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#@ self this is literally the first prompt why are you like this

wheeboo · 23 days

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glowing | choi seungcheol

SYNOPSIS. in which waking up with your husband in the mornings is still something you will never get used to. PAIRING. husband!choi seungcheol x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, established relationship, suggestive undertones WARNINGS. vague mentions of sex, kissing, terms of endearment, cheol is shirtless sorry not sorry :') WORD COUNT. 1.02k

requested from anon: Congratulations on reaching 2k followers rania!! for the event I’d like to request a scoups 42 & 49 from the 1st list!! - #42: "You just have this glow about you." - #49: "Come back to bed."

notes: first fic of the event!! anon knew what they were doing selecting these prompts istg hehe i hope u all enjoy <3

join the 2k celebration!

The rays of the late morning cower over your eyelids, slowly but surely nudging you out of your slumber. Somehow, you manage to peek open one reluctant eye, a sliver at first, then wider as you take in the sight around you. The bedroom is bathed in a beautiful golden glow. Shadows of the trees outside dance playfully across the ceiling and walls. All of this is enough to coax the smallest of smiles on your face𑁋the first of many today, you think.

You attempt to move, but you don't get very far. And instead, your eyes trail over to the body right next to you, taking sight of your sleepy husband buried in deep within the sheets, an arm draped loosely over your body underneath the duvet. He's still shirtless. You notice from the way the morning light gently kisses the bare skin of his shoulders where the blanket has ridden down.

The room is quiet, except for the soft rhythm of Seungcheol's deep breathing and quiet snores, and it grants you all the opportunity to be able to admire how peaceful he looks right now. It gives you the urge to fall back to sleep as well, but honestly, you're really damn hungry, and someone needs to make breakfast, or brunch, or whatever time it is right now.

With a reluctant sigh, you carefully untangle yourself from the comfort of the covers and Seungcheol's warmth, the cool air of the room sending a shiver down your spine when you sit up in bed. You take a minute to stretch out the certain soreness to your limbs, a small tug at your lips when a remnant of the night before flashes through your mind, but you try to brush it off as you stand up to walk out of the bedroom.

"Where do you think you're going?"

The voice is deep and thick with sleep, and you freeze up just before reaching for the door. You turn to see Seungcheol propping himself up on one elbow, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his lips, peering at you with half-lidded, sleepy eyes. His hair falls across his forehead both messily and endearingly, and you feel a particular warmth bloom in your chest.

"I was just, uh..." You don't know why you suddenly feel so self-conscious under his gaze, even after he kissed, touched, and whispered praises against every inch of you last night. "...going to make some breakfast for us."

Seungcheol just chuckles, and you can't seem to tear your eyes away from the way the covers slip down a little more. "I'm not letting you get away so easily, you know."

"But Cheol𑁋"

"Come back to bed," he pleads calmly, simply, softly. "Please."

There's something about the way he's looking at you right now that makes your heart stammer in your chest. It's a look you know well. A look of fondness. A look that holds itself comfortably in the space between your ribs.

You wake up together literally every single day, but you don't know if you could ever get used to this overwhelming feeling of being adored. It's like being wrapped in a warm, secure, fuzzy blanket, yet it's not just around your body; it's around your heart too.

"Okay," You finally relent quietly, and you let out a hearty squeal the second you walk back to the bed and he tugs you by the hands to pull you back into bed, back into his arms. It feels like coming home, every time.

You find yourself on top of him when his lips meet yours in a soft, slow kiss that has those flutters erupting wildly in your stomach once again. You feel the way his hand comes to cradle the base of your neck to pull you closer as the kiss deepens ever so slightly.

Even when you pull away, he doesn't hesitate to litter a few small, appreciative kisses down to your neck and exposed collarbones, the low hums leaving his lips caressing over your skin so tenderly and affectionately. You sigh out his name again, and Seungcheol draws back to look at you.

He's staring at you again. Not that you don't mind, of course, but the heat growing in your face is practically impossible to ignore.

You let out a breathless exhale, biting down at your bottom lip sheepishly. "What?"

Seungcheol lets his eyes flicker over you once more, before a small smile spreads across his features. His hands trail down to plant themselves firmly at your waist, letting his thumbs gently tracing shapes at the skin there.

"You just have this glow about you," he points out. "It's ridiculously attractive."

You glance down at yourself for a second as if you're actually glowing, before back up at him even more shyly than before. "Stop it."

"I'm serious, sweetheart," Seungcheol just insists and leans in back close to your face, his words melting away the last of your defenses. "You're absolutely beautiful, and it's an honour to be able to tell you that every single morning for as long as I breathe. It's an honour to love you."

His words momentarily snap you back to all the times he's whispered those same words to you during the moments between the sheets, or in the light of day when you're out on a date or basking in the familiarity of staying home, and the world seems to brighten a little more each time.

And maybe, yes, it's just the sunlight shining on you that has you 'glowing', but that's not exactly the case in Seungcheol's eyes, and it's hard to put to words.

Everything about you𑁋from the tiniest hint of a lift to your lips, to the dilation and sparkle in your pupils, to just you and your presence altogether𑁋just seems to radiate across every corner and crevice of the room. And Seungcheol can feel it seep within his own bones and warm him from the inside out. It's a feeling he finds himself wanting to chase after every single day; just a feeling he finds only in you.

You're glowing because you're in love, to simply put.

I'm in love. You're in love.

This is love.

taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @mhlsymlysn @ryuwonieebae @eternalgyu @wonwooz1 @woohaeyo @mark-geolli @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @aaniag @wootify @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @phenomenalgirl9 @roziesmei @mirxzii @bookyeom @parkjennykim @melodicrabbit @bewoyewo @honglynights @bananabubble @treehouse-mouse @etherealyoungk

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reiding-writing · 13 days

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Hiiii, first of all i wanna say congratsss!! You’re an amazing writer and i LOVE your stuff! Secondly, i would like to mention that i’ve never actually made a request before so bear with me 😬 Okay okay, so i was wondering if you could write cold!reader with angsty prompt 28. "I can't believe I didn't see that coming." and general prompt 23. “I thought I’d lost you.” Maybe spencer gets hurt and reader shows emotion (maybe some tears) and the team is all like ???

(feel free to ignore this btw 💗💗)

CLOSE CALL [CLIMACTERIC]

28. “I can’t believe I didn’t see that coming.”

23. “I thought I’d lost you.”

WARNINGS: fem!reader, guns, hostage situation, character death, reader is her typical rash self, happy ending

spencer reid x cold!reader || hurt/comfort || 2.8k ||

a/n: thank you <3 i’m honoured to be the conduit you chose for your first request and i hope this is what you envisioned 🫶

main masterlist!! ⋆｡°✩ cold!reader masterlist!!

event masterlist!!

Spencer’s hands shake so much as he pulls off his bulletproof vest you’re not sure how he has enough articulation in his fingers to do so in the first place.

“Reid, you’re not ready to do this.” Your words aren’t as harsh as they are truthful, but it cuts him down the same anyhow. “Let me or Hotch do it.”

“No, I need to do this myself,” Spencer shakes his head determinedly, and if he wasn’t so focused on the sheer amount of adrenaline running through his veins right no he’d probably be proud of himself for standing up to you and not just following your word as law, but alas, the only thing he could feel right now is absolute dread. “He won’t listen to you.”

Why was it always him that got personally involved with the unsubs? It was like they were a heat-seeking missile locked only onto his location.

Literally locked onto his location in this case. He’d seen him —Daniel as he called himself— on the train home from work, in the coffee shop he frequented, the local library, and he swears he also saw him parked in his apartment building’s parking lot.

It was like he was silently screaming at Spencer to notice him, and when he finally got to speak to the man, he asked for help. He was afraid. He was afraid of himself because he was having horribly intrusive thoughts that made him want to do terrible things and he viewed Spencer as his only scapegoat. Pros and cons of being all over the news for his job he supposes.

Spencer really did try to help him, but every suggestion he made was shut down like they weren’t good enough, like Daniel wanted Spencer to physically go into his brain and remove all of the faulty parts that were making him feel insane.

Spencer’s help just wasn’t good enough, and it lead to multiple people dying as a result.

And now Daniel was holding a woman hostage in her own house.

How was he supposed to not feel solely responsible for that?

Spencer had to be the one to speak to him. Not you or Hotch and your negotiation training, him and his personal connection to all the deaths that had happened because he wasn’t able to help someone that was begging him to save them from their own mind.

He practically shoves his revolver into your hand as he commits to going inside, taking a second to regulate his breathing before emerging from behind the SUVs to approach the closed front door, leaving you all in wait, guns raised at every window in the event that something goes wrong.

Something was bound to go wrong.

“Reid the minute that something feels off you leave, understand?” It technically wasn’t your call to make, but as you spoke into the small radio on your chest you weren’t really thinking about that. It’s not like Hotch would disagree with you anyway.

There’s a few seconds of silence over the radio, even though you know he heard you from the slight jolt in his spine as he reached the front door of the house. “Reid. Tell me that you understand that.”

“Copy,”

You had half the mind to drag him back into the car from that response alone. He clearly wasn’t listening to you, not properly anyway, and having such an emotional involvement in something like this was going to get him killed if he treated it the wrong way.

“Be careful,” Hotch was less antagonistic in his warning, but it held the same message.

Spencer threw an arbitrary thumbs up above his head before knocking on the door of the house and entering slowly with both his arms raised.

Then it was a waiting game. A stalemate where you had to sit with your guns trained and just wait for any sign of change. It was like absolute torture.

It was virtual silence and tumble weeds for the best of five minutes, and then there was a loud gunshot sound that echoed from inside the walls of the house, and all of that waiting felt for naught as you pressed the button on your radio with a steady stream of trepidation raising in your throat that he might not answer you. “Reid? Reid come in.”

You wait for something to come from the other side of the radio, even if it’s just the crackle of static from him pressing the button without actually speaking into it. But all you get is silence, and it makes that sinking feeling grow until you literally feel like you’re about to throw up your stomach.

You don’t think twice about running towards the front door of the house after you don’t get an answer, ignoring the calls of Hotch for you to back down and let SWAT take care of it so he didn’t possibly lose two agents instead of just one.

He knew you weren’t going to listen to him either way.

You open the door with your pistol raised at your eyes, the weight of Spencer’s revolver tucked into the waistband of your jeans acting both as an instrument to ground you and as a torturous reminder that the gunshot you heard couldn’t have possibly been from him.

It had to have come from Daniel.

Logically you should’ve swept the ground floor first before rushing straight into the dining room where you knew the three had been last, in case Daniel had left the room and approached you from behind.

You don’t of course, and you kick open the barricaded dining room door with enough force to splinter the door frame holding the hinge pin in place, the door hitting the wall with a thud.

The sight you’re met with is not what you expected to find.

“Reid—” You drop your gun to your side the second your eyes land on the back of his head, his back to you and his eyes locked on Daniel, lying on his back on the dining room floor with a bullet hole to the side of his head, his blood slowly pooling on the linoleum.

The woman he had hostage was alive too, thank god, practically trying to melt into the corner as she cried into her hands, obviously still in shock over what happened.

“I can’t believe I didn’t see that coming,” Spencer’s words didn’t feel like they were coming from himself as he spoke, his voice feeling detached from his consciousness as his mind focused on fully comprehending the situation.

“I can’t believe how stupid you are—” Your body forces a sharp breath to leave your mouth as it cools don from the adrenaline rushing through your system, and you pull Spencer backwards by his arm to stop the blood from Daniel’s body reaching his shoes. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

“I just- I don’t know,” Spencer gives up on trying to find an explanation for his actions before even really thinking about it. He knows there’s no use, because he really wasn’t thinking, it was just acting on instinct.

“You see this Reid?” You give the radio on his chest a pull with your hand, causing him to stumble forward towards you in the process. “It’s a radio, use it.” There’s no denying the insurmountable rage in your tone as you berate Spencer for his carelessness, something that he most definitely deserves as he stands there nodding at you like an idiot.

You let go of his radio with a small push, sending him stumbling backwards this time, and you take a second to compose yourself before pressing on your own radio to communicate with the rest of the team. “I’ve got Reid and the hostage alive. The unsub shot himself.”

“Copy that, we’re coming in.”

Hotch’s voice may as well be a leaf in the wind as Spencer puts his full focus into how absolutely furious you seem with him.

“I’m sorry—”

”Sorry isn’t good enough.” You ignore the arrival of your teammates in the house, how they carefully guide the hostage outside to get her looked over by the ambulance waiting outside and how they secure the scene for the forensics team to deal with. “You cannot throw your life away by running head first into a dangerous situation knowing you can’t defend yourself.”

“I thought—”

“What? That it’d be fine? That you all of a sudden had all the training you needed to talk down an armed serial killer with serious delusions that could leave you as his next victim?” Maybe you we’re being a bit too harsh on him, but it was important he understood exactly what could’ve gone wrong. “You might be a genius Reid, but you are the dumbest goddamn person I have ever met.”

Spencer presses his lips together into a line at your declaration, lowering his head until his gaze is firmly planted on the floor.

“You are not an expendable resource, you can’t be replaced, and you need to understand that before you throw yourself into a possible line of fire do you understand me?” You ignore the lingering gaze of Hotch as you continue your verbal assault on Spencer, and you know you’ll probably get an earful yourself for being so hard on him, but he gave you a real scare, and you were expressing that to him in the way that suited you most.

“Yes I understand, I’m sorry…” The slight waver of his voice as he responds to you is enough to knock your anger down a peg, and you drag your hand down your face with a sigh.

“We were scared for you Reid, you could’ve died.”

“I know…”

You give another soft sigh at the voice he barely keeps his voice controlled as he whispers out his answer to you, on the verge of tears from your thorough verbal assault.

“Don’t do it again. I thought I’d lost you.” You lift up one of your hands to put it on his shoulder, although it lands closer to the curve of his neck, prompting his face upwards to meet your eyes once more. “And as much as you can be idiotic, the team needs you alive.”

He gives you a soft hum as an answer this time, not trusting his voice to not crack if he were to speak properly.

He tries not to focus on the warmth of your hand on his neck, nor on the fact that you’d said ‘I’ instead of ‘we’ when talking about being concerned for his safety under fear of only worsening his attempts at keeping himself composed.

Your gaze softens marginally as you spot the glassiness of his eyes, and for a second he swears that the protective shield you cover yourself with disappears to show the amount of concern you truly felt for him.

“I’m okay… I promise,” He nods softly at you with rounded eyes. He’s mildly flattered by how much you care, but he doesn’t want you to show it as concern, positive emotions suited you much better he thinks.

“You’re lucky, and it won’t last forever,” You use you hand against his shoulder to turn him around, pushing him gently towards the front door and using the opportunity of him not facing you to swallow the start of your own tears, clearing your throat into your elbow as he takes your lead in leaving the house.

“Reid,” Hotch is on top of the two of you before you even walk out the door. “Go and meet Morgan by the ambulance, I want you checked over,”

“But—“

“Go,” Hotch’s inherent ability to be authoritative trumps Spencer’s resistance immediately, and Spencer begrudgingly leaves your side with a small “yes sir,” to go and be checked out by one of the EMTs.

You attempt to follow him at first, but you’re promptly stopped by Hotch raising his hand in your direction, and then gesturing you over to him.

“Berating somebody for running into a dangerous situation head first with how you responded is very—“

“Hypocritical, I know,” You interrupt the end of Hotch’s sentence by finishing it yourself. “But if he hadn’t gotten into that situation in the first place then I wouldn’t have had to respond the way I did,”

“I understand you care about Reid,” Hotch crosses his arms over his chest, and although there is zero malice in his expression or his tone, you can still tell that he’s not exactly happy with you right now. “But you also need to be more careful with how you handle yourself,”

You narrow your gaze at him a little, and he mirrors it right back at you. “You can’t worry about keeping Reid alive if you’re not alive yourself, you need to be more careful, understand?”

“Yes sir,” The words are almost begrudging as they leave your mouth, but you know he’s right really. Running in after Spencer without a second thought and then berating him for being reckless was hypocritical, and you probably deserved to be reprimanded for it.

—

“You really gave her a scare you know,” Morgan speaks, prompted by Spencer’s very obvious lingering glances in your direction as you speak with Hotch.

“I know,” Spencer sighs dejectedly as he finally removes his eyes from you to allow the paramedic in front of him to check his pupillary response. “She made sure of that,”

“She cares about you Reid,” Morgan gives him a squeeze on his shoulder. “You’re gonna give the poor girl a heart attack if you keep this up,”

“That’s quite dramatic, the chances of somebody going into cardiac arrest from shock is extremely low, only 5% of all cases, and technically it would actually be cardiogenic shock, which isn’t a heart attack,”

“It’s a figure of speech Reid,” Morgan gives him a small playful shove after the paramedic has finished his evaluation, rolling his eyes. “Point is, you scared her, and I don’t know whether to be amazed or concerned at the fact that’s even possible,”

“She’s just as likely to be afraid as anyone else,” Spencer bites his cheek at Morgan’s declaration, unsure whether he should feel guilty or flustered at just how much you seemed to care about him, from the words of the rest of the team anyway.

“I mean yeah we were all worried about you, but she ran head first into the house with a potentially manic shooter inside, by herself, after Hotch told her to wait for backup,” Morgan gives Spencer a light nudge with his elbow, raising his eyebrows with an amused expression. “You know what I call that? Favouritism,”

Spencer lets out a small airy laugh, shaking his head as he stands from the edge of the ambulance.

“Face it pretty boy, you’re stuck with her for life, even if it means she follows you into an early grave,” The teasing in Morgan’s voice is unmistakeable, but his words ring truth either way. “Let’s just make sure you don’t end up in an early grave alright?”

“Yeah—” Spencer lets out another small breath through his mouth as Morgan pats his hand between his shoulder blades, gesturing for Spencer to follow him towards the rest of the team with a nod of his head.

Spencer doesn’t want to cut himself short just yet, especially if that means you’ll serve yourself the same fate. Although the idea of having you accompany him, even if it did mean in whatever lies after death, didn’t sound like too bad of an idea.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #climacteric 🪶

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honeytonedhottie · 2 months

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cultivating creativity and a deeper understanding of self⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🍰

PROMPTED JOURNALING ;

shadow work and prompted journaling is a rly helpful way to get to know urself better. it cultivates not only creativity and a sense of identity, but also healing.

journal therapy is literally everything and i cannot recommend it enough. some shadow work prompts that you can use to start off are listed below.

what part of myself do i feel disconnected to and why

how do i let others invade my boundaries

what beliefs and behaviors did u adopt from ur family that you now question

what easily triggers sadness or anger from you. and what might be the deeper reason for this sensitivity

are there desires and ambitions that you feel embarrassed or scared to admit? and why?

journaling mainly involves self expression without fear of judgement. it’s like expressing urself without feeling ashamed so i highly recommend it for anyone who feels like they struggle with self expression.

SELF EXPRESSION ;

working on ur self expression also helps to kind of cultivate a sense of identity and knowledge of who you are and what u value. like i mentioned earlier you can express yourself in so many different ways. i’ll get deeper into the self expression aspect in the post.

PASSION ;

what are you passionate about? what drives u everyday? is it money? academic validation or academic research? maybe it’s romance or a strong desire for something.

it’s okay. everyone’s answer might be different but there’s no wrong answer. identify what motivates you and what ur working towards.

BEING BORED ;

give yourself the privilege to do nothing. give yourself the luxury of being bored. when ur not doing anything, this frees up ur mind to think and cultivate ideas and concepts, most of the epiphanies that i have are a result of my alone time.

when there’s nothing to do, you’re forced to think. and most ppl look for distractions and excuses to not spend time by themselves bcuz they don’t wanna spend time in their thoughts. they don’t wanna just be in their mind and i understand cuz at one point i was also in that position.

to break this habit and be comfortable in ur own mind you must first be uncomfortable. start small, dedicate a small amount time to just lay and think, let ur mind wander as far as you want. and the next day let ur mind wander for a longer amount of time and so on until you can do this comfortably.

