had made a home, your first home with him, just a little more barren. Just a little more bare.

Just a little more empty.

Once homely rooms were now plain. To anyone else, it could be called minimalistic or modern. Sleek if you were to exaggerate it. To the both of you however, it was just stone cold. A lifeless corpse. One poor imitation of what it once was.

And seeing it like this was almost enough to have your heart break for a second time. It was a physical representation of your relationship. The feelings of warmth, comfort, admiration, any and every word any literary body could ever akin to love was once found here. It was sad to see it gone, almost like it was never there. However if you looked past the surface you’d see all the small details of things that once occupied the room. The once full drawers now easily fitting clothes with plenty of room to spare. A countertop with products only to one half of the sink. The minuscule dust imprints left behind on the shelves that once housed your books.

The lingering smell of your perfume that was once so prominent.

You couldn’t tell, but Oikawa could. In the week you were gone, it slowly started to fade. The first night Oikawa was drowning in it. It clung to, what once was, your pillow and on the blanket. Choking and suffocating him with the sweet smell. He couldn’t bear to see the bed without you in it, and hated the God awful smell. Opening the window and facing away, he had a dreamless sleep that night.

And as the week passed, so did the scent of you.

He couldn’t explain why, but the moment he opened the door, his body felt at ease. His eyes blessed, even if you had those dark circles and slightly red eyes with unkempt hair. It was as if it was instinct to feel relief at being near you.

It was the longest few hours of Oikawa’s life that day, and somehow it was still just too short. Helping you gather your things, putting them into boxes and loading them into a tiny hired truck until eventually there was nothing left.

You were gone from the apartment, and now Oikawa’s life.

It was awkward the second time, saying goodbye. The finality of it all dawning on the both of you. You at least had this excuse to see each other once more. After this, there was nothing. No more reasons to come back, to call, message or even see each other again.

This was officially the last time you’d ever get to see Oikawa Tōru.

You’d both stood there for a few moments, only the wind against leaves and the occasional car offering any sort of background noise. Neither of you wanting or willing for this moment to end. Despite it all, it wasn’t hard to see that you both yearned for each other. Just how cruel it was that you couldn’t see it.

Oikawa kept your pillow close that night. The smell of you was so faint, he was sure that it wouldn’t be too long before it completely faded. As he held the plush item near his chest he couldn’t help but wonder what kind of life he could’ve had with you if he wasn’t so prideful? All the fantasies and white picket fences surged in his mind, and so he finally drifted off to sleep, thinking of you.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“Here”

You turned to see your best friend handing you a glass of, well you weren’t sure exactly but anything to dull your senses at this point was okay in your book. Yes, almost two months since your breakup and you were still so torn. It was what he wanted right? Your lives are better this way. You’re sure his is. He wouldn’t have to hear you “nag” as he so put it, and you didn’t have to feel the exhaustion resulting because of it.

It was better this way. You knew it. Oikawa knew it. Your friends and family knew it. Heck even the old ladies down the damn street knew it.

So why did it feel so shitty.

You downed the drink quickly, not wanting to go through the spiral of emotions you were sure you were going to experience. You’d deal with the pain and hangover tomorrow like the adult you were. For now you just wanted to dance till your feet hurt, and then drink until they stopped hurting. A quick descent into self destruction that you’re sure you’d regret.

Or maybe you wouldn’t.

The moment you turned your head to get back to the dance floor you locked eyed with him.

For a moment you stopped breathing. The music faded out quickly and the patrons of the club disappeared. Suddenly it was just you and him.

He looked good this time around, nothing like the last time you saw him. His perfectly fluffed and styled hair that was just so effortlessly Oikawa had become messy bed head. His bright chocolate eyes that twinkled just a little with mischief when he smirked had become sunken. His whole demeanour had completely drooped into a depressive state. It hurt to see.

He wasn’t like that now. He looked like how he had been before. No longer were the remnants of a heartbroken man. Oikawa Tōru had gone back to his charming self once again.

A cute girl with silky, long black hair approached him and just as quick as they went, everything came flooding back; the music, people and you found yourself being able to breathe again.

She touched his arm and laughed. The look in her eyes filled with the glimmer coyness. Her body language oozed with flirty persona. It was all too familial.

You should’ve guessed that he’d date again. It wasn’t like he couldn’t. The moment you both severed the relationship he had every right to do what he wanted. You did too. Sure you were seeing someone, but it wasn’t like that.

All too, touchy-feely.

It hurt to see, you weren’t going to lie. Seeing the way he touched her, held her, danced with her. For a good portion of the night you saw it. Seeing him be with her, the way he used to with you. No longer being the main character in his story; you were in the audience, watching.

You didn’t want to stay until the ending.

Without a word, you briskly brushed passed sweaty bodies, being bumped a few times before you finally made it to the door and opened it.

You walked a couple paces to the middle of the footpath, deeply inhaling the fresh air. It wasn’t suffocating anymore. You fumbled with your purse, reaching inside to pull out your phone. With the glow of neon lights emanating behind you, you saw a stray tear on the blackness of your screen.

Fuck, when did that happen?

You wiped it with the palm of your hand, and went to unlock your phone. As you prepared to send a text you heard the call of your voice.

“Tōr-Oikawa?”

He mentally winced at this, the formal tone of using his surname struck something inside. He didn’t like it, not at all. It wasn’t right, it felt strange.

“What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here? You followed me”

“Right... I guess I just wanted to see how you were, that’s all” he looked away, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. You softened at this. It just took you back to why you fell for him in the first place. The little things like this, that made you feel cared for and loved. Perhaps for a few minutes you could be delusional and pretend that Oikawa still cared for you.

“I’m fine, what about you? How is everything going?” Yikes. You cringed at how awkward you were being. You supposed that that’s how it was, not exactly friends and not complete strangers either.

“Yeah fine too...” he trailed off, and just like that you were brought back to that time before you left. Before the official goodbye. Not ready to end things just yet, but neither knowing what more to say.

Just for a little while, let me remember every trace, curve and detail.

You didn’t know what came over you, but soon enough you found yourself drawing closer to Oikawa. He looked at you with half lidded eyes, not daring to move a step, almost afraid if he did it would ruin this moment with you. Yes, it was selfish but...

You lifted your hand to cup his cheek, just like a memory from before. Using the pad of your thumb, you gently brushed over the soft skin. Ever so delicately, you traced down his jaw. The intimacy of your movements crossed a boundary between you. You knew it and he did too. You’d let yourselves be greedy though.

Oikawa raised his own hands to touch your face, perfectly ingraining it into his mind and body. His fingers slowly going over your features. He wouldn’t allow himself to forget any part of you.

It wasn’t long until you both wanted to overstep more.

The longing between you too great to try and stop. Eventually you both moved closer, faces and soul alike reaching for the other. Just a bit closer.

“Y/N?”

“Oikawa?”

You both frantically pulled away, heart racing now.

“Kageyama..”

“Tobio”

Oikawa tried to hide the venom in his voice, he really did, but when he saw Kageyama make his way beside you he couldn’t help but see red.

It didn’t seem like life was playing a very fair game.

“Oikawa are you alright?” He looked down at the petite girl beside him, now clinging to his arm. He threw on one of his brilliant smiles and told her it was okay.

“Are you cold? Here” Oikawa couldn’t keep up that smile for too long, not when he saw him putting his jacket around you. How you snuggled into the warmth. How it showed Oikawa that you were no longer his, and that you now found solace in another.

He couldn’t blame you, he knew that deep inside. He did the same, why shouldn’t you? It didn’t stop the burning hatred and envy he felt. The overwhelming sadness that enveloped him. All a heavy dump of emotions thrown on him within a few seconds.

You felt it too though. That girl hanging off his arm. Getting to parade around that Oikawa was hers. It was totally unreasonable to feel this way. You both ended things. It was mutual right? You would’ve told him and he would’ve told you if this breakup was a mistake right?

Right?

“Wanna go?” Kageyama whispered in your ear. You nodded.

“It was nice seeing you again T-Oikawa” you smiled sadly.

“You too Y/N...bye” you both turned away, walking in opposite directions. With every step, your heartache grew just a little more. Almost like your body needed to be near his, the memories it held being more truthful than your head could ever be.

Your heart, body and soul wanted Oikawa.

Your mind told you to let him go for his sake.

“Hey Y/N?”

“Hey Oikawa?”

“Yes Kageyama?”

“Hmm?”

“He was your ex right? Oikawa?”

“That girl back there, is she her? The ex?

“Yeah he was”

“Yeah, she was”

“Do you still love him?”

“Do you still love her?”

There was a pause and you both stopped, mulling the question over.

Did you still love each other? It wasn’t hard to tell, everyone knew the answer. Ask any stranger but...

