#like all i see is people being indifferent or happy about it and i'm just like. sometimes it'll frustrate me so bad and i'll get so angry | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wttcsms · 2 months

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angels like you can't fly down here with me (i'm everything they say i would be), megumi fushiguro ;

pairing megumi fushiguro x f!reader word count 11k synopsis people like him don't get happy endings but megumi fushiguro (foolishly) considers himself to be the exception — after all, he has you. content contains yakuza au, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, breeding kink, slight daddy kink, attempted sa, minor violence & depictions of blood author's note if ur on my ao3, you know this is from 2021!!! my writing has changed up since then, but i'm going to be releasing a revised version of this which will be rewritten and feature more scenes, more worldbuilding, more plot, relationship and character development, etc!! i figured releasing this on tumblr would help me gauge how worthwhile revision of this fic will be, so lmk if u like this au & want to see it become even better <3

Don’t do it.

He repeats the command inside his head again, and then one more time for good measure. (And then another time, just to drive the point across.)

He won’t — can’t; isn’t really allowed to — get into (another!) fight.

(Well, there’s a part of Megumi that knows that despite Gojo’s sing-songy warning of “now, now, Megumi, I don’t need a frequent visitor’s card for the principal’s office”, he doesn’t actually care. All he’s really concerned about — if the mild interest the reckless teenager turned legal guardian shows can even be called that — is whether or not Megumi wins.

And he does.

Every. Single. Time.)

For the most part, Megumi Fushiguro is fairly stoic in general, but to a concerning degree when one accounts for the fact that he’s only ten years old. For the odd three or so years he’s been under Gojo’s wing, Megumi’s mask of disinterest stopped becoming a mask and started becoming a part of him.

(Try as he might, Gojo’s not nearly as funny as he thinks he is. Maybe the connection between them might have been stronger if Gojo was a bit more responsible and if he was actually present, but he’s got his own shit to deal with. Besides, Gojo’s under the impression that what he’s doing isn’t cruel, but rather a means to an end. Megumi’s never going to be able to get stronger if he doesn’t learn how to survive on his own.

After all, being alone and having to fight to survive is the life people like them live.)

The older preteens in the area have a bad habit of picking on the younger students. Because the elementary and middle schools are so close together, the younger students who have the misfortune of walking alone tend to be targets for bullies in need of pocket change or a good laugh. Most of the time, they get both.

As of late, everyone’s favorite target happens to be Megumi Fushiguro, the boy with the messy black hair and indifferent attitude, even when confronted by boys two years his senior and almost a whole entire head taller than him.

Last week, Megumi gave the three older boys dumb enough to harass him for money bloody noses, bruised egos, and a thirst for revenge. That was the first (and supposed to be the last) time he got into a fight (for this school year, at least — something Gojo had told him, while winking). So, even when the trio is back together again, taunting him and trying to get him to take the first swing, Megumi keeps walking forward with his perpetual look of disinterest, those cold blue eyes of his staring straight at the path ahead of him, never paying any mind to the gangly bodies of the middle school boys who keep trying to block him from moving.

Don’t do it.

He tells himself this once more. You don’t want to have to inconvenience Gojo. Then, you’ll be stuck listening to him pretend to lecture you. You don’t like spending too much time with Gojo. He’ll make weird jokes.

The thought of having to deal with Gojo’s presence is enough to get Megumi to unclench his fists.

“Move.”

It’s the first thing he says to the group since they started following him after school. He tells the boy with the brown hair this. The brunet seems to be their ringleader of sorts, and even as nothing more than a ten year old child, Megumi knows that being twelve/thirteen and harassing little kids for sport is a sign of patheticness that will only grow and fester into something darker unless someone beats some sense into them. Obviously, they didn’t learn their lesson from last week.

“Huh? What the hell did ya just say, ya little brat?” The brown haired boy sneers, looking down at Megumi.

School has just let out, so there are dozens of kids of all ages walking down the sidewalk. They’re all aware of the situation happening, but everyone chooses to turn a blind eye to it. Partly because this is such a common occurrence that it just starts to become something that blends into the scenery, but also because there are some rumors surrounding the Fushiguro kid that’s enough to make anyone with a heart of gold reluctant to come to his rescue.

The main rumor circulating around the school is that Megumi Fushiguro has ties to the yakuza. Granted, most kids his age have no idea what the yakuza is, and even those who somewhat know only know through exaggerated definitions from their older siblings. Generally, everyone just accepts the fact that the yakuza is bad, and by default, Megumi Fushiguro must be bad too. Older siblings tell their younger siblings to avoid “that boy” at all costs, unless they want to end up with a finger cut off. Megumi’s classmates huddle together and conveniently choose to look everywhere else but at him when on the playground.

For anyone else, this might have been enough to cause some hurt feelings. Everyone thinks the boy must be some type of stupid to be so oblivious to the rumors centered around him, but the truth is this: Megumi is well aware of what people whisper about behind his back; he just doesn’t care enough to prove them wrong.

And they’re not wrong, anyway.

(For some parts of the rumors, at least.)

Because it’s true — Megumi does have ties to the yakuza. His father, who he can’t seem to attach neither a name nor a face to, must have done something bad. Something bad enough to have him cross paths with Satoru Gojo, the young head of the Gojo Clan, one of Tokyo’s most prominent crime families. It’s the same Gojo who decided to adopt both Megumi and his stepsister, Tsumiki, despite having nothing (so far) to gain from it. After all, why would a teenager willingly assign himself the responsibilities of caring for small children — one who resembles the man that tried to kill him and the other being an ill little girl confined to a hospital bed for who knows how long. All Gojo gets from this deal is a headache, bills, and more problems than necessary.

Megumi’s not really sure how the rumors started in the first place. He thinks it’s because kids his age are easily influenced and have a tendency to run wild with their imaginations. With the rising popularity of gangs from the high school students, this interest seems to have trickled all the way down to the elementary levels. Megumi certainly fits the description of their idea of someone from the yakuza: silent, secretive, scary.

(If they were a little bit older, maybe they would have just seen him as an introvert.)

No matter how ridiculous the rumors get, though, it doesn’t change the fact that the root of them is true: he is connected to the yakuza. After all, he’s being primed and prepped to be someone of value in the clan. Once you’re tied with the likes of them, you might as well just resign to the knot fate’s trapped you with. He’s learned quickly that the only thing harder than getting into the yakuza is getting out.

And because his sister’s and his life both depend on him doing as he’s told, getting out is a funny pipe dream at best and the Fushiguro siblings’ cause of death at worst.

“I told you to move. You’re blocking my way.” Megumi’s tone of voice betrays nothing. Annoyance, maybe, but he speaks flatly regardless of how he’s truly feeling. Gojo says it’s kinda creepy. Gojo also says that being a little creepy isn’t bad.

(Gojo should know; he’s a certified creep in Megumi’s eyes.)

“Oh — so the little boy can speak up.” The boy with blond hair laughs. It’s a nasally sound that grates Megumi’s ears.

He’s not an idiot. Megumi is well aware of the fact that no matter how much he feels like it isn’t true, he’s still just a little ten year old boy. He should be playing with the toy cars Gojo bought him, not worrying about the gritty future that lies ahead. But still, the phrase rubs him the wrong way.

Little boy.

He wasn’t so little when he kicked them down to his height before properly bashing their faces, now was he? Even now, he can feel the anger coming up. He clenches his fists, wondering if he’ll get suspended for fighting right next to school property.

“Leave him alone.”

Another voice appears, but not from any of the boys. No — this time, it’s coming from a little girl on the sidewalk across from theirs. Everyone involved turns to stare at the source of such a command and are greeted with the sight of you with a Hello Kitty backpack. You’ve got a frown on your face that doesn’t match the brightness of your pink outfit.

Megumi recognizes you instantly. You’re in the same class as him. You were in the same class as him last year, too. He tilts his head, trying to figure out what exactly it is you’re trying to accomplish here — and why.

He knows his social standing in the school. If he’s at the bottom, you’re right at the top. A beaming pillar of light, everyone flocks to you like moths after a flame. But you’re alone today, not surrounded by the usual crowd of boys and girls who are often vying for your attention. Seeing you alone enables him to see you more clearly, without all the distractions getting in his way.

You’re small. Shorter than him, and way shorter than the middle school boys. You’ve got a bow in your hair and brand new shoes on your feet. If anybody should be socially aware, it has to be you. Those at the top, Megumi knows, like to remind everyone of their placement. You shouldn’t be here. You should be ignoring him like he’s got the plague, just like everyone else.

All three of the boys start to laugh after sizing you up. The laughter only serves to make you even more irritated, but you can’t speak because one of them is already talking through his laughs.

“Don’t tell me. Is this your girlfriend?”

The group erupts into more laughter, and while Megumi’s expression remains the same as it’s been for the past few minutes, yours only shows your growing contempt.

“She’s no one.” Megumi throws you an odd look, one of neither annoyance nor gratitude for trying to help him out. He uses your presence as a distraction, and he manages to take a few more steps before one of the boys is yanking him back by his bookbag.

“Grab her.” One of the boys says, and the third boy, the one with the messy red hair, starts to cross the street.

Megumi watches as you stay right where you are. Are you stupid? Why won’t you run? The boy still has a solid grip on his bookbag, keeping him in place. He wonders if it’ll be a waste of his breath if he tells you to start running — you probably wouldn’t listen to him anyway.

But then Megumi figures out why you don’t look too frightened, because not even a second before the older boy manages to cross the street to your side of the sidewalk, a man in a suit is running towards you, a scowl on his face.

“You said you were going to the restroom, young lady!” The man scolds you while panting for breath. He surveys the scene, looking at you, and then the middle school boy by your side before turning his head and seeing Megumi in between the other two boys. “What’s going on? Is everything alright? Did they do anything to you?”

“No, Mr. Higashi. B-but—“ Your bottom lip starts to tremble, and even though Higashi is certain that the tears about to fall are fake, the situation itself looks serious enough to the point where he doesn’t call you out on it. “Th-these boys are being really mean.” You let out a high pitched wail that makes the boy let go of Megumi’s bookbag. “They just threatened to attack me and my friend out of nowhere.”

“Your father will be informed.” Higashi frowns, eyeing the guilty boys who look confused and a little shocked at this turn of events. “Mr. [Surname] certainly won’t be pleased to hear about this.”

The middle school boys pale when they hear the man name drop your family’s surname.

After all, it’s the same last name that’s engraved on plaques all over the school, thanking your family for the many donations they’ve received.

You enter into Megumi’s life that way: unexpectedly. He never thanked you for intervening, but it’s not like you did it for the thanks anyway. You did it, you tell him, because you figured he needed some help.

“I had it handled.” He tells you flatly. “Why are you even sitting here? Your friends keep staring at us.”

It’s true. Stories of what happened are already circulating around both schools, and while all your friends spent the whole entire day pestering you for the full story, you chose to keep quiet about the situation. And now, here you are, choosing to sit and eat lunch with Megumi, someone who also knows the true story of what went down but the only one people aren't brave enough to ask.

Your whole entire table of friends keep their heads huddled together as they go back and forth with each other, every one of them sparing glances at Megumi’s table. It makes the rice in his mouth taste stale. He should have just stayed in the classroom to eat, especially if he knew you would be bothering him.

“Gee, is that any way to treat a friend?” You huff, not at all actually annoyed with him.

“We’re not friends.”

“Too late. I told my dad we were.”

There has been one question on his mind ever since that incident. Just who exactly is your father? He’s not stupid; he knows that you must come from a wealthy family. If the buildings and auditorium named after your family isn’t enough proof, the fact that you always have the latest toys, the nicest shoes, the cutest stationery sets — that’s material proof of a spoiled princess.

You continue speaking, and as if you can read his mind, you’re already answering his question. “My daddy’s called a CEO. But the man you saw is Mr. Higashi. He takes care of me when dad’s away at work, and everything I do gets typed up in a report that dad sees every day. He wasn’t happy about what happened, so he says the boys will get in trouble. He told us not to worry, though.” You have a pleased smile on your face, waiting for Megumi to say something in reply.

“Okay.” He says, after a while. He only spoke because it seemed like you were waiting for him to. “It doesn’t mean we’re friends.”

“What’s so wrong about being friends with me?” You tilt your head. Everyone wants to be friends with you. And that’s before they even figure out that you live in a real life mansion with actual servants, and that sometimes you’re allowed to eat dessert for dinner. Even without the wealth, you still draw people in, whether it be with your bright smile or cheery attitude.

“Don’t you already have enough friends?” He can’t figure out what you could possibly want with him. Even though Gojo’s got the backing of the clan and enough funds to run the Tokyo underground with cash to spare, it’s not like Megumi is in a position to take advantage of it. Gojo hands him a thick wad of cash every week with a tip to “spend wisely, hehehehe”, and Megumi takes the tip to heart. A majority of the money sits saved in his bedroom, underneath a floorboard he spent a week trying to figure out how to loosen without anyone catching on. (Which was actually easy whenever he realized that nobody seems to really watch him to begin with.) So, he doesn’t look like he has money, and isn’t that what all rich kids want? To surround themselves with equally rich kids?

“I guess.” Your bubbly mood seems to dampen a bit at the mention of the other kids. They like you, sure. But they like each other a lot more. The gap between you and the other kids isn’t noticeable at first, but the novelty of having an endless supply of company has lost its luster. Meanwhile, the glamor of your life only keeps the hoards of “friends” to grow as the days go by. It’s always “let’s have a sleepover at [Names]’s!” or “[Name], we have to go to your house because you have the best toys!”. You wonder if they like you, or the shiny things that they get when they’re with you. “But, it’s not like youhave any friends.”

“I don’t need any.” The response is quick — instinctual. Gojo, even if not the greatest guardian by any parental standards, still presses Megumi to have a proper (or, as proper as it can be) childhood.

(“You know, I don’t care if you bring any friends over. Just make sure no one ends up accidentally getting shot, okay, Megumi?”

Yeah, because that’s definitely gonna push him towards throwing as many parties as he wants.)

People in his position don’t have many friends. It’s hard to, he assumes, because of all the killings and betrayals and power plays.

(And, he’ll soon learn that it hurts a lot less to lose an enemy than it does a friend.)

“Hmm. Okay.”

But you don’t get up from your seat, and he doesn’t tell you to move.

The next day, you’re carrying two bento boxes. The lunches are prepared for you by world class chefs and everything is done in a rather cutesy manner to entice you into not wasting your food. The fruit is cut into pretty shapes, the food has picks with animals on them, and everything is colorful and to your own personal tastes.

You take a seat next to him once again. He looks up for a second, sees that it’s you, and returns back to his meal that looks pitiful in comparison. Leftover rice and some cold meat. You think it’s the same thing he had last time.

“For you.” You slide the second bento you had requested towards him before opening up your own.

“What’s this for?”

“For you to eat, silly.”

“...How much?”

“Huh? All of it, I guess? If you don’t like something, tell me, and I’ll request something different tomorrow.” You don’t quite understand what he’s asking you.

“No. How much does it cost? I'll bring you the money tomorrow.”

“Why would it cost you?” Now you’re really confused.

Didn’t anyone ever teach you that everything comes attached with a price? If it’s not money you want, it must be something else. At least, if Megumi’s judgments are right. (And they usually are.)

“Fushiguro, I brought you this because I want you to eat well and grow strong.”

He wonders what rice shaped like Hello Kitty has to do with his strength.

“Also, so the next time people give you or me trouble, you can fight them, okay?”

Oh. So it’s protection you want. He contemplates what he thinks your request is before popping a piece of food into his mouth. A meal made with care — he can taste the thought that’s been put into it. Shoving his old lunch to the side, he quickly starts eating at the one you brought him.

Okay. So maybe he does accept your offer.

“Meguuuumi.” You whine out his name, messing up the navy sheets of his bed while he sits at his desk, trying to finish his application for university. “I’m bored.”

“Good. Go to your own house then, and leave me alone.”

“You’re so mean to me.” You sigh, turning your head so that half of your face is pressed against his pillow. The scent of his shampoo still sticks to the fabric, and you subconsciously inhale the scent some more. It’s familiar and reminds you of him, your favorite person in the world.

No one believes you when you tell them that Megumi is your best friend. No one wants to believe that it’s true. After all, the two of you look more like a shoujo manga trope than an actual pair of best friends. The cold, inexpressive dark haired male lead with a secretive past he doesn’t want anyone to know about and the bright, bubbly, ball of energy that is constantly clinging to his side. It’s like looking at night and day with you two.

“And yet, you’re still always here.”

You’re still by his side, even when the two of you reached middle school and high school together, and he spent a majority of his time starting (and finishing) fights.

(“Get off of him!” You screamed, yanking on the collar of one of the boys who happened to be trying to grab Megumi from behind. You don’t have the same amount of strength as them, but everyone at this point knows who you are and who exactly your father is. No matter what the origin of the fight is won’t matter; all that matters is that the precious daughter of one of Tokyo’s richest CEOs got caught in it, and that’s enough to get everyone involved into some deep shit.

Immediately, the boy scampers off, and the other boy Megumi was punching into the squeaky clean floors of the hallway begins to thrash around wildly, eyes wide at the sudden sight of you. Seeing you coming from behind Megumi is like watching the sun peek through a dozen storm clouds.

Megumi gives him one last punch, not nearly as satisfied as he thought he would be. Honestly, getting into fights with low level delinquents is beneath him. It’s not just his knuckles and clothes that are getting dirty; by feeding into the school’s image that he’s this young, violent yakuza heir, he’s dirtying the prestige Gojo claims is oh so important.

“Megumi.” He straightens up at the sound of your voice, which usually sounds so sweet, especially when it’s directed towards him. Instead, you have an uncharacteristic frown on your face and you sound… mad. “Let’s go.”

You’ve got a hand wrapped around his wrist, and people part when they spot the two of you making a hasty exit. The teachers aren’t bold enough to cause a scene with you, and the students know both you and Megumi are practically untouchable — one being the spoiled brat daughter of a rich and powerful businessman, the other, a ticking time bomb with ties to the yakuza.

