#in treatment x reader
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character list
the title is self explanatory. this is a list of the characters i'll write for. it'll probably change over time, and if you see a character you'd like but don't see them on the list, just ask cause i might've forgotten about them
Hamilton
Eliza Schuyler
Angelica Schuyler
Peggy Schuyler
Maria Reynolds
Alexander Hamilton
John Laurens
Philip Hamilton
Lafayette
Hercules Mulligan
James Madison
Thomas Jefferson
Aaron Burr
Umbrella Academy
Viktor Hargreeves
Diego Hargreeves
Klaus Hargreeves
Allison Hargreeves
Luther Hargreeves
Five Hargreeves
Ben Hargreeves (Umbrella or Sparrow)
Sloane Hargreeves
Jayme Hargreeves
Stranger Things
Will Byers (non female readers only)
Mike Wheeler
Lucas Sinclair
Dustin Henderson
Eleven Hopper
Max Mayfield
Robin Buckley (non male readers only)
Nancy Wheeler
Jonathan Byers
Steve Harrington
Eddie Munson
21 Chump Street
Justin Laboy
The Goldfinch
Boris Pavlikovsky
Theodore Decker
Marvel
Peter Parker (any actor)
Steve Rogers
Bucky Barnes
Sam Wilson
Makkari
Sersi
Sprite (platonic only)
Steven Grant
Marc Spector
Layla El-Faouly
America Chavez (non male readers only)
Kate Bishop
Yelena Belova (platonic only)
Shuri
Namor
Riri Williams
X-Men
Mystique
Kitty Pryde
Peter Maximoff
Rogue
In The Heights (movie version)
Usnavi de la Vega
Vanessa
Nina Rosario
Benny
Sonny de la Vega
Heathers
Veronica Sawyer
JD (Jason Dean)
Heather Chandler
Heather McNamara
Heather Duke
John Doe
John Doe
Ride The Cyclone
Noel Gruber (male or nb readers only)
Ocean O'Connel Rosenburg
Mischa Bachinski
Constance Blackwood
Ricky Potts
Hatchetfieldverse
Paul Matthews
Emma Perkins
Ted Spankoffski
Bill Woodard
Ruth Fleming
Pete Spankoffski
Richie Lipschitz
Max Jagerman
Grace Chasity
Lex Foster
Ethan Green
Hannah Foster (platonic only)
Heartstopper
Charlie Spring (non female readers only)
Nick Nelson
Tara Jones (non male readers only)
Darcy Olsson (non male readers readers only)
Elle Argent
Tao Xu (non male readers only(headcanoning him as bi or pan is disrespectful and transphobic))
Tori Spring
Imogen Heaney
Isaac Henderson (platonic only)
Do Revenge
Eleanor Levetan (non male readers only)
Drea Torres
Deadpool
Wade Wilson/Deadpool
Wednesday
Wednesday Addams
Enid Sinclair
Bianca Barclay
Xavier Thorpe
Ajax Petropolus
Eugene Otinger
(young) Morticia Addams
(young) Gomez Addams
Beetlejuice
Lydia Deetz
Tomorrow When The War Began
Ellie Linton
Lee Takkam
Fiona Maxwell
Homer Yannos
Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse/Across the Spider-Verse
Miles Morales
Gwen Stacy
Pavitr Prabhakar
Hobie Brown
Margo Kess
Miles G Morales (earth 42)
Miguel O’Hara
Maze Runner
Thomas
Newt (non female readers only)
The Broken Hearts Gallery
Lucy Gulliver
Nadine (non male readers only)
Nick Danielson
Treasure Planet
Jim Hawkins
Enola Holmes
Enola Holmes
Lord Tewkesbury
Turning Red
Mei Mei
Miriam
Abby
Priya
Raising Dion
Nicole Warren
Tevin Wakefield
Dion Warren (platonic only)
Julie and the Phantoms
Julie Molina
Luke Patterson
Reggie Peters
Alex Mercer (non female readers only)
Flynn
Carrie
Abbott Elementary
Janine Teagues
Jacob Hill (non female readers only)
Gregory Eddie
Brooklyn Nine-Nine
Jake Peralta
Amy Santiago
Rosa Diaz
Love Victor
Victor Salazar (non female readers only)
Benji (non female readers only)
Felix Weston
Pilar Salazar
Lake Meriwether
Lucy
Mia Brooks
Andrew
In Treatment
Eladio
Laila
Spree
Kurt Kunkle
Once Upon a Time
Emma Swan
Regina Mills
Killian Jones
Mary Margaret Blanchard
David Nolan
Henry Mills
Mulan (non male readers only)
Graham
Neal Cassidy
Peter Pan
Jefferson
Dash and Lily
Dash
Lily
Boomer
Juno
Juno MacGuff
Paulie Bleeker
Summer Days Summer Nights
Debbie Espinoza
Frankie Espinoza
Scream (1 through 6)
Sidney Prescott
Billy Loomis
Mickey Altieri
Roman Bridger
Jill Roberts
Charlie Walker
Sam Carpenter
Tara Carpenter
Amber Freeman
Chad Meeks-Martin
Mindy Meeks-Martin
Quinn Bailey
Venom
Eddie Brock
Honest Thief
Ramon Hall
Beth Hall
Wild Child
Poppy Moore
Kate
Drippy
Freddie Kingsley
Monsters and Men
Manny Ortega
Marisol Ortega
Ghostbusters: Afterlife
Trevor Spengler
Phoebe Spengler (platonic only)
Error 143
Micah Yujin
Community
Abed Nadir
Troy Barnes
Annie Edison
Jeff Winger
Britta Perry
The Obession
Logan
Delilah
The New Girl
Lia Setiawan
Stacey Hoffman
Mythic Quest
Poppy Li
Brad Bakshi
Adventure Time
Finn
Princess Bubblegum
Marceline
Marshall Lee
Prince Bubblegum
Flame Princess
School Spirits
Madison
Simon
Charley (non female readers only)
Wally
Rhonda
Dungeons and Dragons: Honour Among Thieves
Simon Aumar
Disventure Camp
Aiden (non fem readers only)
James (non fem readers only)
Grease: Rise of the Pink Ladies
Jane Facciano
Olivia Valdovinos
Nancy Nakagawa
Cynthia Zdunowski
Richie Valdovinos
Ted Lasso
Ted Lasso
Roy Kent
Jamie Tartt
Keeley Jones
Sam Obisanya
Transformers: Rise of the Beasts
Noah Diaz
Elena Wallace
Mirage
Helluva Boss
Blitzø
Stolas (non female readers only)
Loona
Millie
Moxxie
Octavia
Verosika Mayday
Fizzarolli
Asmodeus
Hazbin Hotel
Charlie Morningstar
Vaggie (non male readers only)
Angel Dust (non female readers only)
Husk
Alastor (platonic only)
Vox
Lucifer
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (rise + mutant mayhem + tmnt 2007 + tmnt 2012)
Donnie
Mikey
Raph
Leo
April
The After Party
Yasper Lennov
Space Force
Tony Scarapiducci
Renfield
Teddy Lobo
Robert Montague Renfield
Undercovers
Bill Hoyt
Amazing Digital Circus
Jax
Parks and Recreation
Leslie Knope
Ben Wyatt
April Ludgate
Andy Dwyer
Jean-Ralphio Saperstein
Randy Cunningham: 9th Grade Ninja
Randy Cunningham (18+ people DNI unless requesting platonic stories)
The Earliest Show
Josh Bath
House of Lies
Clyde Oberholt
Mean Girls (movie + musical + movie musical)
Cady Heron
Regina George
Gretchen Wieners
Karen Smith/Shetty
Janis Ian/Sarkisian/Imi'ike (non male readers only)
Damian Hubbard (non female readers only)
Warm Bodies
R
Peep World
Nathan Meyerwitz
Your Boyfriend
Peter Dunbar
#froggywritesstuff#tgwdlm x reader#John doe x reader#Heartstopper x reader#do revenge x reader#Deadpool x reader#Wednesday x reader#tomorrow when the war began x reader#treasure Planet X reader#Enola Holmes x reader#love Victor x reader#in treatment x reader#kurt kunkle x reader#once upon a time x reader#dash and Lily x reader#summer days summer nights x reader#venom x reader#honest theif x reader#Ghostbusters Afterlife x reader#Micah Yujin x reader#the obsession x reader#Simon Aumar x reader#rottmnt x reader#ben schwartz x reader#teddy lobo x reader#mean girls#Warm bodies#adventure time#mythic quest#your boyfriend
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princess treatment with simon
warning : use of the word wife
• simon is the kind of man to tell you to sit down as he gets on one knee and puts your high heels on for you and straps them when you’re getting ready to go out for a date night
• simon who will come up behind you, move your hair to the side and gently run his fingers down your naked back and feel the goosebumps as he goes to the bottom of your dress to zip it up for you without you even asking
• simon who will open every door for you, (don’t you dare get out of that car yourself), if you even try he will gently put you back into the car, close the door on you and then proceed to open it again, because simon is a gentleman and will never be caught not opening the door for you
• simon who escorts you into a room with a hand placed on your lower back as he rubs slowly up and down to soothe the both of you
• simon who will pull out your chair for you and once he’s pushed it back in before taking his own seat he will lean down and place a gentle kiss to your temple
• simon who tells you before you even leave the house to keep your purse at home because you are his beautiful wife and he believes you shouldn’t pay for a single thing
• simon who tells you to pick anything you want from the menu, any drink, any food, don’t even look at the price because he does not care, you deserve the world and he’s slowly trying to get that for you
#simon ghost riley x reader#masked men#mask kink#simon riley x reader#call of duty#task force 141#fluff#simon ghost riley#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x you#cod headcanons#headcanon#ghost cod#cod x reader#princess treatment
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Can you do reader ignoring stepbro rafe and he gets mad so he sneaks in readers room and eats her out until shes crying and begging for him to stop! Love ur fics💗💗
Silent Treatment
mean!stepbro!Rafe Cameron x reader
Warnings: noncon/forced sex, incest (step siblings), oral, fingering, forced orgasm, jealousy, controlling behavior, smut
After an excruciating family dinner where you seemed happy to speak with any other family member but him, Rafe glared at you when you were the first to excuse yourself from the table.
He rolled his eyes when he heard your door slam upstairs, but chose not to comment on it in front of Ward, Rose, Sarah, or Wheezie. If they noticed his reaction, they didn’t say anything.
Although they would have definitely noticed how little you had been speaking to Rafe, completely snubbing him at his every attempt to strike conversation with you.
Normally the two of you would be attached at the hip, and only Rafe knew why you were acting differently now.
The blond had chased off another guy that you had been talking to, insisting to you that he wasn’t any good for you, and that he didn’t deserve to date “Rafe Cameron’s little sister.”
You both knew the real reason behind his actions though.
Rafe waited several minutes before excusing himself and then casually walking up the stairs and approaching your door.
He didn’t even bother knocking, twisting the handle and opening the door to let himself in before shutting it quietly behind him.
At the noise, you sat up in bed, and glared at him.
“Leave me alone.” Your voice was curt and resolved, but Rafe didn’t really want to listen to you right now.
“C’mon Y/N, are you really going to do this right now? This silent treatment shit is getting old fast.” When your older step brother sat on the side of your bed, you tensed, scooting yourself away from him a bit.
“I already told you, I don’t want to talk to you right now.” You snapped at him. “You threatened Tyler to get him to stop talking to me!”
Rafe shook his head, his jaw clenching in frustration when he looked at you. He stared at you in silence before chuckling darkly.
“God, you’re such a cunt sometimes, Y/N, you know that?”
You reeled back at his words, jaw dropping in disbelief at his insult.
“Fuck you, Rafe,” you cursed under your breath and you were surprised when his fingers clamped down on your chin, forcing you to look at him.
“Oh yeah? Maybe I will.” His words shocked you, but not as much as the dead serious look on his face. “Maybe that would teach you to not be such an uptight bitch.”
You tried to grasp at his wrist but he swatted your hand away before sliding his hand around your throat and forcing you onto your back.
“Rafe-” you struggled against him when he straddled you, and when he reared his hand back like he was ready to slap you across the face, you tensed up, finally stilling beneath him and looking up at your older step brother with fear in your eyes.
“Relax, I wasn’t going to hit you, sweetheart,” you weren’t sure whether his raspy words were meant to be a comfort or a threat.
You couldn’t speak, too shocked and frightened by his actions to create a sound. All you could do was blink the tears from your shiny eyes.
“What? Nothing to say now, huh?” Rafe mocked you, drawing closer. His breath was hot on your face and his large hand at your throat kept you pinned in place.
You defiantly kept your mouth shut, although you didn’t think you could have made a sound even if you wanted to with Rafe’s fingers starting to crush your throat.
Your silence was short lived however, because you gasped when you felt Rafe’s other hand gently ghost over your clothed core. You jerked away from his touch, but the hand at your throat held you firmly in place.
He shifted on top of you, crawling lower and finally releasing his hold on your neck. Your attempts to shove him off of you were futile, and when his big hands began pawing at your shorts and kneading the soft skin of your thighs, you felt your stomach drop.
“Get the hell off of me!”
He ignored you, unbuttoning your shorts, only unzipping them part of the way before just tugging them down your legs and discarding them behind him. Your heart was beating hard in your ears, and the sound of your rushing pulse made you feel dizzy.
He eyed your lacy pink panties for just a moment before pulling them down, ripping them when you kicked your legs out trying to stop him.
“What the fuck are you doing?” You hissed quietly, too confused and embarrassed to be loud enough to attract the attention of your family.
He didn’t respond, but you got your answer when he spread your legs, which you were desperately trying to squeeze together, and buried his tongue into your pussy.
You weren’t sure if the noise you let out was a cry or a moan, but either way, it was loud. Disgust and pleasure sinfully mingled together in your gut when Rafe’s tongue teased your clit.
With his strong arms wrapped around your legs, you had nowhere to go. When you squirmed in his arms, his tongue just licked at you more hungrily, shooting sparks of ecstasy through your entire body.
Your step brother devoured your silky cunt, savoring the sweet flavors of your unwanted arousal like it was nectar from the gods. The sound of your soft cries of protests mixed with involuntary moans of pleasure made him harder than he had ever gotten by just fantasizing about this moment.
“Rafe please!” You begged him, panting as he messily lapped at your tender clit. His harsh grip on your soft thighs tightened, and you winced at the feeling of his fingers digging into your skin.
When you felt the tip of his finger slide along your dripping folds, you bucked your hips in surprise, trying again to free yourself from his grasp.
His blue eyes glanced up, taking in your disheveled form. Your chest was rising and falling unevenly and Rafe watched your face as he slowly pushed his index finger into your tight heat.
Your eyebrows shot up in shock and you bit your lip, trying to stifle the gasp that escaped at the feeling of your older brother sliding his ringed finger along your walls. Every flick of his tongue against your clit had you tensing and tightening around his finger and Rafe’s moans vibrated against your soaked pussy.