CREATIVE OUTLETS ;

something that i’ve learned on my journey is that having a creative outlet was rly important for me to be able to cultivate who i wanted to be and to be authentic and original.

a creative outlet is a way that u can express yourself and your ideas some examples of a creative outlet could be

pinterest accounts - i have so many pinterest accounts and on those accounts i turn my boards to art. lately i’ve been interested in photography and photos in general so this was rly good for me.

a blog - starting ur own blog about something that ur passionate about/know a lot about or something that ur learning about is a great way to track progress and document ur journey

a journal - like i’ve mentioned earlier on in the post a journal is the simplest one to do in my opinion and i love it so so much

creating art - whether it’s pinterest boards, paintings, sketches, music, poetry, stories WHATEVER YOU WANT.

DEEPER UNDERSTANDING ;

process ur emotions in a thoughtful and efficient way and try looking deeper into ur behavioral patterns and habits. why are you the way you are?

what are you passionate about? etc etc. cultivate a relationship with yourself through self care and healing work. remember that healing isn’t a linear process and in no case will it be, but i think that u owe it to yourself to know and cultivate urself.

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sleep-deprivedracoon · 7 months

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Pairing: Gojo Satoru x f! reader

word count: 3680 Summary: Satoru doing his best to get you out of your downward spiral. He failed Suguru but he won't fail you. Author's note: based on this prompt. I think I speak for most of the fandom when I say we all need some extra fluff and love from Gojo after the week we've had with the anime and manga. So this one is for all of us Gojo wives. Ngl, I am literally shaking right now as I dare to post this. I don't know if y'all will like this or if this just flops. CW: depression, food habits, angst, implied relationships, patterns of isolation, fluff, angst to comfort, helplessness, mentions of smoking

Satoru Gojo stood before your door, an unusual sense of foreboding gnawing at the edges of his normally self-assured demeanor. It was a feeling he wasn't accustomed to, one that clashed against the confident façade he typically wore like armor. He couldn't shake the nagging sensation that something was terribly wrong with you, something that went far beyond the physical injuries. It had been weeks since you returned from that mission, and something had changed in you—It was as if something was tearing you apart from the inside.

He'd delved into the mission reports, scouring through the details, looking for any signs of what might have transpired. The mission had been a success, technically flawless, with only a handful of unfortunate bystanders caught in the crossfire. You'd managed to take down a first-grade curse with no fatalities—by all accounts, it should have been considered a triumph. So why had it left you so shattered?

As the door creaked open, revealing you on the other side, his sharp eyes caught the flicker of a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes.

Your smile, once a beacon of light that never failed to brighten his day, now seemed a mere shadow of its former self. It was as though the spark within you had dimmed, leaving behind an empty echo of what used to be.

"Toru," you greeted, your voice a little too forced, a little too brittle.

Gojo pulled you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you with a desperation he couldn't quite put into words. He pressed his lips to the top of your head, a gesture that had become second nature to him, a silent declaration of affection. “Hi, sweets.” he murmured, his voice tinged with concern.

As he held you, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was teetering on the edge of a precipice, that the ground beneath him was unstable. He hoped beyond hope that he was merely overthinking, that you were stronger than he feared. But deep down, he knew. He knew something was fundamentally wrong.

You gently pulled away, and he followed you into your apartment, his senses immediately assaulted by the disarray that greeted him. Sure, you were a chaotic person, but there was usually an organized chaos to your living space. Books strewn haphazardly on shelves, art supplies scattered on tables, and the comforting scent of incense in the air—all elements of your usual environment. The chaos was familiar, a reflection of your vibrant, unpredictable personality. But this... this was different. There was an air of neglect, a sense that even your usual disorder had lost its usual rhythm. He took in the scene—the scattered papers, the toppled books, the forgotten articles of clothing strewn across the floor. Each item seemed to whisper a tale of neglect; a story of a mind too preoccupied to care for its surroundings. He saw the remnants of a once vibrant spirit, now muted and worn.

He followed you into the kitchen, concern etched into his features. "Have you eaten yet?" he asked, his voice laced with genuine worry.

You mumbled a half-hearted "yes," but he wasn't fooled. He opened your fridge to place a few drinks, and his heart sank at the sight. It hadn't been stocked in a while; the shelves almost barren. It was a stark contrast to the usual assortment of ingredients and snacks he was accustomed to stealing. He glanced at you, silently noting the tired lines etching your face, the weariness in your eyes that belied your attempt at a smile

You stood beside him, trying to deflect his concern with a forced smile and a weak excuse. "I've been lazy, just ordering takeout."

He glanced at the trash can, noting its emptiness. He saw right through the lie, but he didn't push it. Instead, he turned his gaze back to you, taking in the disheveled state of your hair, the dullness in your eyes, the weight loss that had left you looking frail. It was a familiar dance—one he had witnessed before, with someone else he had cared for deeply. That smile you offered him, that empty, hollow smile with closed eyes, it hit him like a tidal wave of dread. It reminded Gojo of Suguru after Amanai's death—their once lively friend reduced to a mere shell, hiding behind a facade. The parallels between you and Suguru's descent sent a shiver down his spine.

The weight of helplessness settled like a leaden anchor in Satoru Gojo's chest. He cursed inwardly, the bitter taste of regret mingling with the dread that had consumed him. How was it happening again? Why was it always the ones he cared for the most? The memory of Suguru, his once-vibrant friend reduced to a mere shadow of himself, haunted him. He had failed Suguru, and that failure still weighed heavily on him.

The mantra of his own strength echoed in his mind, a bitter irony. He was the strongest, but in this moment, he felt powerless. Weak. Useless. Helpless. As you stood before him, offering a smile that barely masked the turmoil within, you felt so distant, so far away. It was as though an impenetrable barrier had risen between the two of you.

It had started weeks ago, with your return from that fateful mission. Even then, something had felt off. You had been fatigued, weary, and Gojo had been there for you, trying to help you unwind and recharge. But you barely spoke of the mission, your words guarded, your gaze distant. In the ensuing weeks, he had watched as you withdrew, not just from him, but from their students. He noticed how you declined Nobara’s invites to go shopping, how the playful banter with Megumi had all but disappeared. Even your calls with Yuta who was overseas had become brief, the once-lively conversations now reduced to strained exchanges.

He caught a whiff of smoke around you one evening, a scent that hung in the air like a lingering secret. He knew then, without needing to ask, that you had turned to cigarettes for solace. There were signs, always signs. The subtle shifts in behavior, the hollow looks, the moments of silence that stretched on longer than they should. But he had chosen to give you space, believing that time would allow you to heal and find your way back. It was a mistake, one he deeply regretted now as he saw the signs he had missed piling up.

Gojo's gaze settled on you once more, his heart heavy with concern. You had lost weight, your eyes dulled, your once-lustrous hair now a tangled mess. It was as though a part of you had withered away, leaving behind a hollow shell. The pain in his chest intensified as he realized that he couldn't afford to stand by and watch you slip away. He had to act, to break through the barrier you had unknowingly erected around yourself. But how? That was the question that haunted him as he searched your eyes for a way to reach you, to pull you back from the abyss you seemed to be falling into.

He turned to you, his eyes tracing the weariness etched into your features, the fragility in your frame. "Sweets," he murmured, his voice laced with a mix of concern and determination. "We can't keep going on like this. You don't have to face this alone.”

As Gojo's concerned gaze bore into you, he couldn't help but notice the immediate defensiveness in your body language. Your chuckle, dry and forced, cut through the air like a fragile attempt to push his worries away. "I'm okay, Toru," you insisted, your voice wavering just slightly.

"(Y/n) …" he urged; his voice gentle but firm. "You don't have to pretend with me. I can see that something's eating at you. You can rely on me, you know that, right? I'm here to shoulder whatever burdens you're carrying."

You met his gaze, eyes guarded, and shook your head, a hint of stubbornness in your expression. "Toru, really, I appreciate it, but I'm okay. You're worrying unnecessarily.”

You remained closed off, a wall of resistance that he couldn't breach. Your insistence that everything was fine felt like a dagger to his heart, but he understood that pushing you further at this moment could risk you shutting him out completely and he couldn't bear the thought of losing you to the darkness.

So, he accepted your words, even as they left a bitter taste in his mouth. "Alright, sweets. Just remember, I'm here whenever you're ready to talk."

Ordering takeout seemed like the most rational thing to do, a glimmer of normalcy in the midst of the storm. He chose a spicy Chow Mein with Gyoza on the side, knowing it was a combination that never failed to put a smile on your face. As the two of you sat in silence, he couldn't help but notice how you toyed with your food, pushing it around on the plate rather than really eating.

He teased gently, "You know, you're starting to remind me of a kid being forced to eat their vegetables. Come on, at least take a few bites for me."

You glanced up, a faint glimmer of amusement in your eyes, and complied, taking a few bites to prove a point. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless. It was through these small steps, he realized, that he needed to slowly guide you back from the darkness that threatened to consume you.

After dinner, he bid you farewell, his footsteps heavy as he walked away from your apartment. Once out of your sight, he clutched his hair in frustration, a tumultuous storm of conflicting emotions swirling within him. He couldn't bear to see you like this, not again. He couldn't let another person he cared for slip into the abyss.

With a determined exhale, he removed his shades and reached for the black blindfold that he rarely wore when it was just the two of you. He tied it securely and looked back at the window to your apartment. In that moment, he vowed to himself that he wouldn't let you slip away. He would fight for you, even if it meant stepping into the darkness alongside you.

-------------

In the days that followed, Gojo remained steadfast in his determination to pull you out of the suffocating depths of depression that had ensnared you. He knew he couldn't do it alone, and admitting that fact was a monumental step for someone as self-reliant as him. It surprised even Shoko, who had known Gojo for years, to witness his newfound vulnerability.

He started with small, manageable gestures, well aware that overwhelming you would only push you further away. Slowly, he began to tidy up your apartment, one step at a time. He organized the scattered papers, straightened the toppled books, and restored a sense of order to the chaos that had overtaken the space. He did it in small iterations, so as to not catch you off guard. He knew that even the semblance of cleanliness and organization could bring a sense of calm. Another day, he arrived with a bag of groceries, quietly slipping into your kitchen to prepare a meal. At times, he found himself sneaking food into you, taking advantage of moments when your mind wandered elsewhere. He'd feed you, offering fruits and treats while you mindlessly chewed on it, lost in thought. It was a silent promise that he was there to support you, to ensure you took care of yourself.

Then came the day he dragged you out, insisting that you join him and his students for a shopping excursion. It was an attempt to remind you that there was still joy and fun to be had, even in the midst of the world's worries. He made sure to bring his students along, Yuji and Nobara, who shared a single brain cell with their hairbrained schemes, and Megumi, who often found himself the target of their antics. As you wandered through the bustling market, you couldn't help but be drawn into the silliness that surrounded you. Yuji and Nobara's playful banter, Megumi's exasperation, and the way his students relied on you for the silliest of things slowly began to chip away at the darkness within you. There were moments when you couldn't help but smile, caught up in the absurdity of it all. Watching Yuji and Nobara embark on their ridiculous plans, seeing Megumi squirm in embarrassment, witnessing the camaraderie among his students—it all served as a poignant reminder that life held moments of levity, even in its darkest corners. Gojo reveled in these small victories, each one a testament to your gradual recovery. His approach was slow and deliberate, mixing moments of genuine concern with his signature goofiness.

"Hey, sweets," Gojo said, nudging you playfully as Yuji and Nobara attempted to outdo each other with their ridiculous purchases. "You see what I have to deal with every day? They're a handful. Why do I always end up taking care of brats?” He sighed in exaggeration.

The sound of your giggle was a melody that resonated in the depths of Satoru Gojo's being. He couldn't help but be drawn to the warmth in your laughter, a glimmer of the vibrant spirit that still lived within you. Your fingers brushed against his cheek, a gentle caress that sent a jolt of electricity through him. He leaned into the touch, his heart leaping at the connection.

"You know," you teased, patting his cheek affectionately, "you adopted these brats yourself. You're such a mother hen, Toru."

His lips curled into a playful smirk. "Well, what can I say? I've always had a soft spot for the misfits." He took your hand, pressing a soft kiss to your palm. "And I'm glad that this mother hen has you as my favorite rooster to come back to whenever I need a break from these rascals."

Your laughter, though still fragile, filled the room, a welcome sound that eased the weight in his heart. He was getting closer, step by step, to uncovering the vibrant spirit that resided within you.

------------------------

Several days later, the Tokyo Jujutsu High planned a retreat to an Onsen resort in Gunma. The students shared rooms, and Gojo, in his usual annoying fashion, had managed to finagle Yaga into assigning you to share a room with him. After all, you were both teachers and adults—it shouldn't have been a problem.

Gojo sat on the tatami floor of your room, dressed in a yukata, having just returned from the baths. He sipped on cold coffee milk, enjoying the tranquil atmosphere of the traditional inn. When he heard the sliding door open, he looked up, and his heart skipped a beat. You looked ethereal in the Yukata, the fabric draping gracefully over your form. Your hair was still damp from the baths, strands clinging to your skin in a way that made his heart race. There was a newfound fullness to your cheeks, a healthy flush to your complexion that spoke of progress.

In that moment, he realized just how far you had come. The bags under your eyes were still there, but the overall transformation was striking. He clicked his tongue several times, pulling you gently to the tatami floor in front of him. He reached for the towel that hung around your shoulders and scolded you gently, "Sweets, you need to dry your hair properly. You'll catch a cold like this."

His fingers moved through your hair with a soothing touch, the room enveloped in silence save for the rustle of fabric and the soft hum of the night outside. He was meticulous, his actions deliberate as he dried your hair strand by strand. As he continued to pat your hair dry with gentle strokes, he noticed that you were trembling. Frowning, he stopped, his concern growing. And then he heard it—the soft, muffled sniffle that escaped your lips. In an instant, he turned you around to face him, his eyes widening as he saw the tears welling up in your eyes.

Before he could say a word, you began sobbing, your shoulders shaking with the force of your emotions. You buried your face in his chest, and he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as you cried. He didn't brush away your tears or offer empty reassurances. Instead, he let you cry, allowing the dam you had built around your emotions to finally break. He could feel the warmth of your tears soaking through his yukata, the shudders that racked your body, and the tremble of your hands as they clung to his robes. It was a raw, vulnerable moment, and he was there to bear witness to it, to share in your pain and offer his silent support. Gojo's touch was gentle, his hand stroking your back in a steady, rhythmic motion. He didn't speak, understanding that this moment was about you and your release. His heart ached with each anguished sob that wracked your body, but he remained a steadfast anchor, giving you the space you needed to let it all out.

As your sobs began to subside, your words spilled out in a torrent of emotion. You spoke of the mission, of how it had torn open old wounds, making you confront shadows from your past. The cursed technique of the first-grade curse had exploited your own memories, forcing you to relive the pain and uncertainty.

Gojo had been privy to your painful past, as you had confided in him long ago. He understood the emotional scars that had marked your journey, and now, he could see why you were descending into darkness.

Your voice trembled as you confessed your fear. You longed to return to the person you used to be, but you were terrified that you had lost yourself in the process. The fear that in losing yourself, you might also lose him gripped at your heart.

Gently, Gojo cupped your cheek, his sky-blue eyes locking onto yours. He removed his shades, allowing you to see the sincerity in his gaze. "No matter what version of yourself you present to me," he said, his voice soft but resolute, "I will love you. Whether you're happy, sad, angry, or anything in between, it doesn't change a thing. If you somehow turned evil, I'd love you. If you don’t want to be a sorcerer anymore, I’d love you. Even if you transformed into a worm, I'd love you. I will love every version of you that has been and that is yet to come, (Y/n). " He couldn't help but inject a touch of his signature playfulness into the moment. "Well, unless you turn into Gakuganji," he added with a mock shudder, "then you might be pushing it. But hey, I'll even love you if you morph into that old fart. Just… just don't test me on that one." He kisses your trembling lips gently. “I don’t think my heart could handle that.”

A small giggle burst from your lips, and you playfully swatted his arm, the sound like a gentle chime amidst your tears. It was a moment of relief, a brief respite from the weight of your emotions. Gojo couldn't help but chuckle in response, his grin boyish and goofy. “I will always love you (Y/n). Even if you lose yourself, I will walk with you to help you rediscover yourself. I am great at helping people find things. These six eyes are here for a reason, you know?”

You gently shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips as you leaned in to kiss Satoru Gojo on his lips, your gratitude and affection evident in the tender gesture. "Thank you," you whispered against his lips, "for being you."

His lips curved into a soft smile as he returned your kiss, savoring the warmth of your affection. "It's been my pleasure, (Y/n)," he replied, his voice filled with sincerity. “After all, nobody is best at being Gojo Satoru other than Satoru Gojo himself.” He winks.

You continued, your voice barely above a whisper, "I know what you've been doing, Toru. All these days, you’ve been taking care of me, helping me even if I didn't want to admit it to myself. But I needed it, and I needed you."

Gojo's eyes softened as he gazed at you, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "If the roles were reversed, you would've done a far better and more efficient job," he admitted, a hint of shame coloring his voice. "I should've seen it sooner, (Y/n)."

You silenced him with a gentle finger against his lips, his mock pout making you smile. "Don't blame yourself, Toru," you murmured. "I didn't want you to find out, and it's not your fault. I feel lighter now than I have in days, although I am still struggling to cope.”

In response, Gojo spoke with unwavering determination, "I'll be here beside you, sweets. However you want and in whatever form you need.

“Whatever I need huh?” A wistful smile tugged at your lips. "Maybe turning myself into Gakuganji would help," you mused, a playful glint in your eyes. “won’t it, Toru?”

Gojo groaned dramatically, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. His fingers danced along your sides and ribs, eliciting giggles and laughter from you as you squirmed beneath his touch. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated joy. His fingers attacked your sides and belly, evoking peals of laughter from you. The tatami floor beneath you seemed to come alive with the sounds of your giggles and Gojo's playful laughter. As he tickled you mercilessly, Gojo's thoughts were clear—he would do anything to keep that light in your eyes, to see you smile, even if it meant turning into Gakuganji himself. Anything at all. And with every joyful laugh that filled the room, he knew he was one step closer to bringing you back to him.

Taglist - @hiraethsdesires Note to @hiraethsdesires: thank you, Hira. I thought I'd never be able to get back into writing again. I thought I had lost it. But it felt so nice to dive right into this again. The first character I had ever written for in this blog was Gojo. It feels just right to get back into it with him again.

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kalims · 1 year

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11:48 PM | malleus draconia

prompt. "you're cute," "what?" "I said you look like a lizard," "..."

something smooth, and cold drips down in between your fingers.

you know you should probably be equally mortified and disgusted by the feeling cause it's like tripping face first in a road full of wet, muddy dirt when you've just finished taking a shower hours prior.

but you're sure your younger self is now seamlessly punching your legs when you're practically the living embodiment of enchanted.

and no, you're not talking about yourself but rather the tall, horned guy rambling on a few distances away from you—smiling at nothing in particular and looking like he's contented with life.

you know you're staring quite rudely but the situation called for it! you're staring, he looks perfect, and great. your ice cream's melting for god's sake!

you yourself are not sure why malleus had agreed to you so easily when you questioned if he wanted to accompany you to the carnival, from what you know he'd choose something... less colorful, and more quiet.

something simple would be the better word for it.

but even when he looks like he's totally out of place with the crowd and the flashing colorful lights shining on his face—man, who cares if you're staring?!

you swallow thickly.

"you're cute."

only then does malleus take notice of the desert he had gotten you minutes ago. it's something he'd like to indulge in but he only had enough for one so he till got it for you one anyways.

slowly, he blinks at your hands, at you before hesitantly speaking. "what?"

you chuckle humorlessly. such little distance between us and you couldn't even hear that, but when you'd called for him in the botanical garden he was there in a flash. figuratively and literally.

"I said you look like a lizard." you cough. before you could even register the complete dumbassery you just committed, malleus is already conversing with a stall owner (who admittedly started to nervously stammer in between words at the sight of his heights and.. other features.)

you watch the melted ice cream drip onto the ground and mourn your loss.

not even a second later he's already standing by close, and wiping off the liquid that had already started to dry, and stick to your skin.

you catch the faint trace of a smile on his face. "how flattering, I was not aware I looked like one even in this form. you have a keen eye." malleus comments. you can feel the embarrassment seep in.

honestly you were just gonna say he looked like a fruit but that just didn't make sense.

