#yet im selfish for wanting to change | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cloudcountry · 4 months

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SUMMARY: to blanc, you are the change he needed, and your pressing secret won't change that.

WARNINGS: mentions of mortality, blood. Vampire stuff.

COMMENTS: ok ok so @vivislosingitagain here is my thought process YOU like biting people and sucking their blood so YOU are a vampire. and HEY GUESS WHAT vampires are IMMORTAL kind of. and im pretty sure blanc is really fucking old so i think mortality angst would work great with him BUT WHAT IF HIS PARTNER WAS AS OLD AS HE WAS AND BIT HIM. that's the post.

also im so sorry if blanc is out of character i have seen this man three times in the routes ive played + the prologue oops.

It’s a clear night. The stars are bright in the sky, just as they were hundreds and hundreds of years ago. Blanc doesn’t know if they’ll ever change, but he takes comfort in their consistency. They’re stationary, unmoving, unshifting, just like him. He’s always been in Cradle, long enough to see the shattering of bonds between the armies and the first Alice fall. He’s seen the skirmishes and the blood and the carnage.

And he’s seen you, the one who followed him into the rabbit hole and into Cradle.

He remembers thinking you were cute. He remembers Oliver scolding him for speaking his mind, and he remembers you tearing your eyes away from him, a shy smile on your lips. You’ve always been alluring, in a way he never anticipated, and it makes him wonder if someone from the Land of Reason can really be magical like the people of Cradle.

It’s no use though—he knows the passage of time will take you away. He knows love (what he feels for you, there’s no doubt about it) is a powerful force, but it cannot break the way the sun and moon rise and fall, it cannot stop the stars from dying light years away, it cannot stop your inevitable aging.

He knows this, and yet he can’t let go. He greets you in the morning with a soft pat on your head, leaning over your bed as you stretch and yawn. His gaze softens when you rub your eyes and look over at him, and you’re looking at him like he’s the only thing you ever want to see.

He’s so selfish—he wants so badly for you to only look at him.

For someone so keenly aware of how mortal you are, he knows he's being awfully flippant about it. It’s the folly of man, to be so foolish as to yearn, but there’s always the possibility that fate will take pity on his poor soul and listen to its cries for his love to stay.

And so, the next night, a night that should be no different from any other, he breaks his routine. He keeps you up late, chatting over tea as the full moon rises in the sky, asking you if you want to go home. He watches you as you go quiet, your previously bright smile fading into a thoughtful frown. You’re staring into your tea as if it can give you the answer, and Blanc hopes the tea will give you the same answer he would.

I wish you would stay. I wish you would stay with me. I wish you would think I’m worth it. I wish that if I had to be hurt then you would be the one to hurt me because I’ve never loved anyone like you and I doubt I ever will. I wish you would be the one to thrust this dagger into my heart so fate doesn’t have the chance.

“...I want to stay with you.” you say, and Blanc knows you’re hiding something from him but he can’t bring himself to ask when you already look so worried.

“Are you sure?” he asks, reaching across the table to place a hand on yours.

Your head jerks up and you meet his gaze with parted lips—almost like you want to tell him but are far too scared.

“You can tell me anything.” he stresses, squeezing your hand gently.

“I’m not...” you purse your lips, looking away again as you choose your words carefully, “I’m not having doubts about staying here, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Blanc holds back his sigh of relief in favor of another inquisitive glance. Your brow furrows and he knows you feel his stare, your cute canines poking at your lower lip as you gnaw on it pensively.

“I have a secret I don’t think I’m ready to share yet.” you say softly, turning back to him, “I will someday. I just...need time.”

Blanc laughs, a sound that's full of relief and love and sounds like the wind chimes that hang in your no longer temporary bedroom’s window, the ones that have been there since you came and will be there when—if—you leave.

“Darling.” he breathes, staring straight into your eyes with so much love, “I have all the time in the world.”

The full moon sinks beneath the horizon and the sun comes up again. The teacups from the night before have been cleaned and placed back on their shelves, and the cake you two cut slices out of remains in the fridge. There are still traces of you within the house—your skincare is still in the bathroom, your toothbrush is next to his, and your chair still has a cushion of your favorite color. None of those things have been removed because you didn’t leave.

You’re still in your bedroom, sleeping soundly, but this time Blanc is there with you, his arms wrapped around you. His body is tangled with yours, your legs intertwining as the bed sheets knot themselves around your limbs. Your head is resting right over his heart, the part of him that’s pounding away for you. Gently, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and stares down at your sleeping face, the face that shows him all of your thoughts and emotions, the face that belongs to the person who loves him enough to stay.

He wakes you up with a kiss on your forehead, a kiss on the bridge of your nose, a kiss on your left eyelid and a kiss on your right, a kiss on your jaw—

He sighs when you start to stir, propping yourself up on your elbows. The bed sheets fall off your body like water cascading down the side of a cliff, and your bleary eyes have never looked more beautiful. He lays there, admiring you in the morning light as the wind chimes chime, the soft breeze from the cracked open window ruffling through your hair.

You shiver.

“Darling,” Blanc calls, placing a hand on your shoulder, “Good morning.”

You smile when you turn to look at him, and you allow yourself to fall back against the mattress next to him.

“Good morning.” you murmur, your nails tracing the curve of his cheekbone before tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, “You look so handsome.”

Ever the charmer, he’s rarely been charmed himself. And so he does the only thing he deems appropriate, and thanks you with a kiss on the back of your hand.

Weeks pass, and Blanc finds himself growing into this new routine. You're a sign of change, that he knows for sure. His own room remains vacant for the most part unless you decide to pull him into his room instead of your own when you’re ready for bed. It makes no difference to him where you go, only that he can follow you like the lovesick fool he is.

Except you’re not leading him to either of your bedrooms tonight.

You’re leading him outside, under the pale moonlight and into the chilly nighttime breeze. He looks up at the full moon and holds your hand a little tighter.

“Thank you for giving me time.” you say, the wind swelling as it passes between the two of you and further into the night, “I’m ready to tell you what I’ve been hiding from you now. It’s...not fair to keep it from you any longer.”

“I understand,” he smiles softly, cupping your cheek, “Go ahead.”

“I’m a vampire.” you say, and it takes his brain a few moments to catch up, “I’ve...found it hard to get blood in Cradle but since meeting with Kyle’s he’s managed to get me blood when I need it. I don’t like drinking from animals or people but it...has to be done for me to stay alive.”

Blanc’s brain is whirring as you spill your guts to him, your mouth moving faster and faster as you explain how despised vampires are in the Land of Reason, how people view them as monsters and how you’re certain you’re cursed.

Cursed. What a funny word to say to him.

“Is that why your canines are so sharp?” he blurts, leaning closer to your face.

You stop talking, bending backward just a bit at his sudden closeness.

“I—I’m sorry, what?” you ask, looking confused.

“Ah, well....I always thought they were cute.” he smiles kindly, brushing his thumb over your cheekbone.

“I...” you blink owlishly before shaking your head in disbelief, “Blanc, I just told you I’m a vampire.”

“Indeed you did.”

Your mouth falls open as if looking for the right words to say, and yet you come up with nothing.

“You can feed from me if you wish. I don’t want you to suffer any longer.” he offers like its the most natural thing in the world.

Still, you say nothing.