“P-please stop,” you whimpered, tears beginning to prick at your eyes and overflow past your lashes.
“Not ‘til you apologize, princess,” he mumbled in between sucking at your clit and curling his finger inside your quivering walls. He slowly slid in a second finger, stretching you out even further and earning a strained gasp that made his cock twitch. Rafe had fantasized about this moment so many times before, but seeing your perfect face and hearing you moan and whine as he fucked you with his fingers and lapped at your clit was better than anything he could have ever imagined.
Your head was in the clouds, horribly confused by your conflicting feelings of disgust and desperate want. It was wrong for so many reasons, but maybe that fact was why you were so close to being pushed over the brink.
“I’m sorry, Rafe! Okay? Fuck- Please, mm- I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You breathlessly begged him. Your eyes were squeezed shut, but your tears were still flowing down your cheeks in a steady stream.
“Look at me, Y/N,” he ordered. Rafe was fucking you with his fingers harder now, the feeling of his ring dragging along your walls was making you see stars behind your eyelids. His thumb circled your clit with just the right amount of pressure to keep you right on the edge of finishing.
You reluctantly cracked your eyes, meeting Rafe’s intense gaze with heavy lidded eyes that you could barely keep open.
“Apologize to your big brother like you fucking mean it.” His grin was triumphant and mocking, and he allowed his eyes to trace over every part of you, taking in how much of a pathetic mess he had made of you.
“I’m sorry, Rafe! I’m sorry, I’ll never ignore you again. I was just being stupid. Ple- mm please stop.” You pleaded with him, tears and hiccups interrupting your words. You had never felt so much humiliation in your entire life.
“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, not stopping his movements at all. “You’re just too cute for your own good, baby.”
“What-?”
Your question was cut off with a moan when he resumed working your clit with his tongue. He lapped and licked at the tender flesh like a man starved and when he slide a third finger into your tight cunt, the band inside of you finally snapped.
“Rafe!” You loudly whined as you came, legs quivering as he continued fucking you through your high.
“Aw, there’s my good girl,” he cooed, drinking in your beautiful face and enjoying the feeling of your cunt clinging to his fingers and pulsing around them. Your pink, puffy tear stained eyes fearfully met his eyes and you sniffed sadly.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it, Y/N?” He smirked at you when he pulled his fingers from your sore, weeping pussy and slid them past his lips, savoring the flavor of your arousal.
“Mm, tastes like you enjoyed yourself,” Rafe chuckled darkly. “So quit your fucking crying. Just makes me want to choke you with my dick till you shut up.”
#silent treatment#rafe cameron#dark!rafe cameron#outer banks#rafe cameron noncon#stepbro!rafe cameron#stepbro!rafe#dark rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron fanfic
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fluff, apologising and making up after a 'fight' kind of drabble bc i miss suna <3
suna rintarou shows up to your university on the third day of the silent treatment.
the sight is a surprise, to say the least. your pro-volleyball player boyfriend standing outside your faculty’s building with his hands in his pockets, blending in with baggy jeans, a hoodie, and a cap. he looks the part of a university student, but you could never be fooled, not when he's 6'3 with an equally admirable stature from exercising.
amongst the crowd of outflowing students, the dark-haired spots you, olive eyes widening upon seeing you. he pushes himself onto two feet before walking over to where you stay rooted, dodging the students who just came out of the same lecture.
“hi,” suna greets, stopping just a few feet away from you. the sight of his lopsided smile is enough to get your heart racing again. you've missed him so much.
regardless, you cross your arms to keep up an angry front, not wanting to give in to his charms just yet no matter how good he may he at using them.
“what are you doing here?” you ask bluntly, betraying the butterflies in your stomach.
his expression doesn’t falter at your iciness. “not happy to see me?”
you are happy to see him, very much so, especially when he has taken the initiative of literally showing up at your campus and waiting for your classes to be over to see you. he must be tired from practice as well and you know too well that mondays were never kind to him.
so the fact that suna came all this way for you makes you feel a little special.
he’s even wearing some of that cologne that you really like and unless it’s for special occasions, you know that your boyfriend is never bothered enough to wear any fragrance. he is so sly that you could kiss him.
“not particularly, suna.” you say in response, lying through your teeth.
suna clutches his chest like he’s been shot, making a gasp of offence at your statement. “babe, after i came all the way to campus? i thought i’d never want to come back here but i made some exceptions for the love of my life and this is what i get in return?”
“suck it up, i guess.”
“-and who on earth is suna? never heard of him. can’t believe you’ve already forgotten my name after three days, i’m losing sight of reality, babe hold me, i might faint.”
“whatever,” you chuckle a little at his antics, eyes softening with a certain fondness that suna doesn’t miss. his lips twitch upwards at the sight of it.
this is his chance to win you back. he throws his line in in hopes of catching you hook and sinker.
“let’s go to dinner tonight,” he offers, recovering from his previously downed position, voice contrastingly soft and gentle to smoothen his proposal.
“what, so you can stand me up again?” you quip, instantly slicing the atmosphere to turn tense as the line snaps in half.
suna’s grin falls, morphing into a guilty frown. “c’mon pretty, that’s mean. you know how sorry i am, i didn’t mean to forget about our plans.”
you huff, letting your arms fall back to your sides. “i know, i know, but you standing me up just stung. it was frustrating because i made time for us that i could have used to study with instead,” you confess. “you know how stressed i’ve been with finals.”
the athlete stuffs his hands into his pockets awkwardly. “but i’m trying to make up for it.”
“i know and i appreciate it, but now’s not a good time. i’m sorry but i can’t go to dinner tonight or any time soon, i have a bunch of practice tests to do that i can’t keep putting off.”
“then can i come over?” asks suna, a hopeful lilt to his voice.
“and watch me study? do you really want that?”
“i just want to be with you, i can order us takeout or something- on me.”
“guess i’m just irresistible, huh?”
“duh, do you know how much i suffered during the weekend? missed you so much, practically died from boredom.”
“oh so i’m just another person for you to bother? is that how it is?” you ask, unable to contain your smile.
the dark-haired scoffs. “c’mon babes, you know you’re better than that. you’re the only person i can bother.”
“oh fuck off,” you whack his shoulder teasingly. “also for your information, you’re not coming between me and my education.”
“ambitious people are a turn-on,” he mutters with a shrug before pulling you in to kiss your cheek.
“ew get off me, freak,” you joke whilst shoving him, not rough enough to actually create distance but suna still stands his ground from the force. his hand goes to hold your other cheek as he smothers you with over-exaggerated affection.
you laugh in his hold, holding on to his wrists for balance. “suna!” you yelp when he pushes too much weight onto you, causing the two of you to stumble sideways. “actually get off me.”
“can’t. won’t. don’t want to. this is what you get for not responding to me all weekend- what does a man need to do to get a text back from the love of his life?”
“easy. be a man.” you step out of his grasp with a satisfied smirk, beginning to walk away from your boyfriend who stares at you with his mouth hung open in disbelief. inevitably, suna runs up to you.
and as he encases you with his arms in the middle of the empty gardens of your university faculty, you know that the two of you will be okay. even if suna is the bane of your existence, there is no one else for you like him.
© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.
#still on break lol#been writing a lot of silent treatment fics... apologies#suna x reader#haikyuu x reader#suna rintarou x reader#suna rintaro x reader#rintarou suna x reader#hq x reader#suna rintarou fluff#suna fluff#suna rintarou x reader fic#suna rintarou x reader imagine
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Idée Fixe
yandere!lyney x reader
cw(s) : yandere, lyney
wc : 2.6k+
two dorks psychoanalyze each other. might kiss out of spite.
“For as many hearts as you steal, how many do you keep?”
The smooth texture from designed cards is felt across the tips of your fingers, your eyes capture the patterns printed on them through the filter of silvery moonlight and the sound of steps falling in sync with yours assure you of the verity of this encounter.
You don't even need to look up to picture the twinkling amethysts, the widening curve of lips that never convey anything concrete and a sudden bounce in the magician's steps ; the visage painted in your subconscious like the motifs on the cards your fingers fiddle with in intrigue.
The chilly night breeze are but twirls of playful edge,“You make it sound like something else,”
If you cared to look up, you would've noticed the subtle dance of his brows. Lyney begins to walk a step ahead of you in the midst of his short speech, through prolonged scrutiny that'd rival that of the most skilled jeweler's ; you've associated this change of pace to either be in preparation for his usual trickery — or, in the few sparse occasions that go as soon as they come, a casual introduction of another subject to eliminate the previous one. While one could accuse you of reading too much into things, you've long since learned that when it concerns the eccentric magician, the tell-tale details will reveal what he will not.
“Oh really? Perhaps it's your mind imagining insinuations that do not exist, you do have a creative brain.”
“Ouch, only you could insult and praise me in the same sentence.” Lyney places a hand over his heart to cradle it from the jab, though his choice of words should indicate offense, the delivery makes it clear he wouldn't have it any other way.
“Why, thank you, though you're gravely mistaken if you think that will change the subject.” with a swivel of his cape, Lyney spins to walk facing you, his strides (albeit backwards) unchanging in confidence and only when your lift your head to lock eyes, does his expression lighten.
“Well, to answer your question, the ones that are worth keeping, of course.”
The magician chuckles at your eye-roll, “Don't play coy, you know precisely how I meant that question.”
Lyney hums in pretend contemplation, gaze still fixated on your moonlit form, the beat of both of your steps grazing against the pavement and making it seem like a strange parade. Your question holds substance unknown to the rest of the world, but translucent to the magician.
It is both his frustration and delight that you're never bent by his charming words and theatrics. Your firm stare and insistence on the topic confirm his suspicions that you're searching for something particular, something uprooted from the very depths of his soul and he could bet his entire career that you won't stop until you've wrung it out. The answer you seek is nothing he can't give, it'd be simple as well, but precisely due to this knowledge the magician opts instead to test the limitations of your patience.
Truth be told, Lyney never likes it easy and neither do you.
For a miniscule lapse in the boundless confines of time, it's as though both of your world has separated from the existing one. For an amount that'd otherwise be uncomfortable, all exchange is made through your locked eyes. Like a secret shared between no other soul — despite your better judgement, the realization sends a jolt of thrill through your veins and you cannot help but wonder if the magician feels the same.
Seemingly out of thin air, Lyney twirls his magic wand in a wanton pattern, small sparks of light clash with the moon's glow before waltzing past your hair — you pause for not a second, knowing their goal lies in catching you off-guard. If Lyney was given the chance, he'd spend the rest of the night in determining whether you looking back to the cards in your hands was merely an expression of boredom or a brag of how accustomed you are to his theatrics.
Lyney dabbles between the lines of reality and illusion as a profession, blurring them without his audience's notice to make them believe a miracle. It's a simple trick he's succeeded in transforming into an art, so he was confident you'd be privy to the delusion as well. Whether it's due to you doing the same as him or the opposite entirely, Lyney's persistence in solving the puzzle piece named you only grows more tenacious day-by-day.
Sensing the magician's uncharacteristic quietude, you abandon the cards to his backwards marching form and the cheeky grin plastered on his face has you wishing you hadn't at all.
“Ah, but you see, the information you seek is confidential and I fear for prying ears. How about you come a little closer, and I'll tell you the amount?”
Lyney's face is a perfect replica of the grin-malkin cat he adores using as prop, a cloud obscures the moon's vision from seeing the act down earth and the shimmer of Lyney's eyes become pronounced in contrast to the shadow. In comparison, your visage that'd scream ‘preposterous!’ if it could looks nothing short of a circus.
Your steps come to a halt in unison, a breathy chuckle echoes throughout the dead of the night, “Aw, why that face? I don't bite~”
You blink in surprise and suddenly the magician's presence is way too closer than you recall ; he bows down to your ear and the heat of his breath almost makes a shiver run down your spine.
“... but, I might nibble.”
You catch his impish smirk from the corner of your eye and if Lyney notices how you choke in the formation of words, he could snag an award for acting like he didn't.
“Are you that fixated on creating a scandal? Must you always be so shameless?”
At that, Lyney leans away with a pout, hands folded behind his back and swaying back and forth on the heels of his shoes like a reprimanded child.
“Come on now, don't be such a killjoy. I went through all that trouble to whisk you from that boring party and this is how I'm thanked?”
The magician's words are a drawl, each one competing to be more irritating than the last. You have to take a deep breath and hold your tongue from reminding him that the escapade had been without your choice. The world places limitations on all sorts of things and you're not morbidly curious enough tonight to know the extent of the magician's good graces. A beat of tense silence passes, Lyney takes note of your averted gaze and it positively irks him.
Lack of eye-contact means a number of things ; nervousness, insecurity, hesitancy, guilt. For a performer like him whose pride resides in keeping his audience's eyes hooked on his every move, such a gesture is bitter tasting. But when it concerns you, it pricks and wounds his very soul. Lyney's sigh is one of weight and it inclines you to raise your head.
“By asking how many hearts I keep, you hope to know how many matters to me.”
The magician takes his hat off and moves forward to place it atop your head, his speech is not an assumption, nor an inquiry, but a statement. You straighten your posture when you notice the absence of a smile on his face, the sight so alien it has you on edge. While his gesture may be plain to an inexperienced eye, you know that he does it as an extension of his affection. For all the valued items he keeps dangling by the rim of that hat, he surrenders it all to you in a heartbeat.
But you still hold your breath and as expected, the solemn expression of his proves to be transient. Just before the hat grazes your locks, he tips it back, gives the vacancy of its inside an inspecting look and does an emptying gesture as if to prove its.. well, emptiness. There's a flicker in his eyes you're not given the time to catch as he brings his hat just above your head and does the same depleting motion again ; the scent of fresh roses engulf your senses as a thousand petals cascade down from the hat. As if on cue, the winds pick up and waltz them down upon your form.
Here's the thing ; while you may pride yourself in being experienced in discerning Lyney's tricks, it becomes a task to maintain a straight face as he never repeats his previous sleight of hand. What you can try to do instead is search for patterns, patterns reveal genres and genres reveal intentions. Lyney is a celebrated magician of the Court, his capabilities lie far from simple card tricks, so for him to resort to elementary jugglery instead of some grand spectacle, it can only mean he's trying to distract you yet again.
You feel the weight of his hat on your head at last, shifting all the cards on your left hand, you raise your right to adjust its position slightly.
Your encouragement for him to elaborate comes in the form of confirmation, “That'd be correct,”
The magician's lips curve up in fondness, a playful hum escapes him as you resume your walk, him returning to stride facing you again. It's a skill he's mastered in the duration of your acquaintance, for the purpose of stunts apparently. You have your suspicions — but then again, who doesn't when it concerns Lyney?
“Very well. You accuse me of being such a thief, yet, I think you are the guiltier one between us two.” the errant strands of the magician's hair sway, his eyes keep you captive.