... but to an outsiders that sounded like it held less sense more.

he exhales and you hold your breath. "I thank you, child of man." he spares you a kind smile. "I think you're quite beautiful yourself.

note. I be writing for malleus every second of the day help, it's a disease now

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #malleus draconia x reader #malleus x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #twst fluff #malleus draconia #malleus #twstnexus #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland scenarios #yarghhh what a mess

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spamgyu · 1 month

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PRETTY BOY // College!Mingyu AU – small purses and labels

"Even if the sky's on fire. Got you here, it's alright, with me ..."

Started off as this prompt: no bc college!mingyu as someone who lives down the hall from your dorm and you always run into him doing something questionable genre: tooth-aching fluff

this is based on these two requests - one of them i cant find bc i am a disorganized mess but it's from 🎀 and the other is from this anon

"Can you put my keys in your purse?" Mingyu batted his lashes at her, holding his car keys out.

Y/n glanced at his hand and then at the tiny shoulder bag in her hand – raising a brow at him. "I hope you know this literally only fits a lipgloss and my will to live."

Curse the current trend of tiny baguette bags – why must they be so cute yet so small, only able to hold far less than what she could probably stuff into her pockets.

It wasn't that her outfit needed a purse. They were simply getting bagels.

But it did make complete her look, and that was more than enough of an excuse to use it.

"Pleaseeee." He dragged his word.

It wasn't like his keys would take up much space anyways – it wasn't like hers that had multiple unneccesary key chains hanging off of it.

It was literally just his key fob, house keys, and dorm keys. It would take up 4 inches at most.

Taking the set with sigh, Y/n threw it in her purse before holding it out for him.

"What do you want me to do with that?" Mingyu blinked.

"It's heavy now and I don't want to carry it."

"Y/n," Mingyu let out a chuckle. "You can't possibly be ser— yeah okay."

Taking the black bag from her hand, Mingyu slipped the strap awkwardly up his arm – the tiny loop stopping mid-bicep.

"Am I serving?"

The girl let out a laugh, pulling out her phone to snap a picture at how ridiculous her boyf– her friend, looked. "You could have just held it."

"But am I serving?" He repeated, this time placing a hand on his jutted out hip.

"Yes. You served and ate." Y/n rolled her eyes at his antics – he never did stop with his foolishness since they began .... talking.

If anything, it persisted much more – Mingyu revealing more and more of his true self and y/n doing the same.

There wasn't a single day they were together that wasn't filled with laughter – laughs that left tears in their eyes.

"Mingyu?"

A grown woman's voice caught the two's attention – Mingyu mostly, whipping his head at the source of the familiar voice.

"Mom!" His eyes wide.

It wasn't that he was afraid, as if he was caught doing something wrong. No, never that. He was simply surprised – especially considering he lived two cities away and there was no reason for his parents to be in their college town.

"Wha- what are you guys doing here?" He leaned in to place a kiss on each of his parent's cheeks before stepping back to stand next to y/n, who was awkwardly shifting her weight from one foot to another.

If he had been any one of her friends, she would have happily stuck her hand out and introduced herself to Mingyu's parents.

But their situation was different.

They were in a grey area. For now, at least.

They were much more than friends; sharing sweet hushed words in the midst of a crowd, their hands naturally gravitating to one another when they walked side by side, his lips finding a home on her forehead whenever he greeted or bid her a goodbye.

But they weren't official either. There was no label.

"This is– um–"

"You must be Mingyu's girlfriend." The older woman cut her son off with a smile. "All we've heard during calls is your name and how wonderful you are."

"Mom." Mingyu warned through his teeth, eyes just as wide as when he first heard her call out for him earlier.

Y/n bit back the smile that threatened to form on her lips.

He talked about her.

Constantly.

More importantly, he addressed her as his girlfriend.

Y/n has always been confident in herself, and she thought she would be the same when it came to dating; but to say she didn't have some doubts in her and Mingyu would be a lie. She knew she wasn't the only one with her eyes set on the six-foot charismatic basketball player; y/n was well aware there are girls dying to be at her spot.

And sure, she may have spent some nights lying awake, thinking of the worst – the blissful past few weeks possibly coming down crashing on her. She was a realist, after all.

Mingyu could have anyone, he could be with that girl in 302 – the smart dark haired girl who seemed to know more about sports than y/n did. The one girl she could have sworn Mingyu had his eyes on before they even established a friendship.

Y/n was just like any other girl. She had her insecurities; one of them including Mingyu's true feelings for her.

Despite the fact that he was very transparent with her.

"Oh, don't act all embarrassed now." His mother waved him off. "You even have her purse up your arm. Young love–"

"Alright, we're going." Mingyu spoke quickly, tugging on y/n's arm – who was now giggling.

"It was wonderful meeting you, Mr. and Mrs. Kim." Y/n stood her ground, despite the boy who was practically begging for the ground to swallow him whole.

"Likewise." His father nodded. "We usually have Sunday dinners, you should come along."

Y/n glanced at Mingyu. "I mean it's only fair, considering how much of my family dinners you've crashed."

"Mingyu!" Mrs. Kim gasped.

"Hey! I was invited by coach!" He cried. "I– I'll bring her along, can we please just be excused? I feel like I'm dying here."

The three of them laughed at the poor boy who cowered behind the girl that was practically half his height – dreading the conversation they were about to have the second they stepped away from his parents.

"Have a great rest of your day, kids." Mr. Kim chuckled.

"Thanks." Mingyu mumbled with a sigh, practically dragging y/n away from his parents.

"Girlfriend, huh?" She laughed as the finally reached the store front.

A suppressed groan was heard from Mingyu, using his hands to cover the redness that began to form on his face.

Y/n wasn't upset, not like what Mingyu thought in his head. In fact, she found the whole interaction, and revelation, to be cute – even more now that he was clearly quite embarrassed.

"Do you refer to me as your girlfriend to anyone else?" She brought her hands up to pull his away from his face – their fingers interlocking once they were at his side.

"Um– everyone?" Mingyu kept his eyes trained on his shoes.

"Sorry– what?" Y/n coughed.

"Well– I, we're heading there anyways and– I promise I do plan on asking you to be my girlfriend. I have it all planned it's romant–"

He was speaking fast.

It was a habit of his when he was either excited or nervous; either way, she found it absolutely adorable. Y/n didn't care to listen to the rest of his rambling, leaning up to place a quick kiss on his lips.

"This was romantic." She smiled up at him.

"Wha–"

"I'm your girlfriend."

Mingyu stood frozen, his brain still attempting to process the soft pillows that made contact with his lips – his fingers reaching up to touch the sticky gloss she had left behind.

Peach vanilla.

"I'm your boyfriend." His voice was small, almost as if he was saying it to reaffirm himself.

"Yes."

"I'm your boyfriend!" Mingyu repeated much louder this time, his lips stretched from ear to ear. "Oh, prepared to be so sick of me."

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@thegirlwhoimagined @forcheol @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @f4iryjjosh @akeminy @yonabutnotyuna @tacosandbitch @aaniag @bettybotterboughtabitofbutter @xbaekcult @alwaysalmostthere @ashkuuuu @morkswatermelonnnn @isabellah29 @lottogyu @bubbly-moon @lllucere @bo-fairykim @pluviophile-xxx @daegutowns @niktwazny303 @fragmentof-indifference @leah-rose03 @haolistic @eclliipsed @joshuahongnumbers @gyuguys @yaaaridk @christinewithluv @yoonzinoooo @jaebammie @livelikejinki @watercolureyes @whoa-jo @primoisellerose @wonwoobestboyy @rakshithanotrao @mingcouper

(for some reason it's not allowing me to tag some who wanted to be added to the perm tag list ... cries... pls check ur settings so i can for future posts)

#warning this isnt edited sorry #long time no see......#our favorite best boy is back ehehehe #ITS ALL FLUFF DONT WORRY I GOT SOME OF YALL WITH TRUST ISSUES READY TO FIGHT ME #college!mingyu au #mingyu x reader #mingyu x oc #mingyu drabble #mingyu fluff #mingyu scenarios #spamgyu pretty boy

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codtrashsammy · 6 days

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Omg I’m having Soulmate!Simon Riley thoughts

Soulmate!Simon Riley who has actually been dreaming of the day he finds his soulmate. Like, sure, he’s still an anxious and self sabotaging little shit, but this is the person who is made for him! This is the person who won’t look at him like a monster, who was literally made to be his other half, who will help mend his broken parts with nothing but love. Right? That’s how it works, right?

Soulmate!Simon Riley who can’t wait to meet you. When he’s able to and has the free time he looks down at the string around his pinky, or the soulmate mark on his forearm hidden amongst tattoos, or the writing that appears on his skin (a shopping list he regularly sees tea on thank god-), or whatever other soulmate prompt there is and just gives himself a few moments to actually look forward to something. I’m the midst of wear he has something waiting for him, something to look forward to, and gods he’s gonna do everything he can to get you.

Soulmate!Simon Riley who has put so much faith into the universe because of you. He prayed to god he decided not to believe in because he always received nothing, not when he had to suffer at the hands of his father, not when he went through torture, not when everything in his mind was telling him to give up already, there’s nothing waiting for him in this world. And then he’d glance to his soul mark/string/doodle on his arm/whatever else and realize that there still is something waiting for him- someone. So he pushes through, he finds the strength, he makes it, because nothing on this earth is gonna keep him from you, nothing in this goddamn universe.

Soulmate!Simon Riley who randomly meets you. It’s gonna be something entirely weird and unexpected, but fuck, he’s enchanted. Enthralled. Enraptured. Upon first glance he already knows you were worth everything, you are worth everything. He’s already obsessed- he was far before he met you but gods now you’ve given him every reason to be. Soft skin, soft hair, pretty eyes, a smile that lights up the deepest corners of his mind, and he quite literally just stares at you for a few minutes because for once he’s *thanking* god, that you exist and that you’re here and that he could meet you.

Oh gods and the kicker?

Soulmate!Simon Riley realizing you hate the idea of soulmates and not understanding why. You were made for him, you’re literally his other half, why are you trying so hard to run away when he’s spent his life praying to you? What are you so afraid of? How can he fix it? He’s needed you before he met you and now that he has- you’re not going anywhere, he’ll make sure of it <3

OMGOMG FIC IDEA IM GONNA BE OBSESSED UNTIL I WRITE THIS OUT HNNGGGG

#simon ghost x reader #cod x reader #141 x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x you #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #cod x you #sammys soft times

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queers-gambit · 2 months

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Midsummer Night(mare)'s Dream

prompt: ( requested ) when Oliver's obsession reaches new heights, you fear Felix might return the affection - resulting in bloody flower petals suffocating you.

pairing: Felix Catton x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Saltburn

word count: 12.9k+

note: favorite trope here to stay

⚠️ you are responsible for the media you consume ⚠️

warnings: Hanahaki Disease AU: depiction of physical illness, medical phenomenon, blood, self-destruction; alcohol consumption, brief illicit material use and brief depiction of physical aggression, Lord's name in vain, cursing, angst, hurt and comfort, spoilers, AU timeline (obviously), "friends to 'strangers' to lovers", fix it Felix, "best friends" trope too, dead parents / family angst. requires maturity and caution.

When the first semester at Oxford started, something in your gut twisted with an unknown anxiety. Something in the air churned, a tide was turning, and there was something deeply amiss that you just couldn't put your finger on.

Your roommate was kind, your grades average with those that took education seriously, and your professors were decently challenging but in a good way. You didn't know what was wrong, why you suddenly felt anxious, but then, after asking your best mate why he was late to class the day of his first tutorial, Felix answered, "Had a flat tire."

You nodded, handing him the joint as you sucked in a sharp breath to hold the smoke in your lungs, "So you booked it?"

"No, actually," he chuckled. "Nice bloke named Ollie stopped t'help, offered me his bike."

You laughed, smoke billowing out, "Yeah? Tellin' me he just stopped and gave you his bike? Come off it - nobody's that nice. You flirt with him or something, Fi?"

"No, no, I'm serious! That's literally what happened!" He nestled his arm around your waist, "No, seriously, listen, right, I was on my way t'class, on time and all, yeah? Got a flat tire on my way. This lad, Ollie - Oliver - comes down the path, stops, asks what's goin' on, said he was in my college, so, he offered his bike 'cause he'd get it later, said he'd wheel mine back and all."

"Fuck off!" You shoved your elbow into his ribs.

"You only think people are out to do the worst, darling," Felix chuckled, flashing you a blinding smile. Neither of you could anticipate the series of events that this interaction would kick off. "Besides, he saved my fuckin' arse, I got t'class with enough time, didn't I?"

"Hmm," you agreed, a knot forming in your stomach as he handed you the joint back; both stretched out in your dorm bed as the thunder storm raged just shortly after you got back from class.

Perhaps you were too much of a cynic. Perhaps you grew up in a rougher part of the city with considerably less money, being skeptical of gestures of kindness. Perhaps you only knew people to be disingenuous.

Maybe you were just used to hearing these incredible stories from Felix Catton - certified spoilt best friend.

You grew up together; meeting as young children because your parents worked for one of the Catton's companies, your fathers having been childhood best friends, joining you two at the hip. You and Felix were two halves of one whole, a single functioning organism; becoming inseparable. You were meant to be soulmates, you were so sure of it, but in reality, it felt reassuring to have such a strong friendship that you never entertained the idea of romance.

Felix's friendship was genuine. It was built-on everyday, growing, evolving, forever changing to accommodate both your changing personalities. He accepted you for who you are, and it felt like he chose you everyday. Where others came and went, you remained. Where others abandoned you, there he was. There was no you without Felix and no Felix without you, and when the time came, you chose to attend Oxford together.

You knew how easy life was for him. You knew the silver spoon he was fed from. You knew he was the flame moths were drawn to.

Knowing Felix Catton was power-by-association, and you watched an endless slew of people come and go with the snuffed-out dream of being in his inner circle. You protected Felix (and the Cattons) from leeches and Felix protected you from, well, everything else. You were meant to be soulmates, you were so sure of it, and then everything changed the summer before senior year of secondary school when you moved in with him permanently.

Summer had just started, you were only two months away from turning 18, and then, a drunk driver drove your mother and father into a tree on the side of a road. There was nothing to be done when your parents were finally found, the EMTs assuring you they were dead on impact and did not suffer. You had been at home with Felix, who let you paint his toenails, the house phone ringing shrilly.

"Hello?" He answered for you, reporting your family's surname's residence. He hummed, then paused, looking at you. "It's St. Luke's Hospital, love?" Felix handed you the phone with curiosity.

When you reached for the landline, the nurse reported you were needed and asked if you had the means to get to them. You begged to know what happened, but all she said was, "There was an accident."

Felix drove you to the hospital.

Felix held your hand when you were lead to a private room, meeting a set of police officers.

Felix held you when you stumbled in shock upon being shown your parent's demise and Felix held your hair when you threw up after identifying bodies.

And the Cattons stood with you when the man responsible was sentenced to life in prison. They stood in the rain when you tossed two stones in the stream.

You lived with him from that moment on and sometime after, you accepted how in-love with him you were. He had always taken care of you, but that summer, he took care of you; being the glue that kept you together, the binding force that brought you into being, the reason you didn't waste away, give up, or lose yourself entirely.

When your final year before university began, you had to stomach the idea of loving him at a distance. He'd always been popular, charismatic, the sun at the center of everyone's galaxy that pulled all towards his warmth and light. But after losing his virginity at age 15, Felix was constantly running through partners and you didn't want to interrupt his "sexual awakening" despite the knife to the gut each girl stabbed. So, you kept your feelings to yourself and tried your hardest to be a staple in his life, and when you chose to attend Oxford, you made peace with the idea that you'd go another 4 years in silent denial.

Something about Oliver's little act of kindness just made you uneasy.

And then, the following night, Felix spotted his new little friend when you were out at the local pub and invited Ollie to sit at the table with you lot. You sat between Felix and Farleigh, India on your friend's other side - his cousin something akin to your own flesh and blood. After all, you had known them all for two nearly decades; marking you as one of the very, very few who could put Farleigh in his place. Eerily, you both shared a look of mild distain, but for very different reasons.

You didn't think yourself a jealous woman, but after meeting Oliver Quick in person, hearing him speak, watching him watch Felix, and witnessing how he interacted with everyone else, you grew uneasy in his presence. The night you met him officially, there was a funny tickle in your chest, and after a few too many coughs escaped, Felix whipped around at you instantly. "You gettin' sick, darlin'?" He asked, words drenched in genuine concern.

Oliver thought it was curious to use a pet name for a pretty girl while a different one was sat on his lap.

"I'm good," you assured, thinking the rain caused this reaction.

But as the night wore on, you coughed more and more. When Oliver got up to get the next round of shots, Felix, ever the sweetheart who had money at his disposal, scolded Farleigh for instigating the poor boy and stood with a note in his hand. Only you saw the real interaction of Felix subtly paying for the drinks, and when he returned, he set a glass of water in front of you.

He made sure you didn't drink the rest of the night, but you didn't want to - starting to feel unwell. "Fi, I'm gonna go - "

"Oh, no, love, c'mon, an hour longer," he pleaded as you stood. But he paused, examined your face, then standing without another word and tossed his arm around you, announcing to the table, "Right, we're off."

He ignored the jeers and complaints because he was swiftly escorting you away, and only when Farleigh clocked this did he scold the table to shut the fuck up. When you stepped outside, Felix was turning to you instantly, holding your cheeks in hand and using his thumb to wipe at the corner of your mouth.

"You're bleedin', love," he muttered, showing you his hand. You frowned and wiped the area yourself, seeing the crimson stain on the pads of your fingers. "Fuck. All right. C'mon, we can get you to the infirmary - "

"No, I don't think it's - "

"You've been coughin' all night and now you're bleedin'," he snapped, shushing you, "we're goin'!" When you just stared at him for a moment, he sighed, "I-I'm sorry, that was a bit more aggressive than needed. I'm just worried, love, you shouldn't be coughing blood."

"Might've just been smoking too much, yeah?"

Felix spoke your name with a hardened edge, staring at you for a long moment as neither of you wanted to back down. Finally, he cracked, "You're not gonna go, are you?"

"Nope. C'mon, I'm tired."

"Well, I'm stayin' the night incase you throw up," he declared, giving in and leading you towards your dorm.

"No, go back - "

"Not leavin' yah, love," he refused. "So, c'mon, tell me," he changed the subject, "what'd you think of Ollie?"

You sighed, "Nice enough lad, I guess."

"Told you," he grinned, weighing your heart to your feet.

For nearly every instance there after, you dreaded hearing Ollie's name or seeing him pop up at events. But that first night, as Felix dozed off in your bed, you were set on your knees, dry heaving in vain to free your throat from whatever suffocated you internally. When you managed to trigger your gag reflex, a stream of alcohol came spewing out - dotted with long, pretty, bright yellow petals.

You stared into the toilet, blinking in shock.

You always thought Felix was the human equivalent to a golden retriever with the disposition of a sunflower. In fact, there grew a small patch of sunflowers at Saltburn just for you; you and Felix planting them one summer together, kept alive after your parents died to bring you a little sunshine when you felt overwhelmed with storm clouds. After all, they were your favorite flower... Now being hacked out of your lungs in a ghastly, tacky mixture of blood, clots, and mucus.

As the year went, you didn't have another episode, but still did any and all research you could on your current phenomenon, wanting to avoid the hospital if you could.

The year flew by without much of a hitch, outside of Felix snapping on Ollie and distancing the lad from the group. However, just before exams, Felix came to you in need of help; saying Ollie's dad died, and being as he had both parents, he wasn't sure how to comfort the lad. It struck a nerve deep within you, going with Felix to talk to Ollie, and by the end, your arm had slung around the scholarship boy in pity, trying to talk him through part of his grief.

You didn't know the lad did his research on you and discovered you lived with Felix in his grand fucking castle because you were orphaned just before turning 18. It was the perfect "in", in Ollie's mind; a way to weasel close to you, solidifying himself to Felix.

You didn't like Ollie, he still made you feel uneasy, but you did pity him enough that you tolerated him. Now more than ever. He was back in the group before the day was done.

However, when exams concluded, Ollie was acutely aware that Felix attended the celebration to your exams - dressing you, pinning you for your accomplishments. You dressed and pinned Felix after his. And you both showed up for Ollie's exams, though, you dressed and pinned Farleigh as Felix did Ollie. He supposed it counted, still having the object of his desire back in sight; within his reach; staring at him with pride and a hint of pity.

It was exactly what Oliver wanted.