And then he murmurs your name, as soft as the flower petals brushing against your ankles.

“I don’t want to use you like that. I don’t want you to be a food source for me.” you grit your teeth, staring at the ground like you couldn’t be more ashamed, “I don’t want to be the monster the Land of Reason made me out to be.”

“You’re not. I give myself to you willingly, and I'll do it over and over again.” Blanc murmurs, hands slipping away from you.

It takes you a moment to realize he’s slowly undoing the buttons on his shirt, leaving his collarbone open to the nighttime breeze and your eyes.

“My love.” he opens his arms for you and his shirt slips off his shoulder, leaving his skin vulnerable—

“I give myself to you.”

And he pulls you into his chest, as he whispers words of love telling you that you can bite him, drink from him, take all that you need and that it will be okay because he’d give you everything if you asked for it, and that you changed his life for the better, you brought springtime’s flowers and winter’s shimmering ice and summer’s warm sunlight and autumn’s delicate, beautiful leaves to a life that was so repetitive and boring until you arrived—a life that belonged to the man you see before you but not anymore because its yours and it will always be yours.

Tears prick your eyes as you kiss his skin, worshiping each freckle and small scar you can reach. Your canines poke insistently at his skin and you ignore the urge for one, two, three, four, five seconds before your mouth opens and you bite down, hoping the small gasp that leaves his lips isn’t one of pain. You’re careful not to take too much but it tastes so good and who knew drinking from the one you loved could make you feel so happy and full.

Blanc looks up at the moon as you feed, happiness and adoration blurring his vision as he thinks about you, you who trusted him enough to bite him, to tell him who you were, you who stayed behind for him even though you could have left.

He stares up at the moon and sighs because he’s in love. He’s in love with you.

And after you’re done, after you pull away and lick the puncture marks to soothe them, after you press a dozen more kisses to his skin, Blanc still loves you. His blood is smeared around your mouth but he pulls you in anyway, kissing you with everything he has because you deserve nothing less than that.

And he loves you.

Over and over again, he loves you.

He doesn’t know how long he’ll be aging or how long you will have by his side, but he knows that if you will forever be his constant, he’ll come out okay in the end.

#auburn talks ikerev <3 #auburn's fics <3 #blanc lapin #ikerev blanc #ikerev blanc x reader #blanc lapin x reader #ikerev #ikemen revolution #cybird

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critterbitter · 3 months

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HELLO HI ID LIKE TO ASK WHAT PROGRAM AND BRUSHES YOU USE CUZ IM LITTERALY EXPLODING EVERYTIME I SEE YOUR ART

actually actually... *pulls out whole stack of paper*...I have. a FEW,, a good few,, questions to ask. they are not many I swear 😇

OK SO FIRST OF ALL HOW DO YOU DRAW SO FAST???? everyday I log onto Tumblr I always see something new from you and I get very very happy. But then I start to question my own existence because not even I CAN SPEED RUN ART LIKE THAT. AND SO SPECTACULARLY TOO

Last question! how do you color and make it look so well?? just. How. I need to know. This is a CRY FOR HE-

anyway thank you for being one of my favorite artists that always feed my brain rot, pls keep making amazing art because like a little yamper I will follow behind and stay updated.

(Stands there)

Response and thoughts under cut!

First question! What art program I use!

Mostly procreate, along with a handful of brushes! (Specifically the Jing Set and some custom stuff, which is really just a circle brush with the shape changed to a square.)

Second question! How do i draw so much!

Okay so. I am. Ahhah. Unemployed,,,,? No, I do freelance illustration, but hmm. A studio job would be nice.

i graduated college last year and I’m very used to eight hour art shifts. The body sort of remembers to keep working, even though I no longer have storyboards or visdev homework to do.

Also. The hyperfixation is a deep vast tunnel I STILL have not seen the end of the light to, good golly. (I have dreams now about the kids committing shenanigan crimes. I wake up in cold sweat and write them down in a journal. It’s like being the mouthpiece to an angry god.)

So the overall gist is: I was trained to be a storyboard artist with a visdev background, and I’m using that higher education to draw funny muppets because my brain’s funny.

I also DO have a queue, and I’ve been treating this as a sort of inktober project. I am definitely going to slow down soon though! Maybe. Hopefully. Ah… (sheepishly drops my kofi here)

Third question! How do i color!

I. I, uh. I dont know man the coloring demons have a grip on my soul and i just go along for the ride. But also, if it helps, i prefer to limit my pallets to only a few colors at a time. Lighting is king, so if you can figure out if you want to focus on either on your lights or shadows, you’ll have a much easier time composing. That, and symbolic colors— idk, something hits different about art drenched in gold with a tiny hint of a man staring into the blinding horizon, or a green leafy environment with a single dot of artificial red. I also like using blue and purple for shadows, and I’m a big fan of muting colors with only one or two that pop— one of the reasons why I was so attracted to submas in the first place is because from a design aesthetic, they’re both super funny muppet men AND really cool train guys that have a limited pallet and thematic apparel.

Overall response! THANK YOU SO MUCH. This goes out to a BUNCH of people who sent me inbox queries— sorry for not responding, it’s a tad overwhelming because some of them are story questions even I don’t really know will go yet, and others are words of praise and I’m selfish and like scrolling through the inbox to look at them when I feel down. I am more of an artist who sits in the corner and sprouts like a potato rather then a branching vine who socializes, but I really do see people’s responses and they make me go :)))))

Okay ramble over. Thanks for coming to the soapbox, and good luck on creating!

#critterbitter #ask #mailbox

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harmonysanreads · 30 days

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HARMONYYY i just finished the penacony quest and OH MY GOD. the emotional damage wtf... and the murderer 😕 i honestly don’t think anyone could’ve foreseen that

on another note, sunday really does have huge yandere potential !!! (i was swooning the entire time he was on screen im sorry.) he literally isn’t beating the allegations at all. even the other characters comment on how weird it is for him to casually keep a model of the golden hour, because what in the control freak 😭

he seems like he’d play dollhouse with darling. after all, in a place like that, every single aspect of it is under his thumb — literally. having that much control over your circumstances is a reassurance. oh, are the placeholder models crashing? don’t worry dear, he can fix the malfunctions. he can even make them speak more realistically for you. he can give anything to you, even change the layout of the place entirely if you’re bored of it. you want to get back to normal size? well, he can’t quite do that just yet, please understand..

or if he pulls that weird interrogation magic thing on them. darling who just lies through the entire thing, and he uses this to scare them about the death countdown while not mentioning the part that he has the power to really just cancel it in the end. though, the same trick won’t work on them twice. at least the process gets darling to become part of the family in the end.

not to mention the spies he has everywhere. stupid birds watching you in every corner…

idk i just want to hold him and shake him aggressively. out of love, of course.

- 🕯️

When I tell you I've lost sleep over the thought of just how much more Sunday is probably capable of doing, nonnie.

If he has access to technology and power like this, which are all unrestricted for his personal use moreover, imagine the things he's hiding. And imagine farther the things he had to do to get to where he is today, another dash of spice to the mix. I went back to his scenes and did some thinking. The me-slandering-Sunday is obviously a joke but I really, really hope people just don't focus on the morally-gray and questionable aspects of him and completely disregard his other characteristics now.