“No”

...

You both lied.

#haikyuu x reader #oikawa x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu angst #hq angst #oikawa angst

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sungie · 3 years

Text

𝐢'𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮: 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐤𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐚/𝐧: literally nothing in this is canon but adkfl;djkfl; anyway thank you for reading!

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: it’s a comfort piece with fluff but it does deal heavily with topics of family trauma/depression/sadness

- -

“Suga,” you try, hesitantly, reaching for the sleeve of his jacket, “do you have a moment?”

The grin on Suga’s face falters for a split second, and if you let yourself get swept into his bravado, you can almost pretend like you don’t see it. Like you don’t see the way he’s trying so hard to keep this wild glimmer in his eyes, and loud laughter spewing from his mouth, and for a moment, you think you’ve caught him mid-glitch.

His laughter lines pause, eyes widening slightly, then drooping, as if you’ve caught him doing something bad. But he recovers, admirably, so, and his face gentles. “Yeah, of course I do. One second.”

You let his sleeve drop from your hands, and you watch as Suga bounds toward the door, calling out to the volleyball team lingering by the exit. “I’ll catch you guys later, don’t wait up.”

He’s met with a chorus of disappointed awws, whines from Hinata, and promises from Daichi that they won’t save him any meat buns, but Suga laughs them off, making sure to leave them with an everlasting grin and smiling eyes.

“You’ve got to buy me a meat bun,” Suga teases, turning back to you. “Compensation for my time.”

You laugh, swatting at his chest. “You’re so full of it.” And then, because he sticks his tongue out at you, “fine. I guess I’d buy you some.”

“How many?

“A half.”

Suga looks at you dryly.

“Five.”

At this he smiles satisfactorily, clearly amused. “So what’d you need?”

It’s hard for the words to leave your mouth, and for a moment, the silence that stretches between the two of you is sticky and awkward, something that perhaps shouldn’t be said. An amber mold preserving an old arachnid, one encased in circumstance to be played out in time. And you’re shattering it.

“I know, Suga.” It’s out, and you sigh, squeezing your hands together behind your back. “I know what you’re doing.”

Suga’s grin is so large. “What do you mean? You’re not talking about those minutes I was late to practice, were you?” He laughs, scrunching up his face. “I promise I’ll do some extra laps, just for you. You can watch me the whole time.”

“Suga.”

And for once, his laugh is almost hostile. And he can’t stop. You can hear Oikawa in the back of your mind, murmuring Mr. Positive, Mr. Refreshing, over and over. Like a chant. A warning.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m laughing. Look, (Y/N), I’ve got stuff to do.” He says, sheepishly, rubbing a spot at the back of his neck. “Why don’t we put this conversation on hold and get food with the team? I’ll pay?” He grins. “Well, for mine … and maybe yours.”

You and Suga share a look, and he winces. You’re willing to bet he’s reliving the exact moment two weeks ago when he told you the same exact thing, and you raise an eyebrow at him.

“I’m thinking no laps for two meat buns?” Suga tries, hoping for a smile from you.

“On hold, Koushi? Or never?”

“Fuck,” Suga mutters under his breath. “Come on, (Y/N), not now --”

“Hey,” you say, softly, “I’m not bringing this up because I want to hold it over you, or anything. I’m just worried. Really worried.”

Suga softens. He holds his lip between his teeth, then tilts his head slightly to the side, trying to read you. He must see no animosity there, no ulterior motives, because he slowly reaches out to brush his thumb against your cheek, hesitating as his eyes hold something you haven’t quite seen before so openly. “I know. And it means a lot that you do, really. But there’s nothing going on.” He gulps, smiling shyly, like an afterthought. “I’m fine.”

And just as he’s about to leave, already turned and hand reaching for the door knob, your words make him freeze.

“My parents don’t put me first, either.”

Suga freezes so rigidly that you nearly feel the air twinge with ice. “What?” Suga’s voice, it’s so tight. Almost as if you could break his vocal chords with a light exhale.

“You don’t have to tell me,” you whisper, looking at his back, “but I thought it would help. If you knew. I’ll let you go, now.”

“How’d you know?” Suga whispers.

A strangled sort of sound escapes your lips. “Huh?”

“How’d you know?” He repeats.

“There’s only one reason people act like you, Koushi.”

“What’s that?”

“Pain.”

“Ah,” Suga whispers, unable, or unwilling, to turn around. “I see.”

Carefully, you step forward, lightly wrapping your arms around his waist. You can feel how tense his back is, and you gently squeeze his torso, hoping that some gesture can help ease the walls he’s putting up day by day.

“I guess you were watching that time, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“And you read between the lines.”

You weigh the options between saying anything, and then decide to just go for it. “Yeah.”

“Fuck.”

You gently rest your head against his back. “Sorry.”

“It’s funny, you know,” Suga says, almost bitterly, but more resigned, “that you’re the only one who noticed.” He sighs, reaching out with one hand to lean against the doorframe. “They’ve lived with me my entire life, and they think I’m perfectly fine. Everyone does.”

“It’s fucked up.”

Suga breathes out, and you can picture his exhausted laugh, despite everything. “Yeah.”

“What is it for you?” You try, your hands gentle against him. His inhale feels shaky against your arms, and you mindlessly press your lips to the back of his jacket.

“My brother,” he relents. “there’s only really room for one of us to be loved. And my parents, well, they never understood emotions much. Maybe they just weren’t ready for parenting. Or something.” He sighs. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad it’s him. But I just …”

“Wanted to come first for once,” you murmur. “You wanted to be seen.”

Suga sags, letting out a tired breath. “Exactly.”

“How bad is it?”

Suga laughs quietly. “I’m okay, really --”

“Koushi.”

“It hurts,” Suga murmurs, gently taking one of your hands around his waist and guiding it to his chest. “Sometimes it hurts so bad, here. Like a hole. But sometimes, I don’t know, it just ...” he falters off, searching for words. “Feels numb? I don’t even know what I’m saying.”

“Makes sense, Koushi. Maybe almost like there’s nothing there, too. Just … drifting.”

Suga’s chest heaves, like he’s suppressing an amused laugh. “Yeah. It’s like you know exactly what I’m …” He freezes. “Oh, shit.”

Slowly, very slowly, Suga turns in your grasp, reaching to gently cup your cheeks in his palms. “Why didn’t you stop me … I didn’t think about you.”

Your eyes widen. “No, don’t you dare.”

Suga stops, confused. “What?”

“You’re doing it again. Putting people first.”

Suga frowns, then brushes his thumb against your cheek, his touch lingering on your skin longer than it’s ever been. “So are you.”

You falter, words dying from your lips.

“Oh,” Suga whispers, allowing a teasing lilt to enter his voice, “are we going to kiss, now?”

You whack him in the chest, and he laughs, shaking his head. “Kidding, kidding. But I’m serious, (Y/N). You do the same exact things I do.”

“No,” you mutter, stubbornly. “I’m your co-manager, and it’s my role to help you all out when I think something’s wrong --”

“No,” Suga whispers, “you knew because that’s your life, too.”

“But it’s your turn,” you protest.

“I was told it’s nice to take turns,” Suga smiles at you, gently. “Were you not?”

You laugh, attempting to turn from his gaze. He’s looking at you so tenderly, and with so much care, too. It’s strange.

But Suga gently holds you in place. “I won’t force you to share things with me, (Y/N). I’ll come to you if I need help, but I want you to come to me, too.”

“You’re going to have to swear on that.”

Suga throws his head back and laughs, and this time it’s real. When he turns back to look at you, the rosy glow in his cheeks flushes his face and adds light to his eyes. “I can’t ever fool you, can I?”

“I’m your Achilles Heel.”

Suga smirks. “In more ways than one.”

“Are you still flirting, Koushi?” You try to stifle a grin. “You do know I’m --”

“Not ready for a relationship. Yeah … I know.” Suga looks at you fondly. “I know. Don’t worry.”

The smile fades from your lips. “Then why?”

“I’ll wait for you.”

“It won’t work.”

“Maybe. But are you saying that because you don’t want a relationship with me, or because you’re scared of letting people in?”

Your eyes widen, and you impulsively take a step back from Suga. “I, um, I just think we’re too similar.”

“Maybe. But we won’t know unless we try.” He gently leans down to press his lips to your temple. “So for now, I’ll wait for you. Until you’re ready, or until you grow tired of me. Either works.”

“Grow tired of you? I wouldn’t ever. I don’t know why you’d say that.”

“Just in case. I don’t want you to feel pressured. And,” he murmurs, his eyes taking on a far-off look, “I wouldn’t want you to feel guilty for needing to take space. You know.”

“I wouldn’t ghost you.”