You don’t stop walking until the two of you are in a secluded courtyard at the school. No one goes here, mainly because it’s in such an inconvenient location and there’s nothing but trees and weeds over growing it. The two of you found it within your first week of being here, and ever since then, it’s become your designated spot to avoid prying eyes.

“I thought you were over stupid fights. You told me yourself that they weren’t the type of people worth beating up.” You scold him, forcing him to take a seat on the bench that creaks under his weight. You make a noise as you inspect the drying blood on his knuckles.

If an outsider were to look at the scene before them, they would gape at the unbecoming sight of you on your knees, in between his legs, too close for a duo who claims to be “just good friends”. But there’s nothing inherently dirty in your thoughts. Instead, you’re staring thoughtfully at his hands, inspecting the minor damage done to them.

Megumi swallows hard as he looks down on you. He shouldn’t be feeling like this — you’re his best friend, his only friend. The only person who’s by his side. If you could read in his mind, there’s no doubt that you would be recoiling away from him in disgust…)

You’re still by his side, even when he told you the truth about himself after waiting years to see if you were truly his friend or not.

(“The rumors—” He starts to say, but you shush him, rolling over on your side to face him. The two of you are lying on the grass in your massive backyard, trying to spot a shooting star that’s supposed to be passing by at any second now.

“I don’t care about that.” You tell him. Middle school was a bitch to deal with, mainly because as everyone was in the process of growing up and “maturing”, so did the rumors they spread. Now, the two of you are halfway through your first week of high school. A new school, a couple of new classmates, and new rumors surrounding the odd pair.

“If I told you the rumors about me being someone you should avoid were true, would you be mad?” He’s lying on his back, still staring up at the night sky. He’s not turning to face you, almost as if he’s scared to look at you.

“Yes.” You answer without any hesitation. “At the person who’s spreading that around.” You clarify, poking him on his side to lighten the somber mood he’s setting. “You’re the only real friend I’ve had in forever, Megumi. I don’t think what anyone says about you would change that.”

“What if I did something bad?” Like kill a person. What then? What would you think of him if he told you the full truth: that Gojo told him that he can’t shield Megumi from the dirtier aspects of this type of life. That he’s spent hours after school, hours after hanging out with you and pretending to be a normal teenager, learning how to assemble, disassemble, and then reassemble a gun. That his target practice isn’t glass bottles lined up in a row or sheets printed out with human bodies. What happens if he told you that his target practice was low level scum from rival yakuza clans that Gojo couldn’t be bothered to kill himself?

“Mmm. How bad are we talking? Like, lied to me when you said my Christmas outfit looked good but half my ass was practically exposed bad or committing a felony bad?”

“What if I told you… that I really was a yakuza heir.”

The silence is palpable and especially soul crushing to Megumi as he waits for your reply.

“It wouldn’t matter to me, Megumi.” You say. You know that this isn’t just some type of hypothetical question he’s asking for fun. From his odd living situation to the intense nature of him in general to the fact that he knows practically everything about you, but you barely know the full extent of his childhood traumas despite growing up alongside him, you know deep in your heart that there has to be something going on with him. Something dark enough to harbor stories about him.

“Are you sure about that?”

You reach for his hand in the dark, finding it without really needing to look. He’s not one that’s prone to initiating physical contact, but you found out that he doesn’t really mind when you reach for him first.

“You can’t get rid of me, no matter how crazy or fucked up you think your life is.” You squeeze his hand, still staring at him.

You don’t notice the shooting star flying past the night sky, but Megumi is looking right at it. He knows what he’s wishing for.

For your words to be true.)

You’re still by his side, even when he brought you to his sister’s bedside. She’s sick, afflicted with something no one knows, not even the private doctors that Gojo’s spent millions on. She was still conscious, albeit confined to her bed when the two of you first met, but she’s been in a coma ever since the last year of middle school. You were by his side as he broke down about the news. It was the first time you’ve ever seen him cry.

So, no matter how much it may seem like he’s pushing you away, you don’t budge. For someone smaller than him and definitely weaker, you’re awfully resilient. And while people make the occasional joke, telling you to “blink twice if you need help”, you don’t pay any attention to them. If only they knew the truth: that you’ve got Megumi Fushiguro, heir to a massive yakuza clan, wrapped around your dainty finger.

He’s so whipped that he found himself asking Gojo for a rare favor.

(“College?” Gojo rubs the back of his neck, staring at Megumi. “I mean, I guess it’ll be good for you. Meet a wild party girl, take her to your dorm room, tame her—”

“An education is the whole point of attending, you know.” Megumi interrupts him before Gojo can jump into a story highlighting all of his sexual endeavors with college girls back in the day.

“Eh. I guess.” But then a grin lights up the feature of the man who [kind of/by definition] raised him. “But y’know what I know for a fact.” He wiggles his eyebrows, his glasses slipping down his nose as he tilts his head downwards. “You wanna follow [Name].”)

It doesn’t really matter if he’s not good enough to get into the university you’ve already received an early acceptance for. Because Gojo tries to make up for being an absent father figure, he fills in those empty spaces with cold, hard cash. All it takes is one nice donation, and Megumi’s wherever he wants to be.

Where he wants to be, he realizes, is to be by your side. Wherever you go, he’ll gladly follow. Funnily enough, despite the two vastly different backgrounds the both of you come from, you both have similar means of getting what you want.

Your father had already looked over the list of universities you had in mind, and all you could do was excitedly squeal and start rambling the moment the acceptance letters came in the mail. Despite the fact that your father’s physically absent from your life most of the time, he still tries to show he cares in the things he does for you. If paying off over half a dozen major universities in order to make you happy is something he has to do, he’ll do it without batting an eye.

It’s the same thing on Megumi’s end. Granted, Gojo’s means are more along the lines of using money as a lubricant and then death as an inevitable. Money talks, a gunshot to the head silences. Nobody can accuse anyone of taking bribes if said accused person is in a grave six feet under.

Sometimes, Megumi wonders how you’re just so oblivious to the fortunate circumstances in your life. You chalk up a lot of your father’s wishes as just “good luck”. In school, you’re placed on a pedestal, revered as some goddess-like, otherworldly being. People are practically tripping over themselves, running towards you for a crumb of your attention. Anyone sane would gladly wield this power and use it for all its worth. Not you, though. Not you, who’s kind and considerate and completely clean from the corruptness that plagues everyone else.

Megumi knows good and well that he’s not a hero — couldn’t be farther from it, if he’s being honest. He doesn’t feel a moral obligation to go out and rid the world of all evil. (It’d be hypocritical, he thinks, considering the fact that he’s most likely belonging under the evil category himself.) From a young age, he’s already known and come to terms with his fate. He’s going to train and learn from the best, and eventually, he will succeed as head of the clan. That is his purpose. That right there is the reason why he’s still alive today. That is why he can find himself sitting at his desk, submitting an application that’s already guaranteed to be followed up with an acceptance letter, ready to pretend for four more years that he’s normal.

“D’you think college will be fun?” You ask him, making yourself comfortable in his bed.

“No.”

You laugh at that. You like Megumi for a lot of reasons, and his honesty is one of them. Despite the fact that he likes to keep most of the darker details of his life to himself, you know that he would never lie to you. In a world full of people who are constantly lying, it gets tiring trying to figure out who’s real and who’s fake. It doesn’t help that you want to believe in everyone either. If you didn’t have Megumi loyally staying by your side all this time, you doubt you would have made it this far in your life without anyone taking advantage of you and your kindness.

“My dad said I can finally get a boyfriend when I go to college.” You say this fact so casually that Megumi almost — almost — gets fooled into believing that this is not a cause for concern. Almost.

“Oh.” He’s at a loss for words. He knows that it’s inevitable; that one day, you’ll find a guy you like and want to get closer to him. He knows that you’re not always going to be by his side, and he knows that it’s going to happen because he’ll have to push you away eventually. The older he gets, the deeper he’s burying himself into his grave. He doesn’t want you to get caught in the crossfire.

It’s not like boys have never tried approaching you before. People have spent years thinking that you and Megumi were a couple, and then after finding out from you that the two of you are nothing more than “best friends”, boys were still hesitant to talk to you. The glare Megumi would give them from behind your shoulder acted as a strong enough deterrent.

“I know. Now the only problem is finding a guy who’ll actually wanna date me.”

“They all will.” The words leave his mouth faster than he can even think about them. He’s not wrong, though. Every time the two of you are out in public together, he sees people shooting quick glances at you, at your ass, at your bright smile. The looks they give are predatory, dangerous, even. If it’s not your looks, it’s your shining personality that draws them all in. And if that’s not good enough, there’s always the enormous wealth attached to your last name. That’s the key to getting them to stay.

“You can be so sweet sometimes, you know that?” You giggle, glad that he’s still typing away on his laptop. If he were to look at you right now, he would see that you’re reacting way too positively to such a lackluster compliment. It’s not like he listed reasons on why anyone would ever want to date you, so he probably could just be complimenting you to make you happy.

(That’s just the excuse you’re going with. You know your best friend — that means you know that he would never say something he doesn’t truly think or believe.)

There’s a secret you’ve been keeping from him. A secret so big that you think you might’ve been keeping it from yourself, too. Something so big that your body simply can’t contain it any longer.

You like Megumi.

Of course you do. You keep telling the whole world what great friends the two of you are. You talk to him about your dad all the time (which must mean he’s important, because you rarely get to speak to your dad, so you have to choose your topics of conversation wiseley). You trust him more than you trust yourself. Ever since middle school, you’ve been telling yourself that you liking Megumi isn’t anything to be ashamed or confused about. You like him because he’s your friend, and you’re supposed to like your friends.

And then you came to terms with the fact that you like Megumi beyond the borders of friendship.

It starts with you seeing him the way other girls must see him. You’re not blind, you know. It’s obvious that Megumi is far from ugly. If he wasn’t so intimidating, you’re sure he would have had his fair share of confessions, too. Megumi’s pretty, although calling him a pretty boy wouldn’t do his character justice. He’s got lashes people pay extensions for theirs to look like, and the prettiest dark blue eyes you’ve ever seen, and his hair, which he doesn’t put forth any type of effort in, always looks good whereas the same hairstyle would look messy on anyone else.

It’s not just his looks, though. Even if you look like the type of person who would judge others based on such shallow standards, you didn’t approach Megumi simply because he’s attractive. He’s… interesting. He’s got this reputation for being a delinquent, and maybe all the fights on his school record prove it, but he’s surprisingly respectful. He’s the type of guy who gets up from his seat to let an eldery woman have it. He loves animals. He’s honest and sweet despite his seemingly stoic nature, and he’s so oblivious to just how good he is.

Maybe it’s because he’s so blinded by the light that is you. You, with your cutesy bento boxes that used to be made by your team of personal chefs but are now made with your own manicured hands. You, with that bright smile of yours that he wants to always see because god — he thinks he would be willing to destroy the whole world if something were to ever make you so upset. You’re kind and beautiful and everything people write love songs about. You’re so good, and he’s nothing like you.

He’s nothing like you, because he highly doubts that you spend your time fantasizing about him like he does with you. It’s wrong, he thinks. And dirty, and disgusting, and vile. You’d hate him, he’s sure of it, if you knew what he thinks about late at night. That he sits on his bed with his cock pulled out from his shorts, leaking with precum as he strokes himself to the thought of you. Do you not see him as any other guy? Despite your lack of experience, surely you know just how dirty boys’ minds can be? You’ve got to be conscious of the fact that he’s any other guy, right? So, why — why — do you always roll around in his sheets, letting your sweet perfume stick to his sheets. Your tiny tops and skirts are always clinging tight to your body, and you never feel the need to readjust your clothing when it rides up. Do you not see him trying his hardest to look you in the eyes when the two of you are talking, despite the tantalizing sight of your skirt bunching up, exposing the smooth skin of your thighs?

Little does Megumi know (and if you have your way, he’ll never find out), you spend nights in your room, whining and trying to stuff your cunt with the same fingers that painstakingly made him his lunch. He’s your best friend since childhood. He looks at you like you’re an angel, and you don’t want to destroy that image by revealing just how dirty you really are. How every time he gets so close to you, you subconsciously bring your thighs together, trying to rub them together in a poor attempt to relieve some tension. He’d be disgusted with you, you’re sure of it. Maybe even betrayed.

Besides, it would never work out. Megumi doesn’t see you the way you see him. He might look at you with a soft look you’ve never seen him give anyone else, but that’s because you’re his only friend. It’s not like he’s harboring any hidden feelings for you, and just because you’re so convinced that there’s no one better than Megumi around, it doesn’t exactly mean that you won’t feel this way about anyone else.

Megumi’s got a rather monotone cadence with his voice, so you’re not too surprised by his seemingly unethusiatic response to you saying you’re now allowed to date. Still — there’s a slight pang of disappointment when you realize that he doesn’t sound jealous at the prospect of you dating someone else.

You decide right then and there that the healthiest thing to do now is to just bury your feelings for him deep inside your heart, to tightly pack in all those pesky feelings and store them away so you can make room to allow others to fill in his space.

gumi <3: where are you? gumi <3: i’m feeling tired and i have an assignment due tomorrow. i’m going home. gumi <3: you know i wouldn’t leave without you. cmon [name]. let’s leave now

Megumi frowns at his phone. He can clearly see that all his messages are being delivered, not to mention that he’s already called you twice and has been sent to voicemail twice. He can be patient when he wants to be, but right now, he’s getting a little pissed.

You know that he doesn’t like parties, and you know that he doesn’t hang out with the same people you do. He also knows that you don’t even really like most of the people you surround yourself with, so whyyou suddenly decided to do a 180 and reestablish your throne as the head of the social pyramid, he doesn’t know.

Lately, things between the two of you have been a little… weird. Sometimes he catches you staring at him with a sad smile on your face; one that you immediately replace with your usual one when you realize he’s looking right at you. Despite him asking you if everything’s okay, you vehemently deny that there’s anything wrong, and you’re quick to change the subject.

He thinks he’s losing his best friend, his only friend. And maybe it only hurts because he’s grown used to your presence in his life. Maybe it hurts because you’re his friend. But he knows the truth. It hurts because he’s losing you.

Did he do something wrong? Did he accidentally somehow reveal the extent of his feelings for you? Did you suddenly decide that maybe associating with someone like him isn’t something you’re meant for? Do you…

Do you hate him now?

It doesn’t matter. Maybe it does, but not right now. Right now, he’s more focused on getting the hell out of this stuffy ass living room, filled to the brim with drunken young adults and people he couldn’t care less about. The only person that matters right now is you, and he’s on a mission to find your location.

He’s got this ominous feeling in his gut, like something bad is about to happen. He’s Megumi Fushiguro, for fuck’s sake, so bad things have a habit of following him wherever he goes. But still, he’s made a personal promise to himself that no matter how bad things get, you’ll never get caught in the crossfire. He’s willing to die to keep that vow.

If you don’t reply to him, you most likely have a good reason. He doesn’t want to be clingy, is pretty damn certain he doesn’t even have a right to be, but he’s still worried about you. He’s pushing past the wall of sweaty bodies, trying to catch a glimpse of your hair color, the waft of your perfume, the familiarity of your laugh, but he can’t catch a single crumb of you anywhere.

You’re nowhere in sight, and he’s immediately filled with dread.

He yanks a guy who’s coming from upstairs.

“Ow, man, what the fuc—”

“Is anyone else up there?” Most of the time, the parties are restricted to just the first floor, with the unspoken rule being that only the upstairs should be used for people trying to fuck or to use the bathroom (or, people trying to use the bathroom to fuck). You’re not anywhere downstairs, and if you were simply using the restroom, you would have been back down here by now.

“Shit, I don’t fucking know.” The guy squints at Megumi, as if trying to see if he knows him or not. With the way his expression pales, Megumi comes to the conclusion that the guy might not really know him, but he knows ofhim. Gojo says that with the right reputation, the two concepts are practically synonymous. “But I heard a guy ‘n a girl, I think, walk past the bathroom. I don’t know who, though!”

Megumi lets go of the boy’s shirt, and he’s quick to run off before Megumi can give him any more wrinkles in his shirt — or do something much worse.

He’s thinking. Odds are, it’s probably not even you. With so many people roaming around this house, it’s likely that he just missed your presence. Your phone could have died, so that explains why he can’t reach you.

He finds himself heading up the stairs anyway.

It’s fine. He tells himself. You’re fine. You’re okay. Nobody would dare to touch a single hair on your head unless they want to suffer directly at the hands of Megumi. People around campus call him your guard dog, and it’s not necessarily a nickname he hates.

The atmosphere upstairs is vastly different from the one downstairs. There are no lights turned on, and all the doors to the rooms are closed. He hears a flush coming from one end, and out walks a tipsy girl who’s staggering a bit. There are only so many doors to choose from, and he doesn’t really want to accidentally walk in on two people trying to have sex, but the need to confirm your safety outweighs any possible embarrassment he may suffer from, so he continues on his mission.

The first two rooms are revealed to be empty, leaving just one more. Megumi takes a deep breath before trying to turn the handle.

It’s locked.

His gut is telling him something isn’t right, but he’s forcing himself to chalk it all up to paranoia. He curses under his breath, wondering why he even let you out of his sights for a single second.

Because he didn’t want to seem clingy. Because he didn’t want you to have any more reasons to keep on pushing him away.

He decides to call you one more time, and as he’s listening to the dial tone, he hears a faint sound coming from the other side of the locked door.

It’s a phone ringing.

He presses his ear against the door, trying to make out any more sounds he possibly can. Is it still a coincidence when the phone stops ringing right as Megumi is greeted with your voicemail message of “sorry, I can’t come to the phone right now, but you probably should’ve just texted me!”

Without the annoying dial tone distracting him, Megumi can listen a little more clearly to what’s going on. There’s… there’s someone crying.

The voices are muffled, but he can make out bits and pieces of what’s being said.

“—fuck up… crying like a damn bitch… want this.”

He’s heard enough before he’s banging his shoulder against the door.

“OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!” He’s screaming, hitting it again. There’s a chance, the voice of reason inside of him is saying, that it’s not you that’s crying behind that door. Even if it wasn’t, Megumi still wouldn’t have stood by idly. But instinct is telling him that it is you, and that’s enough cause for him to bang his shoulder against the door once again. He hears a scream, and a male voice cursing.