If you think about things from his perspective, he really is just trying his best to keep the image of The Family. But the loss of probably the only person he trusted with his heart and the disregard to bring justice to that case from The Family's side, compelled him to put his agenda first (as he himself mentions that he allowed Aventurine to pull that stunt so that it'd lure Gallagher out). What we get from this is, while Sunday is an extremely dedicated member of their faction, he had to learn to be selfish in certain situations to save his and Robin's backs.

The desire to control usually comes from a feeling of helplessness. We can make some speculations based on the current information of why Sunday has these tendencies, I've also seen some people say he has OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder) but, we can't be sure until his full lore drops. Another thing to note about Sunday is how lonely he probably is, especially at present. The Family is in chaos, the situation of Robin, external forces' traps, the Charmony festival's deadline and he doesn't even have one person he can sit down with and not question their motives. He really must want to rest just as much as the characters around him are suggesting.

So basically, Sunday is a multi-layered character, just like Aventurine. He's definitely a politician, is what I'll say. Even though he is a control freak whose motives are hard to guess, he's still that little boy fighting for his and Robin's shared dream inside.

#but he still deserves to be aggressively shaken for that move on aven #and then sent to a three month vacation #do you guys catch my drift my here like you can still manipulate him to do your bidding :)#opps... didn't mean to drop that #sunday brainrot #──⚝🕯️anon #yandere sunday #yandere sunday x reader #sunday x reader #yandere hsr #yandere hsr x reader

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despairots · 4 months

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uhmuhm! can i be smile anon!!

i have a silly request, you dont have to write if you aren't taking requests but like,, gojou with like some kind of makima vessel reader

like how they would get along and stuff ^_^

#BITE ME, g. satoru!

you weren’t known by gojo until you were introduced. surprisingly enough, he wasn’t the only one with charming eyes (and terrifying powers).

content warning: swearing, r! has makima’s abilities and eyes but they don’t necessarily look like her, gender neutral! reader, r! wears a white button up with a black tie, a black blazer hung around their shoulders, black dress pants and a bandage wrapped around their neck (honestly like 15! dazai), etc.

authors note: u absolutely can!!! <3 my requests arent open but i really liked this request :3 im sorry if this is bad or not exactly what u want but i tried :( and so sorry this is late!!

knowingly enough, gojo satoru was known to be charmed and blessed with eyes that most people swoon for ever since he was a child. not only blessed with charming eyes but finally born with both limitless and six eyes, the first one in 500 years.

because of that, he was spoiled rotten (how horrible!) but no one can deny that he didn’t deserve it. after all, after 500 years of the gojo clan producing, they finally got a kid who changed the balance of the world.

after he turned the rip age of 28, he noticed a person always wake by his classroom with a man beside them. the one thing that caught his attention, was the energy they gave off.

not once did he notice the eyes that pierced through his black blindfolds.

the first time he was formally introduced to them, was that one time where nobara was introduced to megumi and yuuji. he didn’t notice it as first but he realized you were the person walking pass his classroom all the time.

time for the friendship headcanons!

at first, gojo’s first impression of you, was how calm and collected your composure was with some joking antics here and there. you were mostly there just in case gojo wasn’t able to be there with them.

in general, gojo thought you were trying to compete with him because of how you came close to strongest sorcerer (selfish).

i don’t have a grasp understanding of how you two became friends, actually… i don’t think you would necessarily be friends, more like people who trust eachother, have eachothers back and holding respect for each but at the same time, you two don’t trust eachother.

it’s a weird friendship, though, sometimes you two got along, talking and joking around. the next thing you know, you two are ignoring eachother like you never even knew the other.

the concept of friends didn’t scream anything to you, friends didn’t come close to you with how you picture him. in shorter terms, you saw most people like pawns, a means to your plans. gojo was just there.

most of the times, he annoyed you a lot, you could see the way nanami didn’t want to step an inch to gojo (considering how he’s younger than gojo, yet looks older then him. how odd?).

despite everything you two go through as teachers and partners, there are no growth in your “friendship”, as both of your students call it. it’s not what you’re expecting but from the beginning, gojo has had an off feeling about you.

the first time gojo witnessed your technique, was during the shibuya arc; where he massacred a bunch of transfigured humans. you were there helping him, after all, what type of person would you be?

as i said, even though you’re not necessarily friends, you two still have eachothers back.

development!

when time passes, there was a feeling in your stomach whenever you would hang around with gojo, that shoko would explain to you as ‘fondness’.

he was starting to look more like a friend than just a pawn, a nauseous (that didn’t change actually). though, he doesn’t automatically get a pass because the two of you started to call eachother actually friends.

the trio saw the way you two were always with eachother, technically glued to eachothers side and always being there for the other.

gojo, still ever being hungover his ex, saw just a glimpse of him in you, that was partially the reason why he grew closer to you but at the same time, he grew worried that something might happen to you.

without a doubt, even though he’s a complete cocky, egotistical, idiot of a man, his one weakness is his big heart. that’s the first thing you noticed about him. it wasn’t his looks, his energy, or how he was the strongest, it was his big heart that he so desperately tried to hide away.

there’s development to both parties.

you, started to think of him like an actual friend, someone you cared about, and no doubt about it, someone you would sulk over if he ever disappeared.

gojo, who— praying to the lord— for once, will try to get over his ex when he’s with you, there’s something about you that makes everything that’s happening disappear, he needs comfort, you provide that to him.

relationship!

oh boy. why would you ever date him?

how did you even start dating him?

yet again, i don’t have a grasp understanding on how the dating started but i could give a brief explanation of how the feelings developed from there on.

the fondness you get from being around him developed into something where, if he ever got hurt or someone said something to him, you would go ballistic.

he’s someone you genuinely started to cherish and for someone to say or do anything to him would send you to a toxic state. it’ll have him a lot of time to convince you not to harm this person or curse.

eventually, the feelings than letter on developed into, again, what shoko would explain to you, as love. you had rejected the idea of love for ages because you thought you weren’t able to ever feel it. gojo proved that wrong.

gojo’s a nauseous to be around, but knowing him for quite some time made him into a pleasing nauseous. gojo started to pick up that your starting to enjoy bringing around him that he started to tease you about it.

you wouldn’t lie and say the teasing was annoying, it was but it wasn’t the same annoying as before.

when gojo started to fall for you, he quickly tried to bury it before it got out of hand. remember that breakup scene at the kfc? yeah… he doesn’t want that again. let alone fall in love again.

he already lost geto, he can’t lose you. everything he’s ever loved and didn’t want to lose, is lost the moment he gains it.

though, he’d drop signs, massive signs or just small signs, they’re there. even though of what i just said, he’s whipped for you. so down horrendous, my lord.

when you two do get in a relationship, gojo’s touch starved and it shows. he needs to have some sort of contact with you or he’ll sulk in a corner. for a matter of fact, if he doesn’t get atleast 5 kisses each day, he’ll ignore you out of spite until you do kiss him. that’s when he gives you a kiss attack.

i won’t go deep into the intimate details, you can dream about those yourself but i will say, he’s fucking crazy in there (and so are you!)

you’re absolutely spoiled by him, he loves you so why not just give you everything. regardless of that, he knows both of you don’t have enough time, so he tries to make it count by making you happy.

he loves the sparkle in your eye when he surprises you with gifts you adore.

the same goes for you, knowing he’s touch starved, you try and shower him in affection as much as you can before the two of you depart on missions that don’t involve you two partnering up.

knowingly enough, pda is a must in the relationship. though, gojo will stop if you don’t like it, he’s a dick but he’s a good dick (no pun intended).

even though, there’s not enough time and both of your lives are on the line since you’re jujutsu sorcerers, you’re both grateful you had enough time to confess.

oh, and gojo swoons over you, annoying megumi when you’re not there.