He takes the inquisitive tilt of your head as incentive to conclude, “On the topic of hearts and all, I must ask first, when do you intend to return mine?”
The night winds pause, your brain processes Lyney's question until it blanks upon realization. Your eyes dart across his face that is void of all teasing cues, his eyes glazed over and you can tell he's holding his breath. Any consideration of his behavior aligning with trickery is eliminated just as quickly, because if anyone were to want to understand Lyney as intricately as you, they'd first need to learn to be able to distinguish his flirtation from fact.
“... Do I have to?”
You find yourself half concerned and half entertained as the magician narrowly avoids being hit by a pole, him having to maneuver to regain his footing. Both of your steps come to a halt as your laugh echoes throughout the dead of the night. Lyney sheepishly places a hand on the back of his neck but that sight is all too evanescent. The signature smirk of his returns with enthusiasm.
“Not at all,” he purrs, eyes flickering towards your restless ones that have settled on his magic cards again.
“In fact, mold it to your will, toss it to your whim and hold it captive as though it's a supplement of your own, if you may.”
Your ears hang onto each of Lyney's words but your eyes find no courage to look at the mirth that you're certain is plastered on his face, you take the moment to properly inspect the motifs on the cards with some distraction from the shadows of the night : the grin-malkin cat, a miniature Lyney sticking out his tongue, a tea cup, a penguin and—
You're left stupified as the card is abruptly snatched from your grasp, Lyney bounces back a few steps and confirms to be the culprit. You brisk walk to reach the magician and that turns out to be your biggest mistake.
The card is at first held between two of Lyney's fingers, him shaking it left and right in provocation and in the spur of the moment, you take a leap. You feel the wind of the card being propelled upward, the magician holding it out of your reach. Your desire to obtain the piece of paper exceeds your awareness of the sudden decrease in proximity between you both. You shift to your tiptoes and feel the surface of the card, one look through your peripheral at the magician's smile and you realize a little too late that you've fallen right into his trap.
“Now, let's see, the question that started this all : the number of hearts this magician holds dear is the answer to this riddle—”
You expected Lyney to make the card disappear or shift higher if possible, but instead his hand wraps around yours and you find yourself twirled a full circle. The motion catches you off-guard but the magician stabilizes you by placing a firm hand on your waist and pulling you to his eye-level. You find yourself out-of-breath and unable to look away as the moon shines its light on you two again.
“—Placed above, it makes greater things small. Placed beside, it makes small things greater. ” the magician tilts your chin up in his preferred angle with the card, the cool temperature of its margin contradicting the heat of your skin.
“In matters that count, it always comes first.”
The faint rustle of your garbs against his is resounding, your own reflection stares back through amethyst lenses.
Lyney's voice is but a whisper against your cheek as he concludes, “Where others increase, it keeps all things the same. What is it?”
Your frenzied mind momentarily dreads the scenario wherein someone catches you two in the midst of this rendezvous, from incipiency to this apparent climax ; it's built up to be nothing short of scandalous. But the magician has no care for that outcome, inching closer, closer and closer. As if sensing the new wave of worries that fill your mind, he halts but makes no attempt to lean back, his eyes regain their usual shine.
“Quite easy, don't you think? But, if you believe it to be so, you'll be mislead. After all, that is how the simplest magic bewilders the audience. Blink, and you might miss it.”
The magician dives in and your breath hitches. Your eyes are forced open when you feel yourself stumble forward. The first second is wasted with no action, the second one you register that you have the card in your hand — pressed to your lips, on the third you notice the absence of Lyney's presence and the forth brings down all the embarrassment crashing down on your poor heart.
You pull away the condemned card from your lips, heavens know what anyone would think if they saw you kissing a piece of paper in the middle of nowhere. Your face flushes in the lovely shades of pink, heart hammering against your ribcage.
I could've sworn that I felt...!
The magic card crumbles slightly by the edges because of your grip, the prickle of its corners remind you to take deep breaths and calm your raging thoughts. You shake your head with vigour, but you're unsure if it's to recollect the memory or to brush it off. You're left alone to ruminate the aftermath of the bizarre encounter in the cold winds of midnight and you almost want to drown yourself in the darkest depths of the sea as recollections of your reactions rapidly pass through your mind — you can practically hear Lyney's snickers in your head.
Your attention is then grabbed by the catalyst of your current predicament, you turn over the card and finally inspect the motif printed on the card ; two hearts, bounded by a shackle and a lock. You trace your thumb across the hearts and your mind retraces Lyney's cryptic words. If all interactions, encounters and memories you share with the eccentric magician of Fontaine would form a pinnacle for you to see the truth from ; you'd know that behind the veneer of charisma and humor, Lyney hides something far less innocent. And yet, regardless of the foreboding creeping up your spine, you find yourself unable to snap the tether of connection.
Because as it is, that which is mysterious, captivates us all.
may all lyney wanters be lyney havers<3
#enjoy the whimsy until i (probably) give him the venti treatment(◍•ᴗ•◍)#this is so self-indulgent and i'm not going to apologize for it#yandere#yandere genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#yandere genshin x reader#yandere genshin impact x reader#yandere lyney#yandere lyney x reader#lyney x reader#lyney x you#yandere genshin imagines#yandere genshin x you#yandere x reader imagine#male yandere#genshin impact#yandere genshin#genshin x reader#lyney fluff#lyney
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simon yanks grocery bags out of your hands bc how dare you burden your pretty hands with heavy things when he's right there. and if you don't let him take it, he'll glare at you and grunt in disapproval until you do
#reluctant princess treatment#will snap his teeth at you if you try to leaven him of a bag or two#is leaven a word#simon fluff#cod x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#vi.muses
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SILENT TREATMENT
— harry being stubborn & regretting it
——
"Where's Harry?"
You swear he was in the room a mere second ago. As a matter of fact, you swear he was just standing next to you playing an intense game of ping-pong while wearing only his boxers and socks.
Harry has been childishly ignoring you for the past hour by hitting the hollow plastic ball back and forth with someone from the backstage crew in complete silence. You kept stealing glances at him, hoping his expressive eyes would reveal what was irking him, but he never acknowledged you. Based on pure assumption, he's mad at you. You think he's being a bit dramatic.
"Not sure," answers the crew member with a shrug. "He left without saying anything."
"Great," you reply, sighing in frustration. I'll go looking for him.
You snatch your sweatshirt from the chair in the corner and head out on a mission. Harry can't be too far, but the unfamiliar venue with mazes of hallways and covert doors could make your search quite difficult. Thankfully, plenty of workers with recognizable shirts and lanyards roam around backstage, either pushing equipment carts or having muffled conversations with people through their walkie-talkies.
You politely raise your hand to garner the attention of an older woman casually leaning against the wall. "Excuse me, have you seen Harry Styles anywhere?"
Her hazel eyes narrow suspiciously. "Are you a fan? How did you get back here?"
"No, no," you say quickly with a nervous laugh, taking your specialized lanyard out from the pocket of your jeans and showing it to her. "I'm his girlfriend, and I— well, I sort of lost him."
She walks closer and squints at the laminated card with your name and picture printed. "You lost him?"
Heat prickles up your neck and travels to your cheeks. "Um, he's quiet. Sneaks right past me all the time."
The woman smiles faintly. "I'm sure he does." What the hell is that supposed to mean? "I think I saw him going to the private bathrooms in the back," she adds, hiking her thumb behind her shoulder. "Hey, tell him to stop walking around in his boxers, will ya?"
"Sure thing," you reply distractedly with a nod, not fully comprehending what she said.
After wandering down the brightly lit hallway, you eventually reach the back area of his dressing room. The smooth walls turn into rough, white-painted bricks as the opening of the communal bathroom comes into view. There's still an hour until showtime, and you wonder what Harry could be doing there. Usually, he waits until right before he has to go on stage to get ready.
You find him standing in front of the sink, a plush robe wrapped around his sulking figure as he brushes his teeth with his lucky pink toothbrush. One look at his face tells you he's not in a good mood.
Fights with Harry tend to be over petty things that are easily forgotten the next day. Joining him on tour has caused some lingering stress since what he does, as fun as it appears to be, is still strenuous when unpredictable mishaps can occur at any moment. You can't really remember what you said today that is making him blatantly ignore you. Maybe it has something to do with jet lag, or perhaps he's just being stubborn. Either is highly possible.
"Hi," you mutter, looming next to him.
Harry continues brushing his teeth while avoiding eye contact with you. The air smells of spearmint and his potent cologne, but it doesn't bring you the comfort it usually would due to the palpable tension currently clouding the air.
"You're mad at me," you say plainly, drumming your fingers along your thigh.
He leans over the sink and spits out the residual toothpaste, then inhales heavily, almost impatiently, as he picks up his mouthwash. He grants no response and twists open the cap, taking a short swig and swishing it around in his mouth. You rest your hip against the counter and impatiently cross your arms. It doesn't feel nice when he hasn't even so much as spoken a single word to you when you've been in close quarters for the past hour.
Since when has the silent treatment ever solved anything?
"If you're not going to speak to me, I think I'll just go hang out in the tour bus for the night," you say, swallowing down the lump in your throat.
Harry shrugs one shoulder without a care in the world, and you take it as your self-proclaimed cue to leave. You honestly don't have the patience or energy to start a one-sided argument right now, so with a disappointed hum, you begin walking away.
Your feet halt just before you turn the corner. "Have a good show," you mumble with burning sarcasm.
Once you're out of his sight, you curl your fists by your head and grit your teeth, almost letting out a crazed laugh at his ridiculousness. You want to scream. He sometimes acts like such a kid, too arrogant to admit when he's sorry and too selfish to try and mend the issue before it builds into something bigger. It's terrifying to think it could become unfixable.
After five minutes of asking around, you're led to the back parking lot, where the tour buses are lined up. The main one you ride in with Harry is guarded by two security guards. You lift your lanyard without uttering a word, and they immediately open the door.
You stomp up the stairs and throw your belongings onto the couch, trying to not let the simmering anger in your blood turn into an uncontrollable boil. No one else is around, so you shut all the interior lights off and climb into the tiny bunk bed you share with your stupidly stubborn boyfriend. The sheets are still crumpled, and his dirty socks lie by the edge. Everything smells like him, and for once, you wish it didn't.
Exhaustion eventually kicks in, and you drift off to the distant sound of the crowd going wild inside the arena.
——
"Psst."
You jolt awake from the voice right next to your ear. Your hazy brain catches up to consciousness as you grumble a noise of protest. There's no need to open your eyes when you know whose body is causing the dip in the uncomfortable mattress.
A shake is then given to your elbow. You jerk it back and hope he takes the hint.
"Ow, bloody hell!" Harry whispers harshly.
"Go away."
That was a bad idea. Instant regret. Harry responds by rolling on top of you, borderline knocking the air out of your lungs. You tiredly groan and push him off, his body falling next to you in the cramped space of the bunk.
"Seriously, go away," you repeat, putting a pillow between you and him. "Stop sucking up to me and acting like everything's fine."
Harry takes the pillow and flings it somewhere far. "Yeah, well, I don't appreciate you just leaving and not texting me your whereabouts. That scares me."
You roll your eyes. "I told you where I'd be, yet you decided to give me the silent treatment."
He ironically goes silent at the truth.
"And," you continue, kicking his leg under the covers, "I don't appreciate it when you don't speak to me. It hurts."
"I'm sorry," he murmurs, remorse leaking into his apology. I was being an idiot. I can't even remember what I was upset about."
You slowly turn over to face him. "Me neither."
He's freshly showered, the hood from his sweatshirt thrown over his damp hair. His face is slightly rosy from the recent steam, and his lips look remarkably soft in the minimal lighting.
"I hated not seeing you in the crowd," he says quietly, glancing at your mouth. "It's my fault, but still... it wasn't the same without you."
You lean forward and kiss his forehead, making a content hum vibrate in his throat. His legs intertwine with yours as he rubs under his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie.
"Please never stop talking to me," you whisper. "Even when you're annoying, I still like to listen to your voice."
Harry smiles fondly and places his palm against yours, admiring the size difference. "You're my favorite person to talk to. Do you know that?"
You feign a gag at his sappy statement, and he laughs before nuzzling his face into your neck and innocently tickling your sides. He eventually stops and wraps his arms around you, planting tender kisses on your exposed skin.
His addictive scent consumes your senses, and you let yourself drown in it until sleep drapes over the both of you like a favorite childhood blanket.
——
#harry styles blurb#harry styles imagine#harry styles x reader#harry styles fluff#harry styles fanfic#harry styles#adore-laur#silent treatment
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Cuddling as you kiss all over his face soft little pecks saving his lips for last. As you slowly lean in closer to his lips letting out a soft giggle as you feel his breath hitch. You softly press your lips to his. Pulling away quickly as you hide your face in his chest. He lets out a whine from the quickness of the kiss. You slowly peek up at his glossy eyes and pouty lips as he looks down at you.
“please”
He whispers causing you to pull back in shock a blush creeping up on your cheeks. You look down at his lips and then at his desperate eyes. He knows you won’t make a move so he takes matters into his own hands. Flipping you onto your back you gasp at the sudden movement making him take the chance and kiss you deeply as you both moan into the kiss. He pulls away your head follows trying to stay connected He smiles at your desperation putting a hand on the side of your face you lean into it staring up at him with glossy eyes.
“My beautiful girl,” He says before lifting your chin for another kiss.
VERYYYY Spencer Reid Coded
UGH I WANT A BF SO BAD but I’m scared to text ppl back :((
#i need a boyfriend#spencer reid core#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid#spencer reid smut#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds#matthew gray gubler#mgg#i want a boyfriend#girlblogging#just girly things#older man younger woman#princess treatment#this is a girlblog#hell is a teenage girl
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i’ll relearn love at our kitchen table ; satoru gojo
synopsis; satoru doesn’t quite know what love is supposed to feel like. but if it means coming home to you, it can’t possibly be that much of a curse.
word count; 4.9k
contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, satoru gojo vs. the mortifying ordeal of being loved, fluff fluff fluff!!, a hint of angst if you reeeaallyyy squint, gojo’s pov, the babygirlification of satoru gojo, i just think being babied would fix him <33
a/n; i wanted to write something for suguru or shoko but this man is genuinely holding my brain hostage atp so more satoru fluff it is!! physically i could write gojo angst yes but emotionally? imagine the toll…
when satoru steps over the threshold to your apartment, he’s downright exhausted.
it’s a heavy kind of fatigue, a little sickening. the kind that seems to sneak its way into his bones, crawl its way under his skin. dragging him down, down, down.
a yawn slips from his lips.
the mission itself wasn’t too tough — anything is a breeze for satoru gojo, that fact needs no elaboration. this one was just a little more taxing than usual, slightly more important, which meant he had to deal with the technicalities of it all. had to listen to the elders go on and on about the importance of discretion, about finishing things swiftly and efficiently, and something else he didn’t stick around long enough to hear.
and the curse? a small fry, really. nothing worth fussing over. but it was annoying, with that irritatingly effective barrier technique. how long did he have to stay inside that goddamn veil before it let him get close enough to land a hit?
satoru doesn’t want to think about it, can’t be bothered to figure it out when all he wants is to collapse into the warm comfort of a soft mattress. all he knows is that when it finally lifted, the night sky was the only thing he could see. a vacuum of stars — taunting in its perpetuity.
so, with all that being said; to say satoru feels a little worn out might be a bit of an understatement.
hair slightly tousled, eyelids heavy with sleep-deprivation, he slumps against the wall and allows himself to simply breathe. a soft groan flows from his parted lips as he stretches idly, a small respite for his stiff and achy joints, his tired muscles.
it’s been a long day. but satoru still finds it in him to exhale a relieved breath, to drag his blindfold down to his neck and kick off his shoes.
because it’s been a long, long day — but now he’s finally home.