Suga laughs. “Cute. I’m sure you say that to all the people in your DMs.”

“They’re just really good friends. That I sometimes don’t talk to for a while.”

“Yes.” Suga nods in faux understanding, “I’m sure that’s the case.”

“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you,” you hiss.

Suga just gazes at you softly. “Thank you.”

“Huh? For what?”

“For today.” Suga lets the corner of his lips tug up. “For understanding. And for letting me vent.”

You feel heat rise to your cheeks but shake your head, walking for the door. “Buy me meat buns at Ukai’s.”

“No,” Suga teases. “You said you’d buy me five.”

“I wasn’t serious!”

“Neither was I,” Suga teases, poking you in the ribs. “Come on, I’ve got you.” And as he reaches for your hand, he smiles at you. “I always do.”

#sugawara #sugawara x reader #sugawara koushi x reader #sugawara koshi x reader #sugawara koshi imagines #sugawara koushi imagines #sugawara koushi x you #sugawara koshi x you #suga haikyuu #sugawara koushi #sugawara koshi #suga x reader #suga imagines

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wonderlandleighleigh · 2 years

Note

so what did you think of the new young justice season so far?

Strap in, friend. This is a doozy.

I wish I liked it. It's been a slog. Between Gar's depression storyline that is never-ending, and the way that they changed around Cassandra and Barbara's sisterly relationship origins, and a million other tiny little things. Look, I could even deal with Conner's death (IF he's dead. The presence of the Legion means there's a big, big chance he's comin back, and there's a smaller chance he's bringing Wally back with him, ala Final Crisis: Legion of Three Worlds, where they bring Conner back and Bart comes back from the dead along for the ride). But the execution this season is not for me.

It feels grimdark to me, and it just leaves me sad and cold. It doesn't feel meaningful or deep or thoughtful in any way to me. It just feels...hollow. They keep retreading things we already saw, like Atremis and Jade's childhood. We know it sucked and it was terrible. We understand that relationship. We don't need to go over it yet again. Let those women move forward.

I'm bummed. There is so much joy to be had in the DC universe and its characters, and we're getting all of the sad bits.

We got Etrigan for a half an episode and then he just...fucked off. And that is SUCH A BUMMER. Etrigan is so cool and weird. He rhymes. He's a big yellow chaotic rhyming son of a bitch, and we got so little of him because that character is too fun for the sad slog of a plot they've given us this season.

Also can we talk about Ra's Al Ghul's new kumbaya act where Onyx and Jade just kind of...stay. And the shots of Talia we got in that episode mean they're gonna make her the villain of that storyline and I'm pissed about it because I'm tired of a character who should be super layered being the evil one. They keep teasing Damian and Jay and they do nothing with it.

They linger on Gar destroying his life with seemingly no one noticing and stepping in. Bullshit does Cassie Sandsmark watch that happen and go "oh well guess I gotta lead the team" and not tell someone. We got Blue Devil being like "Uh...you okay?" and refusing to actively step in, even though he's the adult. Go fucking - tell someone. Instead, we're gonna get more of this until the inevitable sad soul-destroying nervous breakdown this is all leading to.

Where is Kaldur? Where is Dick?

We're still not done with Wally, and I'm tired. Shit or get off the pot here. Giving us this weird sense that it's not done does nothing for the plot and does nothing for the growth of the characters.

OH! And we got a full-on Clark explaining death to Jon like he's explaining that Mr. Hooper died to Big Bird scene, and I just. What? They literally lifted that whole scene. I think the dialogue is different, but they still just fucking cribbed off of Sesame Street and I just. They didn't need to do that.

I don't even know if this season is leading up to anything. Like. I just.

It's exhausting for me as a viewer. I wonder if it's as exhausting for the writers to think they're so fucking deep and yet give us nothing.

#sorry not sorry #Young Justice #Young Justice Spoilers #Leigh rants about television #YJ

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darth-el · 3 years

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The Things I Have Become

Pairing: Steve x Hopper!Reader Warnings: Angst and mentions of weed, pills, depression, PTSD, anxiety, and if this needs anything else let me know as it’s relatively dark A/N: I’ve tried to keep this gender neutral. It was also inspired by the song Shadows by Yelawolf (the song is so much darker) and my writing playlist with the song on is here is you want to listen to it.

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There felt like a darkness looming over Steve ever since the events of Starcourt, he couldn't sleep or keep down anything he had eaten due to the constant anxiety with the thought of being surveilled by one government or another. The only thing that mildly numbed him were the pills the doctors prescribed and even they didn't do a good enough job for him. He didn't have many regrets in life but one of the biggest was inadvertently introducing you to what felt like his world that summer. He really wished he came up with a better lie than “We're teaching Robin Russian” when you came into Scoops that day when Robin was trying to crack the code. The moon shone through the cracks in the curtains and looking at his empty bed, he wanted nothing more than for you to be there with him and to comfort him when he woke up in cold sweats where he relived every single moment of Independence Day, he would get flashes when he was awake but at night the intensity was too much. He tried everything he could to distract himself so he could stay awake until he passed out from exhaustion, then the flashes would start again and it became a vicious cycle.

You had taken a lot longer to recover than doctors anticipated from the events of the past summer, you were getting pretty sick of being operated on by this point but you were pleased about the fact that you had a pretty steady supply of morphine or the reality would've felt far, far worse. You also had a constant stream of visitors to keep you entertained, however there was one that you wished would walk through that door but never did. It had been a months since you were admitted into hospital and lost your dad when he tried to save the world from the Russians, you foolishly thought that would've been enough to get Steve through the door; the fact he never did broke your heart slightly because you knew he would blaming himself meanwhile forgetting about the fact that Hopper was your father and El was your sister so it was inevitable. You really didn't blame him, you just wished that you could've told him that.

By the time you had left the hospital the snow on the ground was thick and the ground that was clear of snow was icy making it difficult to navigate on crutches, making you curse profusely every time you felt a piece of black ice under your crutch. Times like this made you realise how alone you had become and it was completely your choice, you could've moved away with the Byers and El but you wanted to forge your own path instead, even if it did mean staying in Hawkins for a little while before making a decision on where you wanted to go and what you wanted to do. You didn't want to be tied down any longer to this town and the second you left you weren't going to look back.

The second Steve heard a car door slam shut outside he felt the colour drain from his face and tensed up, he made himself scarce when he heard what sounded like someone trying to break down the front door. In reality it was you losing your balance and falling into it, he didn't come out of hiding until he heard your voice call his name while you were knocking loudly, he opened the door looking at you puzzled partially because he had no idea why you had come to see him and also why you were trying to break down his door. “Finally.” You said barging past him so you were out of the cold and took off your gloves with difficulty using your mouth.

“What are you doing here?” Steve asked still looking flabbergasted by your presence and letting the cold air in where he had forgotten to close the door.

“You didn't come to me,” You said with the second glove between your teeth as you pulled it off. “So I decided to come to you.” You sounded rather cheerful when you got the glove off with ease and Steve shivered like someone had walked across his grave prompting him to close the door.

“I didn't realise you were out.” He mumbled avoiding eye contact while walking into the living room.

“You would've known that if you came to visit me,” You said sounding rather snarky where the wounds were still fresh but you tried to put that aside for now. “You don't look like you've been sleeping.” You pointed out making him feel self conscious where he knew he had stopped putting effort into his appearance in recent months.

“Hm.” Was the only noise you could get out of him as he sat down on the couch furthest from you.

“Steve just talk to me,” You begged making yourself comfortable on a chair you knew you could get up from easily. “I'm not angry at you about anything, I'm just really fucking hurt.”

“What do you want me to say?” Steve responded sounding angry but you knew the anger was directed at himself more than it was you.

“Steve we have known each other since we were kids and were dating for six months,” Your voice was sounding like you had been completely shattered. “Be honest with me because I think I deserve it after you went MIA.” You were pleading and so focused on him you didn't fully notice the sharp shooting pains up your leg where you had moved into an uncomfortable position.

“This is my fault,” Steve said loudly pushing himself up from the couch and throwing his arms in the air. “I can't sleep because I see what I did to you every single time I close my eyes.” He sighed letting his arms drop to the side but still avoided looking at you.

“Ste-” You said softly before you were cut off.

“The only way I can cope is to make myself numb with the goddamn pills that the doctors gave me and I can't eat because I feel like I'm being constantly watched,” He continued. “I feel like I've become the things that terrified me.” He said his voice cracking, you just stared at him trying to process what he just said.

“Steve,” Your voice was still soft while trying to get up from your seat. “You didn't do this to me,” You said moving over to him and trying to make it so you were standing comfortably and less reliant on your crutches. “I would've died if you hadn't saved me.” You said falling slightly trying to stroke his arm which resulted in you grabbing it instead with him catching you by the waist so you didn’t fall into the coffee table and injure yourself more.