#⑴ kaz’s written works!#⑴ smiley anon!#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #fluff #angst #gojo satoru x gender neutral reader #gojo satoru x female reader #gojo satoru x male reader #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #csm #makima reader #jjk x gender neutral reader #jjk gojo #jjk spoilers #jjk x reader

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thegreatestsandwich · 1 year

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i LOVE your namor fics and how soft you portray him! i dont even want kids but they got me looking up baby videos on tiktok 😂😂 i was wondering if i could request? i like to imagine namor spending some time in the surface world with reader, maybe something showing him being domestic? im sorry im not very creative lol im sure you know what im getting at. thank you so much!! 🫡🥰

When the sun came up, you were looking at me (Namor x F!reader)

Masterlist

Pairing: Namor x F!reader

Word count: 1.4k

Summary: He showed you a part of himself he chose to hide from the others.

Warning: Nothing really, well I really don’t think there is a warning, just fluff or my idea of fluff

A/N: I'm back!

Coments, Reblogs and Asks are happily received!

You clenched the basket you were carrying, your knuckles white and your breath locked in your lungs as you made your way towards your king’s cavern. You were nervous and afraid, you barely made it through the soft current that guide you upwards, if it was for another reason you would be thrilled to see him. But when the message came from Attuma, his second in command, that changed everything.

You let out your breath when you almost got out of the water, one of your hands quickly went to dig out your mask from the basket you were carrying, quickly putting it on and adjusting it correctly before finally stepping out of the water.

This wasn’t the first time you were invited to his cavern, you were designated to bring him some food if he spent the majority of his time here. Your eyes quickly adjusted to the cold air that surrounded you. Quickly blinking away some tears that formed when your eyes became a little too dry. Your hands hugged the basket closer to your body as you slowly walked to the entrance. Even if you hadn’t yet to enter, you could still distinguish his figure, his focus away from you.

You stretched your shoulders, stopping at the entrance, it had been a few days since Attuma had delivered the message, you knew you needed to see him as quickly as possible but you managed to postponed it, until the older women forced you to finally confront the king.

Your hand knocked against the stone wall, the softest sound that made the king stopped his actions to turned and put his attention on your figure. You swallowed when his intense dark eyes greeted you.

“Ta p'ataj a k'iin.” You took your time. He stood up, silently putting his tools on the ground before making his way to you. “Ts'o'ok in pensado u ma' ten taal.” I have thought you were not coming.

Your eyes stayed glued to your basket, too afraid to even look at him. “In akaljantik.” I’m sorry. You gulped. “In akaljantik, K'uk'ulkan, ma' táan u yúuchul.” I’m sorry, K’uk’ulkan, it won’t happened again.

He hummed, his hands went to your jaw, gently caressing it before softly guiding your gaze to look at him, you were hoping to find anger on his eyes, but you almost gasp at how gentle they were. “A llamé waye' tumen ba'al, chan.” I called you here for something, little one. “Ba'al Páaybe'en.” Something important.

Namor’s hands let your face for a moment, his form fully turn away from you, leaving you a bit confuse. He walked towards one of the several baskets, pulling out a small yellow flower. Your eyes widened in fear, fully knowing where it come from. He turned to you, the flower firmly on his fist, his dark eyes were inspecting it and the silence made you tremble with fear.

“Namora ka tu kaxtaj ti' a ba'alo'ob,” Namora found it on your things. He didn’t look at you, his fingers playing with the several petals that covered it. “Le ba'ala' ma' pertenece u k noj, u tsool, chan.” This does not belong in our city, explain, little one.

A sick feeling filled your stomach as you clutched the basket closer to your body, the words couldn’t even form on your tongue, even though million of excuses were forming on your head. What could you say? That you made your way to the surface? That you were so selfish that you broke the rules for your own amusement? That you broke his rules and put at risk not only your person but every single one of the others?

Your form began to tremble, you didn’t know if it was from the air that cooled your form or simply the fear of not knowing what your punishment would be.

Namor noticed the shakiness of your form, he frown, not really wanting to put you on this situation, he silently took away the basket of your hands, placing instead the flower you desperately wanted to hide from everyone else. Your fingers didn’t grasped it tightly as he did so his fingers closed around your hands. He smiled at you softly, trying to ease you back to comfort. “Ma' taak ka'ach in a asustaras, mix mix.” I didn’t want to scare you, far from it. One hand left yours and placed it on your cheek, his thumb caressing your skin.

“K'uk'ulkan.” You closed your eyes, trying so hard to not break down in front of him. “Teene'…” I…

He shushed you gently. “In wojel.” I know. He whispered, his eyes looking at the flower. “A wojel wáaj bix u k'aaba' le nikte'o'?” Do you know what this flower is called?

“Ka tin kaxtaj way.” I found it on the surface. You shook your head. “Tin tukultaje’ jats’uts.” I thought it was pretty.

Namor hummed, you almost closed your eyes at the sound. “U k'aaba' cempasúchil.” It’s called cempasúchil. He whispered. “Le nikte'o' le pixan.” The flower of the dead. You gasped in horror, trying to drop the flower but his hand didn’t let you. He quietly laughed at your action. “Mix taan u kíinsikech.” It will not kill you.

You stared at the flower -and him- weirdly, trying to understand how this tiny flower had that huge significance. He grabbed your chin and guide you to look at him once again. “I could show you, but the place I could take you do not speak our language, have you practiced your English?”

“Yes.” You bit your lip. “I am not good still.”

He shook his head smiling. “It does not matter.”

Namor guide you to the surface, carefully explaining you how you needed to blend yourselves from the surface-dwellers, you nodded along his words, but when the both of you finally made your way to the beach, he noticed how your skin turned blue, he frowned, not because of the color, but because he knew that if they saw it, you would be taken away from him and that made something stir inside of his body.

His eyes found a piece of clothe that perhaps belonged to someone else but he didn’t care. Namor grabbed it and helped you put it on, it didn’t do much but he was more at ease. He grabbed your hand and tugged you softly, making your way to the festivities, and as best as he could, Namor explained everything.

Like a child full in wonder, your eyes tried to take as much as you could, every single light, every single smell, everything was so captivating to you that you couldn’t care less if some surface-dwellers were throwing glances at the bluish-tone your skin was taking.

Then, some form of lights began exploding on the skies, making you gasp in surprise, your body sticking closer to your king, who gladly welcomed your touch without any complain. Your eyes never leaving the skies, how the colors were changing with each explosion, it made you giddy, it made you feel like you were a child once again.

Namor felt the soft tapping on his arm, his eyes quickly turning to it, a small child offered him a smile, a few teeth missing on the front, tiny hands trying to place a small object on his hands, he gratefully accepted it with a nod. The child left and Namor inspected it carefully before gently placing it on your hands.