The force of his body banding against it is enough to have the door really test the strength of its lock. Megumi’s never been the bulkiest person in the world, but he’s still got some defined muscle to him. The door is creaking, almost bending to his will, but he fumbles in the dark for the gun safely tucked away by his side.

It’s a gift from Gojo. To speed up the process when something needs to be done quick is what Gojo said it was for. He’s never used it in such close proximity to you, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

No silencer. He forgot the fucking silencer. With the deep bass rumbling from the speakers, he doubts anyone would be able to hear the gun go off anyway. He aims for the handle, pulling back the safety, and fires once, then twice. With a foot aimed at the door, he kicks at it, pleased to see the way the abused door finally bends to his will.

The open door reveals a scene that makes Megumi see red: you, with tear stained cheeks and your clothes bunched up and strewn across the floor with a guy Megumi vaguely recognizes as someone sharing the same Econ class as the two of you — Mahito.

“You fucking bastard.” Megumi practically lunges forward, tossing his gun to the side. He doesn’t see reason, is numb to common sense at this moment. All he feels is the need to hurt this fucker. To make him bleed, to have him on the brink of death, to see the light of life leave his dark eyes.

Mahito is fast, but even he couldn’t imagine the speed that Megumi would possess when pushed to the edge. This is different from the fights you’ve witnessed during school. This is something entirelydifferent.

The first punch has Mahito wincing in pain. The second, third, and fourth ones are thrown back to back, and there’s no time given to recover, no chance to gain the upper hand. He’s falling down, and Megumi’s on top of him, drawing back his fist only to slam it against him again and againand again.

Megumi knows he’s got something fucked up inside of his head — what other explanation is there to reason with why he finds this bloody violence so satisfying? His knuckles are bloody, and he can’t tell where Mahito’s blood starts and where his own ends. There’s a wild grin on his face, one that you’ve never seen before. You’re not sure if it’s a trick of the shadows, but the feral expression on Megumi’s face transforms him from your loyal best friend to something monstrous.

“‘Gumi, st-stop.” The words stumble out of your mouth as hiccups, but you don’t miss the way Megumi’s raised arm freezes in its higher position before he slowly brings it back down to his side. He’s breathing deeply, and all is silent in the room.

As if the sound of your cries is enough to snap him out of his daze, it’s almost scary how fast his mood shifts. Just a second ago, he was hellbent on beating Mahito to a bloody pulp, and now the darkness drowning those blue eyes of his is practically gone. He makes his way to the bed, each step hurried but still hesitant. Do you even want to be near him right now?

You answer his question with some more small sobs. “‘Gumi, I—”

“Shh, it’s okay, [Name].” He’s picking up your clothes from the floor, ready to help you get dressed. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

“Megumi.” His name seems to be the only thing you’re capable of saying right now. After he helps you get dressed, he’s thrown off guard when you cling to him, with your arms wrapped around his neck and your wet cheeks pressed against his shoulder.

The moment the two of you are exiting the room, both of you far too wrapped up with the other to pay him any mind, Mahito lets out a laugh before groaning at the pain Megumi inflicted.

The two of you don’t know what you just started, but no worries — Mahito has the means of ending it.

It’s only a matter of time.

You’re too good to be true.

You won’t listen to him when he tells you this (you never do), but he swears you’re a fucking angel or something otherwordly. There’s no other possible explanation for just how breathtakingly beautiful you are, or how you’re the only thing consuming his every thought. Despite the fact that all the blood on his hands has reached an amount that he’s sure he’ll never truly be able to wash it all off, you don’t shy away from his touch. As a matter of fact, it seems like you’re keening for it.

“‘Gumi.” You mewl out, sticking out your tongue to lap at the precum on Megumi’s thumb.

You’re well aware of just how dangerous your boyfriend (the title makes you giddy every time you refer to him as that) is, but you know him. You know that the hands of a killer are the hands of your lover, and most of the time, you have a hard time believing the awful things he’s had to do with them. Because right now, those hands that are meant to be weapons are handling you with care, touching you so gently, you would have thought you were made of glass and ready to shatter.

“Look at you, all spread out for me. What happened to my precious, shy little girl, huh?” He removes the hand that was cradling your face back to his cock, stroking his length, the saliva from your tongue acting as a minor lubricant. The first time he fucked you was the first time you’ve ever had sex with anyone ever, and it had been the start of an addiction. You love Megumi. You love everything about him, from his character to his tenacity, all the way down to his cock, with its red tip that’s sticky with pre and leaking out more as he stares down at the obscene position you’re in.

Your face feels warm as he stares down at you, his eyes darkened with a mix of love and lust that you don’t think you’ll ever get used to being on the receiving end of.

“Need you, need you so bad, please, ‘Gumi—” You’re staring up at him, giving him your best doe eyes.

“Fuck.” Just the sight of you beneath him, completely bending to his will, whining out for him to pretty please fuck you has him ready to cum right on the fucking spot. He’s pressing the tip in, his breathing faltering just the slightest as the warmth you provide envelopes the most sensitive part of him, nearly causing him to lose all self control right then and there.

You let out a cry as he pushes himself deeper in you, making himself at home in your gummy walls, one hand gripping your hip and the other holding onto the headboard.

“You feel so good for me, baby, shit.” He hisses, waiting for you to adjust, impatient but willing to bear it if it means it’ll feel better for you in the long run. After all, there’s nothing he wouldn’t do, nothing he wouldn’t endure, just to ensure your happiness.

“Mm — ah — please.” There are still tears welling up in your eyes — precious girl, he hasn’t even began to properly fuck you, and you’re already tearing up? The sight of you completely and willingly at his mercy is enough to get him to start rutting his hips against yours, the satisfying sound of skin slapping against skin resounding and bouncing against the walls of his bedroom that is starting to feel more like the both of yours.

“Y’feel so fuckin’ good for me, baby.” He groans, his pace quickening, the thrusts getting sharper and rougher with every roll of his hips. You’re powerless against his strength, and this type of easy submission feels so natural, feels so good, when it’s him that’s taking advantage of it. “You’ve got the sweetest pussy, y’know that? I could fuck you forever.”

His praise goes through one ear and out the other with you, but your heart swells up to twice its size. Even if you can’t focus on the words all too clearly, you’re still aware that Megumi’s probably praising you. You can come to this conclusion because he’s always praising you. He’s always so sweet, so gentle, so loving — when it comes to you, that is.

“Hng — daddy!” You can’t help but let out a high pitched moan as he hits that sweet spot inside of you that makes you buck your hips up.

There’s no way you don’t know what you’re doing. Clenching around his cock like that, making those cute little noises that he can’t help but want to hear all the time, and then calling him that.

“Daddy, daddy, daddy.”

Forget igniting something within him; you whining for him, calling him something that’s the root cause of all his childhood traumas… That’s like dousing him with gasoline and tossing a lighter at him. He’s going to burn through all his energy, channel all this dark, feral energy, and use you as the one unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end.

He fucks into you so deeply that if your eyes weren’t shut tight, there’s no doubt that you wouldn’t see the unmistakable shape of his cock outlined against your tummy. The headboard is banging against the wall, and the squelching sounds of him roughly thrusting in and out of your sopping cunt is so lewd and so dirty that if you had any room to harbor a single ounce of shame, you would be downright embarrassed.

“How about you make me a daddy, huh? How about I fuck a baby in you?” He won’t lie and say it’s not something that’s never crossed his mind. The thought of your stomach round with a life the two of you created is enough to get him to continue with this near-brutal pace he’s set forth. “Doesn’t it sound nice, baby? My baby giving me a baby, what—” He grits his teeth as you tighten up. “—a fucking dream.”

“Baby. Wanna have your babies.” You cry out, tears spilling out and wetting your cheeks as your arms find their way to his neck and broad shoulders, trying to pull him in closer. The heat building up from within you feels like you’re about to fucking explode. “‘Gumi, I love you, Iloveyoupleasegimmeababy—'' Your words are practically unintelligible as you slur them out, the words sticking together as you cum all over his cock, all that pleasure that has been building up now physically tangible, if the white ring encasing his cock every time he pulls out is evidence.

“Fuck! You feel so fucking good. Always so fuckin’ tight.” He’s reaching his own end, and you’re just lying there, trying to recover from such an intense orgasm but unable to as your too sensitive walls clench around the constant intrusion of his cock. Spurred by your little love confession and his mind imagining his daydreams coming true — you, as his cute little housewife, taking care of the kids the two of you made together — he finally shoves himself as deep as he physically can, making sure that as he cums, nothing will spill out.

“‘Gumi.” You whisper, your head resting against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart. “Did you mean it when you said you wanted to start a family?”

He’s silent for a minute.

“I wouldn’t mind starting a family with you.” And he means it. He knows this life isn’t one meant for children — look at how he turned out, for god’s sake — but he thinks that for you, he can do anything. Even make a family work out. As long as it’s what you want, he doesn’t mind how hard it may be.

You snuggle closer to him, burying your face in the warmth of his chest. “Good.” You mumble. “I wanna start a family with you, too.”

Megumi feels… at peace. Like he’s got the whole entire world in the palm of his hands. He wraps his arms around you, and realizes that no — right now, he’s got his world right in his arms.

Mahito likes to play with his food before he devours them whole.

Humans are just so… vulnerable. Even the coldest people have a heart; it’s only a matter of whether or not they find someone warm enough to defrost it. Megumi Fushiguro, for example, likes to walk around this world, acting indifferent and claiming to follow his own moral conduct, only to give himself the biggest weakness he could possibly harbor: you.

He still remembers that party. He still remembers the way you were dressed like a little slut, completely oblivious (or maybe you were just acting coy) to the wolfish stares all the guys were giving you. He had the same class as you. Seen the way you clung to Gojo’s charity case, as if the ground would swallow Megumi whole if you let go of him. You’re cute, and you scream naive virgin, and that’s precisely why Mahito wanted to take you to that bedroom and have his way with you.

And then, your infamous little guard dog bared his teeth and pummeled him into the hardwood of a stranger’s bedroom floor.

Grudges are cancerous. If you don’t deal with it right away, it develops into something worse. It takes over all your internal organs, ruining you ‘til the only thing you can focus on is getting revenge. And the longer you wait, the more vengeful you get. It doesn’t become a matter of ruined pride or reestablishing honor — it becomes about inflicting the most pain one possibly can. It becomes about suffering — about transferring your pain, your anguish, onto someone else.

Mahito isn’t the type to hold grudges, but for Megumi, he’ll make a special exception. He wants to see just how well trained the boy is; after all, he’s been taken under the wing and supervision of Satoru Gojo, the myth himself. Surely, his student must be nearly as skilled, right?

It’s been a long game of watching and waiting on Mahito’s end. A lot of lurking in the shadows and gathering intel. It’s a lot more boring than he anticipated, but today’s the day where all his hard work finally comes to fruition. Megumi Fushiguro is going to regret ever interfering with him that one fateful night. The burning humiliation he’s felt has long since fizzled out, but since he’s already been set on the path of orchestrating Megumi’s destruction, he figures it only makes sense to see it through. You only can let go of a grudge after you get your proper revenge.

He’s been leaving Megumi all sort of taunting, teasing threats any chance he gets. Mahito’s got nothing but disgraced yakuza members on his side; those who have committed acts vile enough to get them kicked out of what is essentially a group of criminals. He knows how to be twisted — hell, twisted might be the only thing he knows how to be.

Killing girls that resemble you and sending him the photos. Taking videos of you when you’re out in public alone. Leaving voicemails for Megumi, ones that leave him pale faced and unable to breathe as he listens to how Mahito wants to tortue you.

Megumi’s been on edge for the past few months, unable to explain to you why. It’s why you don’t understand why Megumi won’t let you go back to your car, even though you left your phone in there.

“I’ll go. Or, we can go together.”

“You have to wait for our coffee! And besides, I don’t even know where I left my phone. It might not even be in the car, but you’ll just waste your time searching for it if it’s not there.”

“So then why do you have to go look for it?”

“Because it’s my phone? Also, I reeeeeallly don’t wanna have to wait for our coffee, so I figured looking for my phone in the car would kill some time.” You give him that sweet smile of yours that he loves so much before waving him goodbye. “I’ll be back by the time our order is ready, pinky promise!”

At the end of the day, it’s all luck. Mahito realizes this as you happily skip out of the crowded cafe, headed towards your car to search for your phone. He doesn’t know why you’re returning back to your car, doesn’t even really care. All he knows and all he cares about is that you’re headed there alone. And while you’ve been alone plenty of times, he’s never had an opportunity quite like this one. A chance to finally detonate the bomb that’s been lying dormant underneath your car, ready to be activated at the press of a button. He could’ve killed you plenty of times already, but it’s not enough to merely murder you. He wants to make it a spectacle, sure, but he also only cares about one audience member watching: Megumi.

From where he’s hiding, blending in with the rest of the customers from the bakery across the street, he’s got a decent enough view of Megumi, who’s sitting by the glass windows, watching you with furrowed brows as you unlock the car door.

Mahito can’t help the cruel smile that spreads across his face as pushes the remote connected to the bomb.

Nobody expects to hear the loud, resounding boom of something exploding. The surrounding cars parked next to yours have their alarms going off like crazy; it’s nothing but high pitched, blaring noises blending together to create a disruptive harmony. People are screaming, someone is on the line with emergency services, and—

—your precious car is set aflame, reduced to a burning pile of scrap metal no salvage yard will take.

In this moment, Megumi Fushiguro’s world crumbles to ashes.

#megumi fushiguro x you #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro x y/n #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #megumi x reader #angst #fluff #one shot #drabble #smut #megumi smut #jjk smut #jjk imagines #yakuza au #THIS IS SO OLD IM CRYING #like rereading it... omg what was i ON???

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kitorin · 9 months

Text

"I need you to be completely honest with me right now."

"What's wrong, Rin?" Another page turns, your eyes remain glued to the novel, head resting on his thighs as his fingers occasionally poke your cheek.

"Am I ugly?"

The question makes you choke on your spit; Itoshi Rin, the very man who had you infatuated at first glance with his prominent eye lashes and his wintry gaze, just asked if he was hideous.

"Who the hell said that?" The surprise makes you sit up, and Rin barely dodges collision with your head. It's common knowledge that he couldn't care less about his appearance, skin and hair care were simply for hygiene, which was all that mattered to him. There's anger heating up at the thought of someone breaking his indifference, and it reveals itself through your speech

"No one, Yukimiya's photographer came for a photo shoot. Everything went well until I noticed the lines on my face."

"Lines?"

He nods "They weren't there before." His fingers ghost over an area near his cheeks. "Apparently they're not supposed to be there." Rin reaches into his pocket, unlocking it and showing you a photo.

It's a photo of him, Hiori and Yukimiya, the three of them grinning whilst being covered in designer brands. Nothing seemed wrong, it's an adorable photo; revealing Rin's typically concealed dimples, eyes squinting with joy, the kind of smile he uses when he's genuinely happy, instead of the polite and subtle one he gives to interviewers.

"I don't see an issue."

"Here." He zooms into his face. "Those things." His lithe fingers point towards the area between the sides of his nose and the corners of his mouth. Smile lines.

"Fans said they shouldn't be there. So, am I ugly now?"

There's a legitimate confusion laced with his tone, and you silently thank how he decided to talk about it with you before believing in whatever comments were left on Instagram.

"First, whatever fans say have no credibility, they're just people on the internet. Second." You climb into his lap again, cupping his cheeks and once again getting lost in the depths of his beryl irises. "Those are called smile lines. You're not ugly for having them, and never will be." His aquamarine eyes gaze back, as you brush a strand of hair out of his face.

"Even if they weren't there before?"

"Of course. They're a sign you're living a life filled with joy and happiness. And that is more beautiful than any beauty standard out there, and so are you." Your thumbs trace the creases, the entirety of your palms can feel the warmth of his cheeks, savouring how the softness contrasts the callousness of your hands. "You're beautiful, you always have been and always will be. Don't listen to anyone who says otherwise."

Your lips plant a kiss on his forehead, and you soon return to admiring every crevice of his face. From the viridescent azure irises and the eyelashes which adorn them, how surprisingly soft and squishy his cheeks are (of course only you'll ever know that).

"Thank you for putting them there then."

"Hm?"

"I never had reasons to smile. Not until I met you."

Anyone can tell Itoshi Rin seldom expresses emotion, let alone joy; but you had always assumed he kept it to himself rather than believe nothing was worth his jubilation.

His hands reach for yours, fingers ghosting over them. "Thank you for brightening my life, for being the reason why I'm able to live so happily." Gently, his hand pries one of yours off his face, placing a kiss on it. "I love you."

Rin smiles; it's soft, exposing his dimples and smile lines, cheeks matching his lips in colour. You're pretty sure you're just as flushed.

A quick peck to his lips (he still tastes like the persimmon haichuu you were eating together earlier) and you swear he somehow grows redder. "Does this mean I'm allowed to have the last ice cream?"

"You're supposed to say it back dumbass. And fuck no, that's mine." Despite his callous language he picks you up into a cradle carry, placing you down besides him, soon making his way to the front door. "What flavours do you want? And what kind and which brand?"

"Awww, I love you too, I want the vanilla and melon soft serve by the way."

Rin scoffs. "Of course you only say it back when I'm doing you a favour." But he's pocketing his wallet, and about to unlock the door to leave. "You're annoying."

"Yet you still love me."

"Are you sure? Because I'm buying every flavour of yukimidaifuku and you're not getting any. Milky candy too." You don't miss the smirk on his face at the sight of your disbelief.

"I hate you."

"Love you too darlin'."

[In the end "you're not getting any" was a lie]

Tagging: @yuzurins

#this was rushed yet it rotted in my drafts for a bit lmfao #blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk #bllk x reader #fluff #itoshi rin x you #itoshi rin #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin x y/n #bllk fluff #blue lock x you #blue lock fluff #blue lock manga #fanfic #fan fiction #fan fic writing #rin fluff #itoshi rin fluff

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prettyboykatsuki · 21 days

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in an au where sunday is like... semi-normal, i think he gets into a relationship with you one-sidedly.

like. you confess to having a crush on him. and he truthfully doesn't like you at all at in that way at first lmao. he doesn't hate you either though - just indifferently kind and not all that invested. he goes out with you on that kind of whim. gallagher and robin tell him he's a despicable guy for that.