“If I had come up with a better lie though.” He sighed still holding onto you and helping you onto the couch.

“Do you really think I would've been safe?” You asked taking his hand and pulling him down gently so he was sitting next to you. “I mean Hopper was my dad and El was my sister.” You laughed before noticing the fact that his living room was littered with cigarette butts, you also noticed that there was a distinct smell of weed lingering in the air.

“They managed to protect you though.” Steve sighed running his fingers through his hair.

“You really don't think I would've found out?” You asked feeling slightly offended despite the fact you had no reason to be. “I mean the bullshit story about how she was a distant cousin that I never met who had lost both her parents in a car accident and they named my dad of all people to look after her if anything happened, really Steve?” You asked shaking your head feeling even more offended that your dad took you for a fool.

“It was me that revealed everything to you.” Steve said feeling a massive amount of guilt.

“Whether it was you, my dad, or El it wouldn't have changed the outcome.” You said trying to reassure him but you knew your words weren't getting through to him. “You can't change the past Steve but you can change the future and I'm not sure my future is in Hawkins but I do know I want you in mine, all you need to do is decide if you want me in yours.” You sighed getting up and making your way out the door, it wasn't until you had reached your car and was getting ready to unlock it when Steve came outside, you noticed all he had on were a pair of socks making you wince where you could imagine how cold he actually was.

“Don't go.” Steve said looking teary eyed leaning against your car door as if to stop you from getting in, with that you led Steve back indoors.

This was the first night where Steve didn't feel like he needed to be distracted in order to go back to sleep where you were close to him, it wasn't the most comfortable night sleep by any stretch of the imagination due to your cast but you were happy because you felt like you made the right decision to stay in Hawkins. Both of you knew that you had a lot of work to do if you were going to make this relationship work now, you also knew that even putting the work in the memories were still going to haunt you both but you prayed they wouldn't eat you alive and you were going to make it out stronger.

#Stranger Things #Stranger Things 1 #Stranger Things 2 #Stranger Things 3 #Stranger Things One Shot #Stranger Things Oneshot #Stranger Things x Reader #Stranger Things x You #Stranger Things x Y/N #Steve Harrington #Steve Harrington Angst #Steve Harrington x Reader #Steve Harrington x You #Steve Harrington x Y/N #ST1 #ST2 #ST3

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spencers-renaissance · 3 years

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Rain is a Chance to be Touched Ch.1

this arid world has turned my deep heart dry

This is the first chapter in my new ongoing hotchreid fic! Please click here for the fic summary, full tags, trigger warnings, more information etc.

Chapter Summary: follows S5E1 and Spencer's depression and disordered thinking is introduced.

TW: depression, disordered thinking, loneliness, the events of s5e1 (guns and knives)

Word Count: 3.4k

RCT Masterlist // Main Masterlist // Read on AO3

SPENCER

"She simply said this arid world has turned her deep heart dry, there was just one way she knew of to finally feel like she was free, and it was 1400 feet beneath the cold and stormy sea." — Erin Hanson

Spencer’s entire body feels heavy as he drags himself into work, and it’s not exactly a good sign when he can’t even find the energy to press the button for the right floor; he just stares pitifully at the array of numbers as if the elevator will read his mind and resolve the issue for him. Eventually, he brings himself to move his finger the short distance, cold metal colliding with cold flesh, and the doors shudder close, catapulting him up several storeys towards his fate.

Some might call the emotions Spencer’s experience typical burnout, far too common in the FBI and even more so in units that deal directly with horrific crime on the regular, but he knows it’s more than that. His entire life is operating in a minor key, he’s functioning entirely on auto-pilot, and chunks of his day are a blur, almost impossible to recall. He knows he’s depressed. Knowing such a fact, however, does little to cure the actual problem. He has no idea what to do with information like this except bottle it up and shove it as far down as possible while pretending as much as possible that absolutely everything is fine.

Emily and Derek are laughing about something as he approaches their group of desks. Only weeks ago he would’ve been crushed when they don’t so much as look over to say hello, but now he’s glad to not have to fake a smile, invent a story to tell about his weekend, pretend he’s not currently being held together with slowly peeling sellotape.

Instead, he focuses on feeling grateful that no one’s commented on him arriving a whole hour later than he used to as he unpacks his messenger bag. It’s not like it’s his fault he can’t pull his exhausted body out of bed in the morning, but since he’d rather not disclose such sorry information and finding an excuse is way too much effort, spending the morning in solitude seems the only option.

He doesn’t really understand how he’s gone from being a genuinely happy person, thick as thieves with everybody on the team, to this. It’s almost as though somebody’s cut the rope tying him to the others and now he’s drifting away, sinking without everyone else’s buoyancy to keep him afloat. He can see them all still tied together, barely seeming to notice their drowning team member, clearly not missing his presence.

This misery over his inevitable isolation, though, is his own fault: he can’t believe he let himself forget his place. He’s useful, good to keep around for his intelligence, his reading speed, his problem-solving skills, but it doesn’t go beyond that. Spencer is not friendship material. And he certainly isn’t relationship material.

The day starts off slow, everyone burying themselves in their paperwork, but Spencer finishes it far too quickly for it to really serve as much of a distraction. Depressingly, it’s still miles slower than he’s used to. Since his pile of consults seems too exhausting to even look at, he decides another coffee is very much in order.

“Hey, Spence,” JJ says happily as soon as he pushes his way into the breakroom. She’s leaning casually against the counter as she drinks her coffee, reading through what looks like case notes at the same time.

“Hi,” he says, trying for a smile but he knows there’s no way he could possibly match her relaxed grin. Instead of trying to converse, he just heads straight for the coffee machine, fixing his eyes on the steady stream of coffee pouring into his mug already piled high with sugar.

“You alright?” JJ asks, sounding a little suspicious. Not concerned, Spencer notes, just suspicious.

“Hmm?” He looks up and catches her eye before deciding he should probably answer verbally. “Yeah, yeah I’m good.”

“Are you sure? You’ve been acting a bit off the past few weeks.”

Spencer sighs. Maybe this is an opportunity to actually communicate his feelings. He doubts JJ will be able to help but really he’d just like a bit of comfort: he’s in so much pain that a hug would feel really nice right now. And besides Penelope, she’s probably the team member he’s most comfortable with. If he’s going to share with anybody, it should be JJ.

“I’ve been having a bit of a hard time, I guess,” he admits, looking up as his left-hand fidgets on the hot ceramic side of his coffee mug. He resents how vulnerable his voice sounds, he’s giving far too much of himself over to hands he’s not sure he can trust, but there’s nothing he can do about that now.

“Really?” JJ sounds surprised. Spencer recognises the tone as that of anyone who has a certain perspective on him realising that he also has feelings alongside his intelligence, and it hurts. “I’m sorry, Spence.”

Spencer just presses his lips into a thin line and nods awkwardly in thanks.

“I mean… at least you’re not going through what Hotch is,” she offers, completely unhelpfully. “He’s still trying to cope with his divorce and isn’t seeing Jack as much as he used to. Derek was almost killed by the Reaper just a few months ago, Emily only recently lost a childhood friend — I mean, the whole team has been through a lot. Keep your chin up.”

She smiles at him, patting him on the shoulder, before leaving the break room and heading back to her office, leaving Spencer standing in the middle of the room like an idiot. He wants to shout that he was literally poisoned with anthrax only a month ago, if they’re tallying bad things happening as a method of tracking who has the right to be miserable. The others might be going through a lot, that’s true, but it doesn’t lessen any of the pain thudding in his chest and stirring in his stomach.

As he walks back to his desk, he realises he’s learned one thing: opening up = not a good idea.

As completely fucking miserable as he might be, there’s exactly one person in this world who doesn’t deserve to be burdened with any of it, so he carefully tucks it away in his pockets and plasters on the mask he’d perfected so many years ago. It might be a little rusty, after all, it’s been little used in recent years, but it works just as well as it used to do when he pushes the door open to Penelope’s office.

“I bring blueberry muffins,” he says as cheerfully as he can muster, and something inside him does warm as Penelope’s face lights up, squealing a little as she reaches her arms out eagerly, making grabby hands at the paper bag he’s holding.

“Oh, you have no idea how much I love you,” she moans, keen to rip the bag open as he pulls up a chair next to hers.

“I think I do,” Spencer chuckles, and it’s one of the only genuine reactions he’s given in months, “mostly because you tell me every day.”

“Mm, that’s right,” she concedes through a mouthful of warm muffin, pointing a finger at his chest. “I love you even more than I love coding.”