You watched it with wonder. The object providing you with a gentle warm that made you smile, you tried to touch it but it burned you, making you quietly hiss but not throwing it away.

Namor was about to take it away from your hands as it hurt you, but when you turned to look at him something inside him made him stop. The object created a soft glow that caressed the bluish of your skin. You looked beautiful, like a painting he spent hours creating on the loneliness of his cavern, and when your eyes softly closed, he knew you were smiling under the layer of cloth he helped you put on to disguised yourself from the others. He couldn’t look away and even if he could, in that moment, he chose not to.

#namor #mcu namor #namor x y/n #namor x you #namor x reader #namor imagine #namor fluff #namor fic #namor fanfiction #k'uk'ulkan #kukulcan #tenoch huerta #black panther wakanda forever #black panther: wakanda forever #namor of talokan #namor of talokan imagine #black panther imagine

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mangosrar · 5 months

Text

Wake up.

chris sturniolo x fem reader.

warnings: mentions of death. sad.

an: this is basically like a journal thing that chris wrote after his girl died :/ i cried while writing this😍

its only been 5 days but i hate you and im so angry. how could you do this to me. you’re selfish. you’re a coward for leaving me. i could’ve helped you. we were in love we have been for years. how could you ever just leave me alone here without you by my side. you were weak you took the easy way out and left us to deal with the consequences.

today was your funeral. it was nice. exactly how you would’ve wanted it. the flowers the music. the casket. exactly how you would’ve liked. your mom asked me to give a speech but i had to go to the bathroom to throw up. i couldn’t do it. i couldn’t stand there and tell everyone how beautiful and funny and kind you were. not are. were. because you’re not here. your mom held me back when they were burring you, i couldn’t take it. i wanted to get in there and shake you and yell at you to wake you up. seeing your body get lowered into the ground was like the last goodbye. i know you’ve been dead for a couple of weeks but it was like you were still here in a way. i was waiting every day to wake up from this horrible dream and you would be there to hold me and tell me its all going to be okay. i couldn’t let you go. i couldn’t have the only thing i ever loved ripped away from me. i wish i could switch our place. i wish i could have you here. i need you here because i still haven’t woken up.

its been a month and it still don’t feel real. im not angry anymore though, just sad. i wish you would have told me, we could’ve worked this out together, that’s what we were supposed to do. i forget what your voice sound like and have to look back on videos to remind myself. how will i ever be okay again. this is like a sickness, a flesh eating bacteria that has gotten into my bloodstream and spread throughout my entire body. it would probably hurt less for you to die all over again. at least i would know what to expect. i think im dying. i could be. matt said i wasn’t but he don’t know what this feels like. he doesn’t know what it feels like to have the love of you’re life one day and to not have them the next. he doesn’t know what its like to have this hole inside of me that only you could fill. he doesn’t know what it feels like to know that that was the last time i ever saw you, last time i ever kissed you. last time you ever told me you loved me. i should have known. you held me extra tight that day. you knew i was never going to see you again. you knew and you let me leave your house. you let me look into your eyes for the last time ever. you allowed me to tell you i loved you for the final time. how could you. i just want to wake up from this fucking nightmare.

its been 2 months and things haven’t changed. its almost your birthday. last year we spent it together in the cape. this year ill probably bring flowers to your grave and cry, pleading for some sort of miracle to bring you back to me. its like you’ve taken a part of me with you. i can never get it back. i will never be the same again. i just wish i could have you, i still haven’t died yet but i think its a long process to die from this type of thing. its painful too, more than a mental pain. its a strong physical pain that i feel deep in my bones, or like i get this really dull ache in my chest whenever i think about you, witch is almost constantly. it hurts so bad honey. like my soul is calling for yours but its getting no reply. i would like death that way. to die at the hands of heartbreak. or maybe just to you. i would die and let you take my place if it meant i got to hold you one more time. i just want to have you back. why would you ever do this.

happy birthday. i wonder if you knew that last year was the last birthday you would ever had. maybe. but today isnt special. today is sad and painful. i went over to your house today, and for the fisrt time since i saw you for the last time i went into your bedroom and cried for hours while lying on your bed. the house still smells like you. it made me throw up. i need to have you back or i might die. i fell asleep after a while tho and woke up to matt. id been there for hours and he was worried but i thought it was you. i almost had a stroke. i was in your room, on your side of the bed, holding your pillow waking up to the smell of your perfume. how could you blame me. i hated it. i threw up again after that. but its still your birthday so i lit the candle that was on your coffee table, and i know you’re not supposed to tell your wishes but i wished for you back. like i do every day, morning and night, i wished for you to be mine again, i wished to wake up from this pandemonium of a terrible, terrible dream and to have you wrapped up in my arms where i know you’re safe, where i know you should be. but your not so now i have to remember you for longer than i have known you. happy birthday lovey.

SAD ASF RN

taglist: @christinarowie332 @soursturniolo @biimpanicking @azkabanstar @freshlovehacker @urmyslxt @kitaysworld @kvtie444 @mattenthusiast @flowerxbunnie @mattsd0ll @iheart2021chris @its-jennarose @hearttshapedkisses @lovingsturniolo

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konigsblog · 1 year

Note

May I please have Headcannon about yan 141 + könig and graves with a darling who commit self die after they've been kidnapped? To make it worse, they find a note saying "if I can't be happy, you cant. You did this to me, now suffer the consequences. If my loved ones ask about me, tell them the truth" or something along that. If this makes you uncomfortable I totally understand and you don't have to write it. Eat, drink something, and I hope you have a good day/night

(thank you<33)

yandere 141 + könig, alejandro and graves with a darling who commits suicide

warnings: obvious trigger warning for suicide, failed suicide attempts, description and mention of self inflicted harm, physical abuse, fighting, profanity, yandere behaviour, depression, description of suicide: i do not promote any behaviour that i have wrote about,

please if you're thinking about suicide, tell someone. it's never too late to change your mind, it's not worth it. please if you feel like you need to call someone im going to link some hotlines to call here. you're not alone in this world and know that theres a future for you and people who care for you. whether or not you suffer with self harm of suicide thought, never feel like you are worth less, unworthy for love, ugly whatever you think, suicide is not the answer and this post is to raise awareness for the signs of suicide and self harm. if you think someone is self harming or at risk of suicide, look at symptoms of them; i'll link symptoms here.

masterlist

ghost

it was a saturday night, your thoughts overwhelmed you as you picked up a blade and rolled your sleeves up. tears fell from your eyes, the feeling of unworthiness and hopelessness drowned you. it was washed over you like a giant wave as you cried until you physically couldn't anymore.

he was away, out with his team at a bar. you had been in an argument and he didn't bother to tell you 'goodbye'.

your headached as you reached for his bedside table, inside the draws was a pistol. you picked up a sheet of paper on the way as well as a pen.

you began to write. “simon, i can't deal with this anymore. my future, and my life was ripped out of my hands because of your selfishness. you couldn't bare to be alone and your life was already ruined to begin with so you had to go ahead and ruin someone elses. you don't think nor care about others, it's what you think that matters. even through our arguments and screaming matches that made my heart break, i still managed to stay as long as i have. i just can't do this to myself anymore, i don't want to live like this, i don't know what made you think this was right but it's not.

fuck you simon.”

your tears made everything blurry yet somehow you got everything off your chest. the gun was staring at you, begging you to do it.