(when gallagher says it, he's laughing. when robin says it, she's very upset which sunday doesn't like. is he really that despicable? it's not like he hates you or is trying to trick you.

you just seem desperate. and it's interesting.)

at first - nothing in your relationship really changes. though you do act more openly embarrassing around him which he finds... sweet. in a way. but it's not that different. he even asks you about why that is and you have such a pathetic reply it makes him pause.

"i'm happy just being with you," and then a little quieter. "i know you don't really like me."

and he's. a little bothered by that. though you haven't said anything untrue. but it. bothers him. he does like you in a way. so he does something about it. little things at first under the guise of just trying to appease you. hand-holding, sitting next to each other. all lovey-dovey. you're reactions are cute. you're very easy he thinks. and it's cute.

after that - he keeps doing it. he doesn't dislike it, and neither do you. but it doesn't really register that maybe there's a little more to it than that. maybe. it doesn't click until something happens.

you're always clinging to him, like an affectionate but stupid pet. so, it bothers him a lot when he sees you with other people. you're always really nervous around other people, so why are you being so nice to that trailblazer. why are you laughing so openly with people other than him? why are you looking or being around someone else so carefreely? you're dating him aren't you? you like him.

and it clicks a little too later, with a little too much pressure that oh. oh he likes you, doesn't he? more now than you do him.

#aristotle.txt #sunday hsr x reader #i want him sooo badly

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slackerlifewhere · 10 days

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The subtlety of Cale Henituse

SPOILERS for those who haven't finished the first part of the novel. If you don't like spoilers, please don't continue. Thanks!

- This is kind of a review about the novel but it's basically my analysis of Cale/KRS.

___

For someone who has trust issues with people, I first had an initial distrust with Cale Henituse/Kim Rok Soo as a reader.

I think it's because of how he was first introduced.

As a first-time reader of the novel back then, Cale/KRS was introduced as a very indifferent person. He was calm at the face of a sudden transmigration and acted like nothing could surprise him (aside from Ron and Choi Han). And of course, like anyone who was fooled, I also thought that he was selfish. He's not the trash that he thinks he is but he's selfish and I didn't place my full trust in him because I still didn't know him yet. And I like it that way. The author kept me on my toes and didn't force fed me a truckload of information about Kim Rok Soo.

Like I said in my previous post, he didn't actually give us his whole introduction. He left a few crumbs here and there that told us he didn't have a great childhood but it wasn't enough for me to build an image of him in my head. There were still some blanks and question marks about Kim Rok Soo.

Sure, there were moments when he gave a bigger tip to someone without blinking an eye and acting all smug about it but I really just thought that he was happy because he's finally rich. Or when he was being so polite and gentlemanly in front of an old man that Venion was disgusted with and then later on went back to being indifferent and I thought it was just him being extra petty and angry (which he was) at Venion for being an asshole. He's very quick to change from smug to indifference and it made me switch back and forth on how I see him as a person.

Yeah, you need to read between the lines when reading this novel.

[side note: Actually, If I remember correctly, I thought that I wouldn't like his character because I find it weird when MCs in KR manhwa and novels easily shrug off the isekai bullshit they're in. The influence of KR manhwa on me affected my opinion about him and it shows.]

So when he first met the kittens and Choi Han, I was reading it with the feeling of "Run away, guys! Run while you still can!" lingering at the back of my mind. He was nice to them, as much as he could with random strangers he just met, but he's very distant with them.

Another thing about him that makes it harder to understand him is because he's always distant with people. He relies on them and helps them but he's always at arms-length when dealing with them. This, if you didn't think of or was reminded of his thoughts about his abuse and pity, simply makes him look indifferent.

Before I continue, I don't like tsundere characters. I absolutely find them cringe and sometimes, I just wanna bash my head when they blush at the bs they're spouting at someone they like.

Because that's the thing with Cale. He is a tsundere. He says one thing and does the opposite. And he's so in denial about it which makes it more hilarious and sad.

He's subtle about it at first. He didn't even give me the vibe that he's more complex than what he shows because he's so quick to disprove my sudden epiphany that there's something deeper than what he's showing. He's so good at hiding his emotions EVEN WHEN I'M READING HIS POV.

This bastard is so in denial about himself that he fooled me so bad! I think I only realized it when he saved Raon but even then, there were still some doubts about his character. I liked his words to Raon and thought about how kind he is for giving the dragon the freedom of choice but because he later thinks of making Raon do things for him, it shook my trust in him just a little bit. Just a little, I promise.

...Maybe I just have major trust issues.

Taylor Stan

The weirdest thing to me that actually snapped me from my doubts that he's actually a kind person is oddly enough, because of Taylor Stan.

Remember when Taylor and Cage suddenly arrived at the area they were camping in and he finally talked to Taylor face to face? Yeah, he was indifferent there but it's when his tsundere traits actually exploded at my face.

He, while trying to hide from everyone, told them to give Taylor and Cage the best care and protection as if it's the most normal thing in the world.

Mind you, they don't even actually know him aside from OG Cale's reputation as trash. And he also technically isn't supposed to know them because, in the duo's POV, this is their first time meeting him so he didn't have to help or care for them.

He basically acted as if what he was doing was bad in their eyes but in reality, it's not???

He's just helping them and he's in denial about it? He's genuinely being a kind person and he thinks he's trash?

He later gives them money (and acts cool about it) and helps with smuggling (lmao) them to the Roan Kingdom so they can arrive there safely and he thinks he's trash???

He gave this man hope to finally heal himself and fight against his brother and he thinks he's trash?????

Seriously?

Self-hatred

I don't know if this is ever talked about but Cale is hiding a huge self-hatred about himself.

It's why whenever he calls himself trash, I shake my head because it's amusing but I also want to cry because, as I go further into the novel, he fully believes that he's actually trash.

At first, when he called himself trash, I thought it was because his soul is in OG Cale's body and thus, he inherited the title and uses it to cause chaos. It's a part of the reason why but, if I think about it, he doesn't have to call himself that??? He can still cause chaos without using that title.

It's why I think he fully believes it. That he's trash.

I didn't understand back then and thought it was just him loving the title and the chaos that comes along with it.

Him and his smirks or "selfish" ideals made it seem like he's fully embraced the title and liked it that way.

And the way the author hides a deeper meaning behind his words and actions is by making it feel humorous or comical. The author makes it feel extra.

We laugh and find it amusing because it's chaotic. The secrets behind those wild ideas and explosive destruction are brilliant and subtle.

It's why I fully believed back then, that it's a simple story about a man who just wants to cause mischief in a strange world.

And then...his past as Kim Rok Soo is finally revealed by the author.

And it suddenly turns all this humor about himself into a freaking tragedy.

Kim Rok Soo is a tragic character. He's a person who has lost far too much and can only react in indifference even when he's hurting. He's cold in another person's perspective because he doesn't cry when in front of those he lost.

He hates himself for something he couldn't control. He hates himself for being weak. He hates himself for a lot of things. And he hates the scars Kim Rok Soo has because they're the reminder of all his failures and all his sacrifices that only ended up with making him alone. Like he will always be alone. (Which makes his distant personality in the beginning make sense too wtf)

So he takes in their words of him being cruel enough not to cry in a funeral of his friends and fully believes it.

He believes, as Kim Rok Soo and Cale Henituse, that he's trash.

And it absolutely made me cry like a kid when he, as he woke up surrounded by those he befriended and could call family, finally cries with a smile.

This is the first time they and us readers see him cry and smile and it's just heartbreaking.

The whole lead up to this reveal was me seeing him as a tsundere and a freaking crazy bastard that utters "slacker life" like it's comic relief.

It's completely unexpected and I love it.

Because him crying and smiling for the first time is him finally shedding his shields and walls from these people who see him as a kind person.

Cale Henituse, for all his masks and secrets, is just a broken but endlessly kind person.

It's why those who meet him, trust him. His actions are a big reason why they trust him but his words, when it feels hopeless, are eye-opening and full of wisdom of a 36 year old man. He's straightforward in front of those he trusts and tells them something that flips over everything they think about the current situation. And he says it with the experience of Kim Rok Soo.

I believe the only times he lies to them is when he was given the thing that he was gonna use to stab himself and also when he hides his identity as Kim Rok Soo. There's actually a hint of his guilt sometimes...or maybe I'm just thinking too much about it.

Anyways, that's all my thoughts for now.

This subtle bastard made me cry, damn it.

___

That one scene of him crying and smiling is etched in my mind and was reminded of it when I recently saw a fanart. So I decided to write about my feelings about his character and personality.

It's not a mindblowing post or anything new and it goes from humor to angst pretty fast but I think it's just like him. If you analyze his words in one way, it's just hilarious but if you analyze it in another way, it's sad.

I like how the author wrote him. He's a crazy bastard and a tsundere (the only tsundere I'll ever like) and I'm so glad I found this novel.

#tcf #tcf cale #tcf novel #tcf manhwa #tcf spoilers #tcf cale henituse #lcf cale #cale henituse #trash of the count's family #lout of the count’s family #lcf manhwa #lcf #lcf novel #tcf taylor #lcf taylor #tcf taylor stan #tcf choi han #tcf raon #raon miru

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thefiery-phoenix · 2 months

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Yo I'm actually obsessed with your writing😭 I'm going crazy send help. Anyways can you please do a yandere Dg with like a broken reader? I just love the thought of him pampering us🥹 Thank you and feel free the decline 🫶

Hello and thank you for liking my work, I really appreciate it :) And sure

RIGHT WHERE YOU BELONG(YANDERE DG X BROKEN READER)

You didn't know when your life went all wrong and took the wrong tangential turn, you were supposed to get good grades, make your parents proud, make a good name for yourself in society and follow your passion and dream of becoming a writer someday. Yet there were days when you felt like you were a burden to people, not withstanding the fact that even your own parents kept yelling that at you whenever you didn't get good grades and didn't live up to their expectation of being the perfect golden child for them. No matter how many accomplishments you had, you felt empty inside. You feel like you've forgotten how to live the essence of life itself, you forgot how to feel happiness since a long time. You felt like there was an empty void in your heart and you just...stopped feeling one day and became completely indifferent to everything around you

You thought you'd die alone and there were times when you felt like you were better off gone when a certain pink haired idol ended up kidnapping you and made you live with him. You regretted the day you met DG at the PTJ company and you mentally cursed yourself for falling for his tricks and manipulations that led you here in the first place. When you woke up on his bed confused and bewildered of what happened, he kept rambling something about how much he was going to love you and how he'd take care of you from now on and you laughed at him when he said those words. "Don't bother...please... I don't deserve it...'' you said as he frowned. "Now why would you say that?" he asked you, as his eyes narrowed but spoke in a gentle tone. He had to know what exactly made you feel like this, why were you so...indifferent and what made you develop a sense of apathy towards your surroundings

He wasn't considered a 'genius' for nothing. He could tell you were bothered by something, you were silent most of the time but your eyes spoke tales of sadness, which frankly hurt him. It hurt him to see your beautiful lotus like eyes carry the burden of sadness. "When are you going to kill me?" you asked him one day during dinner as the two of you were at the dining table. "What?" he asked you slowly as his voice was laced with concern and his heart pounded at your words. Why on earth would you say something like that? Your words sent a chill down his spine, he despised and hated the thought of being away from you for even a second and here you were asking him to kill you?

"Why would you say that? Tell me...talk to me'' he said as he set down his chopsticks and held your hands in his and rubbed gentle comforting circles on the back of your hand. You opened your mouth but no words came out, as usual. It was like they were stuck at the back of your throat as you tried to swallow the lump forming in your throat but your trembling lips and eyes conveyed another story. "Because I'm useless....'' you mumbled as you looked at the table and avoided his gaze. DG looked at you with his soul piercing gaze but his eyes softened and he could tell your life before you met him was harsh. You didn't hear his move as he pulled you to the couch with him and he wrapped his arms around your waist. "You're NOT useless. You hear me? I adore everything about you. I'll tell you this as many number of times as I have to, I love you'' he said as he caressed your cheek lovingly

"But why me? I'm no one...I'm...I'm nothing special'' you mumbled as he gently placed a finger on your lips and shushed you. "Shhh....sweetheart. No more self doubt. It pains me to see you so critical of yourself. I adore your beautiful mesmerizing eyes, every time I look into them, I feel like I get lost in them. I love your lips, they're so soft like the petals of a rose..'' he trailed off as he gently placed a kiss on your lips which made you squirm and you looked at him with a vulnerable expression for the first time. Deep down, he was glad he was getting closer to breaking down your walls of self doubt and self hatred. "Your mind is the one playing tricks on you sweetheart, just listen to me and only me...nothing else matters. No one else matters. I love you...and I'll never leave you. As for why I chose you, it's simple really. You managed to enter my heart and when I want something, I take it. As simple as that'' he said with a soft amused chuckle

The both of you just sat there for a while on the couch together as the dim lights and the jazz music playing in the background made you feel slightly at ease. Your bubbling self hatred didn't exactly disappear but it decreased slightly at his words. "Come on my love, it's time for you to sleep'' he said as he carried you bridal style to your room and held you close as you drifted off to sleep. You might have entered the land of your dreams but he was still wide awake, thinking about the words you've said and how your words sent a cold chill down his spine. The thought of losing you made him...enraged in such a way that not even words or numbers could do justice for

He slowly got down from the bed and caressed your cheek lovingly before he headed out into the living room and started doing his research of what exactly led you to such a state in the first place. He found out about how your parents always demanded you be the perfect golden child for them, how everyone always expected you to help them and yet when you needed help the most there was no one for you to depend on, how you always shouldered your own burdens and how people around you looked down on you just because you had the passion and dream of becoming a writer, calling your passion 'useless' because they were too narrow minded. He could feel red hot anger coursing through his veins as he thought of the number of times you could have cried to yourself alone, with no one to help you as his heart stung from the mere thought of imagining your cries for help getting ignored by the vast sea of people who just used you for their own personal gains

You were burned out. You needed a break. You needed someone to tell you that they were proud of you for once and that was just what he was going to do for you. He immediately developed a strong sense of hatred against those who ridiculed you so much to bring you to such a state, judging you for every single little thing. Who the HELL were they to judge HIS sweetheart like this? His mind flashed back to the number of times you looked at yourself in the mirror, your eyes filled with insecurities. He was going to get rid of every single insecurity of yourself you've ever had. He was going to spoil you with his love and you were just going to have to accept it. He thought of paying a little visit to those hypocritical pests later at some point in the future, to make them pay for every single time they made you cry or feel bad about yourself. It's not like such scumbags would be missed in society anyway so don't feel too bad when they land on the news the next day showing that they were brutally tortured before they were killed

He was going to make sure to spend more time with you, you really needed someone to keep an eye on you since he had the paranoia of you doing something drastic at some point which he couldn't allow to happen. He mentally reminded himself to get rid of the knives and switch off the gas in the kitchen so you wouldn't be able to hurt yourself. He'd encourage your passion for writing, you could have all the books you heart could ever desire and he'd love to read every word you've written. His intention was to never shoot down your dreams but for him to create a future for the two of you together. He was used to superficial people being with him only for the sake of his status or influence but he admired the way you were genuine at whatever you said and did. You could deny it all you wanted but despite your broken personality, he could see you had a heart of gold. A beautiful gentle heart and a soft soul that plenty of scumbags took advantage of that just made him mad to the core

DG sighed as he placed his file containing information regarding you back in his drawer and locked it, something you didn't need to find out just yet as he made his way back towards you and got on the bed as he held you in his arms and stroked your hair and placed a gentle and soft kiss on your cheek before he drifted off to sleep, you being by his side, right where you belonged...

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alicerosejensen · 1 year

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Just headcanons where Leon is almost Sugar Daddy and just a guy who really wants love and care

I try not to deviate from the canon. Leon is even more likely here as an overly caring partner who does not mind the money for his S/O.

Warning: age difference

- The first thing you need to know is that Leon should have feelings for you so that he becomes someone like your patron.

- Among other things, he is well versed in people and wants you to be not indifferent to him, and not see him only as a bag of money.

- He needs your affection.

- He will buy you anything you want, in fact, despite the fact that he gets good money for his work, Leon doesn't spend much of it (apart from alcohol and leather jackets, and I'm sure he has a motorbike), so spending money on you is even a joy for him. No extra questions, you can not tell him anything at all, but just look at some thing in the store, go crazy with the price and leave, so that the next moment Leon grabs your hand and pays for everything that you put your beautiful eye.

- Leon is not embarrassed by your age difference, in fact, sometimes he even laughs at your jokes about being an old man. And no, he is not offended, he just does not have much time to learn about modern trends, fashion and other things, but he will listen to you with pleasure.

- Buys you flowers, or arranges home delivery.

- Leon is a complex and private person. He will never discuss his problems with you, and if you start asking him about it, he will gently push you away, but nevertheless, if you have problems, he will solve everything without hesitation. He took care of you, so this is another duty of his.

- Leon is a very gentle lover, but dominant. In bed with him there will be no particular rudeness and, first of all, he will strive to deliver pleasure to you. No spanking, no biting (I'm sure he has a trigger on them at all), insulting a partner. Only strokes, passionate kisses, perhaps hickeys, praise and teasing. Leon won't mind trying anything new with you, but if it's something that hurts you or him (whether it's short term or not) then he'll immediately refuse. And still, he will insist that you have a stop word.

- He has a lot of psychological traumas including ptsd, so getting back to the topic of sex, Leon wants tenderness in return from you. He likes the warmth of your body and the calm rhythm of your heart calms him. Not immediately, but he will ask you to go to bed with him without clothes so that he can enjoy your warmth and sleep a little peacefully. Leon will be happy if you do not refuse such a strange request. And yes, he loves to be a little spoon, but in moments of weakness, this is vital for him.

- For the fact that you help to survive these constant flashbacks, Leon tries to compensate you with his love and trips to expensive places. If you want, he will gladly take you somewhere for the weekend. Alpine skiing, expensive restaurants and an expensive hotel with a red "do not disturb" sign on the door of the room.