“That’s a lot,” Spencer says, trying for serious but he can’t stop a fond smile slipping across his face.

Penelope swallows her rather large bite of blueberry muffin and passes him his one. “It is,” she says. “How are you, anyway? You look tired, poor baby.”

Spencer looks down for a moment, schooling his expression for a second before he forces himself to look back up at her. “Yeah, I didn’t… didn’t sleep well last night, I guess.” He tries for a reassuring smile but he knows it’s more of a grimace.

Penelope’s face immediately morphs into one of grave concern. Spencer knows that that’s just the way she is, melodrama and fierce protectiveness is virtually her brand at this point, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t any less agonising to see, or the anxiety of being found out any less paralysing. He decides not to give her any room to actually address it.

“I’ll be fine, Penelope, don’t worry,” he says, turning away to brush some muffin crumbs off the desk and into his hand, purely so he doesn’t have to attempt another pathetic smile. “A good night’s sleep tonight will fix me right up.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, still looking far too worried for Spencer’s liking.

“Of course, Pen.” He feels sick at lying to her, but he has no idea how to broach any of the tumultuous emotions raging inside of him, especially after JJ shut him down so brutally. “It’s only a bad nights’ sleep.”

He’s saved from her inevitable continued line of questioning by Emily poking her head round the door and asking for Spencer’s opinion on a consult.

While getting out of bed in the morning might be an almost impossible task at the moment, the idea of getting into it at night seems rather depressing, really. That’s probably the reason he’s still at the office, despite the time nearing 8 o’clock and exhaustion settling into every muscle fibre of his being. It has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that it’s just a little more time in close proximity to one Aaron Hotchner.

Of course, he’d had to accept the fact that he was maybe, just a little bit in love with his boss a long time ago. He just refuses to admit that he’s this embarrassing about it. Perhaps staying late to spend more time with someone you like this much wouldn’t be so weird if there was a reasonable chance of conversation — if he ever even saw him — but there isn’t even that: Spencer sits and works quietly at his desk, Aaron sits and works quietly in his office.

Today, though, today his lingering finally pays off.

Aaron is on his way back from the photocopier when he stops by Spencer’s desk. He doesn’t see him coming, though, is the thing: he has no time to try and make himself look even a smidge less miserable or to school his surprised yet utterly lovesick expression.

“Won’t you want to be heading off soon, Reid?” he asks, clearly curious as to why Spencer remains at his desk when there’s no real work to be doing, but he cleverly paints it in a light-hearted tone. Even though Spencer is completely aware of what Aaron’s doing, he doesn’t feel attacked or under pressure.

“Oh,” Spencer says unintelligently, stammering a little as he scrambles desperately at a somewhat coherent reply, “yes, yeah, I’ll get going soon.” He doesn’t want to lie when he doesn’t have to, so he doesn’t try and offer an explanation for his staying late, and he knows Aaron won’t push. He manages an almost entirely genuine smile, though, which must count for something, even if it’s only because he’s hopelessly in love with the man leaning casually against his desk.

“Right then,” Aaron says, offering a small smile in response, letting his hard exterior drop in the nearly empty office, and even though it’s nothing special, not really, Spencer carefully files it away as his heart pitter-patters against his ribcage and his stomach pools with warmth. “See you tomorrow, Reid.”

Spencer just nods in response and gathers his things, placing them carefully in his messenger bag and shrugging his jacket on before walking out of the building. When he glances back, just as he pulls the glass door open, Aaron is watching him carefully. He doesn’t turn away but instead offers a small wave, which Spencer returns bashfully, blushing scarlet in the elevator and on the walk out of the HQ and during the whole trek down the street and sat on the metro train and on the final stretch home. He fumbles with his keys and curses himself for being so goddamn pathetic.

He doesn’t consider it for long, though, because he’s utterly exhausted and his tired bones collapse on the sofa, and who is he to try and get them to move again? Sleep is a mercy.

🌧

The case is gruelling and stressful enough without the endless and constant worry about where on earth Aaron is. He never turns his phone off and Spencer can’t think of a time he’s worked a case without him, not properly; he’s always the first one at the office, the first one on the plane, the first to jump out of bed towards the chance to make a real difference in the world. It’s so out of character for him and it’s utterly distressing.

Nevertheless, he focuses all his attention on the job; on protecting Jeffrey and Tom Barton, on bringing justice to the perpetrator when they inevitably find them. He offers lame and desperate excuses for Aaron not being there, all the while knowing full well that none of them are likely. Something is wrong and he’s powerless to help.

Emily tells him why. He sort of forgets how to breathe.

Getting shot in the leg while simultaneously petrified for the livelihood of the person you’re in love with is inconvenient at best when trying to talk down an unsub and protect a victim and eventually fatal at worst, but somehow he half-manages and Tom escapes unscathed, though he isn’t quite as lucky with the unsub.

That’s what matters, really, isn’t it? That others are safe, even if it means he’s in danger? After all, Tom Barton has lives to save and a son to raise, a wide social circle, and a loving family. What does Spencer have? No, it’s much better that he’s the one hurt than anyone else.

Of course, once the adrenaline of the situation starts to wear off and medics arrive on scene, he realises quite how badly he’s hurt. Already feeling woozy, energy seems to seep out of him as roaring, raging agony takes its place. It’s the first time he’s ever been shot and it’s worse than he could have imagined: no amount of studying literature and anecdotal evidence could prepare him for the feeling of a small metal ball tearing through the flesh and muscle and tendons — though, hopefully, and judging by the amount of blood he’s lost, no arteries or large blood vessels — of his thigh.

His team arrives, minus Emily and minus Hotch, and they’re concerned, of course they are. That is, until he presents them with someone they see as much more important, someone whose life is worth something, someone they care about deeply being hurt. And they leave.

He doesn’t get a chance to tell the medics that he doesn’t want narcotics, so the ride to the hospital is a blur of morphine and voices talking to him, though he can’t quite piece together what they’re saying. He wonders vaguely where everybody is, whether Hotch is alright, whether he’s about to die, but no real emotion is attached to any of these thoughts, they just… are.

He’s rushed into surgery almost immediately after he arrives at the hospital, and the next thing he’s aware of is a dull, ever-present, agonising ache in his upper thigh and exhaustion settled into his bones like his body is pain’s home, fatigue’s resting place. The last time he’d blinked himself awake in a hospital bed, blinding pain burning in one part of his body or another, Derek had been sat by his bed, eating jello.

There’s nobody by his bed this time.

A PCA pump is resting by his right hand but he doesn’t touch it. Clearly, nobody from his team has informed the hospital staff of his previous addiction; he doesn’t even know if they’re at the hospital; if they know what’s going on. The morphine he’s already had is going to be hard enough to deal with, he can feel the future cravings itching beneath his skin already, scarred-over track marks simmering away.

It’s over twenty-five minutes of lying helplessly on a hospital bed in a cool, impersonal room, feeling a certain kind of emptiness sitting in his stomach, before a nurse comes by. She looks pleased enough to see him awake, but he doesn’t care about her satisfaction, he cares about his team, about Penelope, about Aaron, and he’s too exhausted to do anything about it.

“Good, you’re awake,” she says cheerily and for once, he doesn’t try and conceal his despondency. It’s oddly freeing. “I’ll get the doctor to come and explain the situation.”

She bumbles out of the room, clearly not fazed by Spencer’s expression, so he resumes staring at the wall, allowing his thoughts to wander, still not managing to attach much emotion to them other than a miserable sort of emptiness.

The doctor is nice enough, making sure he understands his injury and the procedures he’s had done, as well as the recovery ahead of him, but he just can’t bring himself to care. It’s as though this is the last straw; this is the proof, the evidence to win the case he’s been fighting in the court of his mind. His team doesn't care. His life is worthless. He will always, always be alone.

JJ stops by briefly. This feels like it should be a consolation, but it isn’t. He learns of what’s happened to Aaron, what his family is going through, and suddenly he feels selfish: how dare he demand and crave attention when Aaron is far more hurt and injured than he is? When he’s far more important and far more deserving of the team’s attention? Self-loathing creeps up his throat and settles into grey cotton wool that won’t melt in his mouth.

Spencer doesn’t know how to react to the incredibly overwhelming events of the day, and JJ doesn’t seem to have time for this. “Right, Spencer,” she says, visibly impatient with his emotional floundering, his lack of verbal response, “I need to go. We need to sort this out for Hotch. We owe it to him.”

She leaves, and all Spencer can think is how much more worthless not being able to work on his case makes him. If he can’t even work to save the man he loves; if he can’t strive effortlessly to protect him and make him happy, then what is he doing here? Aaron will be furious when he finds out Spencer laid in bed lazily instead of diving headfirst into the case.