(not just a house, not just an apartment, but a home. a place of comfort and belonging. satoru didn’t think that was a luxury he would ever be able to afford.)
the moment he lets the door close behind him, a particular scent greets him. soothing in its familiarity, the only thing in his life that never seems to change; a blend between fresh laundry, and watered houseplants, and something that smells a bit like honey. maybe even sweeter than usual, though satoru chalks that up to his mind playing tricks on him.
it’s nice. so nice. coming back to something warm and real, a respite from his hectic work. a safe haven, of sorts, one that hasn’t been taken from him just yet.
satoru likes to think of your front door as a threshold between realms, a gap between within and without. one is dark in its saturation, plagued by that never-fading smell of iron, while the other is simply warm. sacred in its normalcy.
everything looks just as it should, the same as when he rushed out this morning; a fluffy blanket draped over the couch haphazardly, that soft golden light streaming out from the kitchen, your shoes by the front door.
satoru blinks, drowsily.
wait.
why is the kitchen light still on?
as if his eyes could ever deceive him, satoru rubs the skin under them groggily — blinking once, then twice.
yep, it’s still there — that soft fluorescent glow. a sight he’s come to associate with breakfast and dinner and a mellow kind of love, laughter shared over warm meals made by human hands. food tastes better, satoru has come to realize, when you have someone to eat it with.
ah, but it’s odd. did you forget to turn the lights off? that’s not very like you.
as if possessed by a strange, irresistible longing, his feet carry him to the kitchen in question. undeniably groggy, his uncoordinated steps are riddled with fatigue, but the yearning in his chest compels him to move forward anyway — a kind of yearning he only fully understands when he enters the space, and sees you slumped over the table, a familiar flicker of cursed energy capturing his attention.
you’re asleep.
satoru stills, where he stands by the threshold between the kitchen and the living room.
everything looks the same as always — cookie jars placed on the highest shelf to give him an excuse to help you reach them, origami made from newspapers he never bothers to read anyway, a vase standing proudly on the kitchen counter, stuffed with fresh flowers he bought for you two days ago.
the red roses still haven’t wilted, shining in the blue of the moonlight flickering in. good. they’re pretty, but maybe next time he should get you something more original. maybe some sunflowers, something that could rival the brightness of your smile. do they even sell sunflowers this time of year? if you were awake, satoru would ask you, even though you always tell him to just google it —
but you're not awake. you’re fast asleep, cheek squished against the kitchen table, snoring softly.
satoru feels his mood lift at the sight alone, and suddenly he doesn’t feel as tired anymore. something soft and almost otherworldly sprouts in his chest, as he takes you in, stepping closer. almost giddy, just to see you up close.
you look so peaceful and relaxed, so content. elbows resting on the table as soft little breaths fall from your parted lips; he spots a bit of drool on the corner of your bottom lip, gaze fond as he wipes it away with his thumb. he can’t resist the urge to poke your cheek, and it makes you stir ever so slightly — lips curling up into something akin to a sleepy smile.
satoru grins.
(you’re so cute.)
despite his fatigue, he hears himself chuckle, all soft and amused and a little bit lovesick. it comes to him so easily, when he’s with you; that upturn of his lips, the butterflies in his stomach.
satoru is still getting used to it. this cotton candy sweet, light as a feather kind of love. the kind that always feels like spring. but with every day that passes, the life he has with you becomes a little easier to digest. his future with you becomes a little easier to visualize.
yeah, he thinks. he could get used to this. coming home to you.
a soft smile, as he exhales a somewhat exasperated breath. you really shouldn’t be sleeping out here, though. silly.
satoru leans forward, inching closer to your pretty, sleeping face — he almost feels bad, waking you up like this. but he wants to hear your voice so badly.
so he cups your cheek, cold skin meeting warm, his hands still lingering with the bite of the midnight air. his fingertips tingle, buzzing with the body heat that trickles from your veins to his — one single touch is all it takes for him to soften.
the word that falls from his lips breaks the peaceful silence of the kitchen, breathing life into the moment. whispered into your ear, causing your brows to furrow as you gently slip from sleep’s embrace.
“baby…”
satoru is smiling, when your eyelids flutter open. a sincere smile, reserved for you and his students. bathed in the mellow hue of the kitchen lamp’s illumination, a soft glow curls around the strands of his white hair, creating a halo of artificial light.
blinking sleepily, you gaze at him in silence. something shines in your eyes, something satoru tentatively recognizes as adoration. and he gazes right back at you, with heavy-lidded eyes and a lopsided smile. teasing, lighthearted. thumb smoothing over the apple of your cheek.
then he grins, hopelessly endeared. ”hey there, sleeping beauty.”
a yawn tumbles from your lips, and you lift yourself up. leaning into his touch. “toru…” you mumble, voice a little raspy but still oh so sweet.
satoru doesn’t say anything. he simply takes you into his arms, gently, touch so very delicate — as if you’re made of porcelain. and you just let yourself fall into his embrace, while he tucks you under his chin, safe and secure.
it’s warm, he thinks. it feels right. complete, somehow.
and satoru thinks to himself that this must be what love feels like. what it’s supposed to feel like, anyhow, all sweet and light. all good and normal, something you never have to question. a cornerstone.
“you’re back…” you drawl, muffled into his uniform as your arms sneak around his thin waist. bringing him closer.
stroking the back of your head softly, satoru’s chest rumbles as he speaks, voice deep and a little raspy. soothing, a lullaby just for you. “yeah,” he hums. ”were you waiting?”
all you do is nuzzle further into his chest, cheek smooshed right over his heart; breathing out a sleepy little mhm that has him going weak at the knees, lips curling up helplessly.
“i wanted to…” you continue, stretching your arms a little to shrug away the remnants of sleep still clinging to your joints. “but i fell asleep.”
satoru feels you move in his arms, until your jaw settles on top of his shoulder and you press a chaste kiss to his neck. an exhale leaves his lips, something tender in the way his breath wavers.
“welcome home,” is whispered, muffled against his skin. a sentence he never wants to go a single day without hearing. “did the mission go okay?”
he plants a kiss on top of your head, speaking in a low tilt, reassuring. “it did. just took a little longer than i thought.” a soft inhale, as he basks in the scent of your shampoo. “i wanted to text you, but the veil blocked my signal. sorry, sweetie.”
another soft yawn, and a shake of your head. “s’ fine, don’t worry,” you murmur. ”i’m just glad you’re okay.”
satoru chuckles. there’s a fondness to it, light. and then something else, something more heavy — it rumbles through his chest, almost like a purr, or a soothing thunderstorm. he can only hope it’s enough to comfort you.
“of course.” he says the words like they’re indisputable, like they’re written down in scriptures old and worn. cradling you in his strong arms, he pulls you closer to his chest. hoping you’ll feel his heartbeat against you, feel that he’s there. “i always am, aren’t i?”
no answer. only a tiny hum, absentminded.
and satoru knows, deep down, that his words don’t mean much. that a part of you is always going to worry over him, no matter how many times he tells you that there’s no need. that he’ll be fine.
the thought makes him feel a bit guilty. a little sick to his stomach, at the thought of being a source of your anxiety, the reason you can’t fall asleep at night — but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t also make him feel somewhat giddy. the thought tastes sweet, on his tongue, even though it probably shouldn’t.
having someone who worries for you is a luxury, satoru has come to realize. a luxury he has, now, one he hasn’t had since —
well. that’s neither here nor there.
(“be careful, satoru,” he recalls a kind boy saying.
but that was many, many springs ago.)
“oh, right.”
at the sound of your voice, satoru pulls away ever so slightly, gazing down at you. “hm?”
with a single step back, you look up at him. tilting your head. hands still resting securely on his waist, fingertips squeezing at his hips. lightly, affectionately. barely restrained fondness. ”have you had anything to eat yet?”
“yeah. got some takeout on my way back.”
satoru expects you to sigh in relief, at his instantaneous answer. you don’t like it when he skips meals, so these days he’s been trying not to do it as much. even though he doesn’t always have the time to eat properly, and even though the sweets he chews on between missions make him lose his appetite. but he makes an honest attempt, for you.
someone worries for him. someone wants him to eat well. that’s more than enough motivation for satoru gojo.
but you don’t exhale, and you don’t look very relieved, either. you look… disappointed. eyes suddenly glancing down at the floor, lips curled down into a barely noticeable frown.
“oh,” you breathe. “okay. good.”
one second. then two. satoru tilts his head.
“why?” he stops to think. maybe… “did you make something?”
a certain recognition flickers in the depths of your eyes, and satoru thinks he must be right on the money. chewing at your bottom lip a little, you wait a moment before curling your fingers around his wrist — tugging him away from the kitchen table.
satoru follows, pliantly, until you’re standing in front of the fridge.
“well, um… here,” you mumble, somewhat sheepishly. fingers tapping at the handle before pulling it open. “take a look.”
satoru watches as the fridge door opens, slowly.
he blinks.
the first thing he sees is a single slice of strawberry shortcake. the strawberry looks fresh, glittering like a ruby on top of the softly whisked cream — and layers of sponge cake, that look like they’d melt in his mouth.
and that’s not all. there are a wide array of baked treats stuffed into the cramped space, protected by plastic wrapping and containers. everything from cupcakes with too much frosting — just the way he likes them — to chocolate chip cookies that crumble at the corners, satoru never seems to run out of things to look at. colourful treats, lovingly made and sitting right in front of him. it’s like he’s standing in a patisserie. they almost seem to sparkle, in the peripheral of his vision; glimmering softly, tantalizingly, like something out of a dream.
childish. that’s what nanami and shoko always call him, and he always protests, but —
maybe they have a point, after all. satoru certainly feels a little childish, when he realizes his eyes must be wide and bursting with child-like giddiness. a simple kind of joy, at seeing the ample selection in front of him. especially after that tedious mission prevented him from getting any sugar into his system.
”i did my best,” you mutter, sharing the sight with him as your eyes trail over a pretty bag of pink and green macarons. ”dunno if they turned out any good, but… i hope you’ll like them.”
satoru’s gaze flits over to you.
he opens his mouth, and then closes it again.
”did you… make these?” a beat. ”for me?”
a blink. ”.. yeah?” who else would they be for?, your eyes seem to say. a little confused.
for a second, satoru can only stare at you. in complete silence, the tired cogs inside his head turning sluggishly as he thinks about the implications of that answer. and with a soft flutter, he feels his heartbeat pick up, warming him up from the inside out.
you made them. with your own hands. you made all of these and you did it for him.
for some reason, satoru finds it oddly hard to speak, like someone stuffed a bunch of cupcakes down his throat. it’s weird — usually he can’t seem to stop talking, especially not when he’s with you, but…
(something about this is just too tender.)
you must have been baking all day. no wonder the apartment smelled sweeter than usual, when he walked in.
as if itching to curl around one of the macarons, his fingers twitch, but satoru gulps and keeps them still. he wants to say something, anything, wants to thank you or ask why you’d spend so much of yourself on him, but satoru only stays silent.
and maybe it’s because he’s tired. maybe he’s just a little caught off guard. usually this wouldn’t be that hard to handle — he could just throw himself on you and shower you in kisses, show his appreciation with a flurry of dramatics and declarations of love.
but right now there seems to be a disconnect, between satoru’s mind and body. maybe the mission drained him more than he realized. or maybe it’s more than that, maybe there’s nothing he can say or do; what words could he even begin to use to properly verbalize the emotions he’s feeling right now? how could his touch ever begin to measure up to the sweet sensation unfurling in his chest?
the silence doesn’t last long. as satoru stands there and spirals, you speak up, most likely chalking it up to him being too sleepy to react.
”this mission was especially rough, right?” you begin, with a soft tilt of your head. a smile curls its way onto your lips, proud and sweet. sweeter than everything in the fridge combined.
one step, then two. you inch closer to him, until there’s almost no space between you — standing on your tiptoes, one hand on his shoulder and the other reaching for his head. smoothing down his tousled hair, fingers tangling themselves between the soft white strands and getting lost in them. and it’s gentle, the way you begin to pat his head, doting.
then you speak. ”you did well.”
and it’s such a simple thing to say. three words, three syllables, but the words just tumble out from your mouth so earnestly that satoru can’t help but still. his breath hitches in his throat, softly, barely noticeable, but it’s there. that surprise.
he never knows how to act, when you get like this. patting his head and ruffling his hair like he’s something warm and sweet and worthy of love. something delicate, and not the strongest man on the planet.
it’s so weird. you’re so weird.
(satoru leans into your touch without thinking, allowing his eyes to flutter shut.)
it’s perplexing, this feeling, and the fact that he can’t pinpoint why frustrates him to no end. isn’t this wrong? shouldn’t he be the one ruffling your hair, coddling you?
what formula is he supposed to follow here, exactly? should he tease you? pull away from your touch?
satoru wishes his six eyes could tell him the answer, but they don’t. they’ve never been very good with emotions, with things that aren’t directly tied to his suffering or imminent death.
(so ironic. all these eyes and nothing to see. they failed to see suguru’s silence, back then, and now they fail to see what reaction would please you the most.
really, such a worthless ability to love people with.)
no answer comes to him. so satoru doesn’t tease you, and he doesn’t pull away.
it does feel slightly wrong, though. like this feeling isn’t something he’s supposed to have, there must be some mistake, he can’t possibly be allowed to feel so loved — can he? having you bake him all his favorite treats, run your fingers through his hair. praise him for working hard.
really. isn’t he being too coddled?