- Usually he is not jealous, but the thought of you leaving for someone else scares him. He has little experience in relationships, so he prefers to ask about what you want and he gives it to you. Do not be shy, just tell him about it, for you he will give you everything.

- From the above, he does not accept any betrayals: neither spiritual, nor even more so physical. It will hurt him too much, so you should not give him a reason to doubt loyalty. He is not paranoid in this regard and will not go crazy with rage just because you are just chatting with a friend you knows from school / college / university / work, but if he notices flirting on your part, then ... no good.

- You are only his girl, he likes to mention it and think about it, but he is also completely your man. No third parties. (sorry Ada he needs a healthy relationship)

- He's not paranoid out of jealousy, but he's paranoid out of your safety. He must make sure that your seat belt is fastened; hold his hand when crossing the road; God forbid you cut yourself or break something. His alarm sensor will simply overwhelm and break to hell.

- He loves to give you lace underwear.

- And glad when you seduce him.

- He will rarely call you by your first name (maybe if only something serious or at the very beginning of a relationship), mostly it will be cute nicknames.

-Don't ask about his work. Even when you are already in a long-term relationship, he still won't tell you much. Unless he works for the government and that's all.

- Leon doesn't want you to work either. He wants you to always wait for him with hugs when he comes home, he will probably even persuade you to leave the job where you are currently working, because he can fully provide for you. However, if you are burning with the ideas of creating a career, he will not interfere with this. Everything for your happiness.

- He likes quiet evenings. Like family with food and TV. In fact, he can play a console with you and probably beat you in some kind of shooter, but he will smile funny when, after successful headshots, you say that you should be taken to the special forces right now.

- Leon loves hugs more than sex.

- You are his spoiled sugar girl, and in this context, he calls you sugar because you are sweet.

#leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon x reader #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #reader #leon kennedy resident evil #leon kennedy headcanons #resident evil headcanons #headcanon

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poisonlove · 3 months

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Beauty and the Beast | w.a

Pairing: wednesday addams x reader

Words: 15k

Warning: reader unsure about her appearance

I felt lonely, so lonely.

But I couldn't risk anyone being scared by my appearance, I couldn't risk receiving mockery and laughter for what I hide beneath the mask. I had to protect myself and others from the horrible monster that I am.

Not even Eugenie, one of my few friends, knew my true face, and I don't think he'll find out anytime soon. Enid tried a couple of times, but after my umpteenth No she gave up, which I'm grateful for.

Why did it have to happen to me? Why do I have to feel scrutinized because of the mask I wear? Damn it, there are vampires, mermaids, and even people without mouths, and yet I'm the only strange one in Nevermore?

"Y/n, have you heard that a new student has arrived?" Eugenie smiles with all thirty-two teeth as he walks beside me, his eyes gleaming with happiness at the news. "Is it really important?" I ask timidly, biting my lower lip amused by his reaction.

"An extra girl is always welcome," he sighs dreamily. "Maybe she'll even like bees, don't you think?" He asks hopefully.

I tilt my head to the side and watch Eugenie smile widely, hope in his eyes. "I…" I start, feeling a pressure in my chest from his enthusiasm, "I guess so?" I say, chuckling timidly, not wanting to spoil my friend's good mood.

"I mean, I adore you, really," Eugenie says, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose, "but having one more girl in our group would be cool!" He says, analyzing me carefully.

"It's just the two of us… We're not even a trio, and you're talking about a group?" I roll my eyes at his comment, and Eugenie gives me a friendly elbow on the side.

"There's no use rolling your eyes, you know I can see you, right? I mean… besides your mouth, and the other thing that can be seen under the mask," he says sing-song, looking at my mask reluctantly.

"And anyway! We're three!" The boy pouts adorably.

"Really?" I ask in surprise, and Eugenie nods. "Enid," he says, smiling in love at the mention of the blonde werewolf.

I open my mouth ready to retort, but I just ended up sighing loudly.

"Y/n," I turn towards the sound of the voice and see Enid gesturing for me to come closer to her. I raise an eyebrow with confusion and look at Eugenie shrugging indifferently. "Go on, I'll go check on my bees," he says, giving me a pat on the shoulder and walking towards his target, humming a tune.

I approach Enid, who smiles excitedly. "Hi Enid, everything okay?" I ask with a small smile on my lips.

"Y/n! I finally found you!" Enid exclaims, "I have some great news to tell you. You see, the new student is named Wednesday Addams and she'll be my new roommate!"

I feel a knot in my stomach at the thought of facing a new acquaintance, but I try to remain calm. "Wednesday Addams?" I repeat, trying to hide the anxiety that begins to creep up inside me.

"Exactly!" Enid confirms enthusiastically, "It would be fantastic if you two could become friends. I know you're a bit reserved, but I'm sure you'll get along well together!" The blonde smiled widely, her blue eyes looking at me attentively.

I try to mask my discomfort in front of Enid's enthusiasm, but inside, I feel a growing sense of unease. It's not fear, it's just a deep reluctance to interact with new people, especially when I have to hide my true identity behind a mask.

"Are you sure it's a good idea?" I ask uncertainly, the memory of Yoko staring at me strangely still vivid in my mind, sending shivers down my spine. I look at Enid curiously, seeking reassurance.

"With Yoko, it was just a small mishap," Enid replies, laughing nervously, able to read what I was thinking during my silence. "It's not your fault if you're so different."

"Right," I mumble to myself, still troubled by the memory of the episode with Yoko.

"I think it'll be different," continues Enid, placing her hand on my arm and starting to walk towards our dorms, "Wednesday has a… special character. You might like her," she adds with a broad smile.

"Are you telling me she's strange?" I ask, feeling offended by her description. Enid looks at me sideways, trying to reassure me.

"No, I didn't mean that," Enid clarifies, "just that she's also shy, and I think you two could get along," she concludes, smiling happily.

"But do we have to go now?" I ask with a worried tone, feeling the need to mentally prepare for the impending meeting. "Of course! I talked about you when she arrived, I think she's writing now," Enid babbles thoughtfully.

"She's writing?" I ask incredulously, a small smile threatening to spread across my lips. The thought of someone actually writing seems surreal to me.

"You see? You haven't even met yet and you already have something in common," Enid says, smiling kindly and looking at me with eyes overflowing with happiness.

As we head towards Ophelia Hall, nervousness grows inside me and my hands start to sweat. My heart beats faster and faster as the moment of meeting Wednesday approaches. I don't know what to expect, and the uncertainty makes me even more agitated.

Enid opens the door and my eyes immediately fall on the room divided in half by a black ribbon, separating two opposite worlds. Enid's side, bright and colorful, contrasts sharply with the darkness of the opposite side.

"The room is… Different," I say timidly, blinking in disbelief.

"Yeah, I was mad the first time too," Enid says with a reluctant sigh, evidently annoyed by the division of the room.

"Wednesday! I want to introduce you to someone," Enid announces, turning her gaze to her roommate on the other side of the ribbon.

Wednesday, focused on the typewriter, emits a small grunt before turning towards us with a rigid and impenetrable posture.

Her dark hair is braided into two impeccable braids that fall on her shoulders with precision and order. Her face is pale, almost ethereal, but her eyes are intense, deep, and penetrating. Her posture is rigid, but she exudes a silent confidence, as if she is aware of her inner power. The air around her seems filled with mystery and fascination, and even though her gaze is cold and distant, there is something about her that attracts and fascinates. It's as if she's enveloped in an aura of darkness, yet at the same time of strength and determination.

Her black eyes scan my figure, and I feel the warmth rising to my cheeks with embarrassment. Thank goodness Wednesday can't see it. I breathe deeply, relieved.

"What is she?" Wednesday asks with sharp curiosity, analyzing me with her gaze.

"Wednesday! You need to be more polite," Enid scolds her, but Wednesday ignores her with indifference.

My heart begins to beat faster as Wednesday approaches me, nervousness growing with each step she takes. Her presence, even silent, seems to envelop me in an atmosphere of mystery and tension, making me feel as if I'm under her scrutinizing gaze.

"You're not a vampire, a werewolf… not even a mermaid…" she mutters softly, her eyes scrutinizing mine intensely.

Her gaze is piercing, full of determination and fascination. "What are you?" she repeats, her voice neutral but curiosity palpable in the air.

I feel cornered, a knot forming in my throat, tightening.

Spontaneously, Wednesday reaches out and places her hands on my face, the tips of her fingers delicately touching my mask.

"Don't," I say in a low but sharp voice, trying to dissuade her.

Wednesday tilts her head slightly, ignoring my request, and brushes her fingers against the mask, exploring its texture with curiosity. Her hand wraps around my mask, and the contact sends shivers down my spine.

My breath becomes irregular as Wednesday continues to examine my mask with care, as if she wants to unveil the secret hidden beneath it. The touch of her fingers on my skin makes me feel vulnerable, exposed to her penetrating gaze.

"Please, stop," I whisper again, trying to control the agitation in my voice.

Wednesday doesn't seem at all disturbed by my request, continuing to explore the mask with an almost scientific curiosity. Her impassive face betrays no emotion, but I can feel my heart pounding in my chest as I feel increasingly exposed in front of her.

"Wednesday, stop," says Enid firmly but gently, approaching us. "Y/n has her reasons for wearing that mask, and it's not right for you to force her to reveal it if she doesn't want to."

Wednesday turns to Enid, her cold and distant gaze piercing through her. "I'm not forcing anything," she replies calmly, "I'm just trying to understand."

Enid stands between me and Wednesday, shielding me with her body. "I understand, Wednesday, but there are better ways to get the answers you seek," she retorts, trying to defuse the situation.

I feel relieved by Enid's support, but at the same time anxious about how the situation will unfold.

After a moment of tense silence, Wednesday turns her back and walks away, heading towards the desk with measured steps. A sigh of relief escapes my lips as I sink into a nearby chair.

"What an embarrassing moment," I say with a nervous smile, trying to break the ice.

Enid approaches and places a hand on my shoulder with an expression of solidarity. "Don't worry, Y/n. Wednesday can be a bit… intense at times," she comments with a half-smile.

"You said it," I reply with a small smile, grateful for Enid's support.

On the other side of the room, the incessant ticking of Wednesday's typewriter continues unabated, creating a constant background to our conversation. Her silent presence seems to have added a new dimension to the room, making it even more charged with mystery and tension.

"What do you say we go for a walk outside?" Enid suggests, trying to distract my mind from tumultuous thoughts.

"That sounds like a good idea," I respond with a grateful smile, happy to escape from that tense atmosphere. We rise and leave the room, leaving behind the constant ticking of Wednesday's typewriter.

She seems like an interesting girl I thought to myself

but she really doesn't give up

(…)

Weeks have passed since that first tense encounter with Wednesday, yet her obsession with uncovering what lay beneath my mask showed no signs of abating. Occasionally, during classes or in moments of break, I catch her staring at me with her piercing gaze, as if she wanted to pierce through the fabric of my mask and read my deepest thoughts.

Wednesday doesn't give up easily. She made various attempts: sending anonymous messages, appearing out of nowhere at the most unexpected times, sending Things, and even trying to remove my mask with a sudden gesture. Her questions become more frequent and casual, as if she wanted to uncover my secret through the most mundane conversation.

Flashback

During a break between classes, while I was sitting alone in a corner of the cafeteria, I felt a presence approaching. I looked up and saw Wednesday with her mysterious and aloof demeanor.

"May I sit here?" she asked calmly, indicating the seat across from me.

"Of course, go ahead," I replied, surprised by her sudden company.

Wednesday sat down with a fluid and silent movement, and for a moment we simply looked at each other, without saying a word. Then, without a smile or a greeting nod, she said, "How are you?"

"Quite well, thank you," I replied, trying to hide my surprise at finding her there.

That brief conversation remained imprinted in my mind for days, like an unsolved riddle. Yet, despite her seemingly insatiable interest in my mask, Wednesday did not seem at all frightened or disgusted by me. She was just… curious.

Flashback end

But then, without any warning, Wednesday stops altogether circling around me. She no longer approaches me with her questions or scrutinizing looks. I was left to wonder:

was I boring? Rude? Was I just being paranoid?

"It seems like she's gotten tired of you," Enid jokes, trying to lighten the mood. "Maybe she's finally realized that beneath that mask, it's just you, and nothing so terrifying."

Enid's joke made me smile, but it didn't completely dissipate the tension that had built up inside me. I was nervous about the various conjectures swirling in my head, and I literally asked myself too many questions that had no answer.

"Thank goodness you found something to laugh about," I remarked, trying to conceal my mood.

Enid looked at me with a sympathetic expression. "You know, Y/n, I think you're reading too much into things. Maybe Wednesday has just found something else to focus on, or maybe she's decided she doesn't want to make you uncomfortable."

I wanted to believe Enid's words, but doubt continued to nag at me. "Maybe you're right," I replied, trying to convince myself.

"I promise that if there's anything to worry about, I'll let you know," Enid said sincerely, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder.

I felt somewhat relieved by her promise, but I knew that until I had answers to my questions, my mind would continue to race incessantly. It was frustrating not knowing what was going through Wednesday's mind, but I had to find a way to stop tormenting myself with suppositions and hypotheses.

That afternoon, I found myself in Enid's room, determined to clear things up with Wednesday. The tension in the air was palpable as I tried to gather the courage to confront the situation.

"Wednesday, can I talk to you?" I asked, trying to stay calm despite my pounding heart.

The girl looked up from the book she was reading and glanced at me with detachment. "Sure," she replied simply, showing no sign of interest. Her eyes returned to the pages of the book she was reading.

"Why aren't you talking to me anymore?" I asked, feeling my voice tremble slightly with emotion.

Wednesday didn't even look up from her book. "I can't be friends with a girl who doesn't show her face," she said coldly, as if it were obvious.

Those words hit me like a punch to the gut. "You can't really think like that," I replied, trying to control my growing frustration. "I'm not just my mask, Wednesday. There's much more beneath it."

Wednesday remained impassive, and her indifference deeply hurt me. "You don't even listen to me," I whispered, feeling my heart breaking.

The girl didn't respond, continuing to read as if I were invisible. Frustration and anger welled up inside me, but in the end, I gave up.

With a sigh, I realized I had to accept the situation for what it was. "Maybe you're right," I admitted softly. "But you can't judge without knowing the truth." Wednesday looked up from her book, looking at me with a certain curiosity. "And what would the truth be?" she asked, her eyebrows slightly furrowed.

"The truth… I'm afraid," I replied, feeling a lump in my throat as my hands trembled slightly. With determination, I placed them on the mask, ready to reveal what I had hidden for so long.

Damn feelings I developed for you, persistent Goth I thought bitterly.

Wednesday watched carefully, her black eyes scrutinizing my face with intense curiosity. My heart pounded in my chest, silently praying that she would accept what she was about to see.

With a deep breath, I slowly removed the mask, revealing my true face. Behind it, a hideous scar extended from my eyebrow to my cheek, thankfully sparing my eye. It was a wound I had carried for years, a witness to a painful past that I had never shared with anyone.

Wednesday remained still, her eyes fixed on my scar. Her expression was inscrutable, but I could see surprise in her eyes.

The scar was large and deep, and I couldn't help but feel vulnerable as Wednesday examined it. But there was no more room to hide the truth, and I had to accept her judgment, whatever it may be.

Wednesday closed the book and approached me slowly, her gaze still fixed on the scar adorning my face. Her expression was a mixture of curiosity and shyness, as if she were unsure of what to do or say.

"Can I touch it?" she asked in a barely audible voice, and I nodded weakly, feeling my cheeks flush at her question.

With cautious movements, Wednesday came even closer, her fingers delicately touching my scarred skin. A shiver ran down my spine at the contact, but it wasn't disgust or fear. It was a feeling of calm and acceptance, as if that gesture meant something deeper than just physical contact.

I looked at her face as she examined the scar. Her eyes were full of empathy and understanding, and I couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief. It was as if I had finally found someone who truly understood me, without judging or condemning.

It was hard to believe that all this had happened because I had fallen in love with her. But now, looking at her up close like this, I realized that maybe it was worth risking my heart for someone who made me feel so alive and accepted.

"How did you get it?" Wednesday asked timidly, slightly clenching her jaw as she continued to observe the scar on my face.

My voice trembled slightly. "It was done by my father," I confessed, feeling the lump in my throat tighten. "He was drunk and one night he lost control."

My voice broke slightly as I remembered those painful moments, the fear and despair I had felt. But I knew I had to share the truth with Wednesday, even if it hurt to revisit those memories.

Wednesday gently caressed my cheek, the touch of her fingers on my scarred skin sending a slight shiver down my spine. "Why did you keep it hidden?" she asked with curiosity, her gaze still full of compassion.

"It's horrible…" I replied softly, feeling the weight of my words. "When everyone looked at me strangely or laughed, I decided to cover it up."

Wednesday's finger brushed against the scar on my eyebrow and a shiver ran down my spine. It was as if that simple gesture was breaking down the barriers I had built around me for years.

"It makes you strong," said Wednesday, tilting her head to the side as she looked at me intently. "And you're… Beautiful all the same."

Her words struck me deeply, and I felt my cheeks blush slightly at her unexpected compliment. It was hard to believe that someone could find beauty in that ugly scar, but with Wednesday beside me, I began to see myself with different eyes.

"Thank you," I replied sincerely, my heart filled with gratitude for her kindness. It was a moment of intimacy and sharing that I would never forget.

"Does Enid know?" Wednesday asked with curiosity, and I shook my head.

"No," I replied, feeling a shiver of nervousness run through my body.

"Are you afraid of her reaction?" she asked timidly, and I nodded slowly.

"If she says something, I'll kill her," said Wednesday with a serious tone, and I couldn't help but smile, feeling for the first time confident and beautiful for myself.

And beautiful for Wednesday.

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x fem!reader #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x you #miércoles addams #wednesday addams x you #wednesday fanfic #wednesday addams gifs #wednesday adams x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday x y/n #beauty and the beast #Pain #be not afraid #i'm afraid of americans

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yandere-kokeshi · 11 months

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Yandere spider verse your pick villain x Deaf reader

Warnings: yandere behavior and talks about people getting beat up.