No. That’s not true. He’ll be sickeningly nice about it, while on the inside suppressing his disappointment, and Spencer will feel even more guilty, he’ll be even more irate with himself, and life will seem just a little bit bleaker.

He’s discharged a few days later, and nobody has visited, barring JJ’s fleeting, impatient stop by. He goes home in a taxi and struggles up the stairs on his crutches, almost glad he didn’t have many personal items at the hospital. Then again, that was because he was completely isolated. And if he did have people to bring him things in the hospital, then he’d probably have someone to help him up the stairs too.

It’s a moot point, really. He dives straight for the non-narcotic painkillers he’d been prescribed as soon as he sits down on his dusty couch in his messy apartment, desperate to relieve at least some of the agony throbbing in his leg still. Clearly, the universe decided he wasn’t in enough pain already; that the unrequited love and the growing depression and the recurring stomach cramps and clenches in his chest weren’t quite sufficient.

He knows the team is working flat out on the Foyet case. But even Penelope, who probably works the hardest of all of them, has had time to send him an encouraging text message promising to pop round as soon as she can. Other than that, his phone is dry and his heart slowly freezing over.

Truthfully, he’s not sure how much more of this he can stand. He’s feeling the same way he did as a child: isolated, othered, hurt, and utterly, utterly alone. When he’d joined the BAU and was welcomed immediately into the arms of a family, he promised himself he’d never feel like that again. He would never, ever allow himself to sink so low; not when he was surrounded by so many people who proved day in day out how much they loved him. Surely, feeling like this would simply be impossible.

For once, Doctor Spencer Reid is proved wrong. And it burns, festers, and screams like nothing else.

Chapter Two

taglist:@criminalmindsvibez @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @hotchseyebrows @reidology @i-like-buttons @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @goobzoop @marsjareau @garcias-bitch (taglist form)

(I'm tagging my usual hotchreid taglist but let me know if you would not like to be tagged in this fic OR if you'd only like to be tagged once it's complete! Either fill in the taglist form again or DM me.)

#hotchreid #criminal minds #cm #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #spencer reid #hurt spencer reid #spencer reid whump #aaron hotchner/spencer reid #aaron hotchner x spencer reid #spencer reid/aaron hotchner #hotch x reid #spencer reid x aaron hotchner #criminal minds fanfiction #my writing #RCT #RCT 1

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youwerenevermeanttofeelalone · 3 years

Text

Hold You Tight Straight Through to Daylight | Sasuke Uchiha

✦ pairing — Sasuke Uchiha x female!Plus Size Reader with PCOS

✦ word count — 1.1k

✦ modern AU

✦ request — would you be comfortable doing something where the reader has PCOS (polycystic ovarian syndrome)? Some symptoms include severe weight gain, difficulty or inability to conceive, and depression (just to name a few that I personally have). If so, could you do something with Sasuke.? [...] It would be great if the reader had a hard time coping with those symptoms but Sasuke helped her through it and assured her that she is still beautiful and he still loves her despite her flaws with the syndrome.

✦ warnings — angst, mentions of food, allusions to depression, talks about weight, pre-established relationship, fluff.

✦ author's note — the modern AU part was unintentional, tbh, but it read as such to me while editing.

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If only you could have blamed it all on exhaustion... but you didn’t even know what was going on. Saying the day had been long would have been an understatement — you had known you would have a tough one since it started.

Sometimes human beings can’t do anything to stop a bad day from happening, and expecting yourself to have fixed it out of nowhere was unfair, yet there you were, staring down at the kitchen counter, wondering what you could have done to make your day better, to prevent this horrible headache from hitting you.

Work had been a nightmare, and that had been the least of your problems. A bad day entailed an unwavering sense of dread from beginning to end. You couldn’t wait to sleep it off.

You wished it was that simple. You wished sleeping things off truly worked. And you definitely wished this was temporary.

The mere sight of food made your stomach churn. It was one of those days.

So you walked towards the bedroom with another pile of guilt on your shoulders and a scrambled mind.

A shower didn’t sound appealing, nor did one of your usual attempts at self-care. You didn’t know what you wanted apart from stopping feeling like this.

Blue light loomed on the white ceiling as you laid on your back. You placed your hands on your belly and immediately regretted it. The carpet under your back burned your skin as you shifted.

Canting your hips, you pulled your pajama shirt down. A groan escaped you as you considered staying in that uncomfortable position just in case.

You gave in to the wishes of your body and rested your entire body on the carpet again. The blue reflection on the ceiling was getting darker.

Soon the bedroom turned dark. You couldn’t be bothered to get up and turn the lamp on.

You didn’t have to wait for too long for the light to be turned on, though. Your partner was home already, you could hear the jingle from his keys and his approaching steps.

You squinted as the door opened and lowly whined as the lights turned on. He didn’t acknowledge you as he dropped his keys onto the bedside table.

“Everything okay?” you asked. Force of habit.

“Yeah,” Sasuke replied in the same tired tone he did every night. He finally looked down and frowned. “Why are you on the floor?”

“Just felt like it.”

He hummed, removing his hair from his face. Sasuke analyzed your position for a moment. As he sat down next to you, he asked, “Another rough day?”

“You have no idea.”

He shifted, pulling his cellphone from his back pocket before throwing it onto the bed. Sasuke once again stared at you. “Do you want to talk about it?”

What could you say? The truth? That you were feeling like shit again? “I don’t want to bother you.”

He scoffed. “You’d never bother me.” He could tell you were skeptical, so he added, “Come on, talk to me.”

You knew he wasn’t mad, that he wasn’t trying to mock you, but he would never understand the amount of guilt you felt on a daily basis. You felt like you were trapping him in a relationship from which he didn’t get anything in return.

“I think I’m gaining weight,” you mumbled, embarrassed to the point of feeling your face heat up.

Calmly, he reminded you, “We knew it would happen again.”

“You’re not helping,” you gritted.

He stuttered. You kneeled on the floor before using the bedside table as leverage to stand up.

“Hey,” he called for you before you could leave the room.

“What?” you asked, eyes away from him.

“Don’t leave. I misspoke.”

“No shit?”

He stood up and approached you. “Look at me.” You denied him. “Please?”

You shook your head. You didn’t want to cry, the reminder that you’d always be overweight was enough.

“There’s nothing wrong with gaining weight. Much less if you can’t control it.”

He lightly placed his hand on your shoulder, waiting for your reaction. When you didn’t push him off you, he took you by both shoulders.

“I’m just... tired,” you admitted, dropping your head forward. “So tired.”

“I know.”

“And you’re going to get tired too...”

He trailed a hand towards the back of your head. “Yeah, no. Not happening.” Sasuke reminded you, “I love you. And I need you to get it through your head.”

You nodded, forehead against his chest. ”I’m annoying, sorry.”

“You’re not annoying,” he quickly assured you. “You’re amazing. And beautiful and neither of those things is going to change. The way I feel about you isn’t either.”

“But I have shitty days.”

He hummed. “I do too. It’s okay.”

You couldn’t contradict him, he definitely did. “Well, at least you are sure you can have children...”

His body stiffened before he parted from you. “Again with that?”

“I’m just saying you should—“

He cut you off, “I should be able to make decisions for myself.”

You followed his movements with your eyes. He silently plugged his phone before undoing the bedding.

“Look, I shouldn’t have said it like that,” you started, attempting to apologize.

He ignored your words as he laid on the mattress. “Come here.” He patted his chest.

Hesitant, you walked toward the bed. He opened his arms as you crawled on the mattress, eyes on you.

You laid on your side with your belly brushing his side and your arm behind his head. But such a position wasn’t what he had been looking for.

Sasuke wrapped his arm around you, bringing you closer until you didn’t have any other option but to lay on top of him. You leaned your head on his shoulder while he placed his hands on your back.

Both of you laid there in silence, with a hint of anxiety lingering in the air. The topic was sensitive for both of you, yet you found the way he got offended nerve-wracking — that should have been you.

As though reading your thoughts, he broke the silence, “You get on my nerves when you speak about yourself like that. And when you try to make decisions for me.”

“I’ve explained myself multiple times,” you said softly.

“So have I.” He opened his legs so you would fit better. “I don’t mind reassuring you, you know? I—“ He inhaled and exhaled loudly. “I like doing it,” he admitted, “I never thought I’d say anything remotely close to that, but I do.”

You hugged yourself to his torso, unable to come up with something as significant to say. “Thank you.”

He moved just enough to kiss your head. “It’s a pleasure.”

Oh, so he understood. And he didn’t care. You weren’t a burden or a broken vessel he had to fix — you were you and that was more than enough.