"Well, aren't you gorgeous?" Felix complimented when you arrived in the courtyard, dressing for the end-of-year ball. He stooped down to wrap you in a hug, giving a spin, and setting you on your feet as you laughed at his usual antics. "Absolutely a vision, love, seriously," he praised. "And I have a li'l something for us, hey?" He held up the champagne bottle.

"Christ," you mused, "what's the occasion? They'll supply cocktails there, Fi - "

"We're going to a funeral."

"I'm sorry?"

He sighed, handing you the bottle to dig in his trouser pocket and revealed a stone painted with the word, 'Dad'. Felix looked sheepish, "I thought we could do it for Ollie, yeah? Lad's had a real rough go of it all - "

"I think that's a nice idea, Fi," you cut him off, smiling in assurance, opening the wire on the bottle. "But first, a toast," you proposed, "to the start of summer."

"And end of exams," he agreed, taking the bottle back when you handed it over and popping the cork. He cheered as you drank first, taking his own, wrapping you in a tight hug. "We survived," he laughed, sighing after. "Really glad you were here with me through it, love."

"Yeah, me, too," you whispered, holding back creeping bile when your heart began to pound with harrowing tension. "All right, pretty boy, c'mon, sun's setting."

"Right," he pulled back, "I told Ollie to meet us in the courtyard."

"Which one?"

"C'mon," he laughed, taking your hand and leading you after him. You danced after him on your tip-toes, avoiding using your whole shoe and the high heel that elevated you off the ground several inches. "Easy, watch it, careful now," he teased.

"Hey," Farleigh greeted, watching you two go with a smile.

He bet Venetia that this was the summer you two got together. Felix had confided in him that he was considering the idea of settling down, having sowed his wild oats and being tired of running through girls like he had this past year. Farleigh never thought he'd hear such words from Felix Catton, but after seeing you and his cousin running off, he knew, it was only a matter of time before confessions were made.

"There he is," You pointed.

"Ollie!" Felix called, both of you jogging up to him. "Hiya, mate."

"Hey," He greeted you both as Felix didn't stop.

"C'mon, then! Follow us!"

Upon arriving at a stone bridge that passed over a thin stream, you let Felix explain what you were doing and why you were there. "So, in my family, we have this tradition, right? When somebody dies, we write their name on a, er, on a stone," he showed Ollie the stone he made, "and we chuck it in the river. My great-grandfather started it when his son died in the war. We've only done it for Y/N's parents and my dog so far, but... You know, I don't know, I just..."

"It helped, a bit," you filled in when Felix looked at you. You took the stone from Fi's hand and handed it to Ollie, offering, "Felt like our own private goodbye."

When Oliver took the stone and looked it over, Felix anxiously excused, "This feels a bit fucking stupid now."

"No. It's not stupid," Ollie insisted sincerely - only looking at Felix, like the whole world did. "Thank you."

"It's something, right?"

This lead into Felix explaining "what to do", Ollie taking a moment after. When he looked over, he saw Felix had positioned you in front of him, arms wrapped around your neck to keep you close, both screwing your eyes shut in prayer. It would've been endearing had this been an honest memorial...

When the stone was throw, it clattering into the mud on the embankment... A foreshadow you should've paid more attention to. This lead into you three sitting on the stone bannister, skipping the ball, sharing the champagne, and after learning about Ollie's poor living arrangements, for Felix to invite him home with you two. To Saltburn, setting in motion a series of unfortunate events.

That night, you stayed in Felix's dorm, asking, "Are you sure about this?"

"Hmm?"

"Ollie - coming home with us?"

"Oh, yeah, love, it'll be fine," he promised. "Gives us one more person in the house, that's never bad, is it?"

You couldn't answer, you didn't know.

Your first night home was memorable in the sense that Venetia, Felix's older sister, insisted on 'girls night' and locked you both in her room. "So? Did you tell him yet?" She rushed with an excited grin, pouring you both a glass of wine. "Farleigh and I have a bet goin' - "

"Tell who, what?"

She glared, "Don't play coy. You're in love with Felix!"

"Venetia!"

"Oh, shove off, I won't tell him - but does that mean you haven't either?"

"If I did, you honestly think I'd be here?"

"Well, yes - "

"He doesn't feel the same," you insisted, "and if I tell him, he wouldn't want me here anymore, it'd be awkward."

"You're absolutely insane if you think any of that is true!"

"Ven."

"He's mad for you."

"He say that?"

"Well, no, but I can tell."

"It's not gonna happen," you sighed, shaking your head. "Not with all his interests, and those interested in him," you explained bitterly.

"I think you should tell him," she nodded. "It wouldn't hurt to tell the truth, but it might give you both some relief. I promise, he doesn't want you out of his life, so, even by the off chance he doesn't feel the same, he'd still want you around. Oh, know what would be romantic? Writing him a note! You've always been a talented writer."

By the end of the bottle, you and Venetia had started drafting a letter; confessing your feelings and coming up with the grand idea to ask him to meet you in the maze if he felt the same. It was where you both went when wanting solidarity, being a place of worship for you both. The center of the maze was remote, private, being where your tears could be shed and secrets shared.

It felt fitting to meet there.

Your letter wasn't perfected to your standards until Ollie arrived. His first night, you began to feel that tickle in your chest again, and for some reason, you mistook this for 'butterflies' and decided tonight was the night. So, you snuck into Felix's room before dinner, knowing he was already out, and left your note on his bed; unaware that Oliver was watching through the crack in the bathroom door.

He slithered in when you were done, slowly approaching the bed, and fingering the letter. He plucked it in hand, opened the unsealed envelope, and read your confessional; requesting, that if he even had an inkling of returned affection, he'd meet you after dinner, in the maze. At the center, beneath the Minotaur statue.

Ollie stared at your flourish of a signature and instantly crumpled the letter, surging back into his room and shredding it into bits. He swept them away into the waste bin and adjusted his jacket.

"There you are!" Felix smiled, finding you in the hall. "Don't you look nice, darlin'."

"You always say that."

"I always mean it," he grinned, escorting you to the dining room.

Dinner was... Interesting, to say the least.

You were distracted by nerves only Oliver clocked, Venetia giggling and Felix the center of attention - as usual. He reached out a few times to grab your thigh, asking muttered questions in your ear, making sure you were all right after he noticed you had barely eaten. Oliver had to hide his amusement as you just seemed anxious, and when dinner was ended, he watched you scurry from the room as if the Devil was at your heels.

"Oh, is my darling girl all right?" Elspeth asked in concern.

"She had a lot of wine," Farleigh smirked.

"Ah, yes," Mrs. Catton waved off, and Felix stood from the table shortly after.

Oliver stalked by the windows that evening, catching sight of you, still in your evening gown, cutting through the mist to head into the maze. He smirked, hearing Felix in his room - but then catching sight of Venetia through a different window. A different part of his plan roared to life that night; meeting the sultry sister under the moon, both knowing you were waiting in the dark for Felix.

You paced in the cold. Your dress drug through the grass, bare feet tickled.

The hour drug by slowly. You lit another cigarette, watching the mouth of the maze.

The second hour rushed by. Your stomach knotted.

Three, four hours ticked by. And you were left standing alone, in the middle of the maze, coughing and wheezing.

You dropped to your knees when your ailment turned physically violent; fingernails digging into the mud as you choked and heaved, trying in vain to clear your throat. When you stuck your fingers down your throat, you threw up bile, dirt, acid, wine, and long, bright yellow sunflower petals - sobs soon wracking your entire being.

He didn't come... He didn't come. He didn't come.

You threw up twice more, blood staining your chest and dress; teeth outlined in red, the dewy taste of pollen left on your tongue. You sobbed until your head hurt, and sobbed some more; confusion and heartache taking over. When you managed to find your feet, you felt lighter, thinner, smaller, less of yourself than you have ever before.

A piece of you had officially cracked away, being spewed into the mud and grass at the base of the Minotaur statue.

When venturing back to your room, you gasped when you nearly smacked into Duncan. You stared at one another in mild shock, his eyes taking in your state and you quietly begged, "Please... Don't say anything to Sir and Mrs. Catton. I don't want them t'worry until I know what's wrong. I-I'm going to the doctors, Duncan, please, give me time to figure this out."

He nodded sadly, shocked by the blood left behind. The following morning, he didn't wake you... He let you sleep, demanding you be left alone to the waitstaff. When Elspeth questioned your absence at breakfast as Ollie entered the dining room, Duncan was heard, "Miss L/N was up early this morning, went for a run. She went back to bed, said she didn't sleep well."

"Oh, the poor darling," Sir James Catton tutted.

"Morning," Ollie greeted, careful not to let his excitement show over your empty chair beside Felix. Venetia was staring at her brother in near anger, confusing him, but distracted instantly by Oliver's arrival. Sir James greeted him first, Venetia followed, and Felix invited the lad to help himself to a meal.

You had sobbed the whole night, puking bits of blood as the flower petals tightened your windpipe; the tackiness making them stick like glue. You didn't know what to do - there was no way you could face the Cattons now, not after Felix surely told them that you would leave Saltburn (for good) soon.

But sometime after breakfast, there was a knock at your door.

"Come in," you bid quietly, debating if you should start packing or not. When Felix entered, he was holding a bouquet of sunflowers, smiling softly.

"All right, love?"

"What?"

He chuckled, "I'm asking if you're all right, we missed you at breakfast."

You just blinked stupidly, "Uh, y-yeah, guess I am."

"Good," he chirped, approaching you and handing over the flowers. "Got these for you, thought maybe you could use a bit cheering up?"

"Why would I...? Felix, is there - is there anything you want to say to me?"

"Uh, no? Not really, I mean, I was gonna see if you fancied coming with us to the field?"

You stared at him in confusion. "You... Don't want me to go?"

"Go? Go where?" He laughed, "Cause yes, I'd like you to go with us... To the field? I just asked you - you sure you're feeling all right?"

"Um, y-yeah," you swallowed thickly, petals peeling back down your throat. "Thank you, for these," you accepted the flowers.

"Figured, with your parent's anniversary comin' up, should keep you close, you know?"

You shook your head, "Wasn't even on my mind, Fi..."

"And I just put it there, Christ, Felix, fantastic job," he cursed himself, hand through his hair in stress. "I'm sorry, love, I didn't mean - "

"You didn't, it's fine - I-I mean, I'm fine," you assured, trying to stave off tears. "Actually, Fi, I'm feeling a bit tired, think I'll nap."

"Duncan said you were?"

"No, no, I didn't get back t'sleep," you nearly whispered, needing to clear your throat again. "You lot have fun, I'll find you later."

"Sure? 'S Ollie's first time," he taunted. "Don't wanna miss that, do yah, love? And we're reading The Half-Blood Prince together, can't miss that."

"I'll catch up tonight, promise," you nodded, "just tell me what chapter you get through."

Felix stared at you, reaching to pinch your jaw and pet his thumb down your cheek. He whispered, "Sure you're all right?"

You nodded, shaking off his touch, hating how easy it was to fall in love with him. "Just tired, pretty boy. Promise."

"All right, well... Find us later, yeah?"

"'Course."

But you didn't leave your room for three days, unable to control the vomiting spells, the blood, the pain, the petals... The gutwrenching heartache. Venetia checked on you damn near every other hour, sitting, resting your head in her lap, stroking your locks in comfort as you sobbed.

"Tell me what's happening?" She begged, unable to get it out of you yet. But you felt another wave, jumping from her embrace to rush into the restroom; sliding on your bruised knees in front of the toilet. She followed, and like her brother's done many times, gathered your hair to hold back. "Jesus fucking Christ!" She gaped, seeing the blood and long, bright yellow petals. "Are those - what the fuck is that!?"

You heaved greatly, throat shredding as blooms and stubby stems cut up your esophagus. When you stared at the devastatingly beautiful blooms coated in your blood, floating atop of the water, you looked up at your friend and confessed, "I'm in love with your brother."

"I know, babe - "

"And he doesn't feel the same," you sobbed; breaking down, panting for breath, Venetia dropping to your level to pull you into her chest. "I-I-I left him the letter, Ven, I-I-I asked him to meet me..."

"He didn't show?"

"I waited hours!" You wailed, finally breaking down after the past couple of years caught up to you. "He never came! An-And then, he shows up with flowers - with fucking sunflowers! - acting as if he never saw my letter! Acting as if he didn't know! Like - Like it's easier to ignore than confront!"

"Oh, sweet girl," she whispered, gently rocking you both as you couldn't catch your breath.

Neither of you attended dinner that evening. Felix showed up again, like he had everyday, asking if you were hungry while holding a plate of toast and mug of tea. But you had passed out in Venetia's arms, the fake blonde waving her brother away, doing her best not to snap at him - remembering she made you a promise that she wouldn't interfere. You feared if she got involved, you really would be asked to leave Saltburn and you had nowhere else to go.

The following morning, you were up before Venetia.

"Hey," she grunted, stretching in your bed after spending the night. "You all right? What're you doing?"

"Goin' for a run," you answered, lacing your trainers.

"How do you feel?"

"Well," you sighed, "pretty fucking foolish, but it's summer. Yeah? Best not to dwell on what I can't have..."

"But it's killing you, love," she sat up.

"I'll get over it," you assured, not believing yourself. "If he can act as if nothing's happened, so can I. Do me a favor, though, love?"

"Anything."

"Sit between us?"

She frowned, watching you head out of the room. When she peered from the window, she saw you setting off around the ground and flopped back into bed for another hour.

"Oh, there you are!" Elspeth gasped when you entered the dining room that morning - jetting out of her chair. "Oh, darling, are you all right? Gave us a fright - thought you were sick or something!"

"Just a wee stomach bug, I promise," you accepted her embrace.

"I'm glad you've joined us," she whispered. "Felix has been dreadfully annoying."

"I can hear you, Mum," Felix groaned when you two pulled back. "Ven, hop down one," He told his sister.

"No, no, stay put, love, I can sit here," you assured the siblings, taking the seat on the other side of the sister.

Felix frowned instantly. "Don't think I've ever seen you two sit apart all these years," Sir James teased, reaching to pat your hand. "Good to have you join us, darling."

"Thank you," you whispered, Duncan placing a plate before you.

"How come she's served?" Ollie wondered without thinking.

"Miss Y/N has been unwell," Duncan replied stiffly.

"Oh, tell the truth, Duncan," you smirked, "I'm just your favorite."

It spurred the family on, Farleigh offering you a look of confusion from across the table. You waved him off, not once looking to your left at Felix - only ever answering Venetia by looking directly at her, avoiding her brother.

Felix felt something in his gut shift as you avoided him more and more. Venetia all but moved into your room, or you into hers - not wanting you alone in this time of duress. Meaning, each time Felix tried to get you alone for questioning, his sister was driving him away. When hanging out as a group, you no longer were at Felix's side, but opted for Venetia and Farleigh's.

It left a gaping hole for Ollie to fill - happily.

"Did I do something, you think?" He asked Oliver one day, floating in the lake, watching you braid Ven's hair as she read from her copy of The Half-Blood Prince.

"No, just maybe," Ollie shrugged, "it's, I don't know, girl stuff?"

"I'm her best mate, she never avoids me like this," Felix frowned. Oliver hated how genuinely hurt Felix sounded. "Seriously, what did I do?"

"I couldn't say, mate. Maybe just let her cool off, come to you when ready," he advised, watching Felix nod sadly and stare at you from behind his sunnies. He craved Felix's attention that you so effortlessly warranted.

You didn't sit with Felix during movie nights anymore, opting for the furthest seat on the floor at Sir James' feet. You didn't spend the night in his room once, nor let him into yours. You weren't on his tennis team. You didn't share sunbeds.

You no longer met for midnight swims, something that made Felix explicitly sad. He waited with his feet in the water, but this time, you were the one who never showed up.

You didn't sit with him at meals, making his family acutely suspicious. Yet neither of you seemed at odds - so, what were the truly worried over? You acted as if there wasn't a thing wrong, but they all noticed the sickly state you took on.

You thinned out, you barely ate a fourth of your meals, you went on runs as often as you could - even in the sweltering heat. You barely slept, creating bags under your eyes, dull, lifeless hair, and a concerning docile attitude. It was as if you were haunting the castle, barely visible, making yourself into a shell of who you once were.

You simply weren't yourself and the Cattons had no idea how to help. Elspeth sent tea to your room. Sir James let you pick movies for family movie nights, but you never seemed interested. Farleigh tried to engage you on the daily, but nothing seemed to register. Even Oliver put on a show by approaching you at the lake, sitting beside you, trying to strike a conversation.

"Sorry, Ollie, I was about t'go for a run," you eased.

"Been goin' on a lot of those. Want company?"

"No," you refused.

"Sure it's a good idea?" He asked. "Been throwing up a lot, might make it worse."

This made you freeze from where you had stood, slowly turning to look down at him. "Excuse me?" You seethed. "You spying on me?"

"I can hear yah sometimes," he nodded. "You're hiding it from the others, aren't yah? The blood, the tears... The way you're wasting away?"

From a short distance, Felix recognized the angry look and body language you wore. Slowly lowering yourself, you hissed to Ollie, "You keep your fucking mouth shut or I'll make sure you're on the first train back to fucking nowhere tomorrow morning. Hear me? You don't know shit about a Goddamn thing, you don't fucking know me, and if you're smart, you'll shut the fuck up, Oliver."

He watched you with a small smirk; standing over him before vacating the lake's shore.

That night, Oliver heard moaning from the adjoining bathroom. Upon his 'investigation', he spied Felix in the clawed-foot bathtub; steam wafting from the water, sweat beading down his skin, and bicep pumping vigorously as he pleasured himself. But what infuriated Oliver was the subtle, nearly slurred and unintelligible moan of your name from Felix's mouth. It seems, despite his best effort to drive a wedge between you two, there was lingering emotion that neither knew what to do with.

You were withering away, and Felix was self pleasuring to you.

Oliver had to up the ante, but how? You avoided the Cattons on a rotating basis - not letting any of them too close to figure out you were devastatingly ill, except Venetia. And the sister wasn't about to spill this darkening secret of yours, she was loyal to a fault.

Only Oliver seemed to know this dark little tale, figuring Felix hadn't even admitted his feelings for you to himself. Perhaps why he found relief in the tub, releasing into the water with a tear falling from his eye over the idea that you no longer wanted to sustain a friendship. It was all terribly confusing for the summer residents at Saltburn. And yet, in an effort to feel closer to Felix than you ever had, Oliver climbed into the draining bathtub and slurped Felix's cum as if it were water from The Holy Grail.

It made him feel superior. It made him feel as if he were winning an endless race. Made him feel like he was validated in pushing you out in favor of himself - no matter the history between you and the Cattons. Made him feel like he was solidifying himself amongst the distant royalty and you were giving reason to be thrown out of Saltburn.

But he would underestimate the power of family.

He got a little too cocky the night he met Venetia outside, in the moonlight, with Farleigh watching from his window.

The following morning, there was a pounding at your door - a rare night Ven didn't sleep with you. When you opened the door, Felix came pushing in, looking purely distraught.

"Look, I know you're pissed at me for whatever reason - but I fucking need to talk to you, okay? Please - I-I feel like I'm about to lose my mind, Y/N, love, please - "

"What's happened?" You asked, shutting the door. "I was about to head out - "

"Please, love! Please!"

"Christ Almighty, all right, the fuck's goin' on with you? Hey? Looks like you're gonna give yourself a stroke," you approached him, caressing his bicep. "What happened?"

"He kissed her."

"Come again?"

"Fucking Ollie - Oliver! He fucking kissed Venetia!"

"When?"

"Last night, Farleigh saw them."

"Oh, love, c'mon, you know Farleigh doesn't like Ollie."

"So, he's lying? You think he's lying?"

"I didn't say that, but you're all worked up. C'mon, just breathe for a minute, gonna pass out from the way you're huffin' and puffin'."

"Please, be serious! This is serious!"

"I know it is, I'm just trying to be rational."

"So, Farleigh's lying."

"Well, I don't think so - kinda a huge lie t'tell, innit?"

"I thought so," he snapped, hand through his hair in anxiety. "I-I mean, how could he? How could Ollie do this - I-I mean, my sister? My fucking sister?"

"Love, if you're this worked up, just go talk to him," you tried. "Ask Ollie point-blank what happened."

"Would you ask Venetia?"

"No, darling, that's not how this works."

"Well, how will we know who's lying? Farleigh or Ollie?"