(… but it feels so nice.)
satoru suspects that there’s a lot to love he might not fully understand, just yet.
maybe tomorrow, when he’s a little less tired, he can try once again to give you the impression that he’s perfect. that he doesn’t need affection, that he doesn’t crave your support or your touch. that he’s above all that, the strongest, someone for you to depend on.
depend on him, while he depends on no one. that’s the kind of existence satoru gojo is. that’s how it should be, that’s all he knows, but…
— ah. it feels really nice when your nails scratch his scalp like that.
and suddenly, that’s all satoru can think. no more pesky what-ifs, or second guessing every good thing he gets. right now, it’s just you and him. your fingers in his hair, his footprints in your life.
satoru allows himself to melt under your touch, almost meekly. leaning down just a little further, to make it easier for you to smooth your hand over his head. he nuzzles into your palm with a happy little exhale, and for some reason he feels sort of bashful.
try as he might, he doesn’t manage to successfully shoo the emotion away, so all he can do is hope you don’t take note of it.
and you just continue your onslaught of affection, now ruffling his hair with both your hands, like he’s a big puppy getting cooed over. satoru has a nagging suspicion that you might be getting a little carried away, but he doesn’t stop you. greedy, in the way he wishes your hands would never leave his hair. the way he hopes you’ll never be too far away from him to reach.
”such a hard worker,” you coo, and he feels himself grow flustered. ”my baby deserves so much love.”
”woah there,” satoru chokes out, grinning, desperately hoping you won’t notice the red tint to his ears. ”are you flirting with me? i have a partner, you know.”
a giggle slips from your lips, sleepy and amused. ”oh, do you?” one of your hands goes to cup his cheek, thumb caressing the edge of his jaw as you gaze at him fondly. ”lucky them.”
the grin you’re wearing is awfully bright. soft around the edges in a way that has him speechless, brain malfunctioning ever so slightly. satoru makes a mental note to scrap the sunflower idea — there has to be some brighter flower out there, one that can actually compete with your smile. sunflowers just won’t cut it.
but then you let go, and satoru gets broken out of his lovesick stupor.
when your hands leave his skin, his lips curl down into a soft pout. one he rushes to smooth away, before you can notice it.
you step back, failing to stifle a soft bout of laughter, but satoru knows it’s not because you saw it — he knows because your gaze is glued to his hair, and he internally winces when he thinks about how messy it must look, after your little bout of cuteness aggression.
(you really are weird, finding him cute of all things.)
he expects you to tease him a little more, but you don’t, turning away and tapping your fingers on the kitchen counter. ”if i’d known you’d be home this late,” you speak, stealing one last glance at the pastries before closing the fridge. ”then i would’ve waited until tomorrow. so you could eat them fresh.”
an apology rests on satoru’s tongue, but as if sensing it, you rush to reassure him.
”ah, but this is fine too! they should still taste good!” you turn away, muttering. ”… hopefully.”
then you nod to yourself, crossing your arms absentmindedly.
satoru looks at you for a second.
then he steps forward, unable to resist the temptation — tapping at your wrist with the pads of his fingers, before gently curling them around it, coaxing you into turning your head towards him.
the kiss he presses to your lips is soft, delicate. his fingers trace along your jaw, cupping your cheek and tilting your face up slightly, just letting his warm lips rest against yours. sweet and chaste. he sighs into the kiss, content, and feels your pulse pick up.
then he moves down to your jaw, slow and methodical — lazy kisses, sleepy but so full of affection. and little pecks, scattered all over your lips, your cheek, the tip of your nose.
you seem to melt a little, against him, and satoru relishes in it; his ability to make you relax. far more valuable than the six eyes, he would argue.
when he pulls away from you, with what takes tremendous self-restraint, he’s smiling. his gaze meets yours, layered over with pure adoration, blue eyes crinkling as he looks at you. as if you’re his entire world. the kitchen light embraces him, cascading down the contours of his face; the bridge of his nose, the curve of his jaw, his barely noticeable dimples.
and there it is, again — that flicker of love in your eyes, that adoration. as if you’re looking at a painting, something too beautiful for words.
(satoru hopes you can see that very same adoration, reflected in his eyes as he looks at you.)
after a moment, he leans forward, to rest his jaw on the curve of your shoulder. you stumble a little under the weight, caged in as his arms hug your midriff.
”god,” he sighs, breathless, heavy with giddy disbelief. almost whining when he continues, nuzzling into your neck as if to hide. ”why are you so perfect, huh? i don’t get it.”
at that, you huff out a laugh, an amused little breath. wrapping your arms around his neck and scratching softly at his nape. satoru shudders just a little, arms tightening around you.
”stealing my line…” you mutter, accusatory, smile laced over with a honeyed affection.
another amused breath, this time from him. this is one battle he won’t let you win. ”nah,” he grins, tugging you closer. ”’s mine.”
this is warm, he thinks. this feels right. complete, in a way that satoru never understood before you.
he could probably stand there forever, just basking in it. soaking up your body heat and the smell of your shampoo. until your warmth is all he knows, until he can never get your scent off his skin.
and satoru thinks that he could get used to this. a cotton candy sweet, light as a feather kind of love, one that smells like spring and tastes like strawberry shortcakes and feels like tight hugs shared in kitchens.
your love makes him feel so human. and it’s scary, terrifying even, but it's also too good to pass up. it’s worth the risk. so worth everything.
a yawn leaves your lips, suddenly. satoru feels you soften in his embrace, nuzzling closer to him, stumbling just a tad; he doesn’t think it’s fair, for such a simple gesture to make him as happy as it does.
”sleepy?” he coos, smile giddy and fond. ”let’s go to bed, okay? no more sleeping on the kitchen table, silly.”
a disgruntled little huff resounds throughout the air, as you let your arms fall to your sides. ”that’s on you,” you declare, poking the plush of his chest with your finger. ”i only fell asleep because you took so long.”
a teasing glint flickers in satoru’s eyes.
”wanted to see me that badly, huh?” he coos. you roll your eyes, and he pulls your cheek. ”that’s cute.”
”so what if i did?”
satoru stills. you’re smiling, a little mischievous, but mostly sincere. and it really is very unfair of you, he thinks — to do this to him while his guard is down.
but he manages to pull himself together, raising an amused eyebrow and booping your nose in a way that catches you off guard. blinking up at him, eyelashes fluttering.
satoru clears his throat. ”well, that’s sweet.”
then he turns on his heel, suddenly, and strolls over to the fridge. ”but you know what’s even sweeter?” he chirps, fingers curling around the handle as he swiftly pulls it open.
licking his lips, absentmindedly, his eyes trail over all the different pastries. so close yet so far, just out of reach; his fingers move forward, towards that mesmerizing slice of strawberry shortcake —
”— no.”
a hand settles on satoru’s waist, and tugs him away from his well-deserved prize. taking advantage of his momentary surprise, you close the fridge decisively, and give him an unimpressed raise of your eyebrow.
satoru whines, loud and grating. pouting sweetly, trying to make you feel bad. ”c’mon, just one bite —”
”no.”
”but they’re for me!”
”they’re for you to eat tomorrow. i was only gonna let you eat them tonight if you were on the brink of starvation, or something.”
”i am!”
”so the takeout was a lie?” you narrow your eyes at him, suddenly suspicious. ”have you been skipping meals, again?”
satoru pauses. weighing his options. ”well, no, but…”
”— then no.”
another soft whine. you turn away from him, when he tilts his head and gives you his best set of puppy dog eyes. in fear of giving in to them, satoru knows, as you have so many times before. ”please?” he tries, to no avail.
”you’re not eating sweets before bed, satoru,” you deadpan, and his smile falls further, exaggerated. ”and no, we are not having that conversation again.”
he can tell you’re trying to sound stern, but a giggle tumbles from your lips nonetheless, at the ridiculousness of the situation. keeping a grown man away from your fridge, knowing that he’ll wolf down every pastry he sees and get himself sick if you don’t. all while the man in question whines at you in protest, frowing so deeply, disappointment evident on his features.
(except satoru really isn’t very disappointed at all. like this, he gets to stare at your smile all he wants, after all; knowing you won’t notice it, too busy trying to keep yourself from giving in to his pleas.)
he tries again, one last time. just because he knows it’ll make you laugh. you do, a little exasperated, and satoru couldn’t be happier.
and he thinks to himself that if this is what love is, if this is what it’s supposed to feel like, then it can’t possibly be that much of a curse.
maybe he should revise the hypothesis, get a second opinion. he’ll have to ask you tomorrow, over pastries and coffee, and hear what you have to say.
as you both stumble to the bedroom, sleepy and a little delirious, satoru thinks that maybe this is enough; the lighthearted banter, the fond laughter. everything good and real and normal, within the space of your apartment, a home he never thought he’d have.
(and maybe, a second opinion isn’t necessary, after all. maybe it doesn’t really matter if love is a curse or not, as long as he gets to share it with you, like this.)
that night, satoru dreams. curled up with you beneath the blankets, limbs tangled together, as if he could never be close enough.
he dreams of kitchen lights, of sweet treats and warm hands. of spring breezes, and a love he’s finally beginning to accept for what it is:
good. wholly and thoroughly.
#lovesick satoru is my favorite satoru but yknow whats even better? lovesick satoru/lovesick reader#i just have such a firm belief that this man is a loser when hes genuinely in love ok.#hes so touch starved i think he’d crumble into a little puddle on the floor if u kissed his cheek#loves to tease and fluster you n hes so good at it but the moment u give him the same treatment? he is Gone. down for the count#spreading the loser satoru agenda <33 i love this man so dearly.#i NEED to hold his waist btw idk if i made that clear. i need it like i need air to breathe. like why is it so tiny if not to be held by me#had to hold myself back like a wolf during a full moon from describing his waist in too much detail youre welcome#overall idk what to say i just think love could fix him#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen#gojo satoru#jjk x reader
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Fontaine Is Committing Childe Slander fr
Spoilers For The 4.2 Archon Quest
Content: Sagau reader insert (not the cult au), a lot of swearing
Note: Wrote this a while ago, just didn't post till now. This was written because of how frustrated I was with Childe's treatment in the quest. They did him so, so dirty.
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"WHAT THE FUCK!?"
Hearing your scream, Neuvillette, Aether, and Paimon nearly flinched and gave themselves away if it wasn't for Skirk quickly turning around and staring them dead in their eyes.
"AFTER ALL OF THAT, WE DON'T EVEN GET TO TALK TO HIM? WHAT THE HELL"
They never liked hearing you get upset, but since this was a scripted event, they could do nothing but play their parts. Aether wanted nothing more than to jump in and find Childe for you, if even just to get you to stop yelling, but his hands were tied. And seeing the intense look the lady across from him was giving, he doesn't think he'd be able to get away with it even if he tried.
"No 'hey, how're you doing? What's up? Where the fuck did you go? How did you end up fighting a god-damn space whale? I was worried.' We really get to say none of that? Skirk just throws him away like he's yesterday's trash? At least, I think that's Skirk... Okay, fine, whatever."
The group notices a slight twitch in Skrik's expression, as if she was annoyed, but it's gone not a moment later.
"Skirk I hope you're kinda funny cause this is a terrible first impression."
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Skirk watches as Neuvillette sends the traveller topside, hoping that he starts the scripted conversation without any hassle.
"Was it necessary to throw him so aggressively into the portal?"
Of course, that's not what happened. If Childe's mad ramblings were anything to go by, all of those that become the players "characters" seem to grow inexplicably attached to them. She didn't hold his words in high regard since he was insane, but seeing the hydro sovereign already taking a liking to you gives some weight to his words.
"He’s fine. It’s nothing he can’t handle."
Neuvillette, still looking troubled, tells her that you really wanted to see him again after nearly 2 years of nothing.
"Didn't you also upset the player when you pounced on him and sent him to prison for no good reason?"
Neuvillette gave a slight wince, "I had no other choice. The Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinale gave the sentence and the law must be upheld."
Skirk doesn’t look amused, Neuvillette just sighs "... And the action itself was scripted. I had my hands tied."
"Then you have no right to look so troubled over my actions. It was simply scripted, nothing deeper. I would not intentionally go looking to upset the player, especially since they can control whoever they want. I have no desire to go back to the surface, which I would be forced to if they ever felt like messing with me."
He hums, "The player has much less control than you think. Even if they wanted to take control of you, they wouldn't or shouldn't be able to do so for quite a while. Falling into their good graces is the only way to get chosen, and you seem to have only just piqued their interest."
Neuvillette was just stating facts. He heard you crying about how your latest wishing session for Furina took everything you had. He doubts even if Skirk’s banner was a couple patches from now you'd have enough to get her. Skirk herself looks a little frustrated at the mention of gaining your favour, but quickly lets it go.
"As long as I have time to prepare, I suppose. Anyway, We should have our scripted conversation before time runs out. Unless you want them to start freaking out again."
"Of course not, let us continue."
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"The fuck do you mean he's already in Snezhnaya."
Lyney's eyes slightly widen in shock, not expecting that visceral of a reaction. Aether slightly shakes his head to try and get him not to worry about it while Paimon starts her bashful idle as a way to look elsewhere without arising suspicion.
"We don't even get to say goodbye, what the heck. Wait, we never even figured out what was going on with his vision either. They actually just threw him to the wayside! If he doesn't show up in the next interlude, I'm going to be ☆mad☆"
Aether tilts his head down as he starts to ponder. He was also a bit frustrated with how little they learned about what was going on with him. Obviously the whal- Narwhal was involved in someway, but nothing is explained outside their connection. He's suddenly ripped from his thoughts as you pick his next dialogue option and continue the story.
The story continues for a little bit as Arlecchino arrives to join the conversation. You add in some quips of your own as you're watching, but are mostly silent. They just take it as you being tired from the whirlwind of emotions the quest put you through.
Aether then realizes the next actions he has to take and struggles to keep a straight face.
*Actually, I just remembered something... Please help us deliver this.*
"I swear to god, don't give her Childe's vision. He hates her. He trusted us."
Aether can no longer hold back his wince as he holds out Childe's vision for Arlecchino to take. She almost looks amused as they hear you sigh.
"Goddammit."
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Childe was in agony.
This pain went far beyond his physical injuries. The last words he heard from you were you crying out to him. It frustrated him to no end that by the time he gets to see you again, he passes out. He can barely remember your words of praise and cooing about how cool he was for fighting such a creature. Your worry and the fact he doesn't even get to talk to you after all this time hasn't left the forefront of his mind since he woke up. Injuries be damned, he wanted to find the Traveller. He wanted to get something out of that vacation, more than just one conversation, getting arrested, and an incomplete fight. He thought that as long as you still had his vision, he would surely see you again and his vacation would end smoothly, but of course the story seemed to have it out for him. All he could do now was lay here in pain, stuck in his mind while his family is off doing something else.
He's upset he didn't get to finish his fight and that you had to finish it for him.
He's upset his foul legacy has taken such a toll on his body, he can't do anything.
He's upset that his family has to see him in such a state.
He's upset he missed your first encounter with Skirk.
He's upset he didn't even get to talk to you again.
And more than anything, he's upset he can't be there for you.
As he was about to continue wallowing in self-pity and regret, he suddenly finds himself fully geared, standing in front of the Abyss, with no injuries.