#sasuke uchiha x reader #sasuke uchiha x plus size reader #sasuke uchiha

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ferret-not-microwave · 3 years

Text

Les Amis Modern AU: What They Wish Others Believed About Them (Part 4)

[I kind of wrote this in response to some general trends in characterising the Amis. There are some stereotypes which I'm not quite comfortable with.]

[So much delay. Sorry.]

Joly:

• Really, really wishes that people don't laugh at him for his anxiety issues. He is truly terrified of getting infected with some disease or the other, and even more terrified of spreading it to Joly and Chetta. It doesn't help that he is one of the most sincere students of the lot, and spends a lot of time reading medical journals, which feed into his panic. He feels safe wearing masks, using rubbing alcohol (or wearing gloves), and having a bag full of basic first aid supplies, and gets embarrassed if anyone judges him for it. Also, he doesn't like it if "concerned" people ask him whether he had a past history of debilitating disease or something, he doesn't want to discuss it at all, okay? -_-

• When Joly fusses about illness in the Musain, it is him letting his guard down. He has to actively rein in his anxiety to function in the hospital, and gets super exhausted from hiding it. His tells in the hospital are are wide eyes behind his protective goggles and a compulsive toying with the wristband of his gloves. He's one of the most courageous individuals ever because of what he faces on a regular basis. He hopes that he might get some reassurance from the Amis to stop his spiralling thoughts, and he mostly gets it.

• Joly definitely has a wild side, and is more than his anxious, serious self. If there's one who can one-up Courf's cheesy pick-up lines, it is Joly. With a eyebrow quirk that leaves everyone giggly and blushing. If there's one who can set a Karaoke stage on fire (not literally, that would be R), it's Joly. If there's one who can down shots to match Bahorel, it's Joly. The one who is the most eager to go skinny dipping? Joly. The one who is, oddly, the most eager to break a pinata? Joly. Joly is more than a "quiet science nerd who checks his tongue in the mirror all the time".

• Joly and Ferre INSIST that they do not talk about random medical trivia all the time. Honestly, their shared interests involve Jane Austen and massive amounts of gossip with tea, along with Doctor Who, Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett. MASSIVE AMOUNTS OF TEA, IN EVERY SENSE OF THE WORD.

• There are days he wants to tackle people like an angry Pikachu. But real life is tough, and not everyone has the privilege of confronting people. But he really, really can do without people casting aspersions on his poly relationship with Bossuet and 'Chetta ALL THE TIME. He has been confronted as an "opportunist" in Pride walks, faced with people's pitying look to Bossuet or 'Chetta as though he is stringing them both along or "sharing" 'Chetta with Bossuet, cheered on and slapped on the back by straight cismen for "knowing how to have fun", and once directly asked if he's the one who will marry 'Chetta. He goes into panic often, and for the longest time thought himself a really awful person.

• Beware a Joly in a farmer's market. Not because of haggling, but because some people ALWAYS assume that he's amazing at math while he actually fumbles at the cash counter. Similarly, he hates it if people crack shady jokes about him being a Marie Kondo around him (just because he likes neatness AND MARIE KONDO THANK YOU VERY MUCH). And no, he doesn't like rice all the time.

• Please give back the Tupperwares. Unlike popular opinion, Joly won't chase you down for his Tupperware like some do, and isn't particularly possessive about them. That doesn't mean that he can replace misplaced Tupperwares for all eternity, please. ;_; (Same goes for the beeswax food wraps and dino bandages, c'mon peeps don't help yourself to them indiscriminately ;_;).

• Apart from his baggy sweatshirt and dinosaur pajamas aesthetic, he also has a dress shirt and pleated pants collection that would probably leave Jay Gatsby jealous AF.

Bossuet:

• Is really self-conscious about his receding hairline. He had taken to shaving his head to make it look cool, because he's really uncomfortable with weird jokes about his age and baldness. Shaving heads is pretty high-maintenance at times, and he's slowly opening up to let the hair grow back on the sides of the head for the heck of it. He used to have a large collection of hats too, which he still uses occasionally, but now it is just a fashion accessory, not a way to hide. He likes scarves as well.

• He used to flinch and swallow his discomfort when people would touch his scalp without permission, now he firmly brushes off their hands with a light scowl.

• Similarly, he hates it when people actively try to compare him to Joly. He hates being considered less successful, a "third wheel" to Joly and 'Chetta and someone who can be taken less seriously. This doesn't mean he is jealous or angry with Joly at all though.

• He feels really, really angry when Joly sometimes breaks down in front of him and 'Chetta when confronted with comments on their relationship. He can and will stonewall anyone who hurts either of them.

• Bossuet understands Joly's anxiety because he faces anxiety as well. He often gets nightmares of his "bad luck" turning batshit Final-Destination-esque and resulting in horrible accidents to Joly, 'Chetta amd the rest of the Amis. He knows the "bad luck" jokes are good humouring, but it wears him down a lot in exam/interview/work meeting weeks and leaves him third and fourth guessing himself. He had also entered a bout of depression because the "bad luck" jokes had convinced himself that he can't progress in life because what's the use. It took a lot of work and, oddly, a super niche article from the Amis blog detailing research on how some societies actively ostracize people for being "unlucky" and how it is linked to major societal oppression, to help him.

• Bossuet loves having a heart of gold. Sometimes some people tell him not to be so nice ("what if that person has cheated you off money with a sob story?"). He refuses, because he cherishes being nice and knows his limits. He sometimes worries if he's being stupid, like when the great "attendance-by-proxy" disaster happens. But Marius' broad and grateful smile, "hi, how are you doing?" texts every morning, and monthly batch of AMAZING chocolate cookies makes it worth it.

• Bossuet's accidents do lead to some happy accidents. He stumbled on a whole new recipe of gooey brownies by accident. An amazing combination of dark chocolate and red chilli peppers (maybe not so weird in retrospect)? By accident. He fell upon Courfe's sandcastle once, but it resulted in a rare hermit crab crawling out. Courfe gave a treat at the new brunch place he was saving up for, because apparently that hermit crab had made Ferre all starry-eyed and happier than he had been in weeks. And as for the rest pf the accidents? Nothing that duct tape , 'Chetta, Joly and occasionally Feuilly can't help with. In all, his accidents are always smallish, and never monumental.

• Bossuet can put 'Chetta and Ferre to shame with his eyebrow raising (at least occasionally? Hehe?). He does that a lot when people ask him if he has put water on fire or has fallen into wells. "Like bruh? I don't go anywhere close to wells, I love sidewalks and what's with everyone asking me about the kitchen being on fire?" He also does that a lot to piners (R, Ep, Courfe, 'Parnasse).

• Bossuet is one of Enj's closest friends in Law School (apart from Courfe), because Law classes and shared optional papers. Duh. They often have long discussions which are super pleasant, fluffy, yet sensible because of his really sensitive optimism. Bossuet's unorthodox insights make their way into Enj's notes for ABC meetings, and he credits him always. Similarly Enj bails him out with attendance issues. Bossuet often calmly advices him about R. Since Joly has a similar relationship with Ferre, Bossuet and Joly sometimes help Enj and Ferre sort out lingering grievances between them, or plain hear them out. Enj and Bossuet have Froyo days.

Musichetta:

• Loves, loves, LOVES books. Has no idea why people think nerds come in a kind of stereotype only ("I don't look like you", she complains to Joly and Ferre one day, "but I can defeat you two in a Jane Austen quiz WTF!" They agree emphatically, and Ferre adds "and maybe Jehan too. Maybe".). She is a massive sucker for Comic-Cons and hates men who try to prove otherwise. -_- She loves libraries as much as she loves bars.

• Has no idea why people think she's super bitchy or about to eat them up. Many people plain run when she so much as looks at them while doing a shift as a barista in the Musain. Or ask for "the nicer barista" (Cosette?). When she breathes a sigh of relief when someone treats her nice, she also braces herself for self-righteous "saviours". "Are you sure you are doing okay with those men?" "They are using you!". If she poured milk all over a client's trousers because of such a comment not-so-accidentally, no one needs to know. ;)

• Sometimes, she feels drained out. Having to support both her partners anxiety can leave her down too. They are amazing people, who love her a lot, and know that she needs her recharge time. Often Bossuet takes over in caring for Joly and vice-versa. 'Chetta has a small arrangement with Courfe on those days. If he has free time, the two of them go for an amazing, super relaxing spa session. Bahorel is back-up spa partner. The two of them know not to ask questions, but let her unwind her thoughts and air them out.

• 'Chetta joined Les Amis L'ABC much later. One of her pet peeves were when Joly or Bossuet would go to protests which could easily turn violent because of right wing trolls and the police swarming the city. Specifically, when they went without more than a word or two to her. She would get worried sick, particularly if they couldn't pick up the phone within half an hour of the protest ending, and would cry alone because she didn't want to come off as needy and one of those people who do not support their cause.