"I don't know - is this even something to lie about? What did Farleigh say?"

"He saw them - tonguing - practically eating each other!"

You sighed, "Love? You're not gonna want t'hear this."

"God, what?"

"Venetia's a big girl, she can tongue and eat who she pleases."

"It's bad form, though, innit? I mean - he's my friend, my guest, here under my invitation, and he gets with my sister?"

You shrugged slightly, "I don't know, Fi, but she's allowed to do as she pleases; Ollie, too. It's not like either are dating someone, hey? What? You jealous? Of your sister?"

"Fuck off with that, know that's not it," he snapped again.

"What is it, then?"

"It's another Eddie situation!"

You sighed, "Fi... You can't horde people, right? Ollie bein' here, he's free game to you, Farleigh, Ven."

"And you?"

"Fuck no, lad gives me the creeps," you blanched.

"Still?"

"Yeah, fuckin' still. Call it intuition, but there's something off, Felix. I know you don't want to hear it, but when I have ever been wrong? Huh? Tell me."

"You've not been."

"Exactly - I know a leech when I see one. So, you draw your assumptions, but perhaps what Farleigh saw is true, perhaps not - but you'll get more answers by confronting the truth than ignoring it."

He sighed, dropping to your bed, shaking his head. "Well..." He mumbled, "What do you think?"

You paused, "Doesn't matter."

"Does to me. Please, love, it's Eddie again and I don't - "

"All right," you relented, sitting beside him. "My money's on... Something happened, it's just a matter of what, exactly. How about we go to breakfast, see what the energy is there."

"Feels like I can't stomach anything."

"Your mother and father will be upset if we don't go down, c'mon," you whispered, standing, offering your hand. "I'll sit with you, and if you get upset, you can just lean into me, yeah?"

He took your hand, but didn't get up. He just stared at where you were conjoined, rubbing your hand with his thumb. "Does this mean we're fine? That things are... Are things okay between us?"

"Never not been fine, Fi."

"You've avoided me since we got here."

"I've been dealing with shit - "

"That you won't tell me about," he scoffed.

"Yeah," you agreed, his eyes shooting up to meet yours, "you're right, I won't tell you 'cause I can't yet. I want answers first... Then we can talk. I've gotta figure this out for myself, Fi."

"Well, I can help, you know?"

"No, you've helped plenty," you alluded. "C'mon, breakfast."

"Fuck's sake," he grumbled, finally standing, but tightening his grip on your hand. You lead the way to the terrace the Cattons decided to dine at that morning, being the last two to arrive.

There were two seats side-by-side.

"Good morning," you greeted the family that took you in, Felix silent and angry as he took his seat - but still pulled yours out.

"Morning."

"Good morning, darlings," Elspeth breathed from the head of the table.

"You sleep well?" Ollie asked as Felix whipped his cloth napkin to his lap.

"No, not really, mate," he grit, not looking at the boy and instead, reached for your hand. You handed him a cigarette, placing your own between your lips - both forgoing morning meals.

"We're 30 for dinner tomorrow night," Sir James informed the table. "Stopford Sackville has cried off."

"Oh, dear, that's a shame," Elspeth feigned sympathy.

"God, I forgot about fucking dinner," Felix tilted his head back, speaking between his stick as you lit the end of yours - then reaching for his after nudging his bulging bicep to warrant his immediate attention.

"Wait, who is coming to dinner, again?" Farleigh asked.

"The Henrys," Ven reminded.

"No, please!" Farleigh whined quietly.

"Who are the Henrys?" Ollie asked.

"Dad's friends," Ven filled in, Felix glaring at you as you laced your hand with his and squeezed in warning. "They're all called Henry."

"Not all of them," James corrected. "Just most."

"It'll be fun," Elspeth assured.

"It'll be being molested by Henry," Ven continued, swallowing a bite of croissant. "You know which one."

"Oh, I'll put you next to Oliver, then, he can molest you instead," Elspeth quipped, Felix strangling your hand.

"Don't," you whispered, Ollie's head cocking at Ven in an unspoken conversation. She hummed an amused chuckle. Felix glared at them both before looking back at you, silently begging you to let him snap. "Not right now, please, just breathe," you whispered in his ear, ensuring none others heard you.

"Oh, Oliver, I was going to say, we should do something fun for your birthday. Y/N's is at the end of the summer, we can combine efforts! A proper party! No Henrys, something actually fun. What do you think, darling?"

"Mum, you know Y/N doesn't celebrate anymore," Felix seethed with offense.

"Oh, I know, but it might be fun - a combination party?" She offered. "Darling?"

"If Oliver and Y/N would like it, I think it's a splendid idea," James agreed with his wife.

"I think Oliver looks like he'd rather throw himself out of a window," Farleigh chimed, everyone knowing to avoid asking you your thoughts since you couldn't celebrate without your parents - it just felt wrong. Like a betrayal. So, you no longer celebrated the day of your birth, but the Cattons looked for any reason to throw a party.

"What kind of party?" Oliver asked Elspeth.

"I don't know, whatever you want!" She insisted. "What do you think? About 100 people?"

"A hundred?"

"Or two! It invariably ends up being two, doesn't it, with this sort of thing?" She asked her husband, who hummed in amusement. She told Ollie, "Invite whoever you want. All your friends."

"What friends?" Farleigh leered.

"Oh! Oh!" James folded his paper messily in excitement, jumping to attention, "How about fancy dress?"

Ollie reached over and nudged Felix in curiosity, picking up on his angry demeanor. Your best mate looked down at you, making you lean your chin on his shoulder. "Oh, yes!" Mrs. Catton agreed.

"I can wear my suit of armor, Elspeth!" James giddily exclaimed with a childlike grin that made your heart weep gently.

"Good idea, darling," she agreed as Venetia stood hastily from the table; all knowing where she was going, and what she was going to do. "We could have a theme!" She distracted, you watching Venetia and knowing you needed to follow. She'd been caring for you in your illness, you could at least hold her hair back, too. "What about Midsummer Night's Dream?" Elspeth looked around for opinions.

"Lovely," James prasied.

"Bring on the slutty fairies," Farleigh mused.

"Awh, lovie, you'll still be the sluttiest fairy, don't worry," you teased, glancing back again and seeing Venetia escape inside.

"You wanna match my sluttiness?" He asked you.

"As if that was ever in question," you shot back, Felix offering you a small look. "I'll be right back," you excused yourself, standing from your seat but bending at the waist. You whispered in Felix's ear, "I've gotta go, 'M sorry, just keep calm, love. You're all right."

"Find me later," he requested, holding your hand a moment longer before letting you escape.

"So," James grinned as you walked away, leaning in towards his son, "how are things with you two?"

"Yes, darling, you two seem better! Did you finally tell her how you feel?" Elspeth asked.

If Felix was surprised by his parents knowledge, he didn't show; instead scoffing lightly, "Yeah, right..."

"Oh, darling - "

"She doesn't feel the same, Mum," he refused, sighing deeply - making Oliver's stomach coil. "Just leave it, all right? We're just friends, only ever gonna be just friends - she's part of the family. No need to mess all that up."

Farleigh smirked subtly and took a drag from his cigarette.

While hosting the Henrys for dinner, you felt another tide turn while sitting amongst the rich and fabulous. You knew them all, of course, grew up knowing them and attending these dinners with your parents. But something was amiss, something churned your stomach and clenched your heart.

You felt your chest tickle and tighten, the desperate need to cough nearly strangling you; Oliver paying close attention to your struggle from beside Felix. You coughed unexpectedly, seeing blood splatter onto your plate and without a single person noticing, you got up, excused yourself, and rushed from the dinner table with a hand over your mouth. Duncan swiftly cleared your place setting.

"Hear that, love?" Felix turned to look at you, only finding an empty seat. He looked around in case you were mingling, not spying you, and slowly got to his feet.

"Where are you going, darling?" James asked, "Sit, sit - "

"I'm only going to check on Y/N," he explained.

"No, no, sit, sit, sit, we know she's been fighting her stomach all summer," James waved off, and slowly, Felix went against his instinct and sat down. Venetia felt her heart steel in annoyance, wishing her brother would just wake up and realize what was happening.

When Oliver caught Venetia's eye, she questioned, "Felix warned you off, then?"

"Well, maybe we just need to be a bit more careful," he hushed.

"No, thanks," Ven refused, not one to sneak around her own home to satisfy her brother's jealously and possessiveness. "It's just sooooo disappointing," she snipped. "You're just another one of his toys."

"Like Y/N?"

"Y/N's not a toy," she barked.

"You're upset," Oliver noted.

"Oh, don't worry, I'm used to it - honestly. I mean, he never liked sharing his toys. Even the ones he doesn't want to play with anymore."

Oliver cocked his head, wondering, "Well, he's kept Y/N around this long."

"Y/N isn't a toy, Oliver, not to Felix, not to this family," she sneered in anger. "And he won't ever grow tired of her, she doesn't hold a temporary position in his life - unlike most." She chuckled dryly, "Honestly, do you not get it by now? She's the gatekeeper, and you're just a passing interest. You won't ever truly be his because she already is, and there's no replacing Y/N L/N - not to Felix, not in this lifetime." She offered a fake smile and turned from him to face her left, distracted by one of the Henrys.

Oliver knew all that, and he was working on removing you from the portrait - but it seemed, maybe he didn't have to work too hard. A rare disease had infected you the moment Oliver Quick laid eyes on Felix Catton - eating away at you internally, making you lose interest in yourself, plaguing you with self doubt to the point you couldn't look in a mirror without seeing a stranger. When Oliver decided to act against the pretty, rich boy, he started a chain of events that lead here: him, in a tux, at a dinner party, and you, shattering the frail skin on your knees from how hard you dropped to them - spewing blood, wine, and sunflower blossoms.

You choked harshly, make up ruined from your blood, sweat, and tears; hacking out most of a put-together flower. Your throat was shredded, dripping blood down into your lungs to slowly fill them again - floral growth breaking the barrier of your organs, sending unimaginable pain through your body.

You heard the karaoke begin, heaving over the sounds of drunken antics. You slowly crawled out of the bathroom, sniffling as you used your bed to lift your fragile body to your feet only to strip from your gown and crash into bed. Weakness invaded your muscles, exhaustion coated your bones, and your eyes stung with the endless supply of tears that would stain your cheeks.

Morning came far too quickly, and with it, Farleigh's forced departure from Saltburn. You were all dreadfully confused, Venetia explaining he'd been caught nicking items from around the house to sell for a profit - perhaps feeling desperate, wanting to help his mother without needing to ask for the help.

You weren't sure what to say to the situation, so you said nothing, but felt desperate to scream for your own help at the top of your lungs. The closer Ollie's birthday drew, the more you bent over the toilet, the more blooms that tore from your lungs and esophagus. You were at a loss over what to do, fearing you were too late for a doctor, and on the hottest day of the year, while everyone was outside by the water, you were inside, scouring the vast and random library.

"Miss," Duncan leered from behind you, no longer causing fright. "Is there something I can help you locate?"

"No, I'm just doin' some more research, Duncan, thank you, though."

"On what's wrong, Miss?"

"Yeah," you frowned, storing another book. "Nothing answers my questions, nothing explains this condition."

"Hm," he considered, "may I?"

"Please," you gestured him forward, watching in mild curiosity as he moved the ladder, ascended, looked over the spines of the many books and then made his selection.

"I've read every book in this library, and think this might help," He explained, handing you the dark green book about Japanese lore and watching you instantly finger through it.

You eyed him for a moment, asking, "You haven't told them, have you?"

"I found your request for privacy reasonable," he nodded, "and have not told the masters of the house."

You nodded, breathing in relief. "I promise, I'll tell them soon - when I figure this out."

"I think you already have," he mentioned, glancing at the open book in your hands. When you looked down, you had paused on a page titled: Hanahaki Disease.

The chapter was filled with detailed accounts of previous patients and sufferers; all giving a recollection of their battle with the unknown illness. You looked up at Duncan in shock, rereading the passage that told you what you needed to know:

"Hanahaki Disease can be fatal by making the infected vomit flora; either just petals or full blooms. There are three known variations of the disease, but all are caused by unrequited love - making the process often long, drawn out, and incredibly painful. The first variation involves the infected confessing their love to their desired, and that love being returned. This is the cleanest way to cure Hanahaki Disease. The second variation includes the desired not returning the known affection, leaving the infected to undergo surgery, a viable but messy recovery. The operation removes the plants growing in the lungs, but in turn, also removes all known traces and memory of the desired - but it does result in the infected being cured. The third and final variation is the worst, where the infected confesses, the desired does not return any affection or want, and leaves them to suffer until the bitter, bloody end. Without care or caution, this disease can become unmanageable with common side effects including but not limited to: blood loss, weight loss, avoidance, isolation, fear of food, fear of living, fear of affection, miscommunication, blood from other bodily orifices, and uncontrollable depression, anxiety, and other mental afflictions. Most infected never fully recover from the aftermath of this disease, and even when their love is returned, they are often haunted by the damaging effects of unrequited love."

You stared at the passage in shock, looking up slowly to spy Duncan staring at you in pity.

"I had a companion like you are to Mr. Felix, once," he confessed. "I was dedicated to my job, loyal to the Cattons, and in turn, he suffered greatly because I couldn't love him how he deserved." Duncan blinked at you twice in the silence that stretched between you. "My advice, Miss? Do not wait - you should come clean to Mr. Felix, let him decide how he feels, and should he not return your affection, I will take you personally to the hospital, where you might choose to undergo the procedure."

"And lose all memory of Felix? Of the Cattons? Of Saltburn?" You asked in desperation, tears swelling in your sunken eyes. "Not likely, Duncan, they're my family. I couldn't bear to forget them, even if it means I should live - I wouldn't be alive anymore. Not without him, not without this family that took me in without a moment's hesitation. I'd lose myself."

"But you'd have the chance to discover something new," he argued gently. "You have your own decisions to make, Miss, but I can only tell you my deepest regret was being so far up Sir James' arse that I missed the life that passed me by. And now," he sighed, "I live with the fact that I condemned my beautiful Roger."

"I'm sorry for your loss, Duncan..."

"I do not wish to see you suffer more than you have been," he frowned. "But I understand the fear you have, emotions are terrifying, especially for the young. But love is not conditional, Miss... Remember that. And having only a part of Mr. Felix would result in losing yourself entirely, whereas losing a part of him would result in you rediscovering all you are. Just... Just something to think about."

"How did you find this?" You asked softly.

"After Roger, I had no reason to care for much else other than the written accounts of those who passed before me. It felt like I was given a life to live, if only vicariously. I've read them all," he reminded, gesturing to the grand library, "and when I found this, I knew I had my answers. That being afraid costs us more than being brave."

You read the book in its entirety. You soaked in every recorded account.

Duncan's words weighed on your heart, and the last few nights leading up to Oliver's party were spent on bruised knees. Venetia still slept in your room a few nights a week, begging you to seek medical attention, and you promised her, after the party, you'd take action. She didn't need to know you were lying just yet.

But as it seemed, your lies were minuscule in comparison to others.

The day of the party arrived, Felix taking Ollie out for a drive as a birthday present. Where their destination was, you didn't know, you couldn't care, because watching them drive off the property dropped you to the ground as your heart felt as if it were physically shattered. You couldn't breath, the sunflowers strangling you from the inside, and after watching the love of your life drive off with another lad, you felt as if your fate was sealed.

That was it.

He didn't love you, he had Ollie. There was only so much love to be given at a time, and Ollie soaked it all up. You didn't stand a chance, you knew Felix's infatuation was out of control with Ollie's pitiful background piquing his interest. You felt like old news, you felt abandoned, alone, cold, heartless...

"What're you wearing tonight?" Venetia asked, tossing pieces of clothing around. "Felix is wearing these sort of golden wings, want to match?"

"What are you wearing, love? Maybe I'll match with you?"

"No, no," she grinned, "I've just found the perfect outfit for you!"

She squealed in excitement, turning to show you the dress seemingly made out of strips of fabric and a corset; creating an ethereal look and design. The color was pale, moss green with shimmering pale golds and nudes paired amongst the fabric. It created an illusion that the mini dress moved and swished around your thighs, and when she handed you golden gladiator sandals, you were sold.

Venetia spent more time helping you get ready than she did herself. She ensured your hair was pinned off your neck, that your make-up was mystical and covered in glitter, corset cinched at the waist to show your figure, and that you had a smaller pair of golden wings to top off your slutty fairy look.

Farleigh would've been proud.

The dress showed off your back, only thin straps keeping it in place as the wings were small enough that you weren't hidden under them. You showed more skin in that dress than you had all summer, your thinning frame tailored under Venetia's talented fingers.

Her hands clapped when you showed her the final look.

"Love the spider web chain," you complimented, clipped her in.

"Sure?"

"It's a look, Ven, you're stunning," you complimented, smiling at your friend with genuine kindness. "C'mon, I think I can hear people arriving."

Once more, Venetia squealed and snatched your hand, racing from her room and leading you into the party on the grounds as the sun was beginning to set. After greeting Elspeth and Sir James, complimenting their chosen costumes, you were sucked into a night of young debauchery; Venetia pinned to your side.

And thankfully, she was there to witness the moment you gave up. Moving through one of the darkened rooms, you were mingling with old classmates, happy to see familiar, friendly faces, and just as you turned, your glass shattered to the floor with the last bit of your heart and composure.

You saw Felix, clear as day, dancing with none other then fucking India - the girl you felt most in competition with, besides Annabel. He was so close to her, they were practically fucking; seemingly distracted by one another, they didn't even notice the party.

"Oh, love," Ven turned to you, but you just gave her a pained look.

"I'm gonna go," you rushed.

"No, wait - "

"I need to be alone, Ven," you insisted, the tears starting as your chest felt too tight in the crowded room. "I told you, I fucking told you, he doesn't feel the same," you sniffled, her eyes widening as you felt a familiar metallic taste in your mouth.

When your hand lifted, you smeared blood from your lips and nostrils, blinking in recognition - knowing what was to come next.

"I-I-I have to go, 'M sorry," you rushed, blood oozing and dripping down your neck in artistic scribbles. You didn't bother hiding this time, turning from your fellow drunkards to escape outside - heading for the maze, like you always did when needing to be alone.

Your room wasn't safe, anyone could find you there. The entire home was overrun with party-goers. The grounds surrounding Saltburn unsafe for your breakdown, as well.

So, you raced to the one place you felt safe anymore: the maze.

Your blood stained the shrubbery as you stumbled through it, trying to hold together, but the moment you reached the Minotaur statue, your legs gave up, mud squishing to your knees, and instantly coughing, hacking, and heaving blood from your lungs.

Long, pretty bright yellow sunflower petals came out in an abundance, the most it's ever been, before you were vomiting full blooms again.

You felt woozy, dizzy... Less than human.

You just wanted it to stop.

When you left Venetia's side, she noted you beelining outside and knew immediately where you had run off to. In unfiltered anger, she turned and shoved through the crowd up to her brother, grabbed him by the strap of his wife beater, and yanked him after her.

"Oi! Hey, hey, hey, Venetia! What the fuck are you doing!?"

"You've fucked up!" She raged, ignoring the looks from others and lead him outside so they could hear each other.

"Are you out of your mind?" He demanded.

"Are you!?" She sneered. "The fuck are you doing!?"

"What?" He scoffed, "What am I doing wrong, dancing at our party? Hmm?"

"With that skank!?"

"Hey!" India barked, having followed them outside.

"This doesn't concern you!" Ven barked, Felix feeling on-edge with his sister so enraged.

"You're talkin' about me, I think it does!"

"Ven, what the hell's gotten into you - "

"It's about Y/N!"

Felix froze for a moment, then looked at India, "Go inside."

"What!?"

"Piss off, India! She's right, this doesn't concern you!" He snapped, the girl scurrying away with her tail tucked firmly between her legs. When Felix looked at his sister, he demanded in a rush, "What about Y/N? Where even is she - "

"I promised her I wouldn't intervene, I swore I wouldn't say anything - especially to you, but you're such a fucking idiot, if you're not fed anything, you don't get it!"

"Is this really the time to insult me?"

She glared, steeling her jaw and gritting, "Y/N's in the maze."

"Okay? She goes there - "

"No, listen to me," Ven sneered. "She's been in love with you, Farleigh and I both figured it out - but it was really fucking obvious."