your fingers wrapped around the gun as you placed it in your mouth, pulling the trigger.

simon on the other hand, was getting bored. wanted to go home to his darling. he opened the door, silence made everything eerie and uncomfortable. your usual laughing and smiling when you were on your phone was gone and replaced by discomfort.

he called out your name, multiple times yet you didn't answer.

the door to the bathroom was open, the light was on and a pool of blood surrounded your body. it was gorey, simon fell to his knees as his eyes watered. "no, no, no..." he uttered out as his breath became shakey.

his eyes drifted towards the note, as he read it.

he felt his own heart break at the words, the feeling and emotion that was poured into the letter. once again, he was alone.

soap

you felt tears stream down your face, staring at yourself in the mirror and wondering what you'd become. bags under your eyes from sleepless nights, terrified of the man who laid beside you.

a headache bloomed as you picked up the blade once again, cursing yourself for going back to this.

you rolled up sleeves, bruises scattered around your wrists from the handcuffs that were left on for hours at a time.

the blade dragged across the skin, pressing down watching as blood seeped out from the cuts. you stared at the scars, cutting were they once were.

droplets of blood landed on the cold, bathroom tiled floor. your felt fuzzy, and dizzy as tears blocked your vision. you pressed deeper, watching as you hit beans. the satisfaction of it, the pain of it.

you dragged the knife upwards whilst it was in you, causing a huge gash. you choked on a sob as the pain fogged your mind. tears streamed out your eyes.

pulling down your sleeves, you walked to the kitchen. your medication, you avoided eye contact with johnny as he watched something on his phone, too busy to care.

the stairs creaked under your weight.

the bathroom door was locked shut, you poured the whole bottle in your hand, water helped to wash it down.

you stayed there, minutes passed, you felt your heart ram against your chest. dizziness blinded you, the cuts on your arm ached.

meanwhile, johnny felt worried at the silence. the silence was too much, he walked up the stairs to see the bathroom door shut. he knocked twice, calling out your name. no response.

he kicked the door open to see his your lifeless body, your sleeves were stained red. he pulled them up to see lines and scars of self harm.

johnny began shaking you as his hands trembled. he checked your pulse, nothing. tears poured from his eyes, his bottom lip shook as he held your dead body, a corpse.

his arms were wrapped around you, holding you close as he cried into you.

a note on the toilet seat lid, the date proved it was pre-written. it was assigned to him. “johnny, i can't continue on like this. i don't want to live like this, this isn't how 7 year old me imagined their future. from the bruises on my wrists and ankles, the bags under my eyes and the newly prescribed medication, i clearly cant take this anymore. i know you tell me that, 'i just want the best for you.' but i don't imagine the 'best' meaning me crying every night, wishing to be home.

goodbye, john.”

his heart tore into two as he read every word. he shouted at himself, the droplets of blood stained on the bathroom floor as a permanent reminder of who he was, and what he'd done.

price

drunken confessions came from your mouth as you told him about your self harm, how you wanted none of this, how you wanted nothing but to go home.

john sighed, his voice trembling as he told you, "it'll be okay." it never helped, not enough. he promised to give you whatever you wanted but when the only thing you wanted was to go home, he never complied with you wishes.

he was away, deployment, you cursed yourself out for letting him do this, for being so weak you. your hands gripped the mirror smashing it against the wall, watching as it broke into shards. months and years of built up rage, bottled up feelings came crashing down on you.

you fell to your knees, curling yourself up in a ball. the future you once imagined; meeting a nice man, marrying him and starting a family, getting a your dream job.

a shard of glass was in your hands as your looked at your thighs, tears dropped against them, you began to cut. the more you cut, the closer you felt to being away from him.

you winced as you stood up, in his office were stacks of paper, you took one.

you were heading downstairs to the kitchen to get a knife. you stood there, the coldness of the kicthen gave you goosebumps. the knife was large and sharp, enough to impale someone.

slowly, the knife sliced against your arms and thighs before you held it against your chest, the tip facing it. slowly, and painfully, you pushed in inside. blood splattered against the kitchen floor and cabinets. the once white walls stained with blood.

you fell backwards, head dizzy before you fell unconscious.

john drove back to his house, with an odd gut feeling. something was wrong, terribly wrong.

as soon as he opened the door he was hit with a disgusting smell, it was the smell of decomposing.

there sat in his kitchen, your decomposing body that radiated a horrible smell. tears prickled in his eyes, his hands shook, on top of the counter was a note, addressed to him.

“dear john, i told you about my self harm, my feelings and i poured my emotions out to you. i felt worthless in this world and didn't feel like this was right. everytime i begged for you to let me go, you ignored me or shouted at me for being, "selfish". it's not selfish, nothing here is selfish but you. you used be for your own satisfactory. you killed me, slowly. you're the reason for this.”

a feeling of guilt set his chest. the dried up blood on the floor, the knife in your chest and scent of a dead body was all his fault. he never bothered to give you the help you need. although his reassuring was something, it wasn't enough.

now you were dead, and all he could do was look over you lifeless body as he cried.

gaz

betrayal is what you felt. you felt betrayal everytime he spoke. he convinced you to love him, telling you that one day he'd let you go if you pleased him now.

now you realised the truth, and argument started. you began to shout at him, cursing him out, calling him 'selfish' and other profanity.

kyle retaliated, yelling back at you. it became physical fast, you kicked him in the balls, hard. he lunged at you, punching you hard watching as the blood trickled down your face, mixed with your tears.

you scratched him, your nails dug in hard and enough to draw blood. you crawled backwards, making space between the two of you. you coughed up blood, it splattered on the floor as you wiped your nose to see blood. the deep scarlet liquid covered your face.

he panted, staring at you.

you quickly rose to your feet and locked yourself in your shared room as he banged on the door, yelling at you to come out and calling you; "cunt" "whore" and a "bitch".

the draw opened with a creaking sound, a pistol stared back at you, along with sheets of paper and a couple pens.

you quickly scribbled out how you felt, everything you felt, from your emotions to your dreams in life, something that you'd never be able to do because of him, his selfishness. you weren't stupid, you would never be free.

the gun was placed in your hands with a tight grip, your finger pressed the trigger as your face blew up with blood and gore.

the gunshot was enough to make kyle start panic, now he was banging against the door yelling your name as fear took over his body. his hands shook, he kicked the door one last time until it flung open.

you sat in a pool of red liquid, the bruises and scratches on your face were no longer visible as the gorey mess of your face was gone. he couldn't make out were your nose or eyes were, there was too much blood.

his cries choked in his throat as he shook you, desperate for anything although he knew you were gone. the rise of your chest no longer happened, the beat of your heart was gone and he felt his own heart being tore apart.

he noticed the paper and grabbed it, through his shaking hands he read: “i can't do this anymore, i genuinely can't. you promised me to let me go at some point, i'm a fool for believing you. who was i to believe you out of all people? i don't want my living moments to be like this, i didn't want my life to end because of you. but unfortunately, you just had to make that happen, didn't you? you have to deal with the consequences of your own actions, this was because of you. all of it was because of you.

sincerely yours,

[name]”

his next few hours were spent cleaning up the blood that stained his carpet, the image of your lifeless and dead body forever ingrained in his brain.