• She finally broke down before them after Bossuet had a small concussion. They were really shamefaced at having not thought about her feelings, and their apologies ran for hours. While Joly promised to regularly give her updates, Bossuet asked her to join the ABC if she is comfortable with it. It took time for her to accept that she was being in the group because of the cause and not because she wanted to helicopter-mom Joly and Bossuet, but when the next protest happened, she realised that she was in a place she always wanted to be in.

• The Amis thought that she was a member anyway. She would holler at

• 'Chetta hates it when people think that it's Joly or Bossuet who end up lavishing gifts on her all the time. True, they do, but she does it too. She's a sucker for thoughtful gift giving, and she spoils the Amis A LOT OF TIMES. She can scour the Earth for ideal gifts for her boys, and she often takes care of a stray bill or two, as much as she humanely can. She doesn't play a one-upping battle of gifts though, she just loves a lot.

• She is really self conscious about her small hands and tiny feet. Which seem to her too small in comparison with the rest of her body. Sometimes she used to wear really fluffy mittens in winter to hide how small her hands her. Not so much now. :)

•She confided to Jehan that she didn't like people romanticizing her small hands and feet because she thought they were putting unrealistic standards of the "frail beauty" on her when she was anything but. She said this after she heard R chortle about how Joly had introduced her as having tiny hands and feet. The discussion ended in her gaping and then crying out of laughter because (according to Jehan) apparently Joly was really drunk when he first talked to the Amis about her, and had also said something like "she has fortune-teller eyes, yannow! Ask Bossuet! And her dimples! Marius, you booby, you pool noodle, I know how you feel like when you met Cosette!"

Apparently Bahorel had replied with "you need new pants" and then started laughing like no tomorrow. Bossuet, not so drunk (because he was late to the party), had taken the sensible route and shown the Amis the picture the three of them took after their first date.

• Seriously, she knows zilch about tarot cards or natal charts.

#les amis #les amis d'abc #les miz #les miserables #joly #bossuet #musichetta #undoing poly stereotypes #anxiety #we love them don't we?#stop bald shaming #stop laughing at anxiety #don't judge #ferret's freshly microwaved post

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sunflowersoonyoung · 3 years

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deep bonds | siyeon

w.c ↠ 1.2k

pairing ↠ siyeon x gender neutral!reader

genre/s ↠ supernatural au!, demon! siyeon, featuring coworker! hani

description ↠ Siyeon has always been a shoulder for you to lean upon. Little do you know, her honeyed words are taking from you more than you bargained for.

warning/s ↠ some alcohol consumption, cursing, siyeon is possessive and slightly yandere, this is not a healthy relationship

a/n ↠ I am sorry for this lol but also not. happy holidays~

The very first time you met the strange creature that was Siyeon just happened to be at your greatest moment of vulnerability.

Living alone for years and only ever relying upon yourself, you took a chance on online dating only to end up blown off and left feeling pathetic as you downed your fourth glass of wine before leaving. As desperate as you were for the company, you were not willing to wait another hour in humiliation.

The hollow emptiness of your apartment seemed to ache more than usual. You could not stop the tears, and soon your whole body convulsed as your emotions finally overwhelmed you. It had been a long time since you faced yourself properly.

Filling a glass with rum and coke, heavy-handed on the alcohol, you ended up on your balcony. The stretch of city lights sparkling beneath you made you sentimental, and the cold air shocked your breath from your lungs. For a moment you paused, letting your thoughts swim free till you were sobbing again.

“Hey, sweetheart. Don’t cry.”

You practically leapt out of your skin thanks to the abrupt voice invading your peace, unintentionally emitting a shrill scream. A woman in a sharp black suit had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, hands clasping the cold railing. Trying to place some space between you and her, you took a few frightened steps backwards.

She pressed a fingertip to your lips, hushing you with a sly smile breaking her face.

“Who the hell are you?” You hissed, pushing her hand out of your face, “How did you even get up here?” Your heart pounded against your ribcage, just about prepared to rush back inside and lock the door, lock her out.

The stranger chuckled enigmatically as if your fear was entertaining.

“It’s better you don’t worry about that with your pretty head.”

You turned to exclaim accusingly at her, a little offended by the way she was brushing this frightening situation aside, only to find yourself searching empty air. You twisted and turned, scanning your entire balcony, but there was no one there.

Hot breath fanned against your left ear, fingers curling around your shoulders from behind. You flinched, freezing against her cold touch.

“W-what are you?” Suddenly you were less concerned about how she had gotten up here. It was quite plain to you that she was no human being and the fact that she was behind you was thanks to something mysterious. A dark, swirling energy emanated from her suit-clad figure. You start trembling, and it isn’t due to the frigid breeze.

“I think you know already that I am no human,” she murmured.

If you were not exhausted from work, and from spending two hours waiting alone in a restaurant for some stranger woman, the chances were you would have fled from this stranger.

However, you were far too fatigued to care, pressing your back against the wall and sliding down onto your backside. You scrambled for the bottle of rum you had brought outside with you, slipped some extra into your cup and released a heavy sigh.

“Whatever. You seem to give a shit, which is more than I can say for most humans.”

She chuckled, joining you on the wooden boarding. You hung your head, feeling a dizzying combination of emotion at the fact that your depression had attracted a supernatural being to comfort you.

“Anyone that mattered would have stuck around already. Don’t mourn over someone that isn’t a real loss, okay sweetheart?”

Though you knew that much already, hearing it from her was oddly soothing. Perhaps it was because it came from someone else. It had been a long time since you had received guidance from someone other than your mother.

You peer through the thick darkness at her face, examining every inch of her beautiful, sharp features highlighted by the city lights.

“Who are you?” You murmur, oddly magnetised to the alluring creature.

“Just call me Siyeon.”

That night had been the beginning of a relationship. It was a bond that was, little to your knowledge, unbreakable on Siyeon’s part. A bond with a demon is deep and certainly not healthy for the human half.

No matter the size of the problem, she always melted from the shadows the moment you step outside. She spoke words coated with honey, words that eventually filled your head with her.

If she were a human, you would have fallen for her many times over. But you were trying desperately to persuade yourself away from that. However, you never questioned her presence, despite her ominous personality.

As suspicious as it is that she seems to linger around you, her company is dangerously sweet and you want to keep it around.

It began when the coworker you had been pining for finally invited you to dinner, alone. It was not uncommon for you to join Heeyeon and your other coworkers after work for meals and drinks, to be alone with her was thrilling.

The evening fell away as your conversation became quickly involved. You were enjoying yourself, savouring the first date you had been on since forever; and with such a beautiful girl.

Heeyeon offered to walk you home, and considering you were not prepared to end the afternoon so soon, you swiftly accepted. It did not take long before her hand clasped with yours, a sweet warmth rising in your chest.

You had long forgotten Siyeon. Where you would usually be in a hurry to return home and see her, you instead were swimming with thoughts of Heeyeon. It felt like a betrayal, but it was for the best, you thought. After all, Siyeon was not human. Falling in love with her would end hopelessly.

Laughter rippled between you as you exchanged flirtatious comments, tearing through the quiet night air. You realised Heeyeon was staring at you, tracing your shadowed features with her gaze.

It took a breath’s moment. Heeyeon was ripped from your grasp, stumbling backwards against the forceful push of a dark figure. You could hardly see anything, yelling and reaching for the stranger to pull them off of your coworker.

Siyeon tilts her head towards you accusingly, her irises glowing a hot crimson like the embers of a fire. You almost choked in recognition.

The demon curls her sharp nails around Heeyeon’s neck, “better not touch what isn’t yours with those filthy human hands.” Her growl is low, far beneath her usual vocal register and it sends chills to your spine. A light shove is all Heeyeon needs as an encouragement to turn and flee, reeling thanks to her heels.

“What the hell!” You exclaimed, “I really liked her. How could you do this to me? I thought you were helping me!” It was frightening to see her appear outside of your small bubble at home, interfering with your life.

Siyeon scoffs.

“Do you really think I was just listening to your problems, no strings attached?”

She captures your wrists before you can take even a step backwards, ice filling your veins. Her strength is iron-like; there was no way for you to pry free. A grin stretches across her cheeks. There’s a sinking feeling in the pit of your belly.

“You belong to me now, sweetheart~. I’ll make sure you’re mine for as long as you live.”

#siyeon #lee siyeon #dreamcatcher #kpop #girl group #girl group scenarios #girl group au #siyeon x reader #girl group x reader #dreamcatcher x reader #lee siyeon x reader #dreamcatcher scenario #siyeon scenario #gxg #wlw #girl group fanfic

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