Felix blanched in shock, "What?"

"She's in love with you, you fucking idiot! She's been sick the whole summer because you can't love her back!"

"How - what are you on about!?"

"She's been throwing up blood, you're honestly killing her by doing what you're doing with all these girls! By ignoring whatever you feel - by denying it repeatedly! It's not fair! All she's done is love and support you, care for you, protect you, and you're fucking killing her!"

He blinked, "She loves me?"

"Yes, you fucking imbecile! And tonight was her last straw, I fucking saw it! She lives here, you jagoff, and you're dancing with India - right in front of Y/N? In her own home? Where she's supposed to be safe!?"

"I-I didn't - I didn't know!"

"No shit, because you're both fucking idiots who talk about everything except your feelings! Do better, Felix! Now, go! She needs you to be a fucking man - go! She needs you, Felix, she's in the maze, don't fuck this up more than you have!"

He didn't hesitate to shoot off in the direction of the maze, Farleigh catching sight and pushing his brows together before realizing he was sprinting after you - I mean, who else would Felix move that fast for? Into the maze Felix went, and Farleigh knew, everything was about to change. Elspeth and Sir James didn't notice a thing, too distracted by their party, but there was another watching; a set of dead, ghostly blue eyes nearly glowing in the night as they locked onto their prey fleeing the party.

Felix sprinted his way through the maze, an expert at navigating, and when he made it to the center, his own heart constricted to a suffocating depth.

"Oh, my girl," he rushed to your side, getting on his knees and holding your weakening body as crimson dribbled from your mouth. The pool of blood was grand enough that he worried how you'd make it through the night; floating sunflowers a hauntingly beautiful sight in the dead of night. "Hey, hey, you're okay, you're all right, I got you - I'm here," he whispered, smoothing hair from your face. "It's me, it's your Felix, love, just focus on me, yeah?"

And finally, with a sniffle that did little to nothing, you looked into his eyes with yours rimmed in red. "Fi..."

"Don't talk, save your energy, I'm gonna get you somewhere safe - "

"I've gotta tell you something."

"Tell me after we get to your room, yeah?"

Your head shook, "If I wait longer, it'll get worse."

"Sweetheart, please - "

"I'm in love with you," you finally confessed to him, unable to look him in the eyes for a second longer. You stared at your demise, blood soaking into both your knees. "Have been, I think, since I moved in here," you whimpered, "and after my parents died, I fell so fucking in love with you that it hurt. But out of fear of losing this friendship, I couldn't - I couldn't tell you. And now, it's killing me, but you deserve to know: I'm so fucking in love with you, makes me physically ill. I-I can't do this anymore, Fi, I just can't - the pain is too much and I've already lost so much - "

"Felix?" Ollie called in a drunken whine, entering the center.

"Oh, Jesus Christ, man!" Felix snapped, whipping around to glare at Ollie as you folded into his chest out of sheer pain. Of course, in the midst of your confession, nobody but Oliver fucking Quick would show up. "Get out of here! Now, Ollie, I'm not fucking joking!"

"Is she all right?" He asked, stumbling a bit.

"What the fuck are you still doing here!? Get out, fucking go, this doesn't concern you!"

"We need to talk, I need to talk to you!"

"It's fine, talk t'him," you wheezed, trying to get to your feet, but failing out of sheer weakness.

"No, you need to fucking go, Ollie! Now! Y/N and I need to talk a helluva lot more than we do!"

You used his shoulders to stand, "Talk t'him, Fi, don't let this shit happen t'someone else." He glanced to your blood as you let go of him, stumbling just out of reach, towards one of the maze exits.

"We need to talk, Felix!" Ollie demanded as you slipped out of sight.

"No, you know what? Fuck you!" He barked. "You're not what's important right now, Ollie! For fuck's sake!"

"Don't go after her," Ollie sneered, stepping in Felix's way when he climbed to his feet and meant to go after you.

"Fuck is wrong with you, mate!?" Felix raged, shoving Ollie back several steps. "Hey? So fucked in the head, you think you take precedence over my girl?"

"Y-Your girl?"

"Fucking Y/N!" He shouted. "Yes! My fucking girl, that I was so blinded by you to fucking see what was wrong! Now fuck off!"

"She's nothing - "

"SHE'S FUCKING EVERYTHING!" Felix shouted, you pausing in the maze when you heard it. "You and I can talk later, if I even fucking want to, but right now, my girl needs me - not fucking you!"

"I see she's got you so blinded - "

"You think Y/N's the problem here?" Felix sneered, getting in Ollie's face; fisting the lapels of his blazer. "Huh? You blaming her?"

"No, just saying - "

"All the wrong fucking things," Felix shoved him back again. "She's all that fucking matters to me!" He shouted again, you slowly nearing the entrance into the center of the maze, remaining hidden behind a shrub. "Not you, not all your lies - but her! It's always been her, but you fucking knew that, didn't you!? You saw what we were, what we had, what we could've been, what we were dancing around, and just had to wedge yourself between us, yeah? I didn't see it before, but your fucking lies - all your fucking lies, you were trying to ruin the best thing in my life! And you might've just succeeded!"

"She doesn't deserve you! None of them do!"

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Oliver!?" Felix cried, "Leave me the fuck alone! Leave us the fuck alone! Leave my family the fuck alone! Christ! Please, stop!"

"We need to talk!" Ollie now approached Felix, making him back up into the statue.

"We can't - we can't, are you fucking crazy? Haven't you ruined enough!?"

"Me!?" He snarled. "I didn't ruin shit, it was her! It was all her, don't you see? You pitied us against each other, I had to do this! For you! You can't just throw me away!"

Felix lost his temper, shoving Oliver again, "Get the fuck away from me! I can! I can and I will throw you away - for her! I'd do anything for her, don't you fucking get that!? I didn't see before, but now I do, the slimy, scum you are - and I'd throw you away a hundred times if it meant being with her! Fuck out of here, leave us alone!"

Oliver shouted as he grabbed Felix's shirt, "Look, I just gave you what you wanted!" His voice lowered to a quiver, "Like everyone else does. Everyone puts on a show for Felix! So, I'm sorry that my - m-m-my performance wasn't good enough, like Y/N's always is."

You crept from the shadows, neither lad noticing; intrigued by the words being slurred, shouted, and weaponized.

"I think... I think you need to see somebody," Felix whispered, not willing to admit aloud that Oliver was scaring him. "You need help, okay? Seriously."

"No. No, I don't," Ollie sneered - sounding almost sober. "I just need you to understand how much I fucking love you."

And there it was - another confession. Your heart (or whatever was left of it) felt heavy, like it was being constricted and anchored to your feet.

Felix whispered, "I love Y/N, mate, you have to know - wasn't exactly a huge secret, except to us. To her and I, not you and I, Ollie."

You felt something akin to shock spark in your gut, blooming an unknown warmth through your body.

Oliver begged, "You're the only friend I ever had, Felix." His thumbs pet Felix's face despite him trying to wriggle away; being touched by the psychotic liar terrifying him - but no more than the feeling of dread he had watching you stumble away. "Okay... I mean, doesn't this just prove how much - how much of a good friend I actually am? How well I actually know you? I'm still the same person! Yeah?" He whimpered, "I'm still the same person."

"I don't know what you are," Felix whispered in reply. "But I do know you," he paused, confessing, "you make my fucking blood run cold." His head shook, "I know friendship - and it's not this, Ollie, it's not built on lies and deception. Y/N? She's everything to me, mate, and you tried to ruin that. You're a fucking liar, Ollie."

He gagged a little, releasing Felix to stare at him with a sense of defeat. Oliver gagged again, shoving the opened champagne to Felix's chest, muttering, "Wait there a sec," before stepping away to throw up on the opposite side of the statue. He knew the other boy wouldn't be able to resist an open bottle of alcohol.

However, Felix felt it was his opening to escape, and when he looked up, he caught sight of you.

Your finger rose to your lips in a silencing motion, glancing at a puking Oliver, and Felix didn't hesitate to drop the bottle and race for you. When his hands smoothed over either of your cheeks, he checked behind him - seeing Ollie still at a distance - stooping to scoop you in his arms, whispering, "We have to go, love, fucking now."

You agreed and let him rush away into the maze, and before you could exit, Oliver was heard bellowing, "FELIX!"

"What the fuck was all that?" You asked, hiding yourself in his neck; neither caring for the blood being stained.

"I'll explain everything in a minute, love, let me get you somewhere safe," he rushed, the party sounding around you once more. He deflected anyone who got in the way, shoulders bullying past people, ignoring his name being cried out. Up the stairs, down a hall or two, and he was rounding into your room. "All right, hang on," he deposited you on your bed, rushing into your restroom and locking all the doors except the one connecting your room. The main door was also locked.

"What's going on?" You asked.

"He's a liar," Felix panted, wrangling from his wings as he approached you. "But it doesn't matter right now - what matters is our truth. You were interrupted before, but I have to tell you, sweetheart, that your affection isn't one-sided. Okay?" He knelt before you, taking both cheeks in hand. "You're not alone in this, I-I should've told you so much sooner, but I love you, too. No, no, I'm - I'm in love with you and I'm so sorry I didn't say it. Hear me? I'm in love with you, Y/N, I'm so sorry I was selfish, that I didn't see the pain you were in that I was causing."

"Wasn't your fault," you whispered.

"It's all my fault."

"I should've said something, too."

"You're the one who's been suffering all this time, this is on me. Okay?" His head shook, wiping the streams of blood from your nose and lips. "You're a fucking wreck, darling, should've said something so much sooner - saved you from all this pain."

"I was afraid, and didn't want you to know."

"I made you feel as if you couldn't talk to me," his head shook. "Listen to me, I-I have to go warn Mum and Dad about Oliver, but you stay here - "

"You're not leaving," you insisted. "Call Venetia's cell or Farleigh's, tell them whatever you're worried about, and stay here, with me, where you're safe. I don't know what I heard, but I don't think Ollie's well in the head and he's gonna gun for you."

He sighed, "They won't answer. The party's - "

"Just try..."

He agreed and grabbed his cell phone from his pocket, dialing his sister as he got you a wet cloth. She answered when he was knelt in front of you again, wiping the remnants of your near-death experience from your face as he explained at a rapid speed a condensed version of events.

When Venetia assured she would tell Elspeth and James, he hung up and brought you in for a tight hug. "Should've told you," he whispered, "I'm so sorry."

"I am, too," you whimpered, holding onto his neck tightly.

"C'mon," he sighed, pulling back to gaze at you, "let's get you changed and in bed - 's been a fucking nightmare tonight."

"How fitting."

"How so?"

You half-smirked, "A Midsummer Nightmare's Dream, innit?" He matched your fleeting amusement.

That night, you and Felix slept beside each other in a secure and locked room; both unconscious when Oliver approached your door and tried to get in before being apprehended by two footmen. He was locked in the basement for the night, given the chance to sober up before morning, when the police would be phoned.

When the sun broke the horizon, Felix woke with a start. You were already awake, looking up at his pale face, begging him to tell you the truth behind Oliver. He looked as if he would be sick, giving you a detailed summary of what happened the day before - all the lies Ollie told, how his parents were alive, well, and very kind. How nothing he's told Felix was true - all some form of fucked up lie to make him seem more broken for Felix's endearment.

"Am I that bad, love?" He asked in a hushed tone.

"No, you're just... You just have an affinity for broken things," you answered. "And he gave you what you wanted, tenfold."

"I feel so stupid."

"For being kind?" You shook your head, caressing his cheek.

"Not very kind t'let you suffer in silence, was it?"

"You couldn't have known how bad it all was, I wasn't exactly truthful either."

"You protected yourself, while Ollie... Ollie put on a fucking show to get attention, to seem so different, make me feel like I'd be a fool to ignore him," he scoffed. "I'm so sorry, love," he whispered, resting his forehead against yours. "But I meant what I said - you're fucking everything to me and I'd throw everyone away if it meant being with you - keeping you."

It felt so good to assure him, "You have me, Felix. 'M not goin' anywhere."

He smiled gently, sighing in relief, asking, "Can I kiss you now? Please, love, think we've waited plenty long enough."

You didn't answer, you only lifted you lips to his and sealed your fate - meshing into one heart, soul, and one being. Two halves, made whole; cut from the same cloth and stitched together. His tongue swept across the seam of your lips, mingling with yours and never knowing when he had felt so complete while kissing a woman.

Because he hadn't. Everyone else before you was a place holder, temporary, a fleeting interest. You were a part of him, never wanting to experience life without the other, but as the house slowly woke up, you were both reminded of reality...

There was still a madman to be dealt with, and Felix wanted a front row viewing to ensure Oliver Quick was truly gone and your lives in a relationship could finally start.

requesting rules and masterlist

Saltburn masterlist

other Hanahaki Disease fics:

featuring: Eddie Munson from Stranger Things

Cherry Blossom Colored Kisses

Tears in the Rain

Gone with the Sin

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ailithnight · 1 year

Text

A fic based on this prompt by @chaoswarfare that I had originally put in the reblogs, but decided to move to its own post since I've got some ideas to continue it. No promises on this ever being a completed fic, but I'll try.

A King in Arkham

Listless eyes trace the cracks in the ceiling; their owner blinking slowly from his place, lying nearly motionless on a thin mattress supported by a metal shelf held to the wall by thick black chains. His face is blank, not sad nor angry nor despairing like so many others in this cold and lonesome place. No, his expression is empty, as though there is simply nothing to feel.

Bruises and scratches and even a couple very deep cuts litter a small body. Were anyone watching, they'd see a new one appear as if by magic across a gaunt cheek. Even as blood begins weeping from the slash, not a single emotion flits across the face. Not even a flinch.

Tomorrow, doctors will assume the patient cut himself. They will search his cell, again, and find no weapon. They will search his body and find not so much as a fingernail capable of creating the mark. They will check the security feed and find, as always, that the moment of injury glitches; one second no cut, the next fresh blood. They will try to force the patient to admit self harm, but he will remain silent.

When the door to his cell swings open with a buzz and a clang, echoed by every other cell in the building, the blank faced boy with dull eyes doesn't move. It's the 6th time this month, and the 13th since arriving 3 months ago.

When the sounds of screams and rioting grate on sensitive ears, he merely sighs, the first hint of feeling flashing across his face in the form of a minute second of frustration before blankness returns. When a pair of escaping patients rush past, one stopping to ask if he's coming, he remains unresponsive.

"Leave him! Kid never tries to escape. He's to far gone."

The kid in question feels his eyebrow twitch. He's not 'gone' anywhere, thank you very much. There's just no point. Nowhere to go. No one to help him; to understand that he's not crazy, just haunted. At least, no one who won't turn him into a monster. A horrible, world destroying, viscious monster.

Besides, Arkham's not too bad. At least it isn't a GIW lab. And his rogues have even started showing up less and less since he was sent here! Though maybe that has less to do with Arkham or Gotham and more to do with the kid's utter refusal to even defend himself.

"Now come on before Bats start showing up and put this place on lockdown."

A black form with a red head drops from above, just barely within the kid's peripheral vision. A brief moment of recognition and even something adjacent to interest flickers in blue eyes.

"Bats like me, perchance?"

Red Hood was assisting containment with an Arkham breakout. There had been a lot of them in the last few months and Batman was getting grey hairs trying to figure out why. No one in particular was even trying to break out. No one could be pinned for the inciting incident. Just randomly, at any point in the day, the automatic locks would spazz out and everyone would be released.

So the big bad Bat had called all hands on deck, requesting at least one vigilante be at or near Arkham at all times, hoping to at least keep most of the big fish in their cages while they tried to figure out what the hell was going on. And Jason had graciously agreed to help. So here he was, at 3am on a Saturday morning; assisting guards in keep inmates corralled; keeping any eye out for any maximum security escapees.

With none spotted so far, and the people below him literally admitting that they're giving up hope when the Bats arrive, Jason figured he might as well see if a bit of scare tactic will convince them to go back to bed willingly.

"Bats like me, perchance?" The would be escapees in front of him startle and whip around.

"Red Hood?"

"The one and only." Jason shifts to not so subtlely place a hand on his weapons. "Now why don't you 2 just go on back to your rooms and we can forget this little infraction. I won't even tell the guards to write up a discipline slip." The two inmates eye him, then his guns, then each other warily. Finally, they both raise their hands in surrender and begin walking back to their cells.

Jason permits himself a quiet chuckle, much to low to be picked up by the modulator. As he turns back to grapple up to his bird's eye view in the rafters, his eyes catch sight of the inmate who apparently doesn't try to escape. For just a moment, green swamps his vision as Red Hood registers the sight in front of him.

He almost steps in to the cell before a harsh buzz sounds and cell doors clang shut again. An intercom crackles to life announcing the effective lockdown, instructing guards to begin escorting patients back to their cells, cataloging each attempted escapee for future disciplinary measures.

Batman's voice sounds out over comms.

Not a single inmate made it past the main gate. Good job Hood.

Jason seethes for moment longer in front of the cell before biting out his question on the main channel.

What the hell is a kid doing in Arkham!?

A strangled sound makes it through the feed and Nightwing responds, strained.

What?

A KID! Can't be older than 15. In cell... 26B. Looking rather roughed up, I might add. Since why does Arkham even accept minors?

Oracle responds.

Pulling records right now.

Jason eyes the kid, who seems to be entirely unfazed by Red Hood discussing his imprisonment 8 feet away from him. Actually, unfazed is the wrong word. Apathetic is better. Entirely emotionless. Green threatens Jason's vision again as he ponders the potential reasons for the look of resigned desolation on a face so young.

Looks like he was transferred over from a psych ward in Illinois 3 months ago. Ward of the State. File says self-destructive behavior. Apparently he picks up unexplainable injuries and claims ghosts gave them to him.

That still doesn't explain why they sent him to Arkham!

Batman's voice filters back in.

Hood, pull out.

Jason has to force himself to keep his voice down.

WHAT!? I'M NOT LEAVING A KID HERE!

It's almost 4am. Red Robin is on route to relieve you.

I AM NOT LEAVING A 15 YEAR OLD IN ARKHAM!

We will be investigating this further.

15! YOU KNOW, THE SAME AGE I WAS WHEN YOU LET ME DIE IN THAT FUCKING WAREHOUSE.

Jason almost regrets the statement as he here's Dick's stuttered breath. But it seems the kid might have heard him and something about the statement seems to catch his attention.

He actually turns his head to look quizzically at Jason. The expression only lasts a couple seconds before slipping back into blank neutrality as he turns back to the ceiling.

Batman's voice grinds in his ears, an edge in his tone telling Jason that if he doesn't listen, the Bat himself will come pull Jason out.

Hood, his transfer coincides with the start of these break outs. He may be involved. We will be investigating this further, very thoroughly. If he's clean, we will be getting him out of there. But for now I need you to pull out. File your report.

The tone softens.

And get some rest.

#dp x dc #Danny Phantom in Arkham Asylum #A King in Arkham #my writing #I guess I should start a tagslist #I'll try to pull some from the original post #But it would be easiest if y'all just drop tag requests in the comments

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crownofgildedlilies · 13 days

Note

SUNNIEEEE number 14 for the summer prompt with leo... like i feel its SO in character (when they wear tank-tops while doing manly labor and you're just there admiring the sight) LITERALLY HIMMM imagine him adding cute mods (is that the term???) or smth to ur car and ur just sitting on a stool and kicking ur feet

leo my one true love (jason and percy don’t LOOK) also let's pretend I know things about cars :)

based on this post opening requests for blurbs with certain prompts!

mr. do it all!

pairing: leo valdez x greek demigod!reader

"Almost done?"

"Baby, I just started."

"Fine," You huffed. You weren't exactly sure why you were complaining. Leo was fixing the reason why your check engine light was on, for free, the summer sun was warm against your skin, and you were treated to the sight of your boyfriend in a tank top while he worked.

Really, you should have just been happy to sit back in watch. You didn't exactly want to admit that you might have been jealous that a car was getting all of his attention.

"Soon as I'm done, I'm all yours, pretty." Leo called out, inspecting the engine of your car with the hood open, his back to you. Trying not to flush at the nickname, you blew a puff of air past your lips before retreating to the swivel chair you had dragged out of Leo's office at the auto shop to watch him work in the front yard.

"Is it really important that you fix this right now?" You questioned, propping your elbow on the arm of the chair, chin in your palm as you watched.