A/N: I love that you decided to let me pick. I'm not really good at deciding and it picked Miles Morales from Earth-1610.

When he first met you, he was annoyed. Not only did you ignore him, but you constantly pointed at your ears when he did catch your attention - of course, he thought you were making fun of him. But later did he realize that you couldn’t hear, hence the pointing and not hearing him when he approached.

At first, he was rather careless about your deafness. He wasn’t mean or rude, just rather indifferent; you were just something else.

But for some reason, you’d caught his eye. Possibly it was the way you stood up for yourself, not allowing anyone to walk over you, regardless of your condition.

Or how you were incredibly gentle and nice, always saying hello to him. At this point, he starts to get closer to you and ends up falling for you.

He’s a huge help with reminding things and keeping track of time. If you get distracted and forget to look at the time, Miles will tell you what’s up and help you in which way he can.

With reminding, he’s always on top of that - if you have a doctor’s appointment, a quiz needed for school, or even need to get up early to meet with a family member, he always makes sure to get up earlier than you, helping you get ready.

Being deaf can be challenging. Things can overwhelm you quickly, and having problems with society can be mentally and emotionally draining. This said, Miles will often remind you to take it easy and allow him to handle the grocery shopping, the need of getting supplies, and resources that you might want.

Miles has learned to get your attention by using other forms of ‘sounds’ and actions - stomping on the ground, letting you feel the vibrations, or simply using lights as a way to diverse your attention towards him.

It’s possible he already knows sign language as he’s pretty observant. But he’s more than happy to spend time with you, watching how you teach him or fix his mistakes when signing.

God help anyone who dares to disrespect you. Even if they look at you weirdly, the next day, they’re on the news murdered. He’s pretty protective, especially with how you can’t hear and all. With this, he always pesters about coming with you whenever you’re gonna go somewhere.

Uncle Aaron respects you quite a lot, seeing how you treat Miles and how he acts a bit differently near you. He’ll treat you like a family member.

Sure, he’s a bit cold and distant, but the minute you’re in danger, he’ll make sure you’re put into safety as quickly as possible.

—

Masterlist || Please consider reblogging and commenting instead of liking, it helps me as a creator!! Stay well!!

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green-sky-smoke · 4 months

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Reader asks Husk about his ideal date. (~1300 words)

"My ideal date, huh? The one where i win all your money in poker." He laughs, and smiles at you firmly, his eyes pierce at you warmly, like he was looking at nostalgic show, on old, thick tv screen, in worst quality possible. "Bring me cards, hun, i shall do a little," he waves palms happily, "magic! Watch future, how good your chances are." He laughs purringly. Then his smile and cheerful look dissolves. He's never like this for long. "But if you don't plan it... Honestly, i'm not really used to dates. I'm not interested in flowers and fancy dinners, i saw enough of them. I am a man of simple pleasures. I have booze here, why don't just stay where we are?" he tilts his head a little, with catlike grace and elegance, expecting you to nod. And then you both hear something heavy, loudly falling on the floor, and a lot of swears and arguing. His ears press on his head from the sudden noise.

"Well. That's why. We may go somewhere." He sights, annoyed. Husk is frowning, looking in almost empty bottle, like lines of light and reflections on emerald glass will say something his drunk brain stubbornly refuses. He tries very hard to think it out, but he got solid brain fog.

"How about... Well..." he is really lost in his own thoughts. You can almost see how his neurons try to reach one another, but fail miserably, and pain gently swipes them away. "How about... About..."

No. Date isn't a game, it's when you entertained enough being with someone. Not a game. You did games everyday, Husk, what make date unique if it just another playful robbery? Date is not another gambling game, loss of big money and property. Especially not of someone who you like. Maybe you can both play and share loss, or win, playing together and not against each other... But against anyone else? Hm. Would be nice to offer it later, if he won't forget.

He hasn't had any sugarcoated romantic fantasies in a long time, and his brain rejected him creating some now, when he got someone interesting enough. The most interesting thing was just looking at your confused, annoyed face, and just any negative emotion. He felt better sometimes, seeing unhappy faces, when he is himself aren't happy at all about where it all ended for him. Husk hunched over the table, puzzled. Looks like he completely zoned out.

Most of all, he enjoys spending time together, calmly, not in a fight. Table games where he can bluff and laugh at someone's bad strategies and skill, or hand motorics. Magic tricks and spectacular shows. Gently massages and some cuddling. Sleeping and resting, doing nothing. He doesn't like very pricy places, or sports. He isn't most complex person, so it's quite a mystery for him why you would have interest in alcoholic with ludomania who likes to mock you lovingly, or insult. It's kinda easy when he presented with people insecurities every day, every year, when they can't shut up about it, and any anecdotes happening. He could write dissertation about it.

"Cheap, and funny." He chuckled, as your face becomes a little disappointed. "What? Not the answer you wanted?" He smiled, a bit smug. He enjoys your confusion, and how you try to think of questions to to clarify exactly what he wants, when you know that he won't reply long, he mostly gives you very vague answers that tells nothing at most.

"Let me tell you a thing, boo... Planning perfect dates is the most useless thing to do. Life is always unpredictable, chaotic, troubled and hard in hell. Situations always change, your mood, your tastes, you never the same person as day, or hour ago. You never know. If you hunt perfection, perfect place, perfect person, perfect reaction, day and time, you will end up miserable. And... You can try small things and be happy with surprises from this chaotic universe we live in, being constantly amazed how bad you are at fortune-telling!" He spreads his arms with enthusiasm, and then puts them down, waving one. He takes an indifferent sip of alcohol. "Or whatever. I don't care." He for a moment forgets what he wanted to add. Seems like he forgets that you're here too, too entertained with looking at same bottles, as if he was in an elite art gallery. His head migraine felt as if brain is expanding like the universe, right in his skull, and it is about to crack, while he won't be able to say anything intelligible or catch a coherent thought. He needs time to frown. You just look at him, wanting to stroke him. He looks so soft and fluffy, but you can't tell a moment you can do it.

"There isn't such a thing i would call a 'perfect date'. But there is 'it wasn't so bad as i expected'." he says before another long pause. He is clearly thinking hard, trying to scratch words off the walls of the skull, that hit him with an electric shock for any touch. His body was sometimes a real prison, making him worse person, who can really, really never leave for long.

"There may be all things i can enjoy to a point of addiction, but i would just act as grumpy ass until you take me there, waving booze, fists, threats, and i would know how enjoyable this is only after." He smiles and cackles, a bit annoyed and a bit self-ironic. He knows his brain and mood tricks pretty well, but believes he don't really need or can change a thing. He hates it, but he wouldn't wish to be anyone else. "It all seem too boring, overrated, overpriced and annoying to me when i think about it. I can find all reasons to not go anywhere and not move at all. Im in the point of life where it's really hard to find joy and eagerly seek things. You know?" He shrugs. "Go on, i don't mind, if you can bear with me constantly rejecting anything im not used to, and being grumpy old growler. It may at some point end as perfect date i would be sad to forget." He looks at you, like he doesn't really believe it, but willing to let you try. It doesn't matter to him, he will suffer each way in same amount, you wouldn't make it much worse than Alastor. " ...Or not. Who the hell knows. Maybe you will have patience to make some use of such boring, forever grudging and mean demon. Im not the best choice, and it will only make you pathetic to try make impossible work." You smile, finally out of confusion. He just invited you to annoy him, how sweet. You bend over to him and hold out your hand. He doesn't understand your gesture, so he just hand you some heavy bottle of some sweet, sparkling tonic for cocktails. You move the bottle to the table, and you put your hand on his. It suprised him, but he smiled at this micro-miscommunication, and places other hand over your. Old cats are playful too. And no cat will reject some good, pricy food and quiet place to see all things, not just hear behind the bar table. "Well, you are the strongest creative source of new things in my life for now." He smiles faintly. Maybe he was completely sarcastic. "So, take care of yourself. I can't appreciate you most times, but it would be loss for all hell. And i think you didn't drink in a while, so you need some liquid more than hold my hand, dumdum." He gets his hand out of your warm touch, and moves the bottle almost in your face. "Or shall I shake it for you?" He laughs. Husk believes you totally can use some foam of wrath in your face too.

#Hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #reader insert #x reader #hazbin hotel husk #husk x reader

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k-s-morgan · 5 months

Text

This is a belated post where I wanted to briefly address the outcomes of 2023!

While Ukraine mostly faded from the stage of world's news, unfortunately, the situation didn't get better for my people. Every day Russia kills, maims, and ruins everything it can touch. Every day civilians die from its imprecise missiles, random shootings and artillery, and outright executions. I often see that those living in other countries call this Putin's war, but it really isn't. This is the war sponsored by Putin and his regime, true, but first and foremost, this is the war of Russian people. It's hundreds of thousands of Russian people who arm themselves and go kill our defenders and our civilians. It's Russian people who fire from tanks and other deadly weapons to ruin the Ukrainians' homes, to scorch our land, to leave nothing but destruction instead of cities and villages. It's Russian people who build the missiles, load their bombers, and fly for 5+ hours to direct them at our cities, homes, factories, and even empty fields.

This is me during one of the latest massive attack that took place on January 2. At first, at night, 35+ Russian-Iranian drones bombed us. Then Russian people sent about 100 missiles at us, mainly at my city Kyiv.

Our air defense system managed to intercept the majority of them, but while it sounds like interception is an entirely positive thing, it might have terrible consequences. Because the parts of the missiles fall down randomly. They can kill any human or creature walking down the street; they can collapse on top of a residential building. There is no escape, no way to feel safe even with the best air defense systems surrounding the city. Here's one of many disastrous results of this attack.

Dead and injured people and animals. Damaged and lost apartments.

On December 29, another attack killed over 30 people in Kyiv alone. You can see their faces below. They deserve to be seen and remembered.

This is a short story of just two latest attacks that took place just within one week, just in one city. Imagine how many of them me and my people lived through during the entire year? How many more we will have to experience?

Actually, we lived through another one before I finished writing this post. It happened on January 8, and it killed even more civilians.

I know that there are good, sane, compassionate Russians. I have some relatives among them. One of them, my aunt, can't keep herself entirely silent: she's deeply religious, and a few weeks ago, in a church, she risked saying that killing Ukrainians is bad. Another man told her that she's scum and that if she dares to open her mouth again, he will report her to authorities. The headmaster of a school where my aunt teaches was imprisoned for 7 years for refusing to hold a Z-event among students. Living there must be a torture of another kind, where you are surrounded by zombies who openly promote terrorism and bless missiles sent to kill other human beings. The problem is that sane and compassionate Russians are the minority - the vast majority is happy to either kill us or they support those who kill us. Or they simply don't care, trying to claim that everything is complicated when in reality, there is nothing complicated about it at all. Russia is a terrorist state and the world allows its people and its government to keep being monsters.

Seeing the indifference and impotence of seemingly powerful countries makes me increasingly concerned and depressed. At this point, I don't think I'm simply affected by my experiences: the world is rapidly going to hell, with terrorist countries like Russia being allowed to revel in their blood-thirstiness and the other terrorist countries, like North Korea, or potential offenders like China, observing and taking notes. When a criminal sees that no one is punished for a crime, they escalate. More criminals appear. This is what I feel is going to start happening more and more, until half of the planet is plunged into death and destruction. I'll be so very glad to be wrong.

On a personal note, I lost my most beloved pet pigeon Daikiria in 2023. I love her and miss her so much that I still cry whenever I think of her. In turn, I acquired a red nightmare of a rabbit who eats everything, including my feet, and two more pigeons. Taking care of them brings me joy - I only hope that my effort will actually benefit them.

Here's a pigeon that I named Noveria the day I found her, in a video I made for my vet. Attacked by a cat, bleeding all over, with broken ribs and a missing piece of her wing, with no tail:

Here is she now. She is feeling much better, although unfortunately, she got sick because of her weakened immune system.

My kitties continue to be adorable dorks. Here's me sleeping with my cat Tom after one of the attacks - he's really scared of loud sounds, so he sleeps like a rock afterward, just like me.

My family stays strong, and I hope we will remain to be so.

Writing stories remains a huge source of relief and distraction to me, and your support, love, and care give me strength even when I feel like I'm about to run out of it.

Thank you to those who support me on Patreon and give me a chance to have a safety net shielding me from some of the horrors and insecurities - thanks to you, I can rest sometimes when I would have to work instead; I can afford some more distractions and to write more as a result. Thank you to those who leave comments, kudos, asks; thank you to my friends who never fail to message me with questions about my well-being. I love and I appreciate you tremendously, and despite all my fears and worries, I hope that we will get to see a better future still.

#personal #ukraine #kyiv #kiev #russia is a terrorist state #my fics #thank you

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ravixen · 1 year

Text

svt + not choosing their team

➔ reaction || not requested || staff!au || leader line

➔ warnings: none || 574 words ➔ words: fluff, gose staff!y/n ; happy monday! i'm sure people noticed that i post at a different time than usual :) still monday, but at midnight est instead of the afternoon. i find that it just works better for my queue. this post is inspired by the wonwoo gose dinner, when all the staff chose different colored ties! i like doing platonic!staff interactions, too, but this is self indulgent. in fact, since i can't write a whole thing right now, this is 100% for my personal satisfaction. if you liked it, please reblog!

SEUNGCHEOL: the poutiest, and i don't say that lightly. he watches as the staff members drift into separate groups, and when he sees that you're clearly not in his, he crosses his arms and gets that determined look you know too well. it's the one with the fired up eyes and the set jaw and the rolled back shoulders and the shoulder-width stance. it doesn't bode well for the other teams—something that jeonghan notices, too, because he taps your boyfriend's lower back as a warning. seungcheol is the competitive type, even when the stakes are low. (his iconic line from seventeen vs going seventeen still rings true.) once we add in the fact that you're rooting for another team? he's going to try his best to make you regret it. he doesn't mean to be a sore loser, but it can definitely come off that way if he's not careful on camera. once he actually talks to you later, though, all of the bravado is gone. what's left is a sulky baby who leans his head on your shoulder, blinks his pretty eyes, and asks why you didn't believe in him.

SOONYOUNG: ok, maybe he's the poutiest. as soon as the staff members start moving, his bottom lip juts out and the complaints start, which is rare for him. his voice is petulant as he says the groups are uneven, there's a clear divide in staff preferences, people are going to regret not choosing him, etc. just reaching for anything he can complain about, but he's mostly drowned out by the overlapping audio as the louder members yell out advertisements for their teams. he's being so obvious about his dissatisfaction, it's cute. it doesn't escape you (or anyone else paying attention, for that matter) that as he circles the groups, he keeps hovering around yours—back to the camera, hands on his hips, pout pointed straight at you. he won't push too hard because you've cast your lot with someone else, and the games are starting soon anyway, but he comes to terms with it fast. i mean, yeah, he'll be super proud of himself if he won with you on his team, but imagine if you took a chance on him and he lost horribly? twice the reward, twice the punishment.

JIHOON: honestly, he wouldn't choose his team either. it's not that he has terribly bad luck; he just has a strange team. team comp diff, he'd say, ignoring the fact that he's lost the pirate barrel game in one shot before. still, when his eyes scan for you in the crowd and spot you in someone else's corner, he can't help feeling a little disappointed...like he's already let you down somehow? he gives a tiny nod of indifference, more to convince himself than anything else, but it's clearly a front while he internally debates: should he try his best to win for his team or should he try to get your team to win? he saw the way you lit up when the prizes were announced, and regardless of the circumstances, he always has a soft spot for getting you what you want. the members like teasing him about it, but he cares about your happiness and that's something he stays unabashed about. as if knowing what he was thinking, seungkwan gives a warning glare and mouths, don't throw the game. alright, maybe having good content ranks higher today.

#caratwritersclub #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #seungcheol scenarios #s.coups scenarios #soonyoung scenarios #hoshi scenarios #jihoon scenarios #woozi scenarios #g: svt #m: seungcheol #m: soonyoung #m: jihoon #t: reaction #s: notrequested #ravixen

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noahideahwrites · 5 months

Note

Hi! Idk if you still do your X alpha reader hc but..

Can you do one for the Boys of Inuyasha again?? This time maybe How they ( the omegas/the boys ) secretlt like to be Carried by their Alpha?? Would be totes happy if you did this! ^^

How They Like To Be Carried — Inuyasha Omegas

Notes: I'm so sorry it took me this long to answer, the past few months have been wild with university and personal issues. But I'm gonna try and be more consistent, at least while I'm on summer break.

Warnings: Possible spoilers (principally on Naraku's), grammar mistakes, implied sex, and suggestive content

— Inuyasha:

»» As we all know this guy is a major tsundere, so he will deny and complain about you carrying him, even if deep down he loves it. You need to learn how to read his signs, similar to a dog's body language.

»» Now I'm a fan of making him flustered, so I would recommend doing it in front of his friends for a good laugh. But you need to keep in mind that he will not like you carrying him in front of others (who aren't his friends), principally if they're the enemy, even worse if it's Sesshomaru.

»» The guy has to keep his tough persona up and look intimidating, he cannot do it if he is red while you carry him. If you keep in mind those details, then you should be fine.

»» Inuyasha likes to be carried in any way, be on your back, shoulder and princess carried just to name a few, For him it doesn't matter how, as long as it's you doing it.

— Sesshomaru:

»» There is only one way Sesshomaru likes to be carried and it's princess style, which can be surprising considering his personality and cold demeanor.

»» But for his alpha, Sesshomaru does and enjoys things he didn't think it would be possible for him to even consider. We have to remember that this guy is obsessed with his alpha, so he can tolerate a lot of things.

»» For you to even be able to carry him there can be only three people seeing, you, him, and maybe Rin, since she is your pup now. If even Jakin is present to see it, the moment you think of carrying him, he's gone.

»» The moment you're going to carry him the most is during aftercare, he loves to be pampered, principally after sex, so expect to be carrying him a lot after the act.

— Tōga:

»» Tōga LOVES being carried, he doesn't care who sees it, or if people will start gossiping, or if he will embarrass his pups for being seen with you two.

»» He is also shameless, so he will ask you to carry him whenever he feels like it, and he will be smiling ear to ear and purring loudly, this man doesn't give a fuck.