alejandro

although he promised you that he would love and care for you, it wasn't enough.

there you sat, on the bathroom floor. your medication in your hands, a piece of paper and a pen again the cold, tiled floor.

your eye bags were huge from restless nights, crying and arguing with him, begging him for mercy and to let you go. your throat ached from the screaming matches. your headache pounded and your heartbeat rammed itself against your ribs.

the medication in your hands would be how you finally escape him, something you had been thinking about for the past several months.

you took multiple at once, clearly enough to harm yourself. in the meantime, you had a blade sitting against your thigh and your sleeves rolled up. the scars presented themselves to you, scaring your body as a permanent reminder of your mental state.

it took everything in you not to do this years ago, your parents crying when they found you unconscious, rushing you to the emergency room where you were saved. the look on their eyes,, they felt guilt wondering if it was them, wondering where they went wrong. you managed to tell them everything that worried you, everything that bothered you, telling them that it wasn't them but it was you.

now you knew that if alejandro took you to the hospital, they'd find you, the missing girl whose case when cold. leaving your parents once again, heartbroken.

you scratched on the piece of paper, everything. from how much you missed your parents to how much you hated him. you felt like a little kid again, getting into a petty argument with your parents and refusing to talk to them only them coming down once they bribed you with something. god, how you wished you could go back and never meet alejandro. it was a mistake, something that should've never happened.

once you'd finished your writting, you began again with the blade. thinking back about how you promised your parents not to do it again only made your eyes burn with more tears.

your throat ached as you cried, the pain but satisfaction from the cuts, the deep cuts that poured the familiar red liquid out.

your head began to feel sore, a headache pounded, your nails grew purple at your body temperature, your skin became ill looking, you shivered.

the muslces you used to fight him off you felt weak as you could barely managed to pick up the blade and continue, you felt your soul being sucked out of you.

slowly, you fell unconscious.

the click of the door opened, the many locks shutting after themselves as he called your name out only to be met with silence, he continued, as a deep feeling of worry set in.

he ran upstairs, seeing the light from the bathroom. the door creaked open, you body, lifeless with cuts along it.

he shivered as he held you body, the coldness of it reminded him of the winter, the wind that blew in his face making his teeth grit.

the note laid ahead of him, his name written all over it.

it began, “alejandro, no matter how much you saw you love me it'll never replace the pain you've caused. the feeling of unworthiness that i felt many years ago, the promise that i gave my parents is now broken. but they'll never know that, your self-centred behaviour is enough to make someone kill themselves. look what you've done, are you proud of yourself? i hope you are.”

a blanket was put around you after he out you in the recovery position, he began dialing a number, asking for an ambulance.

the flashing red and blue light, the police and ambulances sirens caused pain in his ears as handcuffs were placed on his wrists and an ambulance had to attempt to save you on scene.

the last thing he saw was your eyelashes flutter open, eyes red from crying. you both made eye contact, a deep feeling of regret made his heartbreak. atleast his darling was alive, but the idea of them being without him made him cry himself to sleep every night, similar to what you did.

könig

your face was wet with tears, könig was on deployment and you couldn't help but feel the familiar feeling of unworthiness and sadness. you wanted nothing but to be free.

the lack of human interaction caused you to crave it more, tears drowned you as you cried. you felt hopeless for falling in love with your kidnapper, the man, the giant who took away you life for his own personal benefit.

you cursed him out for doing this, pushing him away and isolating yourself in shame. you heart ached at the thought of your old life, the life and dreams you once had were gone and shattered. impossible for you to carry out any goal you had while being locked away.

you tried everything, making new goals, arguing and begging to be freed, but nothing could shake the feeling of shame. you felt dirty for falling so deep inlove with him.

now you were sat in the bathroom, knife in hands, slicing away your thighs as your vision made it blurry to see, cuts were misplaced, not like you cared.

on the note, you wrote a letter for könig, a letter that went into great detail about your emotions, how worthless you felt and how scared you were. how tired and terrified you felt every night and say, how when you did fall asleep, you hated waking up, feeling a lack of hope everytime you awoke.

slowly, you dug the blade deeper. the deep crimson liquid that was sure to stain later. for könig to be crying his own eyes out, for him to curse himself, for him to finally see what a monster he was. that's all you wanted, your new goal, you wanted him to look in the mirror and see what a fucking monster he was, the true demon he had buried beneath him.

your vision became more fuzzy and dizziness gave you a raging headache a headache severe enough to cause you to vomit. you leaned over the toilet seat and began to puke, the roughness of your throat burn, the stomach acid burned your throat causing a bit of blood to come out along with the vomit.

tears made your face puffy, your nose was snotty as you felt weak once again, both mentally and physically. you fell backwards, your head smacking itself against the rough and cold floor. the temperature of your body reminded you of the snow you played in. how and your friends threw snowballs at eachother, ending in giggling fits aa you dad tickle-attacked you while you waited for the hot chocolate to be made.

your throat felt raw, the lack of energy causing you to pass out.

könig entered the home, the home had a sense that something was wrong. he quickly walked upstairs, calling you out before he found you on the bathroom floor.

he shook you, shouting your name before he began to proceed with cpr. his eyes glanced down at your thighs, the bloodiness of them. the open wounds that laid atop of them.

his own eyes became wet with tears as he proceeded with cpr.

you woke up, confused and already cursing your body for letting you wake up, cursing yourself for surviving. the bed dipped down as someone say down caressing your cheek. the familiar accent had your hair standing up. "schatzi...?" his voice was soft, accent only slightly visible.

finally, your vision came back to you. you looked up at him, his face was puffy and he had the note you wrote to him in his hands. your thighs were wrapped with gauze and you were wearing his shirt, clearly because it was more than a couple sizes too big.

"k.. könig?" your voice was hushed and you choked on your words before they escaped your mouth. könig leaned down to kiss you, "maus, please..." he cried into your shoulder, his weight pushing you down as he laid on top of you. both you cried, you could never escape the giant and once again, your dream was crushed.

graves

the torture you received from this man, both mentally, emotionally and physically. he cursed others for doing the same as he did, a total hypocrite.

he was away on deployment, he wouldn't be back for another week and during this time you felt your mental health decline rapidly. not because you missed him, but the lack of human interaction as a whole and emotional abuse cause a feeling of loneliness that was indescribable. you couldn't control your hands as the shook rapidly.

your brain ached at the thoughts and memories you once had, you felt yourself slip into a deep depression you once tried to get out of. your eyes burned and tears felt like acid as the poured down your cheeks and some into your mouth.

hands held your head, the gun beside you along with the note that had been written in advance for about a month or so. nothing could shake this feeling, nothing.

even if you got out of your kidnappers grip alive, it would be met with amounts and mounts or money owed to therapy. your parents wouldn't recognize you, your sunken eyes, bruises and scars that layered your skin.

they wouldn't be able to take in all the information or help you, you'd be too far gone and in need for help that you'd cling to anyone you saw but phillip.

if the gun had words, it would be begging you to do it. or maybe that was your mentality saying that, maybe you wouldn't.

but, you picked the pistol up placing the muzzle against your chest, it pointed itself against your heart. the idea would've caused you to shutter but now, you wanted nothing but to be gone. your heart to explode.

the trigger was pulled, a choking noise gargled in your throat as the blood trickled down your chest, your shirt ripped and toren. blood escaped your mouth as your eyes became blurry.