"And have my baby break down on the side of the road?" Leo asked, aghast, breaking his focus long enough to shook you a look of disbelief that had you grinning. "What kind of self-respecting super mechanic smoking hot and incredibly funny boyfriend would I be then?"

"Your title gets longer each time," You snorted, shaking your head and definitely not disagreeing. Leo was nothing if not doting to you. "I want a kiss when you're done."

"Absolutely," He mock saluted, grinning crookedly before launching headfirst back into the engine of your car.

You knew that you could simply leave and go find something to entertain yourself with inside the shop, but you couldn't get yourself to move away from Leo while her worked, the sight warming something in your chest.

He teased you more than his fair share of times as he labored, grinning and winking from his spot by the car. At first, you were embarrassed at being caught out, but by the end you didn't have it in you to care.

Especially as he rested his hands on each arm of your chair to lean in for the kiss you had requested.

"Enjoy the show, princesa?" He teased, bumping his nose against yours as you scrunched your face in protest. "Your car is set and your handsome boyfriend is paying attention to you."

Your fingers knotted in the front of his tank top, pulling him closer with the fabric as you slotted your lips over his for a quick and hard earned kiss.

"Can you fix my air conditioner, next?"

#leo valdez #leo valdez x reader #leo valdez fic #Leo Valdez x you #Leo Valdez blurb #rays of sun

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blainesebastian · 1 year

Text

clingy

words: 2,009 ship: austin butler x reader summary: (anon request) “what about austin with someone even touchier than him. maybe fans start saying she’s always clinging on him so she gets self conscious in public but austin notices right away” warnings: none notes: prompt just slightly different from request-- this can be read in tandem with ‘touch’ but isn’t necessary. requests are back open for now :) thanks to anyone who's left me one! appreciate it xx tag list: @killerqueenfan, @karamelcoveredolicity, @elizabethrosecresswell, @gigisworldsstuff, @stylespresleyhearted

Frowning at a few candid photos posted on Instagram, you scroll through the comments. You usually don't allow yourself to go down this rabbit hole because it shouldn't (and doesn't) matter what people think about you and Austin. No one is in this relationship except the two of you, you know that's the only thing that matters...and yet, these comments are burning into your eyes and imprinting on the back of your mind. It's mostly because it's spiteful, they're not fooling you on that, but that doesn't make them any easier to read.

There's a set of photos of you and Austin at a cafe last week that had a patio, enjoying the pleasant weather while you could. Austin is seated in one of the chairs, a pair of sunglasses and a ballcap on as he drinks his iced coffee. You're standing between his legs in the first photo and then you're sitting in his lap the second. Not that you need to justify this to anyone, but the patio was practically empty and you weren't disturbing anyone's afternoon. It's not like you were making out or somehow making this interaction obscene. You're typically seated on Austin's lap, it's so automatic at this point that he'll often find your hand and tug you to sit down on him—zero complaints.

Regardless that these strangers are not entitled to any background information, you know that might change a few people's opinions as they spit out nasty comments.

elvislover: you can tell he's super uncomfortable—like, yikes ericatownton: she literally does not give him a moment to breathe austinfan: #clingyaintcute

There are some bright spots,

austin345: can some of ya'll mind your own business? austin looks so happy in these? i don't get some of these comments shannonhyat: they're so cute! wish i could sit on austin like that, ngl eyeswithwonder: find yourself a man who looks at you like austin looks at Y/N—like she's hung the moon bro

but sometimes those aren't enough.

You've always been the touchy type—ever since your first boyfriend, but maybe it's gone beyond that, you've reached out and squeezed someone's arm while laughing, you're easy to hug to express emotion, and God, definitely super cuddly when you get a bit drunk. People who have never been your friends have called you a flirt or, just like the comments you're seeing, clingy...but you've never really found anything wrong with it. It's one of your love languages, how you best convey how you're feeling—and it's not like Austin isn't the same way.

He's big on touch, ever since you've known him, even when you two were just friends. Always with the hands on your hips, your waist, your lower back, fingers through your hair or playfully gripping your chin or absentminded centers of connection, knees against knees, shin along shin, shoulders brushing. He's never been shy about it...so why all of a sudden do you feel like you need to be?

You have no idea why you’re letting this bother you—Austin has never said anything that’s hinted that he’s uncomfortable, and you know he’d tell you. You really hate that this has gotten so underneath your skin.

You debate on whether you want to mention something to Austin or not, maybe talk about it or just…ask if there’s any merit in thinking you’re too clingy, if you should back off a little? But you never manage to get the words out of your mouth.

Setting your phone face down, you look up as Austin comes in from a night out with some cast members. He had asked originally asked if you wanted to join but you had dinner with your agent that you couldn’t miss (because it’d already been rescheduled twice).

“Hi,” He says warmly and walks over to where you’re seated on one of the stools at the island table. You hum as he leans down to press a kiss to your lips, slow and intimate, body heat rolling off his skin.

He smells like cologne and just a twinge of cigarette smoke, alcohol, intoxicating in a way it probably shouldn’t be. You find yourself closing your eyes as he leans a bit against you, not drunk but definitely tipsy, a lazy smile on his face as he pulls back. You smirk, reaching up to thread your fingers through his wild curls.

“Have a good time?”

“Would have been better with you,” He replies matter-of-factly, slipping his jacket off and setting it on one of the other stools. Austin clears his throat, getting a good look at you for a moment and pauses, “You alright?”

He knows you, lifts his hand to curl his pointer finger and brush it across the crinkling of your skin between your eyebrows. Far too well.

This could be your moment but…it feels foolish to mention it. Not only because Austin’s a bit inebriated and it wouldn’t be right to draw him into this conversation, but because the longer you sit with these thoughts, the more silly they feel. Right?

“Yeah,” You lie through your teeth, giving him a soft smile. “M’just tired, got a headache.”

He hums lightly, moving to press a long kiss to your forehead. “I can make you some tea.”

You let out a laugh which is mostly air leaving your nose, “You are swaying on your feet,” You cup his cheek, amused and fond, “Shouldn’t I be taking care of you?” You lean up to press a kiss to the bridge of his nose.

He crinkles it but smiles down at you, “What’d you have in mind?”

You playfully tap his cheek, “Bed—maybe a shower.”

Austin purses his lips, seemingly in thought for a moment before he nods—and then ever so quickly scoops you up into his arms. It’s haphazard and ridiculous and you can’t help but laugh as he carries you towards the bathroom,

“Hey! I didn’t mean with me.” And you can’t stop yourself from laughing, Austin teasingly grabbing at your ass. He barely turns the water to the shower on before he sets you down, drawing you into a kiss.

It’s been a relatively lazy day which you’ve seriously come to appreciate, it’s not often that you get many of them to spare. You’ve spent the morning with Austin browsing a large farmer’s market, deciding on fresh fruit and vegetables and handmade products that you probably don’t need but are indulging on. It’s fun, calming—it’s in moments like these where you can kinda forget how crazy your day to day lives can be. There’s comfort in that normalcy together.

You decide to go to the same bistro on the corner from your apartment for lunch, a place that you both have been before countless times because of the great food and rich coffee. Not to mention that you’re slightly obsessed with the beautiful patio outside that’s perfect for a little fresh air and spots of sun. It fills up fast but this is where it pays to be a bit of a celebrity—when Austin calls ahead, they make a table up for him, no matter how busy they are.

Can’t deny that you kinda love that perk as you pick at some fries on your plate next to a finished sandwich, full and content, legs under the table pressing into Austin’s as he talks about his upcoming project. You can’t help but smile as he talks with his hands, animated, excited for what’s to come because he deserves every single moment of it.

There are small moments of enjoyable silence, just sitting in one another's company, the hand that's not eating fries sitting loosely on the table. Austin's hand finds yours automatically, something so automatic that it makes your stomach do a complete flip. Your eyes glance down to the rings on his slender fingers, running along yours, squeezing every so often. A small smile tugs the corners of your mouth and you pick up your iced coffee to take a sip.

"Today was pretty great," You comment after the breeze picks up and flutters your hair. You run your fingers through it, adjusting sunglasses on your face.

"It was," Austin agrees, running his thumb along your knuckles, "You regret that we don't always have time for it?"

You give him a small smile, shaking your head, "No, course not. Just makes it that much more special when we do."

Austin hums, lifting your hand to press a kiss to the inside of your wrist. He then tugs, encouraging you to stand, and you already know where this is going before it happens. This is something you do all the time—you share food or coffee together and find yourself on Austin's lap. Even on this crowded patio, you're tucked into one of the end corners near the lines of bushes for a bit of privacy, your stomach clenches with nerves in a way it's never done before. You can't help but think about all those stupid comments, burning letters into the back of your vision.

You completely tense up, freeze in spot.

Austin notices automatically, of course, his eyebrows drawing together in soft confusion as he looks up at you, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," You reply, too quickly, shaking your head--he can read right through you, Austin's always been good at that.

He lets out a soft sigh out of his nose, holding your gaze for a long moment, blue eyes boring into yours. And yet, you can't seem to move. Curling your hair around your ear, you glance at the other tables, expecting to see eyes on you, maybe people taking candid photos to appear online later...and yet there's nothing. Of course there's nothing.

"You're shaking," He replies gently, standing now from his chair. He runs both of his hands down your arms, squeezing, “What’s goin’ on?”

You almost want to brush it aside but Austin’s locked in now, he’s not going to let you. So you briefly roll your eyes towards the sky, a shaky laugh following, “You’re gonna think it’s ridiculous.”

“I doubt it.” He encourages.

Chewing on your lower lip, you give a soft nod, “Uhm—do you…do you think I’m clingy? Like, as a girlfriend?”

His eyebrows draw together in confusion, unsure of how you’re topic jumping to this and it looks like he might want to smirk but doesn’t because he can tell you’re upset. “I think…both of us enjoy attention through touch, there’s nothin’ wrong with that though. Doesn’t make you clingy.”

He keeps your gazes connected, making sure you hear him, that the words register and you find yourself nodding once. The ghost of a smile tugs at the corners of your mouth and Austin cups your cheek, shifting you into a kiss that lasts a good handful of moments. You know he’s doing it on purpose too, keeping you close, drawing it out.

When he pulls back, he playfully nips at your lower lip, making your smile much more genuine, “And don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise.”

You hum in acknowledgement because Austin knows, of course he knows where you were coming from. You’re not sure whether that means he’s been on social media too or can just sense it—you’ve talked about pap photos before, candids posted by fans. It’s never really bothered you until now. It means a lot that he sees you, without having to explain or justify how you feel. You definitely love him for that.

“Now,” Austin says, sitting back down in his chair, “C’mere.” He motions towards himself with his fingers.

You can’t help but laugh warmly, taking Austin’s hand and allowing him to tug you over to him. Sitting down on his lap, perched on his one leg like it’s the simplest thing in the world, you lean your shoulder against his chest. He smiles up at you, hooking a finger underneath your chin to draw you into a kiss. It’s slow and sweet, no cares in the world—especially for anyone who might be looking.

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler imagine #austin butler fic #elvis 2022 #mccall writes things

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thecreelhouse · 3 months

Note

and what if i said “on your knees” prompt with st…s…ste…. oh i can’t even say it……

loml hello!!!!!!!!! 🥹 hope u like this bestie<3

———

“O-okay, you’re— you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” Shoving Steve against a filthy wall in some stranger’s house, you’re determined to make Steve think of something, anything else, other than being trapped in the Upside Down. “C’mon, Steve. I’m not fucking stupid. You’ve been staring at me non-stop lately. Any reason why?”

“Because you’re- you- well,” Steve is trying his hardest to be a gentleman. Or, whatever else is close to that at this point. After diving through the watergate, he’s shirtless and wrapped in bandages, and you’ve only got a mini-skirt on (Yeah, great fashion choice before doing anything related to this hell of a different dimension. Great job!), and somehow lost half your shirt in the process.

You’re not a believer in much, but you’re sure as hell this is fate, or something close, pressuring you to finally make Steve realize you like him just as much, if not more. With your hands holding his arms to his sides, you glance up at him with the biggest gaze, one that sets off the storm awaiting inside him.

It’s the same stare he’s dreamed of time and time again, staring up at him while you’re choking on his cock.

“We could be stuck here for a very long time, y’know.” You purr, running your hands up his sides, careful as your fingertips run over his bandages. “The others are at Nancy’s anyway. We got time to kill. I literally saw you palming yourself when we were walking down the street away from the group— dude, please tell me you’re aware you weren’t that sneaky. You know that, right?”

“I— I don’t want to be mean.” Is all he can bring himself to say, but you laugh, startling him.

“Steve? As much as I love when you’re a gentleman, I’d fuckin’ love to see the old you tell me what to do. C’mon, babe, I know it’s still in you.”

You’re both the worst and best thing to happen to Steve Harrington. You’ve been such a badass through this entire adventure— it’s what you’re calling it, not him— and now you’re begging for King Steve to make a special appearance, boss you around and maybe make you cry, if he’s lucky. He wishes that thought alone, the idea of you crying while he’s ruining you, didn’t make his dick so goddamn hard. You realize how conflicted he looks, wanting to be respectful, wanting to treat you like a person, not just another piece of ass he’s chasing for one night only. You also see the way his eyes darken when you ask him to be his old self, to be mean to you, and you’re determined to lure that part out of him.

“I’m a big girl, I can tell you to stop if I need. Promise, Steve.” You’re hoping this helps, it comes off as begging, like he’s in control, but you’ve got the reins here, even if it’ll all be in his favor. “C’monnnnn, you nearly died, don’t you wanna—“

Steve’s fingers wind through your hair, soft at first, but once he has the handful he was searching for, his grip tightens, hard. You whine at the way he tugs your head up closer to his, nearly meeting him at eye level, but you’re on your tippy toes regardless.

“Nearly died saving your sorry ass. We nearly fucking died, and all you can think of is getting off? Seriously?” Steve’s eyes drop to your lips, pouting with need. “Open.”

Your eyes widen at the way he’s switched so suddenly, mouth falling open on his command. He spits into your mouth, thriving over the sight of you gagging on his own spit, without even kissing you. “That enough? Or you need more?”

Unsure what he was asking this for, you shrug, pussy throbbing as he tugs harder on your locks. “Heard you had the best mouth in our class, wanna prove it?”

Dizzy, you nod softly, in awe of how quick it was for him to jump back into his old ways. “Please? Can I?” A mixture of his spit and yours spills between your lips, right onto yourself. He watches the mess you make with a smirk, one that would’ve killed you back in high school, and still kills you now.

“Only ‘cause you sound so goddamn pathetic right now.” Steve loosens his grip on your hair, but has enough of a hold to push you towards the floor. “On your knees, honey. You said we got time to kill, don’t fuckin’ waste it.”

#aaagdgyfdjhfdg im gonnaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa lose my marbles just wanna- bye #hope u enjoy this pal ty for sending this!!#prompts #answered #blurbs #steve harrington smut #ns/fw

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thinkingaboutjaedyn · 4 months

Note

I neeeedddd a fanfiction of r being really shy and they just started dating (elisa asked because r can't even look at her eyes).

Also, no need to do it if you don't have time. I know you probably have finals and even other stuff x

eye contact is overrated ( elisa de almeida x reader )

prompt: you can't seem to stop being shy around elisa even after she asks you out.

author notes: thank you for the request! and ty for being appreciative of my time but tbh i have more free time than i should. i hope this is what you wanted. i finished this at literally 4am so give me slack on any grammar/spelling errors. enjoy!

you wouldn't consider yourself to be a shy person. your personality was bold and strong on the pitch while loud and talkative off of the pitch. nobody would consider you shy expect for one person: elisa de almeida who just so happens to be your now current girlfriend. even after getting with her, you're still so shy.

it truly isn't your fault. elisa is the first woman to make you feel this way; nervous in a good way. the first to make your heart flutter when she gives you a quick smile. it's 100% elisa's fault for being so beautiful like she is. that's why you always look away when she tries to hold eye contact or use to go silent in the locker room when she walked past you. she was too beautiful for her own good.

when you first moved clubs to paris saint germain from wolfsburg, you were understandably nervous. not nervous enough to not be your bubbly self, but just nervous enough to try to calm down that really loud part of your personality when first meeting the team.

that didn't last long once you got around jackie and ramona. the team overall was full of some big personalities, but those two really bought out your loud side. all day at practice you were playing around and almost had to be separated from jackie so you could focus. that energetic, fun energy followed you all day until it was time to leave.

you were changing out of your practice kit, humming a soft tune. lost in your own world as you put on your tshirt than your sweatpants. you turn as you feel someone's presence behind you. there stood elisa who smiles at you. that stupidly attractive smile. your loud personality from earlier crawls into a shell as you give her a shy smile back.

"can i borrow a comb?" the french player asks, again smiling that stupidly attractive smile at you. it takes a moment for you to just nod and grab your comb from your bag. awkwardly smiling as you hand her the comb. you really was just trying to cover up how feeling her hand against yours makes your heart flutter. "thanks," elisa says before walking off. probably to go find a mirror to look at.

that first interaction set the tone for all the interactions between elisa and you after. the french player would try to make conversation with you and the most she would get was short answers.

at first, she thought you hated her or something like that. you were overly bubbly and friendly with everyone else but her. it made elisa nervous as usually she was easily liked. that's just how her personality is: likeable. what did she do wrong to make you that uncomfortable around her?

it wasn't until she started to notice that you would blush and look away at her when she would greet you. elisa realized you weren't shy out of discomfort, but just out of gay panic. that changed everything for her. now she was determined to get you to open up to her and become closer to you. that shy smile of yours was doing things to her heart so elisa thinks it's only fair that you talk to her for more than five minutes.

instead of talking to you in person which just ends up with you running off, elisa took a different approach and messaged you on instagram. talking to someone online has always been less nerve wracking than in person so it only took a few messages for elisa to see your real personality. that loud, talkative y/n everyone else got to see.

in person you still shyed away from her, but a win was a win to her.

eventually after months of talking back and forth on instagram, you start to open up to elisa in person. happily jumping up on her in celebration after making a great goal. being able to hold an actual conversation with her in person as long as y'all's other teammates are around.

still you have fallen hard for her. you wanted to take you two's friendship to the next level. however you would rather crawl into a hole than ask elisa out. that was going way too far for your (gay panic induced) shyness.

good thing elisa felt the same way and was actually bold enough to take that leap. one day, she invited you out for lunch. despite being incredibly nervous (due to gay panic) you accepted and dressed in a cute white crop top with some flared jeans. doing a half up half down hairstyle for the occasion.

when you arrived at the restaurant, your heart rate was a little higher than it should be but you pushed though and sat down at the reserved table elisa got. she sits infront of you, smiling with that beautiful smile of hers. "thanks for asking me out to this place. it's so nice," you say, almost stumbling over your words. "it's really nothing. i just wanted to spend more time with you" elisa replies back. those words almost had you running out of the restaurant (again gay panic). thankfully you stayed sat in your seat.

the date (would it even be considered one? you didn't ask her) goes well. with you two enjoying a nice lunch before heading off to an aquarium. elisa was particularly obsessed with the sea otters. forcing you to stay by their exhibit longer than needed, but you dealt with it for her. the little critters were cute anyways. you have actually gotten more comfortable talking to her in person now. however eye contact was out of the question, with you always acting interested in other things when you two would speak to each other. it couldn't be helped in all honesty. elisa was just too pretty and her eyes were like the sun in your eyes, so obviously you have to look away; staring at the sun isn't good for you.

the sun was setting as you two step out of the aquarium. hands interlocked as y'all walk to elisa's car. you were actually the reason you two were holding hands right now and it took all of your willpower to power though all that gay panic and take elisa's hand in yours. elisa's already high confidence level climbed that day.

once inside of her car, she starts to talk excitedly about the day. with you saying a few words here and there but listening intently. hearing her sound so excited made you smile.

"the best part of today was definitely the otter exhibit. those little guys are incredibly cute," elisa rants off as she continues to drive. you nod in agreement. "yeah but the penguins were cuter in my opinion," you say. giggling once elisa steals a glance at you. obviously offended.