»» He also loves carrying you, his alpha that he is really, REALLY obsessed with. If you don't like being carried he will only do it in the privacy of your home with only your pups to see.

»» Another frequent sight is Tōga carrying your pups around, doesn't matter their age, if they let him he will be seen just picking them up and walking around. But if they don't like it, it will be the same as when he does it to you.

»» Just like Sesshomaru he prefers the princess carry style, but he is not picky and will accept being carried in any way, shape, or form.

— Kōga:

»» Absolutly HATES being carried with a passion, but loves carrying you. Don't even try to argue is not gonna work.

»» Every time you try to carry him, he does the uno reverse card and carries you instead. But you can feel the almost unnoticeable purrs he gives when carrying you.

»» Honestly, if you don't like being carried either just stop trying to carry him and you should be fine, he won't normally go out of his way to carry you around.

»» The only moment you will be carried no questions asked and without you initiating it, it's if you need to escape for whatever reason since he is faster than most if not all with the jewel shards.

— Bankotsu:

»» This guy is the most neutral of all of them, he truly doesn't mind being carried, but it's also not something he likes, it's just indifferent.

»» Now, he does like teasing you when you go to carry him, saying something along the lines of "You really can't control yourself, huh?", he will make comments like this until you start blushing, this is the only part he actually likes about it.

»» But I feel like he is provocative to his alpha doesn't matter the occasion, it's just that you make it so easy when you like carrying him so much.

»» If he had to pick a style on being carried it would be a piggyback ride, he gets easy access to your ear, he can easily free himself if the need arrives and he can even provoke you if he feels like it.

— Naraku:

»» ABSOLUTELY NOT, hates even the idea of it and hates even more thinking of carrying you, he just despises the carrying altogether.

»» How he goes about it depends on if it's just Onigumo that loves you or if Naraku as a whole loves you. If it's just Onigumo you won't even have many opportunities to even think about it after the first offer, he will cut you off and maybe even avoid you.

»» If the entirety of Naraku loves you, then it's another story. He still hates the thought of it, but the way he acts about it it's different.

»» Either he lets you carry one of his incarnations/clones, or he will try to distract you with other things, considering the way he is if he didn't accept on the first ask, I recommend not trying again if you want to live.

#alpha!reader #hcideah #x gn reader #x male reader #x reader #inuyasha #sesshomaru #bankotsu #naraku #kōga #tōga

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antimatterz · 1 year

Text

boyfriend/dating headcanons

ft. dan heng, gepard (my fav hubbies yesyes)

they might be ooc since i'm still getting into hsr and still trying to get to know them. might rewrite this when i am at that point and maybe i'll expand it with various other characters, i'll see lol

content under the cut | masterlist

— dan heng

here's the thing with dan heng

he's quite reserved but also unintentionally blunt and bold sometimes

i mean, he literally was about to perform cpr when he found you unconscious? boy going for that kiss after meeting you a minute ago

the proverb "still waters run deep" perfectly applies to him. he appears placid and that's something you really have to get used to in the beginning

he doesn't say much, nor does he seem to react much to what happens around him

which is a little weird to you at first. is he even happy with you? is he even affected by your presence and your actions? it doesn't seem that way... it confuses you

but really, once you get to know him, you learn to read him very well and you start to see things

his eyes, the corners of his mouth, the faint blush on his cheeks, the secret glances, the way he seems less indifferent around you

the light touches when he thinks no one is watching; his hand on the small of your back as you walk through the corridors of the space station, his fingertips grazing yours as he ponders whether or not to just take your hand even though you're in public..

eventually he grows more confident and open, and though he's still not a big fan of pda, he just can't resist showering you with subtle hints of affection

like playing with your hair during trailblazer meetings as you sit against him (the corners of his mouth would curl up ever so slightly that it's barely even noticable)

oh as i said before, he tends to be quite blunt sometimes, as he often speaks his honest thoughts. okay, he isn't the type to just blurt out things so he knows what he's saying but he also knows how it never fails to make you blush as his remarks leave you flustered

he's not the most cuddly person, you might have to help him get into a little. maybe you have to initiate acts of affection 9 out of 10 times but that doesn't mean he doesn't love you !! it's just how he is

you'd be surprised, though, as the longer the two of you are together, the more he makes the first move when it comes to showing love and affection

still though, i feel like he's more the type to verbally tell you how much you mean to him than through affection

and yeah, he'll leave you flustered as heck because he likes you a lot and he bluntly tells you so because why hide it?

you often tease him about the cpr thing and all the teasing will eventually lead to your first kiss (c'mon, you literally challenged him with all your teasing and who would not indulge if their s/o is literally asking for it?)

well, dan heng takes the chance

as blunt as he is with words, he is way more shy with next-level physical affection so his kisses are shy shy shy and careful which is really cute especially since he becomes so blushy afterwards in the beginning

and seeing the always so collected dan heng being flustered is a rarity and it's just super adorable

— gepard landau

this guy has a reputation

that of being a tough guy, stern and with a strong sense of justice, strong-willed and to some maybe even as cold as the ice of the eternal freeze that covered jarilo-vi

however, that was merely a facade, one that was pretty much mandatory as the captain of the silvermane guards and part of the royal family of belobog

it was only his public image, one that he showed to the people of belobog. you fell for it at first, being quite intimidated by the reputation that preceded him far and wide

but oh, then he developed a soft spot for you and it's so so so obvious that even the people of belobog notice it lol

yes they might notice it but they will never actually get to see the softie he is around you and he r e a l l y is soft for you

will go to his sister serval for advice in the beginning because as tough as he may seem he is actually quite insecure regarding this matter and just wants to do it well

and he is such a sweetheart??

special little smiles only for you, watching him utter out compliments and sweet nothings while he's trying to hide how very flustered he is even more so when you are the one calling him cute names and stuff

not afraid to show you off when the two of you are walking around belobog during his free time, always holding your hand and all

gets beet red every time serval teases him and that happens a lot – which is super adorable; seeing such a tall and tough guy all blushy, you can't help but coo at it which makes it even worse for the poor male

i wouldn't necessarily say he's super cuddly, he's more casual when it comes to that? like he loves it when you snuggle up against him and he won't hesitate to wrap his arm around you and hold you close but going all tiny and cuddly? that's just not him ig but he loves it when you get all clingy around him and he'll reward you with the cutest smile

but really, he has his own ways of showing that he's super into you. for instance, the fact that he's gepard around you instead of captain landau

#hsr #honkai star rail #honkai #honkai dan heng #honkai star rail dan heng #dan heng #dan heng hsr #hsr dan heng #honkai gepard #honkai gepard landau #gepard #gepard landau #hsr gepard #gepard hsr #gepard honkai #dan heng x reader #gepard x reader #gepard landau x reader #— enyo writes

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stxrvel · 11 months

Text

closer

summary: reader has had many losses in her life, and when she meets Bucky she thinks she's found the one, until life proves otherwise.

pairing: bucky barnes x avenger!f!reader

words: 4k

warnings: some bad words and angst? also some miscommunication, past trauma, reader letting her past dominate her out of fear, a somewhat slow and indecisive Bucky, no happy ending.

note: i was in front of the computer all day thinking about what i could write, looking for information from everywhere, and this is what finally came out. it's almost three o'clock in the morning. i think i definitely write after midnight. let me know what you think of this piece, i'm not quite sure how it came out. i'll be happy to read your comments tomorrow, feedback is always appreciated! for now, i'm going to rest! love you all and thank you for reading!! <3

there's no part two

You were being indifferent. You were trying to be indifferent. Bucky would talk to you only to talk about the missions, about the objectives and about trivial things like the weather, and you were trying to be indifferent. You'd been on that mission for a week, and you were failing terribly. Sometimes you were so dry when you responded to him that he just frowned at you with a confused look on his face. It was awful. You had never been through so much grief than when he asked you if you were okay, in front of the rest of the group.

Maybe you should put that act aside and start dealing with what was really important.

You were in love with Bucky Barnes.

And well, that should be normal. Innocent. Warm. But the truth was, you were afraid to acknowledge those feelings. You wanted to forget them, reject them and never have them around again. Or maybe you could let them out. Let the receiver of the message know what was going on and maybe with the rejection you could move on. But no, you were too afraid. You had clung too tightly to people throughout your life and that had never ended well. And yet, despite all the sadness and disappointments, you were still walking through life with your heart in your hand.

Not learning from the mistakes of your past had led you to where you were. You always thought you were making the best decisions, you were guided by that feeling, but those decisions had led you down a lousy path.

Bucky was talking. His lips were moving and from his throat came the words you weren't hearing. It had become a habit to get so lost in your thoughts that you lost yourself entirely from reality. It had cost you a couple of wake-up calls before, and now, seeing Bucky's expression, it looked like you were going to get another one.

Many of those days, you wished you could go back to the way everything was in the beginning, before your heart and your loneliness intruded on the equation. When you shared pleasant chats with Bucky, when you were a perfect duo on missions, when you ate in silence in the big kitchen of the Complex, when he accompanied you in the evenings to watch movies.

Everything was so much easier when you stayed away from people sentimentally, when you didn't want to see them more often, when you didn't want to tell them every single thing that happened in your day, when your heart didn't race just because your looks collided, when you didn't openly want to have someone's company in the solitude of the nights. Your life was so much easier when you didn't compromise with your feelings, and life had shown you that. You had been living well for months, alone, even when you came to the team and a couple of months later everything was fine. You didn't really know at what point things started to deteriorate.

“That's it,” the man in front of the table dismissed the rest of the team and kept his gaze on yours, as if that way he could keep you sitting quietly. And it was working. You hated that it did.

When the last person left the room and it was just you and Bucky inside the room, it seemed like the walls got a lot smaller around you.

“Are you okay?” he was the first to speak.

“Yeah, sure, why?”

“It's seemed to me that you've been a little distracted these days.”

“No, no, not at all, I'm fine.”

“If you need to talk to someone…” Bucky paused, his gaze flitting across the place, and your heart leaping wildly in your chest, “…I think Sam's making small talk.”

Ah.

“Ah, I see,” you mused, trying to keep your tone normal, “Thank you.”

“Let me know when you do, and you'll be back in the field.”

“What?”

Bucky stopped at your exclamation, pausing halfway to the door. His brow was furrowed and you were sure his confused look matched yours.

“Didn't you hear everything I said earlier?”

You avoided his gaze. You had told him not long ago that you weren't being distracted and of course that lie was going to come back to you soon.

Bucky sighed, his shoulders languid at his sides. His medium-length hair fell over his eyes as he ducked his head, and with his right hand he rubbed his eyes. You missed when you allowed yourself to share smiles with him, which now seemed like distant memories from other lives.

Only when he looked at you again did you realize the weariness that dominated his face.

“You're not going on missions for a while,” he finally said, and you were about to protest when he added, “Direct order from Fury.”

“Bucky-”

“I'm sorry, Y/N, but I can't risk your safety or the safety of the team or the mission because you're not well now.”

“I'm fine. I swear!”

“You're not.”

You snort. “You only see a quarter of what I do on a daily basis.”

“And that's enough to know that Fury made the right decision.”

“What the hell do you people know about right decisions?” you muttered angrily to yourself, turning your head away.

“What did you just say?” Bucky turned back entirely, his face much more disgruntled than before.

Fuck. You'd forgotten he had good hearing.

“Just… Just leave it at that. It's okay. I'll let you know when I talk to Sam.”

You took a deep breath before standing up and matching the path of the man in front of you. His frown was still furrowed, his tense posture a clear indication that he wasn't exactly pleased with what you had said. You were close enough to catch the scent of his shampoo, but not too close to be able to decipher what was going through his head. You were never too close.

“Anything else to say?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, you couldn't decide if because of your closeness or because of how coarse your words came out, as they always did for the last couple of days.

“No.”

And without further ado, he left the room.

---

As much as you wanted to get back in the field, get back to having missions and serving for something on the team, you couldn't find the strength within yourself to talk to Sam. Maybe because he was an acquaintance and it would be weird to tell him everything you were carrying and then pretend nothing had happened. You were too self-aware to be able to do that. It also came into play that it had been almost years since you last came clean with someone, and that didn't really go well. Talking to Sam, at that time, for you, was not the solution.

Maybe the only solution was to sort out your feelings for Bucky. That was what kept you on edge. That was what made you question the life you had formed over the past few years. In any other situation or time in your life, surely a man would not move you so much; however, you knew you were facing a situation you could not repeat. That you did not want to repeat.

The stark reality of the feelings you had for him was like a dagger to the heart, because you felt you had finally found a place where you belonged, where you could be; you felt you had found a home. But it was hard to live in a place like that without making a sentimental commitment to the people around you, and you knew it. You'd only fallen easily for Bucky because…. fuck, he was so caring, so thoughtful, so kind. On the outside he looked like he wanted everyone around him to disappear, but it only took you a couple of chats to understand that he really did have a big, welcoming heart.

The reality of your feelings was the end of you, because it was something you couldn't afford. You couldn't go on living there if you didn't fix that soon. You couldn't risk it again.

“Hey.”

Speaking of…

“Hi.”

Your stoic reply made him turn his head.

You were in the kitchen, sunk deep in thought in a strange calm, when Bucky showed up after three days without seeing him. You knew they had been on a mission, Natasha had told you some things. Internally, you were glad to see that they had arrived without any complications. You were glad to see that Bucky was okay.

“How are you?”

“All good.”

“You sure?”

“Why do you ask?”

You turned your gaze from your now cold coffee to the clear eyes of the man who had pulled a bottle of water from the cooler.

“Just curious.”

Hold on. Don't see beyond what he shows you.

You sighed before replying, “If what you really want to know is if I've talked to Sam, the answer is no.”

“Why?”

You picked up the white cup in front of you and absentmindedly began stirring the liquid inside it.

“I don't think I'd feel comfortable talking to him.”

You felt Bucky move around the kitchen, until he came to the island where you were sitting and sat down across from you with his bottle. You looked up to meet his blue eyes focused directly into yours. He had such a deep gaze that, for a moment, you almost allowed yourself to think beyond what he was giving you. For a second, you felt like you were in a space that was too intimate.

“And who would you feel comfortable talking to?”

You.

You hated that you didn't even need less than a second to think about it. You had the answer so clear it hurt…..

“What?”

You looked at his eyes and raised eyebrows. Fuck.

“Did I say it out loud?”

“Yeah...”

You growled in frustration. You ran your hands through your hair as Bucky spoke again, “I didn't think you held me in such high regard.”

“Really?”

“You barely even look at me lately.”

That was true. But it was for your sake. It was all for your sake. Or at least that's what you wanted to convince yourself of. You'd rather think that than the fact that your limbs ached just from wanting to get closer to him in the middle of his everyday, when he came back injured from missions and you wanted to help him heal his wounds because you knew enough to be a nurse, or help him release tension when he got too stressed out because something went wrong on a mission or they lost track of someone. You just wanted to be a person who could be present in his life. Who could be close. Closer.

“It's because I'm going through something right now.”

“And that something is my fault?”

You pursed your lips. Maybe.

“No.”

Bucky let out a short laugh.

“Those eyes say otherwise.”

“Is there something pointed you want to know, Bucky?”

“Argh,” the man twisted his expression, as if in weariness, and turned his head away. “There's that coldness again.”

You hardened your gaze as much as you could, even though all you wanted to do was let go of the string of thoughts eating away at your head; even though you just wanted to use those arms as a sheet at night so you could sleep in a safe place.

“Okay. I'm sorry,” Bucky held up his hands, retracting under your gaze. “I'd like to know, if like you said you'd rather talk to me than Sam, what's been keeping you beside yourself the last few days?”

Mmm, tough question. You took a deep breath trying to think of a quick answer, but it was difficult having his watchful eye on every millimeter of your face. Would it be too bad to tell the truth? Your past experiences said yes, but… what if it was different with him? It had been too long, he could not be the same as the others…

You shouldn't, the rational part of your brain repeated alarmingly, but he seemed so willing to truly listen to you that you couldn't pass up the opportunity. You didn't want to.

Maybe that was it. Maybe that was the end of your cycle of bad luck and bad death that had haunted and burdened you for as long as you could remember. Maybe Bucky was the start of something new.

At least you hoped so. You were trying to convince yourself.

“I do what I do because I've lost too many people to give up now. Fury found me in a pot, a city where there was nothing but chaos and hopelessness. I was trying to make things different, I wanted my hope to be enough to be able to remove the evil from the hearts of the people who hurt. But no, it was not enough. And I began to work alone because all the people who got too close to me died or decided to leave on their own, they abandoned me. I was too much to bear. The life I was leading was too much.

My mother died in a raid on my house. She was the first victim of my enemies' revenge. I thought that was enough pain a person could go through in a lifetime, but the deaths didn't stop. And sometimes I didn't know if it was worse that someone died because of me, or that my last memory of them was a look of contempt and their hateful words towards me like I was in some shit they didn't have to put up with or that I was draining their vitality, among many other things.

And the truth is, that has happened so many times that I don't even try to maintain relationships with people anymore. Any kind of relationship. And every time I feel like that's going to happen, I have to leave, because I can't stand the pain of a death or a disappointment anymore. When a person leaves, willingly or unwillingly, it's not something you get used to as time goes by. Loneliness is good, but too much of anything is bad. And even though after a while you long for the company, you know you can't risk it once again because everything is at stake. Those are already things that are way beyond me, that I wish I could control, but I can't.”

You loved and hated the way those words had rolled out of your mouth like butter. It had been a while since you had been that honest with someone, because that last person had walked out on you. After listening to you, after telling you that you could lean on their shoulder when you needed it, that person left as if they weren't breaking a promise; as if they hadn't taken a big chunk of your hope with them; as if they hadn't ripped out a little bit of that hope you still held in your heart.

And you hoped that with Bucky it would be different, because you believed that the two of you were meeting at a common ground through the darkness of your minds. From the beginning, Bucky had proven to be different. Even from before you suspected that he already knew what you had been through, because he often tiptoed around you. Bucky was not a distracted person, he was someone extremely intelligent and definitely someone who knew which people he could and could not relate to. He couldn't be the same as everyone else, because you knew he could understand you.