"Such bullshit. I loved the story quest, but why was Childe pushed to the side. It's almost like they had no idea what to do with him after they got him to the whale. Oh! It's just one of the creatures he's been wanting to fight for nearly all his life. Do we get to know how he feels about it? Nooo of course not. My man just wanted to go on vacation, and he had to deal with all of this."
Hearing your voice almost washes away all his stress, and hearing you complain about how he was treated washes away all his sorrow. It pleases him to know you hated what happened to him just as much, if not more, than he did. He could tell from your ranting and the fact you've already gotten 36 stars that you were going to fight just to let off steam. That's perfect for him. Killing something is just what he needs to take his mind off of recent events, killing things with and for you makes it even better. He'll be sure to make the best of this before you log off for the day, and he's back to being bedridden.
#sagau#self aware genshin#genshin x reader#childe x reader#iw8wgwbsiwhwbd JUSTICE FOR CHILDE#HIS TREATMENT IN THIS QUEST WAS BULL#WHAT KIND OF A VACATION WAS THIS#and after everything he went through for Tuecer you know he hates that he had to go home like that#I'm not even a Childe simp but omg i just couldn't#I like my plot holes to be filled in please#though if they were actually answered in the quest please let me know#i need answers#Pois.Posts#pois.writes
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A little bit of me dies everytime I see y’all hc Hobie as this mean toxic punk rockstar boyfriend. Like tell me where in the fucking flim was he rude once. He literally helped Miles despite barely know him, he’s friends with Pavitr they even have a handshake, he let Gwen crash in his universe because she was homeless. Also to the people who say he is stinky and wouldn’t take care of his hair. Y’all are so fucking annoying and clearly don’t know how black hair works, especially wicks or any form of locs. Like hobie is the most kind and caring person around. He definitely wouldn’t abuse you, lay hands on you or cheat on you. Also his whole “I don’t believe in labels or I don’t believe in consistency” was a quip, a fucking joke all spider variants make stupid quip’s underneath the mask😭. Stop making that his whole fucking personality and stop using that to undermine his punk values. It’s like with Pavitr’s “chai tea” joke y’all made it that kids whole personality trait 😭.
Maybe I’m reaching with this but a lot y’all’s hc are starting to be Anti-black
To the next person who hcs him as toxic mean person I’m in your walls and I’m stealing your favorite things.
#hobie brown#hobie brown x y/n#hobie brown x black!reader#hobie brown x reader#hobie x reader#anti blackness#hobie x you#spider punk#I’m sick and tired of the treatment towards black characters#y’all see an alternative person and automatically assume their mean and toxic
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princess treatment with simon pt2
warnings: use of female descriptions (wife, girl), food and eating
• simon who sends you money to go and get whatever to want done, whether that’s your hair, nails, shopping, even though you tell him he doesn’t need to as you have your own job and your own money, he still insists, in his eyes whatever his wife wants his wife gets
• simon has your favourite flowers in different colours on pre-order for every month of the year, he would love to give them you in person but incase he’s away on a mission he doesn’t wanna miss the little tradition he’s made for you
• simon who comes back from missions and the next day tells you to get ready, as he has a day planned out for the both of you and a special date for you in the evening
• simon who’s breath is taken away every time he watches you walk out your bedroom door in your pretty clothes ready for your dinner date, who’s heart practically skips a beat as he takes in what he’s missed
• simon who makes you leave your purse and any money you have at home, he would never allow you to pay for anything when he’s around, you might as well insult him
• simon is also a man who when you go out to eat wants you to be eating good, he makes sure you get what you really want and doesn’t ever tell you to hold back, in fact constantly checks if you would like to add anything else, he just wants his girl to be happy and well fed and he’s gonna make that happen
• simon who as soon as you arrive home, sits you down to take off your shoes for you, being the gentlest giant he can possibly be, you wouldn’t believe this was the cold ghost man who goes into tough battlefields and dangerous situations killing people
• simon who gets his pretty girl to sit on the sofa watching the tv as he runs you a soothing bath with one of the many bath bombs he’s bought for you, lighting you’re favourite candle, anyone would think you were the one doing the job he does
• simon who doesn’t mind doing all this for you though, he just wants to dote on his wife and allow her to feel important, treated and pampered, he is a man who loves his wife and would do anything for her
i hope this one is a good as the last but i feel like it’s not :(( still hope you enjoyed !!
#masked men#mask kink#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#ghost cod#ghost#ghost x reader#cod headcanons#cod x reader#cod#wholesome#princess treatment
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candy stripes.
Pairing: OPLA!Vinsmoke Sanji x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 5,048 words
Warnings: Swearing, hospital setting
[A/n: Soulmate AU. :)]
sortiger (adjective): delivering prophecies of the future; having the qualities of being oracular
Nobody else can see the string but you.
You wish you didn’t. It has no texture, no weight, so you can’t understand why it can’t be invisible too. But the string demands attention with every use of your hands, seizes your eye when you wash dishes in the morning and brush your teeth at night, a garish and bloody red that matches the stripes of your uniform.
You hate your string and you hate the color red.
Miss Xinyu, the old lady in Room 30, has one too. At least, that’s what she had told you when you gained the courage to mention yours one day, not knowing what it meant and how much you would come to dread it.
“It’s your red string of fate,” she had explained. “It connects you to the person who understands you more than anyone else in the world.”
In other words, your soulmate. Your one and only.
Miss Xinyu says you’re a lucky ducky, knowing what your future holds.
Her string goes into the ground now. You don’t think being reminded of a dead person whenever you look at your pinkie is very lucky.
The biggest reason why you hate the string so much, though, is because you’ve always had a problem doing what you’re supposed to unless you want to, which causes a lot of trouble for a nine-year-old girl. You already have trouble being nice to patients who are mean to you, so how can you love and wait for someone you’ve never met? It makes you feel icky.
Why can’t you choose? How come you have to have one at all?
Your only source of comfort is that your string is very, very thin and runs out of the hospital. That means your soulmate, whoever they are, is very, very far away. You’d very much like it to stay that way.
But it doesn’t.
—
Nurse Taoh wants you to watch the patients in Room 8 while he finishes his charts. You don’t really want to, if only because it’s Nurse Taoh asking – he likes to order you around more than Dr. Gu – but you don’t want to get into trouble again, so you go.
(… And okay, you are just a little bit curious about the new inpatients. You only know three things about them: one, they were brought in together last night while you were in your room poking holes into your paper instead of correcting it; two, they’re a man and a boy, presumably father and son; and three, everyone says it’s a miracle they’re still alive.)
(Then again, you’ve seen many miracles here.)
The unit is quiet as you walk down the hallway. Quiet, but not silent, as your polished shoes squeak like little mice against the floor and you whisper the room numbers as you pass by them. Two, four, six – eight.
You stop and knock, three sharp raps against the brown wood.
“Hello?” You open the door and poke your head in. “My name is –”
The squiggly-patterned curtain that often separates patients for privacy is drawn, and you clamp your mouth shut as you realize the patient closest to you is asleep.
Shutting the door silently, you creep closer to the foot of his bed. The man underneath the sheets lies quietly; he is little more than a skeleton, eyes sunken and bones sticking out underneath blistered skin. His beard is long and scraggly, but it pales in comparison to his mustache, each side braided and sticking out to the sides.
He looks angry, even though he’s sleeping. You hope he’s not the type to wake up and yell at you as you tiptoe past to check on the boy.
You pass the curtain, catch a glimpse of the bed sheets, and see –
Red.
Your feet root themselves in place, the room suddenly devoid of air.
You stare. Blink hard, twice. Look again. Then, trembling, you look down at your hand.
Your eyes trace the string around your own finger, following down to the dip of it that barely touches the ground and back up over the blankets until it ends in a red loop around the boy’s pinkie, tied off with a little bow.
Your stomach turns.
Stumbling forward, you make your way to the visitor’s chair in the corner. You slump down into it and stare straight ahead at the curtain, refusing to look at the boy’s face.
He continues to sleep.
You don’t want him to wake up.
—
The boy does not stir during your first meeting, but that small mercy is quickly eclipsed two days later by a single bowl of chicken broth.
The look on your face is sour as you walk down the hallway again, the broth splashing up against the lid with each step. Because most of the patients in the hospital you live in are elderly, the staff have somehow gotten it into their heads that you simply must spend time with the boy in Room 8 because he is your age and you need to socialize with other kids. You very much don’t want to. Not with him, at least.
Dr. Gu is just leaving the room when you arrive. She gives you a quick smile, the corners of her eyes wrinkling, and pats your head.
“So you heard that the boy woke up, huh?”
You grunt, looking away with a pout. “Can’t you give this to him, Dr. Gu?”
“Nope. I have to finish my rounds,” she says. “Go in and have a chat. His name is Sanji. You’ll like him.”
“I doubt it,” you mumble underneath your breath.
Dr. Gu probably hears you, but she doesn’t scold you, merely patting your head one last time before you enter Room 8.
The dividing curtain is drawn this time. The window curtains are pulled back, too; it’s a somewhat cloudy day outside, but bright enough to sharpen the shadows on the walls and make the boy look even paler than you remember.
His eyes are closed as you approach. A sprout of hope that he might have fallen asleep again blooms in your chest – you’ll just leave the broth on the table, you think to yourself, and go about the rest of your day. Nobody said you had to watch him drink it.
You get about five feet away, already planning to drop some books off to the other rooms, when the boy’s nose suddenly twitches.
His eyes open to thin slits. Your hope shrivels like a weed in the desert as he speaks.
“What’s that?” His voice is quiet and raspy.
Your eyebrow twitches. “It’s just chicken broth,” you say tartly, setting the tray down on the overbed table and turning it around so that it’s over his lap. You take off the lid and steam bursts from the bowl.
The boy reaches up to rub his eyes. The red string dangles from his pinkie, and you quickly look away with a scowl.
“Who are you?” he asks, scooting back to sit up more as he gradually becomes more alert.
Reluctantly, you give him your name. “Will you need help with the soup?”
He shakes his head. His gaze latches onto the contents of his bowl, and he stops, transfixed.
You scramble to stop him as he suddenly grabs the bowl and attempts to gulp it all down in one go.
“Don’t do that! You’ll throw up!” Without thinking, you seize his hands and pry the bowl away from his mouth. A few drops of broth splash over the blankets and his gown, and your irritation grows. Now you’ll have to fix that. “Drink it slowly.”
“I haven’t eaten anything for weeks,” the boy complains. “What do you know?”
“I’ve been studying medicine since I was a little kid,” you retort. “So I know a lot.”
He frowns. “You are a little kid.”
“I’m nine years old!”
“No, I’m nine! You don’t look as old as me!”
There’s no way this … this brat is the same age as you! Fuming, you let go of the bowl and jab a finger at his face. “I am nine years old and I know more than you! You can’t drink the broth like that!”
You’re met with silence. The boy’s eyes are wider than saucers. Pride wells up inside you at your ability to shut him up.
But then he puts the bowl down and seizes your hand, and your pride gives way to horror as he folds down your index finger and lifts your pinkie – the pinkie with the red string wrapped around it.
He lifts his own pinkie, the rest of his fingers folded. Your jaw clenches when you see how the string has shortened to mere inches, bridging the space between his hand and yours.
“Holy shit,” the boy says. The largest grin spreads across his face, and it’s blinding and scary and you hate it, you hate it. “It’s you! You’re my soulmate, aren’t you?!”
“No,” you reply quickly, whipping your hand behind your back and backing away. “No, I’m not!”
“But you see the string too! I knew I’d meet you some day. How come you’re”— he pushes the table away, eagerly but just gentle enough so no more of the broth spills—“how come you’re hiding it behind your back?”
“I’m not your soulmate,” you bark, panic rising in your chest. “Don’t you ever say that!”
You only catch a glimpse of the hurt that flashes across the boy’s face before you turn around and dash out of the room.
Mrs. Hong finds you in the storage closet later, curled up behind the shelves of gauze and IV tubing. She coaxes you out with a promise of rice balls and no questions asked. You wish all the adults were more like her.
—
The next day, Miss Jaylee hoists you over her shoulder like a human sacrifice and brings you to Room 8.
“I don’t want to see him! You can’t make me!”
“He’s refusing treatment and food unless he sees you,” the woman answers briskly, each of her steps jostling you up and down. “You don’t want to be responsible if Sanji dies, do you?”
“I don’t care if he dies!”
Miss Jaylee clicks her tongue and walks faster.
You flail, feeling a little guilty for your cruel words but too proud to take them back. Sanji couldn’t have heard you, anyway, and nobody here is going to let him die no matter what he does or what you say.
You hear a door swing open. Miss Jaylee walks into Room 8 and turns around, and you lift your head, glaring at Sanji as his face lights up and his cheeks turn rosy.
“[Y/n]!”
Your own cheeks burn in embarrassment at the position you’re currently in. This, you only now realize, is way worse than walking into the room voluntarily.
“How come they’re carrying you? Are you okay?” he asks.
“Let them treat you,” you snap, arms limp and dangling. “And eat your stupid food or I’ll get in trouble.”
“Okay.” You nod, opening your mouth to speak again only for him to continue, “But only if I get to talk to you afterwards.”
What is he, a prince?! What makes it so easy for him to demand such things?
“That wasn’t what you told them,” you protest, squirming, but Miss Jaylee only tightens her arm around your waist.
(“Be nice,” she warns. You growl.)
“It’s important,” Sanji stresses, looking pointedly down at his hand and then back at you.
You bite down on your tongue as the red string glimmers in the light.
Dr. Gu and Nurse Taoh stare at you expectantly. Your neck is starting to ache from craning it, and there’s a feeling that you’ll never stand on your own two feet again unless you do what he wants.
“… Fine,” you hiss through gritted teeth.
Only once you promise to stay does Miss Jaylee let you slide off her shoulder. You stand to the side, arms crossed impatiently as they take Sanji’s vitals and ask him some questions. He’s only half paying attention, head turning to look at you more than once, which you merely turn up your nose at.
“All right, we’ll leave you two to chat now,” Dr. Gu says. “If you need anything, just let [Y/n] know, okay?”
“Okay,” Sanji says.
With that, the three adults leave, and you and Sanji are left alone once more.
“I’m glad you came. They were starting to get mad at me,” he says, then cuts straight to the chase. “How come you don’t want to be my soulmate?”
“Because I don’t want a soulmate,” you immediately reply.
“But why? It’s nice, isn’t it? Being special to each other?”
“You can’t be special to me. We’re not even friends.”
For the second time, Sanji looks hurt.
“…We’re not?” he asks. You shake your head. “But … you brought me food.”
You’re befuddled. “Because Dr. Gu made me,” you say, trying to ignore the disappointment on his face. “Besides, I yelled at you yesterday. Friends don’t yell at each other.”
“I thought that you were maybe just really surprised …” His voice gets smaller and smaller. “Some people get mad when they’re just surprised …”
“I wasn’t surprised. I saw it when you were still asleep.”