"why would you even say that? the otters beat out penguins by a long shot" she says. the empathizing in her words almost made you agree, but no. the penguins still have your heart. "they really don't but whatever you say" you shrug before leaning your head against the window. elisa gives you the side eye but has to focus on the road in the end so she will definitely be bringing this back up at a later date.

it takes twenty minutes to get to your place from the aquarium.

elisa being the gentleman she is walks you to your door. "thank you for taking me out today. it was fun," you smile warmly at her. smiling even brighter when she leans in for a hug. happily letting her take you in her arms. the warmth of the embrace almost makes you scream (in gay panic), but you'll save that for later when you're by yourself.

"i enjoyed myself so thank you actually" the french player says against your ear. you could hear the smile on her lips as she speaks, "i have a question for you, y/n."

elisa pulls away from the hug. with her hands still holding onto your arms. she tries to hold eye contact with you (because that's more romantic) but you look away. "what is it?" you say quietly. she looks at you for another moment before saying, "can i be your girlfriend?"

you almost ran into your house out of pure panic. instead you pull her back into a hug. "duh" you giggle.

now you and elisa have been together for a month. that overly shyness of yours have faded a bit. however you still blush when elisa holds your hand in public or when she hugs you from behind or kiss you or pretty much do anything couples usually do.

maybe you shyness hasn't faded, but you are way more comfortable with holding a conversation with her. you start to initiate some affection like a few hugs and kisses but it's mostly elisa being her bold self that starts things.

it's a nice evening of having a movie marathon when the fact you still can't hold eye contact with your girlfriend reveals itself. you are laying on her top of her with your head on her chest as you two stare at the tv. the monster high movies from your childhood playing on the screen. elisa seems to be enjoying the movies despite them not being apart of her childhood at all. clawd is her favorite by the way. she turns to look down at you.

"babe.." she says quietly, chuckling once you look up at her. immediately you look away the moment y'all's eyes meet. it's not your fault you're too shy for all that still. elisa just smiles, mentally reminding herself to break you out of that shy shell of yours, as she guides you to face her again.

leaning down slightly as she kisses you. good thing kisses don't require eye contact.

#elisa de almeida #elisa de almeida x reader #woso x reader #woso fanfics #frawnt

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eyesofshinigami · 3 months

Text

Brave

Rating: G

CW: None

Tags: Love confessions, fluff, so much schmoop

Prompt: From @sidekick-hero "Love is what makes you brave"

WC: 1812

Written for @steddielovemonth Day 7

Steve, admittedly, has done a lot of really stupid things in the name of love.

He hid so much of himself, what he liked, and who he wanted to be to make his parents love him. He was a perfect child, always seen but never heard, the perfect little trophy for his parents to put on display. He thought that was love for a long time. That it was performative, transactional. If he just did this one thing, surely they would love him, right?

Then, Steve forced himself to fit into a mold. He slid on a mask, played a part that was really easy to hide behind. People like Tommy and Carole seemed to love him when he was mean, when he looked down his nose at people they deemed unworthy of their attention. They would laugh and clap him on the back and keep him close, even if he knew deep down that it made him a little sick. And for some reason he still can’t fathom, it made other people love him too. Well, that superficial, surface kind of love where he was still seen as an object, an achievable goal. Be friends with King Steve and you’ll get something out of.

Transactional.

It wasn’t until Nancy that Steve really began to understand what love really was. He threw his whole self into loving her. In hindsight, maybe it wasn’t the smartest idea to go all in on something that he still didn’t really have a grasp on, but for the first time, it felt like he was being loved for love’s sake.

Until it wasn’t. Until Jonathon. Until the house. Until the world quite literally turned upside down.

Even with that falling apart, it opened up a whole new world of love for Steve. A new understanding to just what the word meant, the weight behind it when it really matters.

Love is protecting those that matter most. Love is staring down the mouth of a hell creature and still swinging even though your arms feel like jelly. Love is redirecting punches so that they don’t have to hurt. Love is diving into a murky lake into hell to help fix what someone else broke. Love is late night drives when you can’t sleep and the nightmares are too much. Love is admitting that maybe, just maybe, love looks a little different than what you expected it to.

Love is being brave.

All of these lessons, all of these people in his life that showed him that love can be so many things, if only you’re willing to give as much as take.

Which is why Steve makes a decision. It might be a bad one, but he’s learned that sometimes love means having to jump into the fray and trusting that they’ll catch you. He knows, deep down, that someone will, even if it’s not the person he really wants to.

“I’m going to do it. Tonight,” Steve declares that evening as he’s shelving movies. He’s working the late shift with Robin, but has plans to hang out with Eddie later. The very thought of it makes him flush, with happiness and nervousness in equal measure. “I’m going to tell him how I feel.”

It was a slow sort of descent, realizing that he loved Eddie. It started with their talk in the woods of the Upside Down, to pulling Eddie’s broken body out of that awful place, to helping him heal once they realized he might actually pull through. He was drawn to Eddie, drinking him in whenever they were together. He loved when Eddie was loud, or when Eddie was quiet, settled. The fact that Eddie trusted him with the different facets of himself blew Steve away. And Eddie listened when he talked. He listened when Steve talked about sports, or his newfound interest in carpentry thanks to helping Hopper fix up the cabin. He listened when Steve couldn’t sleep, or when Steve got scared about what the future was going to bring, now that it felt like maybe they could actually move on from the nightmare that is Hawkins, Indiana. Little by little, it made Steve realize that Eddie made him happy and maybe a little stupid. The good kind of stupid, the happy kind.

Robin turns to look at him, smiling softly. It’s her soft sort of smile, the one she only saves for him when he’s actually doing something for himself. “Good on you, bud. You’ve only been pining for him for months now.”

“You’ll have a pint of ice cream at the ready in case this goes south?”

“Sure, but I doubt you’ll have to worry,” she replies, rolling her eyes. “Now go find something to do before you pop out of your skin. I can see you sweating from here.”

He lasts about another twenty minutes before she lets out a gusty sigh. “Okay, you’re starting to make me nervous. It’s dead in here, why don’t you just leave and head over there now?”

Steve wants to argue. It’s on the tip of his tongue, but she’s right. If he waits any longer, he might just vibrate right through the floor. Once upon a time, he was good at this, smooth and suave and so fucking fake. It was easy to talk to people he didn’t care about, but this? This thing with Eddie?

It matters a lot.

“Okay, okay. Sheesh. I know when I’m not wanted,” he jokes, clocking out and heading out the door.

“Go get your man, Harrington! I expect non-explicit details in the morning!”

He waves her off and gets into his car. The drive takes about fifteen minutes, heading to the little house that Wayne and Eddie got as compensation for their trailer being confiscated for study. Steve’s just glad that Eddie doesn’t have to live in the reminder of where everything went down.

He parks his car and sits for a long, long moment, fingers tight around the wheel and his breath coming in harsh pants. He can do this. He can do this. He can be brave.

“Steve? What are you doing out here? I thought you had work,” Eddie calls from the porch. He must have been sitting out here longer than he thought if Eddie had come to find him.

Steve takes one more big breath before he heaves himself out of the car. “I did, but Rob sent me home. It was dead and she said I was bothering her.” He smiles, trying to ease the angry butterflies he feels building in his stomach. “You good with me coming now? I guess I should have called.”

Eddie smiles, wide enough his dimples pop and Steve wants to feel them under his thumb. “Of course, Stevie. I’m still working on dinner, but you can keep me company.”

Steve eagerly follows him inside, feeling himself relax as he steps through the door. The place is always a little cluttered, a little messy; Steve loves it because it looks like people actually live here. The fact that he’s welcomed into this space makes him feel a little warm and gooey inside. “Thanks, man. What’s on the menu?” He’s babbling, he knows he’s babbling, but he can’t help it.

Eddie gives him a look but answers, “Just some spaghetti. Nothing fancy.” He heads to the stove and starts stirring a pot, the smell of it hitting Steve full force. “You okay? You seem a little off.”

He wants to brush it off, pretend it’s nothing. It would be so easy and he knows Eddie would let him. They’ve learned each other’s tells, when it’s time to push and when it’s time to leave shit alone. Just one more thing that Steve loves about Eddie.

So, no. He needs to say it. For himself, to let go of this thing that he’d been trying to hide for fear of it being yet another stupid thing he does for love. But his love for Eddie could never be that, even if Eddie says no. Eddie will still be his friend, will still love him, even if that love doesn’t look the way Steve wants. He doesn’t expect anything, doesn’t want more than Eddie can give him.

“Uh, well… actually, there’s something I want to talk to you about?”

Eddie nods and sets the spoon down, during the fire down as he turns to face Steve. “I’m all ears, Stevie.”

Steve nods, taking a deep, shaky breath. He can be brave. “Okay, so. Can you… let me just say it? Don’t say anything until I’m done, okay?” At Eddie’s nod, he continues, “Um, all right. So. Uh. Eddie… I’m… I like you. I like you a lot. Actually, I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you.” Eddie’s mouth drops and Steve has to look away, before his heart beats out of his chest and he gets sick from the way his stomach churns. “It took me a while to realize it, but I am. I just… I love you. I love everything about you. Even the weird, shitty parts that I know you don’t like, but they’re part of you, right? And I don’t… I don’t expect you to feel the same, or want me back. It would be great if you did, but like… it’s not why I told you? I told you because you deserve to know. To know that someone loves you because I can’t imagine not loving you anymore.”

There. It’s out there. Steve swallows around the lump in his throat and tries not to count the seconds as they pass. It feels like they’re beating against his ribcage, in time with his pounding heart.

Suddenly, there’s a hand cupping his cheek, gently turning his head until he’s looking at Eddie. The look on the other man’s face is soft, his eyes sparkling and the curve of his mouth small but so so kissable. “Stevie… baby…” The words are like a gut-punch, making Steve weak in the knees. “How could I not love you back, hmm?” Eddie chuckles, his thumb caressing the skin of Steve’s cheek. “Always the brave one of the two of us, aren’t you? I didn’t want to say anything because this… I didn’t want to lose this. If I was wrong, you know?”

“Me too,” Steve whispers. He’s afraid to break the bubble that’s surrounding them, like if he speaks too loud it will break and he’ll realize this was all just a dream or something. “Eddie…”

Eddie doesn’t say anything, he just pulls Steve in until they’re kissing, mouths moving against each other softly as they press closer.

It’s warm. It’s sweet. It feels like coming home.

Something settles in him as they kiss, as they touch and move together in this new way. He wants to cry. He wants to laugh. He feels like he could fly.

#les writes things #steddie #steddielovemonth #rating: g #fluff #schmoop

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gold-rhine · 1 year

Text

Afab! Scaramouche x GN! Dom reader first time

A\N: I guess technically it’s hurt\comfort. sigh. I don’t like to center my writing of trans characters on negative emotions, if you’ve read my previous stuff, you know when I write afab! male characters it’s like. Just guys, who happen to have pussies, having sex. And that’s how I initially started to write Scara’s afab first time prompt, but his canon storyline is so overtly about struggle of dysphoria, anxiety and self-hatred that it felt wrong to not incorporate it into my explicitly trans fic. So I had to rewrite it completely and I’m taking his part out of the compilation so ppl who want to avoid heavy topics and just have a good time reading smut can skip it. Otherwise, give it a try if you like complicated brats, I think it’s one of my good pieces and it has a happy ending.

Warnings: not sfw. graphic descriptions of dysphoria, anxiety attack, dissociation, angst, self-hatred, allusion to self-harm. Fingering, edging, overstim, spanking, oral (character receiving), vaginal sex. Cock stands for strap too, as usual.

Wordcount: 2k

You try to start slow and gentle with him, but he huffs mockingly.

“How long are you going to be wasting my time?”

“This is literally your first time, you little git.”

“Maybe you mortals need to be coddled, but I’m not a weakling.”

But despite his bravado, he’s tense when you kiss him, he doesn’t know how to properly kiss you back and what to do with his hands, so they just limply hang down. When you start opening his clothes to reveal his chest, he’s becoming more and more wooden. You try kissing him, his cheek, his neck, but it doesn’t relax him and he refuses to meet your eyes, still painfully clenched up, jaw locked tightly, like he’s preparing for something bad that he needs to just get through. He is not out publicly yet, still clinging to the belief that if he conforms to her expectations well enough, his mother will accept him. He’s so critical of himself all the time, especially of his body, which is just horrible and wrong, he hates seeing it himself and hates even more the thought of someone else seeing him naked.

“Hey, are you okay?” you ask quietly. “We can stop.”

“No!” he snaps. “I’m great. I don’t need to stop, are you stupid?!”

He wants you, is the thing. He wanted you for some time, got butterflies in his stomach, fantasized about you at nights. He wanted you more than anyone else in his life. So if he can’t bear even for you to see him, to have sex with him, then obviously something is deeply, fundamentally broken in him, no hope for him at all.

So desperately, he tries to find a roundabout solution. He’s still wearing a skirt, which he normally hates, but now it’s convenient, you could fuck him without taking it off.

“We don’t have to take off my clothes. There’s nothing good to see anyway. ”

He sounds frantic and frustrated, eyes alight with anger, and this does not look like a good situation to continue to you.

“It’s not a big deal, we can do it some other time when…”

“It’s just a cunt, you don’t need to see it!” He finally meets your eyes and you realize the brightness in them is not from anger, it’s from held back tears, because he believes you are rejecting him no matter what you say, “Why wouldn’t you just fuck it?!”

He hates his body and he doesn’t even want to have a pussy, but somehow subconsciously he feels like the one he has is also wrong, not even good enough for fucking, that whoever sees it will also recoil in disgust, as he does when he sees himself in the mirror. It’s ridiculous and he knows it, but he can’t help feeling like this, and he hates himself even more for this idiotic, nonsensical weakness, so this spirals into this vicious, unending cycle of self-disgust that he can’t see a way out of. What the fuck is so wrong with him that he can have a person he wants so much touching him and still be petrified, when it’s so easy for everyone else, and when…

You scoop him into your arms, turn him around so he doesn’t have to face you and hug him close to your chest. When he gasps and tries to protest, you clasp your hand over his mouth, kiss his ear.

“Don’t worry baby, I won’t look. But you need to calm the fuck down.”

He wants to struggle, but he’s so touch starved that when you embrace him, your warm breath on his skin makes him melt, especially combined with the wave of relief from your promise. He stops fighting you, curls up into a little ball in your arms, hiding his blushing face in a pillow, humiliated by how good it feels to be held, how little it takes.

“You don’t want me,” he says, miserable, but stubbornly proud, when you let go of his mouth. “You just pity me. I don’t want you to be here just because you feel bad for me.”

“I want you. I just wouldn’t want to fuck someone while they’re having a nervous breakdown. You or anyone else, for that matter.”

“It’s fine,” he says firmly. “I’m fine. I will be fine. Just do what you want to me, ignore my reactions, and soon I won’t even feel anything. It’s okay. I’m a puppet.”

It’s the conviction in his voice, the absolute certainty that there’s no better option that breaks your heart a little.

“Fucking hell, do you even hear yourself?”

“Why?” he says, face pressed against pillow, but calm, limp in your arms, a puppet with cut strings, and you hate it. ”It’s true, I am not like normal humans. You don’t have to treat me as one. It’ll be easier for the both of us, in the end.”

Maybe I just want you to feel good, baby.”

“Pffft,” he snorts like it’s ridiculous, like you’re naive and this option is not even on the agenda, and also so stupid he doesn’t even want to argue about it. “Even for humans, first time is supposed to be painful.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“No, everyone knows it, and…”

You clasp your hand over his mouth again and he starts squirming, noises muffled by your palm, but his protests die down as soon as your other hand starts siding down his body.

“You’re so bossy for a little brat, aren’t you?”

You flip up his skirt and slap his ass, and he jolts up in your arms, gasps against your skin. You stroke the affected skin first gently, then with more and more pressure, until groping it, fingers digging into his tender flesh. “Maybe be a good doll and let me handle this for you.”

He didn’t know it could feel like this, not even when he came thinking of you before, so good, like he’s safe, being taken care of, but also so sweetly helpless, unable to resist. His head is light and dizzy with desire when you caress his thighs, nervously and instinctively clenched up, and he can’t remember his millions of concerns when you whisper “Open up for me, baby.”

He lets your hand between his legs, you slide into his panties and find him already wet, but when you stroke his clit and quietly tell him “Good boy,” it runs through him like lightning, eyes opening wide, moan escaping from his lips, his entire body arching up against you.

“Yeah, that’s right, baby,” you keep caressing his clit, and he writhes more and more against you. “Doesn’t it feel good?”

His hand grips abruptly at your wrist, his slender fingers digging deep, and for a moment you think he’ll try to tear you off him, but then you realize that instead, he presses you closer to himself. You smile against his neck, the hand that kept at his mouth slides down, stroking his throat and down to his chest. At the same time, you slide your other hand deeper in between his legs, find his wet, pulsing entrance. You push two fingers into him, and he shudders against you, his fingers clenching at your wrist, but his cunt is wet and ready for you, stretching sweetly and leaking, his hips bucking against you. His breath is quick and frantic, heart beating rapidly, and then his fingers find your hand that isn’t buried inside of his pussy, leads it down his chest and then under the clothes, under the bra, to find and caress his small tits, and he whines sweetly, arches up, hard nipples poking at your palm. But when you take your fingers out of his pussy and press the head of your cock against his entrance, he tenses up again, his muscles spasming.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing! Just do it! It’s supposed to feel good for you when it's tight, isn’t it? So just fuck it, I can take it!”

He shuts up with a tiny gasp when you press your teeth into the side of his neck, which lets you keep groping his tits.

“I’ve never met someone, for whom a ballgag is so obviously needed for survival before. It’s going to be okay, baby, relax.”

You stroke his clit and massage his breasts, cutting his protests short, his hands clutching helplessly at yours, not trying to stop you, but just trying to be grounded.

“What if it’s not going to be okay?” he asks quietly, his face buried in a pillow. “What if I’m just built wrong, if it’s just always going to hurt when you try to fuck me?”

“Then we’ll figure out something to do that doesn’t involve penetrating your pussy. It’s not that hard, baby.”

“You would do that for me?”

“Of course, don’t be ridiculous. I’m not going to leave you just because I can’t fuck your cunt.”

“Really?” he asks, choked, trying for sarcasm, but failing badly, a raw edge in his voice.

you would just switch to eating him out, but he seems pretty hung up on the inability to take you in, but from how easy it was to fit your fingers into him, how he seemed to enjoy it, you’re pretty sure the issue is psychological. So you stroke his clit, squeeze his breasts and kiss at the side of his jaw. You can feel his entrance involuntarily pulsing open and you push the head of your cock into him, feeling him stretching wider. He turns his head to you in alarm, but you catch his mouth in a kiss, keep caressing his body and slowly moving deeper into him. His fingers move from your wrists to intertwine with your hands, and when you squeeze back, he comes so quickly in your arms, before your cock is even fully sheathed inside of him.

You hold him through the orgasm, then slide out of him, but then he turns in your arms, until he’s under you, he’s looking up at you, instead of being held.

“I want more,” he breathes out, hot and heavy, and before you can think of the answer, he pulls his clothes open, opening his bra and revealing his chest, and then tugs his skirt and soaked panties down. He lies under you, both trembling and determined, his breath fast and nervous for exposing himself to you after trusting you won’t be disgusted with him, that you’’ll *want him*.

“You’re so beautiful,” you run your eyes over him and kiss him, hard, and he presses himself against you, kisses you back with desperate abandon, but still when you break away from each other, he asks, his voice small. “Really?”

In response, you pepper him with hungry kisses, from the neck down the chest, ribs, stomach until you cover his swollen pink pussy with your mouth, while he’s leaking sweetly under your lips. When he comes, and he comes quickly, moaning loudly, you pull him close and kiss his lips with the taste of his own arousal.

“Really,” you tell him softly, while he’s blushing, soft and squirming against you. He shoots you a wry little look that you already came to associate with trouble coming, and says, trying to sound superior, but failing because of mischievous little smiles breaking his act

“So you like this body? That’s so degenerate of you, who would even like something so ugly and…”

He yelps and shuts up when you forcefully turn him over to lay on his stomach and slap his ass, but he looks pleased afterwards.

“There are much better ways to get spanked, you little brat.”

He arches his back, popping up his ass and spreading his thighs to show off his wet flushed pussy, entrance pulsing up open for you. Then he looks at you over the shoulder, eyes glinting in excitement, and sticks out his pink little tongue at you.

“Oh really?”

#rhine writes #rhine writes filth #sub genshin #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #sub scaramouche #sub wanderer #scaramouche

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