graves, or phillip, on the other hand, had no idea about this. he assumed he would come back to order your around and shape you into his perfect housewife, not to find you with a bullet in your chest.

his heart ached whwn he say you, the decomposing smell made his stomach turn as his brain yelled at him to do something. he did nothing, he couldn't call someone because then he'd get caught. selfish, he only cared about himself. you made sure to tell him about this on the letter.

he read it, it started with: “phillip, you've ruined my life because of your own selfishness. you don't care nor love me, you only wanted me for your own personal benefit and pleasure. if you actually loved me you wouldn't ridicule me, mock me when i cry, or insult me everyday. i wouldn't be forced to live like this, but because of you i am, or was. now i'm dead, you're probably reading this with a feeling of anger, knowing you have no one to yell at everyday.

i'm glad you don't, fuck you, phillip.”

now he sat beside your body, shaking, trying to convince himself that he wasn't selfish, that he was okay. the same gun was now pointed at his own head as he joined you in the afterlife.

you'd never escape him.

again please; call, message or tell someone. suicide is not worth it.

434 notes · View notes

catcze · 9 months

Note

I can’t find your rules anywhere, so just ignore this if it breaks any of them or if it’s too specific, but I just had this thought…

Friends with benefits + mutual pining with Wriothesley :0

You don’t get to meet up too often because of your busy schedules, but when you do it’s more than worth the wait. You almost don’t want to leave his bed when it’s over, but you’re too scared to stay, and he wordlessly let’s you leave even though he wants nothing more than to pull you back down and never let you go.

Love is a scary thing, after all, so you both dance around the subject for months.

But one day he finally caves in and decides that enough is enough, so when you prepare to leave he wraps his arms around you and quietly whispers, “stay.”

Nothing more needs to be said. You both catch the underlying meaning behind his words, and you’re finally ready to accept all that entails :,))

16+ !! Suggestive content !!

I AM BARKIFNAJKSDAJKSNSA HOLOY SHITTTT AJKWDBNJKASNJAKSDN my god. friends w benefits to lovers. mutual pining. mY GOD THOSE ARE TWO OF MY FAVORITE TROPES 😭😭😭😭😭😭 im sCREAMIFNAKSJDNAKJSDSAJK

「 CWS : 」 fair warning the concept alludes to sex and has mentions of sex, but nothing is, like, explicit. It's just used as plot points and as a device more than anything. That being said, if uncomfy, don't read ♡

like MAN the first time you both fall into bed together, it's after a party that, for the sake of keeping up appearances and keeping your jobs, required attendance. Neither of you were particularly happy to be there, and as fellow wallflowers you hit it off as you hid from the crowd on a balcony together. Then, after a few flutes of overpriced champagne, a quick reassurance from you that you could definitely fuck in one of the rooms of this mansion without getting caught, the rest of the night was history.

It started out normally, at first— every now and then one of you would contact the other after a stressful day, and you would either fuck in his place or yours, then leave before midnight. No lingering kisses, no sparks of possessiveness. Not at first. Not until you appear at Wriothesley's doorstep, looking tired, disheveled and sad. You ask for him to fuck you out of whatever slump you're feeling but it doesn't feel right to him. So instead of fucking you into his mattress, he's instead making you a meal out of whatever he can find in his pantry and offering a willing ear over a few glasses of wine. He learns a lot about you that night— about what you like, what you dislike. The feelings that you play close to your chest that hardly anyone ever sees. He even learns about your laugh, and how stunning you look when you smile like that. He learns something about himself too— that just sex with you might not be enough for him anymore.

You seem like you learn something about him, too. When you both grow quiet after talking and sharing together, laying your hearts out for the other to see, there's a newfound tension between you too. At one point, he come close, lips near hovering over yours, ready to give you a kiss more gentle and yet more meaningful than all the kisses before—

then one of the wine glasses tumble to the floor, and you giggle and you're tipsy and you're looking anywhere but at Wriothesley and he backs off, also so so so confused about what will happen now. Now that he wants something more. That night, you take his bed and he stays out on the sofa, thoughts too muddled by everything that just occurred to get any proper sleep. Unbeknownst to him, you don't get any rest that night either.

Things change. A little. Neither of you talk about That Night. Neither of you address the almost-kiss that would have definitely meant more than just this casual fucking. You're both confused, scared of the feelings that grow like wildflowers and vines, begging to be let out. Neither of you talk about it though, too scared to make the first move and ruin a good thing because of selfishness. But neither of you can stay away from each other— even despite busy schedules and hectic work, you manage to meet each other and have some of the most mind-blowing sex. It usually happens at his place, now, despite it being where That Night took place. You become a fixture in his home on nights when you're both available, taking up space in his bed but never staying too long.

Each time you slip out from under the covers, pulling your clothes on, blowing him a kiss that you can both tell is becoming more and more strained before you dart out the door, too fast for his racing heart to catch up with. You don't give yourself enough time to think about what would happen if you just stayed. If you buried yourself under the sheets and against Wriothesley and just let yourself be vulnerable, hoping that things fall into place the way you wish they would.

Wriothesley lets you walk out each time, all too aware of the conflict that paints your face. He's feeling the same thing too, after all. You struggle to move, to get out of there before you do anything dumb, Wriothesley struggles to hold still, to not take your hand in his and press the softest kisses on your arm, up to your face and to just hold you like he's been wanting to for months. His heart aches when he hears the frantic rustle of your clothes being practically thrown on, wishing that he could just bridge the gap and ask you to stay.

But it's too much one day. You slip out of the sheets like you always do, on foot on the floor, the other still tangled in the blankets, forcing yourself to move move move because if you stop for just a second you know that you'll never want to leave. But you look so sad to leave. All too much like That Night that started all of this. And his heart aches for a different reason than usual and before he can even think (because he knows that he'll never forgive himself if you leave looking like you're just going to spiral in your own thoughts when you get back to yours) he wraps a hand around your upper arm, pulling your back against his chest and holding you close—

so close, you can feel how his heartbeat hammers against his ribcage. You can feel his breath against the back of your neck and how his breath hitches as he prepares to speak, arms coming up to hold you closer, finally letting himself hold you close like he's been wanting to for months.

"Stay," he whispers, sending shivers down your spine. It's just one word, but it falls so heavily in the silence. Months and months and months of this back and force dance of longing and pining finally being put to an end. He lays his heart out on the table— whatever happens next is all up to you.

You tug slightly on the arms holding you so tightly to him and as he loosens his grip you turn, draping your arms around his shoulders and holding him close and oh his heart skips a beat in his chest because he feels so much for you. So much that he cannot put it into words that is in any way close to the love and affection and the fondness that he feels for you.

So instead he holds you close, one arm around your back, hugging you to his chest. The other grabs the edge of his blanket to drape over your forms when he lays you both down, skin to skin and heart to heart. He holds you against him under the blankets while you doze off in his arms, content and happy. And the rest is history.

Can you tell. Can you tell how much I absolutely love this trope.

#「 🐈‍⬛ 」 strawberry.milk #「 🐈‍⬛ 」 strawberry.cupcakes #Wriothesley x reader #genshin impact x reader #Wriothesley #Genshin Impact #cw gn reader #cw suggestive content

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