“Oh,” Sanji mumbles. He looks down at the sheets, scratching at the wrinkle in the thin white fabric. “Okay.”
He says nothing more. You fidget, wondering if he’s pretending to look like he’s about to cry or if he really is trying not to. You’re not good with people who start crying.
You chew on your bottom lip. Sanji tucks his hand with the string on it underneath his bed sheets, his eyes disappearing behind his tangled hair, and fine, you feel kind of bad whether he’s tricking you or not.
“I’ll only be friends with you if you don’t talk about being soulmates,” you finally tell him begrudgingly. “Not ever, okay?”
His head shoots back up. “Really?!”
“Only if you don’t talk about it! I’m serious.” You huff at Sanji’s sudden change in mood and click your tongue. “If you stay sad you might not get better. Don’t get the wrong idea!”
He nods, grinning bigger than ever.
Oh, dear, you think as he promises that he’ll be a really, really good friend, you might have made a mistake.
—
By the fifth day, Zeff, the man who was brought in with Sanji, is awake.
You hear them arguing before you see them, pushing a cart of books for Sanji to browse through as per your agreement the day before. They’re loud, and Sanji calls the man an old shitbag right as you knock and push the door open.
“I’m here,” you announce, and the two quiet down to look at you. You give Zeff a polite smile. “Hello, sir. I’m [Y/n].”
“Hello, little miss,” Zeff says, his features softening from the angry expression he’d directed towards Sanji a moment before.
“Why are you being nice to her and not me?” Sanji pipes up from his side of the room, all puffed-out cheeks and petulantly crossed arms.
“Because she don’t make my ears ring with nonstop whining,” the man answers sharply. “Now get a book and read so I can finally have some peace and quiet.”
“You get a book and read,” Sanji grumbles.
“What was that, boy?”
You cut in before they start bickering all over again. “Do you want a book too, Mr. Zeff?”
Zeff’s gaze flicks over to you once more, and your shoulders tense. The man takes a deep, calming breath, and then he sighs, reclining back into his pillow and closing his eyes. “No, thank you, little miss,” he mutters. “Reading’s no good for my head right now.”
“Do you have a headache?” He grunts in affirmation. “Do you want me to get a nurse?”
“No, no, don’t need any of that.”
“You didn’t tell me you had a headache,” Sanji accuses.
Zeff’s mustache twitches. “All you need to know is that you oughta stop yappin’ when a man wants peace and quiet!”
(Not again.)
As you give up and walk over to draw the curtains, Sanji says your name desperately. “Can we read somewhere else?” he pleads when you glance at him. “I don’t want to be stuck in here with him right now.”
Narrowing your eyes, you appraise his weak-looking frame, pointedly skimming past the red string that snakes over to you. “Can you even walk around yet?”
“Yeah,” he says defensively. He wriggles out of the bed sheets and swings his legs over the side of the bed. Holding onto the side rail, he stands up and grips the IV pole for support. Though he’s a little shaky, he shuffles a few steps towards you and smiles when he manages to do so. “See?”
Well, you think, if you and Sanji stay here, you’ll need to have some light in order to read. But it will probably help Zeff if the room is as dark as possible, so if you guys go somewhere else, Sanji’s lamp won’t need to be on.
“Okay,” you agree. “Wait here. I’ll get some slippers.”
Ten minutes later, with Sanji shuffling along in his slippers, IV pole in one hand and your arm in the other, the two of you arrive at the common room and find chairs in the corner to sit down in.
“These’re mostly history books and stories for old people,” you explain as you pull out the one cooking-related book you could find from the top basket of the cart. “This was the only food one I could find.”
“That’s okay.” Sanji takes the book from you and begins to flip through it. “Oh, this one’s about seafood in the South Blue! Have you ever had any?”
“No.”
“Me, neither. I’ll try it someday, though … hey, this fish looks like a fried egg!”
Against your will, you perk up. “… Really?”
For the next half-hour, Sanji fawns over the spices used on grilled Sea King meat and how to cook wine clams and the best fish for South Blue-style sushi. And it’s … not boring. He doesn’t hog the book, and the pictures are cool, and he asks you which ones you think are the coolest or would taste the best. Looking at a book with another kid is different from reading with an adult. It feels like you’re sharing, not like you’re being tested on your comprehension or how to pronounce long words.
Hanging out with Sanji is okay when the string doesn’t sour it.
“So you want to cook all of these one day?” you ask after scanning through a full-color page of steamed Ocean Hawk feet.
“I want to cook things from all four seas,” Sanji says. His legs bounce with excitement. “That’s why I’m gonna find the All Blue.”
“What’s that?”
The boy glows.
“It’s where the North, East, South, and West Blue seas all meet. Think about it – fresh-caught fish from all over the world all in one place! I’ll be able to cook dishes no one’s ever cooked or tasted before.”
You’ve never heard of such a place. But Sanji talks about it with such conviction, such resolve, that you figure the All Blue could really exist.
“I hope you find it,” you say, and you mean it.
“I will.” Sanji closes the book. “And when I do, I’ll cook something just for you. A-As a friend.”
He peeks over at you, his eyes even brighter and bluer than before, his cheeks flushing a familiar red. And you find yourself believing him, just a little bit.
—
Sanji keeps his promise.
You know he still likes you (blech) and so does most of the staff (double blech). Nurse Taoh thinks it’s funny and teases you about your little boyfriend in Room 8 who always asks where you are. Mrs. Hong reminds you to be sensitive whenever you stop by to pick up meals. Dr. Gu tells you to tell her right away if Sanji ever does something that makes you uncomfortable.
But he never does. Sometimes his words spill out clumsily like a broken faucet and other times he blushes and stutters, leaving you to wonder what he’s going on about, but he doesn’t try to kiss you or hold your hand, and he doesn’t say a word about the red string that is very much still there. If anything, he just annoys you at times, with how nice he is to you and how sunny he gets when you eat lunch with him sometimes.
You’ve never seen somebody so happy to be in a hospital before, even if it’s just because he wants you to like him. It’s weird.
It’s on the eighth day of Zeff and Sanji’s stay that you learn not everything is how it seems.
You’d gotten in trouble the night before for digging holes in the garden – you had kept the seed from your dinner plum and wanted to see if you could make it grow, but Miss Jaylee had caught you while taking Mr. Hu out for some air – so you’re somewhat grumpy on your way to Room 8, two notebooks in hand.
One of them is blank for Sanji. He wants to record all the meals he’s gotten and write down how he would make them. The second notebook is full of your notes that you need to study for your quiz tomorrow.
Zeff is sleeping again when you enter. You move quietly across the room to where Sanji is lying with his back to the door.
“Sanji.” You can see his shoulders tense underneath the sheets, but strangely, he does not roll over to face you. “I have your notebook.”
No answer. That is even stranger.
Frowning, you walk around to the other side of the bed. Sanji moves to bury his face into his pillow, but not before you hear a very soft, wet sniffle.
“Sanji?”
“Sorry.” His voice is high and so muffled you can barely understand him. “You can just leave it on the table.”
“Why are you crying?” In the back of your head, you know it is not the most sensitive thing to ask. But for some reason, you need to know. “I won’t laugh or tell anyone.”
You hear another sniffle from the mop of blond hair. It takes a long time for Sanji to answer, but he eventually does.
“I don’t like hospitals.”
Your brow furrows. “Oh,” you say, somewhat surprised. Most people don’t like being in a hospital, you’re pretty sure of that, but you didn’t know Sanji didn’t like it this much. “Why?”
Maybe he’s tired of getting poked all the time, or the bland food, or the hospital smell. Nobody here can change that. Maybe he’s homesick. The hospital can’t fix that, either.
Sanji turns his head slightly and takes in a small, shuddering breath. “’Cause it … it makes me remember my mum … when she was sick,” he mumbles, almost too quiet to hear.
“… Oh.”
You had assumed, upon learning that Zeff and Sanji were not at all related, that Sanji was like you and never knew his parents. He’d never talked about having any before, only his time on the Orbit and with Zeff. But he does know them – his mother, at least. And she was sick. The memory is what’s making him so sad, and it’s yet another thing that the hospital can’t help.
You don’t want him to be sad. You did make him your friend, after all, even if he does annoy you sometimes.
“I’m sorry,” you say, standing awkwardly with his notebook still in your possession. You remember what Miss Jaylee has told other patients before. “That, um, must have been really hard for you.”
Sanji squeezes his pillow more tightly.
Should you go? Should you talk to him some more?
“Please don’t tell anybody,” he whispers before you can decide. “Especially Zeff.”
“I won’t,” you reply firmly. “I said I wouldn’t, didn’t I?”
“I’m sorry I can’t hang out today. I really wanted to, but, um …”
“It’s okay. We can do it later.”
“Okay.”
You set his notebook and a pen on the bedside table. After some thought, you refill his water and, after even more hesitation, fix the bed sheets on him a bit so they’re not as twisted up. That is the best you can do.
The red string follows you as you quietly leave Room 8, and you don’t think about it at all.
—
“How do you spell necessary?”
“N-E-S-E-S-A-R-Y.”
“That doesn’t look right. I think it’s S-S-A-R-Y.”
“Maybe you can find it in the book,” Sanji suggests, kicking his feet as he lies on his belly next to you.
“Yeah, maybe.” You flip through the pages of your textbook, searching for the correct spelling lest you get marked off again.
It is the tenth day. Sanji is doing alright, and Zeff is up and about with his new leg. Dr. Gu says they’re good to go, so they’re leaving after Zeff finishes breakfast. You’re not sure how to feel about it.
In the meantime, Sanji is helping you with your essay about scurvy. He knows quite a bit about it, which makes sense since he’s lived at sea, and you hope the perspective he’s supplying will impress Dr. Gu.
(“That’s why every ship needs a good cook,” he tells you proudly. “We make sure everyone eats right so they stay healthy.”
“That’s why you and Mr. Zeff are going to have a restaurant ship, right?”
“Mmhm.”)
Sanji rests his face in his hands, cheeks squished against his palms while you continue to scan through your textbook. You finally find the word in a photo caption and, with a triumphant noise, jot it down correctly.
Someone knocks on your door. The two of you turn to face it simultaneously.
“[Y/n]?” It’s Mrs. Guo.
“Yeah?” you call, already slightly irritated.
“Is Sanji there? It’s time for him to leave.”
A frown presses down on your lips. Sanji sighs and gets up as slowly as possible, taking his notebook with him.
“Coming,” he says.
The two of you dawdle on your way to the hospital entrance. You pet Cabby the dog when you run into him and his handler and stop by the kitchen so Sanji can thank the cooks. There’s no rush, not really, but an uneasy feeling continues to well up in your stomach anyway.
Upon arriving at your destination, Zeff waiting at the double doors with a giant bag of treasure slung over his shoulder, Sanji stops and turns to face you.
“I’m – I’m going now,” he says, as if just realizing it.
“Okay,” you say.
You and Sanji stand in silence for a moment before Sanji’s bottom lip starts to wobble.
Yours starts to wobble too. The uneasy feeling in your stomach bubbles up into your throat and behind your eyes.
“I’ll write you,” he blurts, voice cracking. “You’ll come visit, won’t you?”
“I don’t know.” You don’t know if they’ll let you. The hospital is busy and the ocean is big, bigger than you, and you don’t know it at all like Zeff and Sanji do. “But I’ll write back.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
You are crying now.
For the first time, your arms wrap around Sanji, and he clings back as both of you bawl. Your tears and snot stain the shoulder of his brand-new clothes. Your uniform grows damp at the collar. It doesn’t matter at all.
“I don’t know if I’ll see you again,” you croak into his shirt, face hot and eyes blurry.
His grip tightens. “You will,” Sanji replies in between sniffles. “I know it. Even if it’s when we’re really old, we’ll see each other again.”
“Okay.”
You believe him. Not because of fate, but because you want to.
—
You write to each other every single week for the next ten years. You tell each other everything.
Well, almost everything.
—
“You seem nervous,” Nami says. “Don’t tell me a little bribery got under your skin?”
“No, no.” You wipe your hands on your thighs and try to relax against the back of the booth. “Just … not used to places like this, that’s all.”
The Baratie is nicer than you imagined. Sanji had kept you up to date over the years, sending newspaper clippings and recipe drafts as the restaurant he and Zeff founded grew in staff members and reputation, but seeing it in person is a whole different deal. You’re telling the truth when you said you’re not used to a place like this.
But it’s not why you’re nervous.
“Hey, look!” Usopp exclaims, pointing across the room. “I think those guys are gonna fight.”
The rest of you look. Near the kitchen, two men are arguing, and the pink-haired man sitting at the table stands up when the pirate shoves his food onto the floor.
Usopp sucks his teeth. “Yikes.”
Luffy leans forward in interest. Zoro simply stares, and Nami rolls her eyes.
One of the waiters approaches them. You watch as he tries to deescalate the situation, but neither party is having it.
The pink-haired man draws a gun.
Within seconds, the gun and both would-be brawlers are on the floor.
The waiter shoves his foot into the pink-haired man’s back to keep him down, then picks up the plate of bread rolls again, stepping over both groaning bodies with the ease of one who’s done it before.
He reassures the other customers as he approaches your booth. You’re not concerned about the fight so much as you are about the way that you know.
It’s been ten years, but you just know, even before he gets close enough for you to see the red string that trails up and disappears into the black of his pants pocket. Even before you see the blue of his eyes and the annoyed set of his brow, exactly the same as you remember.
He places the rolls down onto the table, and for the first time, you wonder what you want.
“Hi, welcome to our shitty restaurant where the only thing worse than the ambience is the food. My name is Sanji. What can I get for you?”
#aesthetic words prompt list#opla#one piece#sanji x reader#vinsmoke sanji x reader#vinsmoke sanji#sanji#opla sanji#one piece live action#opla fanfiction#one piece fanfiction#reader insert#fem!reader#soulmate au#woefully inaccurate portrayal of patient treatment and progression of recovery i'm sorry#usually i'd be more of a stickler but this is one piece where people don't die after 85 days eating nothing but their own leg#zeff and sanji definitely aren't ur typical patients anyway even in the opla universe lol
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☆ ⼂ THE SILENT TREATMENT ﹗
ꔫㅤㅤ ❜[ skz ot8 x any reader ] ㅤ⋆ ㅤangst, fluff ㅤ warnings insecurities, arguing, crying, cursing ㅤ﹢ㅤ300 per member wc
◗ ៹ BANG CHAN ›
Silent treatment, that one thing you hated from the bottom of your heart. And Chan was giving it to you, for a small mistake.
Well, you wanted to transfer some pictures from his laptop to your phone and you almost deleted his song drafts. Almost! But he caught you in the act of restoring everything and screamed so loud it could be heard down the street.
Then an argument broke out where he argued about you being careless and you argued about how they are not deleted and that is what matters. He argued back about how they could have been and then it led to a cold war.
Right now, you were both just giving each other silent treatment, both of your egos too big to back out. But now you were contemplating whether you should because you missed him, it has been two days since you both talked.
Just then Chan entered the room as you swiftly got up and you both simultaneously spoke, "I am sorry." You were beyond relieved at this as you jumped into his embrace and he stumbled back trying to hold you.
"I am so sorry, I am stupid," you said as he stayed silent. You looked at him narrowing your eyes as he shrugged saying, "If you are waiting for me to disagree, it will be a long day."
"Well then Chan, fuck you," you said as he smirked, "Yeah we need to make up for the two days."
Placing a small kiss on your lips he said, "We need to make up for the kisses and cuddles not done in two days too," and you nodded in agreement.
◗ ៹ LEE MINHO ›
You hung your head low thinking of ways of apologising to him. Even though it was not your fault you wanted to apologise first because it was too much for you to handle.
It was not your fault that the bartender was flirting with you, you did try to wave him off.
But that persistent person did not leave you alone which made Minho pretty angry. He stared at the bartender poking his tongue inside his cheeks before he left dragging you out with him.
And you two didn't even have any argument before he started the silent treatment.
You have poked him, literally, many times and stood in front of him blocking his way trying to make him talk but all was in vain. So now you were thinking of newer ways.
You made some cold coffee for yourself and sat down sipping on it lightly and suddenly Minho took it out of your hands and took a sip sitting beside you. "You know we are indirectly kissing," you half joked wanting him to break but nothing.
What tortured you more was the fact he was doing everything he usually does, except talking to you and of course, was depriving you of any physical affection.
You clung your body to him, hugging him sideways and you thought he would get away but he made no attempts to. "Come on, forgive me already, it was not my fault," you whined right beside his ears but he acted like he was deaf, eyes glued to his phone.
"Min please, you know I can't handle silent treatment, my mom did it too and trust me it hurts, like a bitch. It is one of the reasons I never give anyone silent treatment. You know these," hurt was evident in your voice as you said all those.
Still, when you got no reaction you just had enough and got up going to your bedroom. Tears pooled your eyes because you always thought the worst and now you felt like he would leave you.
Minho, on the other hand, realised he had gone overboard and with your overthinking mind you had now broken down. He threw the phone on the sofa ran up the stairs and urgently knocked on your door.
Before doing the second knock he pushed the door, seeing it was already unlocked just to see you standing on the balcony, blinking your eyes rapidly to stop the tears.
He went up to you and hugged you from behind he kissed your neck. He felt you relax in his embrace and cleaned your tears dry before kissing you on the nose.
That was enough for you to realise he was joking and he would never leave.
◗ ៹ SEO CHANGBIN ›
"How about you ask Seungmin to give you a ride home?" were the last words Changbin said to you over the phone. Now you were sitting in the car with him staring out the window.
There was an uncomfortable silence hanging in the air and you knew why. All because he was angry and jealous. And angry Changbin is scary Changbin.
You were laughing along every time Seungmin decided to destroy his members with his sarcastic lines, especially Changbin. But Seungmin accidentally made fun of him for being chubby which hurt him.
What hurt him more was you laughed along before you realised it now after that Seungmin hugged him which made him forgive him at once but when you decided to try that he just walked away.
And then after spending another half an hour with the 00' liners you decided to go home and here you were, in his car, when he is still angry.
"Changbin I am sorry, I didn't mean to," you said apologising to him again but he ignored you, again. You sighed throwing your head back on the car seat.
You gazed at him longingly, your eyes tracing his every feature as you put your hand on his which was free. "You look hot, driving with one hand," you voiced out unintentionally before widening your eyes in realisation.
He chuckled lowly before saying, "That is one way of making me talk." "Oh my god, you talked," you screamed in delight and you saw him pull the car to your house.
"Changbin I am sorry we joked about your insecurity, it was cruel of us," you said, being truly sorry for what you and Seungmin did.
"It is okay, mistakes happen, just I hope you don't repeat it," he says looking at you and smiling, dimples visible on his lower cheeks as you melted due to his smile.
"I promise, we won't, ever," you assured tracing your fingers along his knuckles. "Good," he smiled before leaning in and kissing you as you held his cheeks firmly, kissing him back. He parted for air but then you pulled him back, his laughter dying down in his throat.
And inside the safety of the metal bubble, a beautiful love was growing.
◗ ៹ HWANG HYUNJIN ›
Hyunjin was being overdramatic, again! It was a regular phenomenon by now, but this time it was getting out of hand. He was screaming his lungs out just because of his hair.
You both went to the grocery store before to buy some ingredients and when you were walking home rain started pouring. Now, there was no shadow in the alley and thus you both started running. But, by the time you reached your home, you both were fully drenched.
He started screaming as soon as he entered saying he was wearing an expensive hair product and now his hair will be all ruined due to it getting wait. He blamed you for not taking an umbrella to which you replied that you were not suitable to know it would rain.
Your constant sarcastic replies and eye rolls pissed him and thus you both broke out in a big argument. And then you both were screaming curses at each other forgetting what the argument was about anyway.
And now you both were sitting across each other on the couch giving the very infamous silent treatment since both of your egos were too big.
You were aware that Hyunjin was a sensitive person and constantly feared if he would start crying. If he did, then you would break instantly and you knew it very well.
And he did break down after a few minutes, sniffing lightly, trying to keep as quiet as he could. That broke your heart. All the times before he had wailed out loudly like a child.
But this time he was quiet, trying not to gain your attention and make you feel guilty. But now you were feeling guiltier than usual.
You got up from your side and sat down beside him and saw his tear-stained face. "I am sorry," he croaked out and you instantly hugged him repeatedly saying that you were sorry too.
You kissed his tears dry and placed a kiss on his nose, his two eyelids and a longing one on his lips. You pulled back but he pulled you back making him sit on his lap.
"Works like a charm," he smirked as you groaned but deep down you knew those tears were real. "You don't have to hide your pain like that Hyunjin," you whispered as he smiled at you.
"I love you," he blurred out and you replied, "I love you more." "Impossible," he said as you laughed lightly in his embrace.
◗ ៹ HAN JISUNG ›
You and Han were throwing angry remarks at each other because of a stupid argument. At this point, none of you even remember what the argument was about.
After one point a very sudden stop came to your argument when you received a call from your mother. When you finished talking with her you noticed Jisung had already gone to bed.
You sighed softly before you made your way towards the bedroom and saw him sleep on one corner of the bed face turned away from you. You quickly did your night routine and sat up on the bed flicking the light switch off.
The cool breeze of the air conditioner blew in the darkroom as you contemplated your sleeping positions for a few minutes. Then you scooted closer to him before placing a hand on his hair.
Gently stroking it from the back you put another of your arm around his waist. "Ugh, I hate arguing with you, you are too irresistible to resist," you murmured as he turned towards you taking you by surprise.
"Yeah, you scared me," you laughed but he gave no response as you realised he was giving you the silent treatment. "No, please, not the silent treatment," you whined as his eyes bored into yours.
"Come on Ji, please," you threw a small tantrum throwing your body into his arms but he didn't hug back. Suddenly you thought of a plan as you started tickling him.
"Oh my god, stop," he screamed out throwing you off his body as you laughed heartily which he joined soon after. "You make it very hard to stay angry," he said in between his laughs.
He jumped over your body kissing you all over your face as you lay on the bed giggling. Giving a longing kiss on your lips you both smiled like two teenagers in love.
You loved the way you loved him, and you would gladly do it for life. So would he.
◗ ៹ LEE FELIX ›
"Well sometimes Mr Brownie Lee, I would like a brownie too," you screamed at him as he briskly ignored you flipping through the television channels.
"Oh do not even think of silent treatment," you whined as he gave no reply or acknowledged your presence. "You know what, I will make some myself," you said as you left the room gloomily.
Felix got a little concerned about you using the kitchen but let you nevertheless. After a few moments, he heard a scream as he ran towards the kitchen.
Walking inside he saw you holding your hand under cold, running water and a knife with a little blood beside it. "Why can't you be safe?" he grumbled holding up your hands and gently rubbing them underwater.
"Hey, you are talking," you exclaimed happily as he sighed kissing your forehead softly murmuring a soft 'I am sorry' in his deep voice.
"It is okay," you hummed out as he suggested, "Let's make them together after your finger is healed." You nodded in agreement, your insides bubbling in happiness.
"By the way, what were you doing with a knife for making brownies?" he asked being genuinely curious as you laughed nervously saying, "You do not have to know."
◗ ៹ KIM SEUNGMIN ›
"No Seungmin you do not understand. I have nothing with you not holding hands or any other affection in public. But even behind the doors, you do nothing. It is not fine, I have given you three months to loosen up but sometimes I will get impatient too if you keep being so unresponsive to every affection," you screamed finally getting rid of all the frustrations in your mind.
For the first two months, it was okay, but now you felt impatient. You just wanted a simple kiss or just a hug but he did nothing. Nothing.
Seungmin stayed quiet, absorbing your every word before he left the room and slammed the door after entering the bedroom. You sat down on his couch contemplating whether you should just leave and go to your apartment or you should apologise right now. But your alter ego said otherwise as it felt you did nothing wrong.
You clutched your head in your hands thinking of ways to approach him because he would never do it to you. 'There you go, making the first moves again,' a part of your mind screamed and you just wanted to cry at that moment.
It was already two hours as the fight had ended and you were still there. You went up to drink a glass of water and after drinking you made your way towards his room.
Entering it you started talking, not exactly apologising but profusely trying to make him understand all your points as he stayed silent, not even looking at you.
"Fine, if you want to give the silent treatment, it is okay, I guess I deserve it," you sighed and left the room, well, tried to.
Seungmin quickly pulled you by your hand making you sit beside him on the bed as he said in a loud, clear voice, "I am sorry."
"Oh," you were surprised at the suddenness as he continued rambling on about how he should have been more compassionate and tried to understand how you feel. He also said that he would be more affectionate from now on.
His never-ending speech was boring you so you quickly pecked his cheeks and he stopped talking, staring at you with those puppy eyes.
You thanked the gods for making these kinds of ideas actually work in real life but the thinking process was cut off again.
Seungmin leaned in towards you, his lips ghosting over yours as he asked with a whisper, "May I kiss you?"
◗ ៹ YANG JEONGIN ›
"You are always busy, you either have a big project coming up, or you have tuitions, or you have college classes. I realise it is hard for you and thus I do not meddle with anything you do. I do not drop you off at college because you are afraid of scandals. I do not meddle when you mix with your friends. I just want some time for myself, please. Is it too much for you to give? Because if it is then we should break up. I mean I am an idol who hardly gets any time and whenever I do, you are busy. In the next months, we will be on tour and I will not see you. But you know what? Nevermind!" Jeongin inhaled sharply after the long speech.
He left the room leaving you dumbfounded, not knowing what to do. Your mind has stopped working as you thought of multiple ways to make this up.
You closed your laptop and scurried towards your room only to find it locked and you could hear Jeongin's sniffles from inside which broke your heart.
You felt guilty for what you have done because he was right. He was not those annoying boyfriends who were all over their partners' lives.
He did give you space, a lot. But you have just been increasing that every day. You sat down outside the door leaning on it as you could still hear him crying.
You patiently waited for him to open but he ignored all your calls and messages. An hour later he did open the door.
But he wasn't talking. You made multiple attempts to get him to talk and make him stop giving you the torturous silent treatment but none worked.
"Please Innie, I am sorry, I promise I will make up for every single moment I have missed, just please don't leave, I can't live without you," you choked out as a tear rolled out of Jeongin's eyes.
He turned to you hugging you before saying, "Do you know how much I love you to leave you?" you cried with him as his shirt got wet and whispered 'I love you too'.
Maybe, this time, you both will give effort to this relationship.
ꔫㅤㅤ ❜ [ ara's notes ] ㅤ⋆ ㅤit was supposed to be really angsty but meh i can't write without fluff
ꔫㅤㅤ ❜ [ taglist ] ㅤ⋆ ㅤ@haneagerr @jeonghanfr ㅤmain mlistㅤ skz listㅤ navi ㅤ add to taglist
© arafilez on tumblr. please do not copy and repost my work as your own.
#ㅤ── ㅤara posts ㅤ𝜗𝜚#stray kids#bang chan#lee know#changbin#hyunjin#han skz#felix#seungmin#jeongin#bang chan x reader#lee know x reader#changbin x reader#hyunjin x reader#han x reader#felix x reader#seungmin x reader#jeongin x reader#skz x reader#stray kids x reader#skz#˖ ⋈ ˚ ‹ skz ›#divider by fairytopea#𓂃 FIC : the silent treatment 𒉽
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yandere!reader, who is corrupted and sadistic, manipulating and convincing könig to love you. eventually, once he's fallen head over heels with you, he'll lock you away and collar you in the basement.
i mean, you'll really do anything for him, ja?
#orla speaks#he'll turn the tables and give you the same treatment#könig x you#könig x y/n#könig x reader#konig mw2#konig modern warfare#könig smut#konig cod#konig call of duty
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mr. welt yang who is strictly dominant—hard and collected when it comes to just about anything. he likes to be in control and have a general understanding, and that applies to your sex life. mr. welt yang who always takes care of his precious baby. he tells you “don’t worry that pretty little head of yours—i’ll take care of it.” and he makes you feel better. long, hard, bad day? that’s okay. welt’ll make it trivial, a futile matter that’s only a distant memory as he feasts on your cunt and worships your body.
mr. welt yang who will do anything you say. anything to make you happy. so when you tell him, eyes wide with stars gleaming in your pupils that you wanna make him feel good, who is he to say no? mr. welt yang who indulges in your sweet attempts to swallow his big cock down your little throat, mr. welt yang who praises you for taking all of his cum like the good princess you are, mr. welt yang who encourages you as you try to ride him. “it’s okay, take your time, ‘m not going anywhere . . .”, “that’s it, oh, fuck, you got it—so, so good, yeah?”, “make yourself feel good, ‘s okay.” he thumbs away your tears when you get frustrated and overstimulated because he’s just so big and he feels so good inside of you. you want to be good for him, to repay him for the millions of times he’s taken care of you, but he tells you that it doesn’t matter; you repay him everyday by being his good, perfect little princess, and there’s nothing more he could ask for.
mr. welt yang who loves his darling more than this world could conceive. there’s nothing in this world he would trade for getting to indulge in you, make you feel on top of the universe, and be reminded that you’re his, and he’s yours.
#♡. on queue#late night mr yang drabble <3 need princess treatment frm him sbad ! !#minors & ageless blogs do not interact.#honkai star rail smut#honkai star rail x reader#honkai x reader#hsr smut#hsr fanfic#honkai star rail#honkai welt#welt yang x reader#welt yang x you#welt yang smut#welt yang fluff#welt smut#hsr x you#hsr x reader
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