Or so you wanted to believe.

Bucky's eyes moved over the marble of the island, his lips half-opened and his brow slightly furrowed in concentration. You had been so sure about talking about it with him that you hadn't even given it a second thought, but if he went a few more seconds without responding, you would begin to regret it and devise an escape plan.

You wished you were a little closer to him so you could dare to ask what was going on in his head.

“Wow, that was…”

“Too much?”

“Deep, rather.”

You forced your lips into a smile, avoiding his clear eyes now that he had lifted his head and seemed to have organized his thoughts.

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-”

“No. No, it's okay. You needed to get that out. Mmm, how do you feel now?”

You hated the way he seemed to be testing the waters when it came to addressing you after everything you just said. Before he was always sure of what he was saying. What could have changed so quickly? Could it be that you were really wrong? No, that couldn't be.

“Pretty much the same.”

“Oh, I see. But do you think you can improve from now on?”

“Well, it's a problem of years. I doubt I can solve much with a little talk.”

“Ah, yes, of course, you're right.”

Bucky folded his hands together on the countertop, his gaze now avoiding yours and entering a tense silence.

“So…” Bucky spoke a couple of seconds later, “…at this point you feel like that? Like you developed one of those relationships with someone and now you want to run away?”

“Yes,” you answered almost instantly, because there was no reason really to hide it. You had already been crudely honest, so what was the point in continuing to lie?

“With whom?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Maybe we could find a solution.”

“I doubt it.”

You narrowed your eyes as Bucky pursed his lips. You'd been through too much throughout your life, and one thing you'd definitely learned was how to read people. With so many disappointments and betrayals, you had to learn to identify a person's true intentions, and nothing else screamed intentions more than body language. You could identify when someone was comfortable with you, when they trusted you, and also when they were uncomfortable with your presence.

“And I think you doubt it too,” you added, after a couple of seconds watching him.

“Why do you say that?”

“You don't need me to tell you who I was referring to. I think you already know.”

“What?”

“You can do with that information what you want. Time will give me the answer.”

“Y/N…”

You stood up and walked out of the kitchen as if you hadn't just opened your heart to that man, your brow raised and your breathing deep. It seemed that in the end you weren't close enough to know the truth, and you couldn't be close enough in the future either.

---

A week went by and time kept proving you right. Bucky took a mission the day after your talk and still hadn't returned. You had begun to worry, but you didn't dare ask anyone on the team. You couldn't afford to be so obvious at such critical times.

However, asking could give you the last piece of information you needed to make a decision.

Because you still had a little bit of hope. You still hoped that Bucky would appear through one of the doors of the Complex to tell you that he understood, that he appreciated your honesty, and that he could walk that long road with you. You still hoped you were wrong, because you couldn't have made such a big mistake again. You couldn't have opened the doors of your mind to someone who was going to leave you because it was too much.

But as the hours passed you only confirmed that you weren't good enough for someone to stay by your side. You just weren't enough, you weren't worth the effort. Not even for someone like Bucky, who was one of the kindest and most condescending person you had ever met.

So you'd read it all wrong, and even though you were honest, you couldn't even come up with an answer.

But you preferred to get the doubt out of your mind at once, even if it threw you overboard.

Wanda Maximoff was in the control room when you arrived. No one else was there.

“Hey.”

She flipped over the chair and returned your greeting with a small smile.

“What brings you here?”

“Do you know how Bucky's mission is going?”

“Bucky's?”

Wanda frowned and promptly moved across the room to one of the computers where she typed rapidly. You shifted your legs in anticipation, shifting your weight trying to cope with your nerves.

“Bucky is… on an indefinite.”

“Indefinite?”

“Yes, it says so plainly. It was with Sam and Natasha. We don't have a date yet.”

Wanda watched you over her shoulder, and your expression had to have told her something because she quickly got up from her chair with a frown.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes,” you replied automatically, regaining power over your emotions. You sent her a tight-lipped smile. “Thank you, Wanda.”

You barely and paced for a few seconds with bated breath when you heard her call out to you.

When your eyes met hers, you didn't like what you saw at all.

“You're leaving?”

“Stay out of my head.”

You turned around and ran to your room.

Of course you did. Of course you were going to leave. What the fuck did you expect from the talk with Bucky? That you could suddenly have a happy ending with a person who seemed to care about you? You should never have taken that job in the first place. You always knew it was a big risk, but Fury assured you that you could continue working on your own without getting too involved with others. The problem was when you thought you were past the feelings stage, that you could surround yourself with people without getting involved.

How fucking wrong you were.

You didn't take long to pack a suitcase. You didn't bother to write a letter of resignation either. Before you took the job, you told the Director that you were likely to one day just leave. That you would disappear. And he agreed to that. So you weren't going to bother with goodbyes, with absolutely nothing. You were going to carry that suitcase to a cab and leave without looking back. Because that was what you always did, for your sake, because it was the right thing to do, because you couldn't afford to take risks after so much suffering.

At that moment, as you packed the few things you had, you felt every memory of every abandonment and death come back to your head, filling you with fear and insecurity. Of sadness and anger. You didn't know how you had allowed yourself to go so far when you knew you shouldn't have, that this life was not for you, that these feelings were not meant for you to experience, that you didn't deserve to have a life like this. You allowed yourself to dream, but at the end of the day it was just that, a dream.

When you left the Complex, you took a cab directly to the airport. On the way, you were tempted too many times to ask the driver to turn back, thinking that maybe it was a hasty decision, that maybe you should wait for him to come back. But an indefinite mission could last weeks, even months, and you couldn't be on tenterhooks for so long only to get the same old answer at the end. You didn't want to risk it. The cost was too high.

It was better to root out those feelings while they were still fresh, and never allow them to grow again.

---

Bucky returned from his mission two weeks later and the first thing he did was run around looking for you in every corner of the Complex until he decided to go to your room. Seeing the empty closets made his heart sink.

“She's gone,” a female voice spoke behind him.

Wanda was leaning against the door frame.

“She thought you weren't coming back and left.”

“No…”

“I know it was wrong for me to snoop around in her head, but I had a feeling that would happen. I thought I could avoid it. But her thoughts were too ingrained. She was fighting uncontainable fear. Nothing I would have said would have convinced her to stay.”

Bucky turned to look at the empty closets, not a hint that you had ever been there. If it weren't for Wanda, the man would already be thinking you were just a figment of his imagination.

“Sorry, Bucky.”

“Fuck. Damn it!”

Sitting on what had been your bed, Bucky kept thinking that the worst thing he could have done was to take that mission in Steve's stead, thinking he'd get there soon, thinking that way he could get his head together before talking to you again. But things got complicated and what was a two-day mission turned into a three-week mission.

Maybe he should have sought you out before he left instead of letting his thoughts eat away at him. Maybe he should have insisted a little more, should have come a little closer...

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes angst #bucky fic #bucky x you #bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #avengers #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction

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slasherhoe87 · 11 months

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Happy Monday honey𓆩♡𓆪

I was wondering if you could write a drabble of Michael Myers where you're dating him and he doesn't know you're into men with balaclava's, until one day he's on your laptop for something and he comes across your tumblr page that is full of guys with balaclava's on and something crawls into his mind.

Maybe smut and Michael being dominate <3

Thank you angel🥰

No problem Megan ❤. Ok!... I'm doing this one before work because I feel so guilty about not getting around to writing any of my other requests yet 🙈🤦🏼‍♀️ (I will get to them, I promise!)

OG/RZ/Peepaw Michael Myers x f!reader

18+ for graphic smut, con noncon, implied violence

Michael indulges in his s/o's balaclava kink:

You had been enjoying a cup of spiced tea on your worn-in recliner, scrolling through Tumblr on your laptop, simping over art and fanfics of dangerous men in masks and balaclavas.

You had always had a kink for masked men but until now it had only been "standard" horror movie masks, such as Jason's, Ghostface's, Vincent's wax mask, Leatherface's and especially your Michael's expressionless alabaster mask. Only recently had you come to appreciate the simplicity of the humble balaclava - Ghost from Call of Duty was the catalyst of this new attraction and you jumped head first into the rabbit hole of art and fiction of morally grey or downright psychotic men with toned bodies, balaclava'd faces and piercing eyes that burned through you with carnal need right down to your core.

As you took another sip of your tea you felt a presence to your left. Turning your head in that direction you see Michael standing motionless as a statue at the base of the stairs just staring at you. Top half of his overalls off of his torso and tied around his waist, mask slightly askew.

Instead of shrieking and jumping like you used to when you were not so accustomed to his sudden, silent appearances you smiled and got up from your seat.

"Did you have a good sleep, baby?" You ask as you place one hand on his chest and the other on his strong shoulder.

You receive nothing in return except for his blank gaze upon you, those darkened eyeholes of his mask as eerie as ever.

Not detoured by his normal silence and seeming disinterest, you give him a peck on the cheek of his mask and head into the kitchen to make him some lunch from yesterday's leftovers.

You hear the tv switch on as you pull out the ingredients to make a sandwich with the leftover chicken. As you begin slicing the cucumber you pause for a second to see Michael watching true crime again. You always wonder what goes through his mind when he sees the crimes of other killers. Is he impressed, unimpressed, indifferent, intrigued? Does he learn anything? You guess you'll never know unless Michael just one day decides to break his self-imposed silence.

xxxxxxx

Later that night you're turning your little house upside down looking for your laptop. You were so sure you had left it on the coffee table in the living room but... you guess not? You didn't blame Michael as he had never shown interest in the laptop before, and its not like you could ask him now anyhow as he was out butchering people to death. Yes, you are aware at how desensitised you have become to murder and death. Loving Michael forced you to accept his lifestyle - fast.

Huffing in annoyance you stomp over to the door leading to the garage, knowing for a fact it won't be there but its the only place you haven't looked yet. You push open the door and flick on the light, ready to immediately switch it off again because you hadn't been in the garage all day.

However, when your eyes fell onto the workbench, there your laptop sat surrounded by empty candy wrappers.

"Michael... what the hell" you mumble to yourself in confusion. You can't say you were really mad at him for using the laptop because he was more than welcome to. But you were just confused as he had never shown interest in it nor did you think he knew how to use it.

Scooping up all the candy wrappers you chuck them into the trashcan beneath the workbench and try to start up the laptop. You were met with nothing but a black screen. "Damn. Battery's dead"

You looked at the wall clock and decided to just call it a night. No Netflix for y/n tonight - insert sad face.

Closing your laptop you make for the door when you hear glass smashing from what sounded like the kitchen area.

Heart jumping to your throat you quickly flick the light off and hide under the workbench while looking at the door which lead into the living room. Surely Michael wouldn't smash in the back door?! He had a key and had stopped breaking into the house since the two of you started a relationship. That was a whole year ago!

Before you could think anymore, a pair of legs slowly walked past the garage door and into the living room. You couldn't get the clearest view of the intruder as only a small lamp was on in the living room - the rest of the house was dark.

Your panicked mind only presented 3 options for you to take:

1. Get out of the house and run to the neighbors

2. Either stay where you were or get upstairs and hide while waiting for Michael to return.

3. Get to your cellphone upstairs and call the cops.

Well.. the house keys for the front door were upstairs too and you didn't want to run out of the back door as you were barefoot and there was no doubt glass everywhere. You wouldn't get very far at all with cut up feet before the intruder catches you.

And you didn't exactly want the cops anywhere near you and your home for Michael's sake. So that left option 2. You just had to get upstairs... lots of places to hide and wait for Michael. You also come to realise that you absolutely needed to get Michael a cellphone for emergencies like this. A simple text in this situation could save your life. Why didn't you think of that before, stupid!?

Mentally shaking yourself from your delaying thoughts, you take a deep breath as silently as you can and creep towards the door. You sit on your haunches for a moment, straining your ears to listen for any sign of the intruder when you hear some soft movements from the dining room. Perfect. If you move now you'll have a chance to get upstairs without being seen.

As silently and quickly as you can you scuttle to the - thankfully - carpeted stairs. Just as you're about to take the first step you hear a crashing sound coming from the garage which sounded very much like hard plastic hitting a concrete floor. Your laptop. You must not have put it far enough back onto the workbench when you rushed to switch off the light.

You know for your own sanity you shouldn't have, but you did - you looked back to the dining room entrance.

And there staring at you from in the dark, illuminated only by a bit of moonlight stood a tall figure in faded black overalls and a... balaclava??

Shrieking you turn back around and make for your bedroom - intending to lock the door and climb out of your window onto the veranda's roof and to make your escape.

Your hear his heavy footfalls behind you, closer than what you would like as you scramble to the top of the stairs. Fear and adrenaline coursing through your veins like a raging river.

Michael where are you? I need you! You internally shout as tears begin falling from your wide, frightened eyes.

As you reach the top of the stairs a large, warm, calloused hand grabs your ankle painfully and roughly causing you to yelp. You try to kick at the man with your other foot but he throws his entire weight onto your body causing the air to be knocked out of you.

You cough while hitting at his shoulders and head with all your might but it doesn't seem to affect him at all.

He grabs you by both your arms and hauls you up onto your feet before swiftly turning you around to be pulled flush against his solid frame. You kick and scream as he takes you towards the bedroom where your panic rises even more at the prospect of what he might actually have in store for you there.

"No please don't! Just take anything you want, please! But just don't hurt me"

You are met with silence as the two of you enter the bedroom. He pauses in front of the bed and the tears stream out of you even harder. Your sobs finally overtake your screaming.

Suddenly and without warning you're flung towards your floor length mirror with your potential assaulter and murderer firmly placing his body flush behind yours. His eyes boring into your own through the mirror.

And that's when you see it. The man had positioned himself in such a way that the moonlight pouring through your window would reflect onto his masked face.

Your sobs instantly quietened as you saw one stormy grey eye heatedly gazing at you through the balaclava opening and one... scarred milky one.

Michael?

"Michael?" You tentatively ask as you sniffle - your struggling subsiding.

He nuzzles your neck and cups your breast, giving it a firm squeeze. You know that hand. You know it well.

Before you can think further, you're picked up and flung onto your bed, the old mattress squeaking in protest at the sudden weight.

Your mind gets whiplash at how suddenly your body responds to this new information and turn of events.

Michael climbs on top of you, not sparing you from his full weight. He straddles your hips, his bloodied hands gripping your wrists tightly above your head. His head is tilted to the side, eyes dilated and dark.

Your breathing has quickened, your nipples pebble and the juncture of your thighs moisten.

A sudden slap to your face causes you to gasp in surprise and before you can think on what just happened your thin spaghetti-strap tank is being torn off of you and you're being flipped onto your stomach as if you weigh little more than a feather.

"Mich--" you start but are stopped from finishing your question when a piece of your torn tanktop is stuffed into your mouth.

Your teary eyes widen when you feel your poor pajama bottoms being ripped off of your goosebump laden body too but immediately close when you feel thick calloused fingers run up along your wet slit from clit to ass.

You moan into the fabric in your mouth as two of his fingers push past your folds and into your eager hole.

You can hear Michael's heavy breathing as he roughly pumps his digits in and out of your slick cavern before adding a third and eventually a fourth.

Your muffled moans get louder and louder as your body squirms beneath his invasive ministrations. You feel so deliciously stretched out by his four long, thick fingers that your eyes begin to tear up again.

Your loosened hole clenches at nothing as Michael pulls out. You turn your head as best you can to see him behind you and moan once more as you view his balaclava in the moonlight. He takes both his thumbs and stretches your abused hole open as much as he can, admiring your slick, velvety tunnel.

You grip the sheets in anticipation as he releases your flesh and reaches for the zipper of his coveralls pulling them down far enough to reveal his glistening, red, swollen, massive member.

You mewl at the sight and wiggle you bottom in eagerness and want.

Michael obliges by roughly pushing your head back down into the mattress and without any indication rams his heavy, weeping cock into your needy pussy.

You scream and grip your sheets harder as he sets a brutal and unforgiving pace - no slow buildup or sensuality for this one. You can scarcely take it. Tears stream down your cheeks, saliva pools into the fabric stuffed in your mouth and your ass and hips jiggle and ripple with every brutal thrust.

Michael's hand leaves your smushed head and grips your hips in bruising force.

Your room is dark and quiet save for the sound of slick skin slapping against slick skin, grunts of exertion and muffled mewls and moans.

Just when you think you can't take anymore, Michael goes deeper and harder, stretching you wider with his monstrous girth, the tip of his cockhead punching against your cervix in exquisite pleasure-pain.

Your cheeks are hot and red, tear stained. Drool has finally broken past the fabric in your mouth and is dripping onto your sheets. Slick is running down your thighs as your loosened hole just cannot contain your shared juices any longer.

Michael leans forward to squeeze your breasts before pinching your nipples so hard you feel your pussy release a new spurt of moisture.

You want to tell him you cannot take anymore. Your body is turning to jelly, the pleasure plain is becoming overwhelming - every nerve of yours is on electric fire and if you produce any more drool you'll surely choke on it.

Michael leaves your breasts and instead begins his cruel ministrations onto your swollen, throbbing clit.

You begin to feel the tightening in your core, your lower abdomen tenses and you can hear Michael fast approaching his own orgasm too if those quiet gasps and slight jerks in his thrusts are anything to go by.

And finally with one hard slap to your clit and one final deep, bruising thrust inside your wrecked cunt you scream out your orgasm into your tanktop. Your abused pussy quivers and clenches around Michael's pulsating cock as it spurts out its thick ropes of cum within you.

Michael's breaths are heavy and laboured behind you as he pulls out. You hear the sopping squelch and feel the gush of liquids flow out of your red, raw, gaping cunt which is trying in vain to clench and hold onto all the juices that now pouring onto your bedding.

Your jellified arm slowly pulls the now sopping fabric from your mouth before you look behind to Michael. His toned and scarred chest is heaving and glistening with sweat. His eyelids sit low from satisfaction and his fingers idly circle your hips where they lie.

"You saw my.... interests on Tumblr didn't you? That's why you did all this tonight, right?" You ask lazily as you roll onto your back and look up at your still masked lover.

Michael tilts his head and continues to stare at you in silence. He reaches for the base of the black mask and pulls it off of his head and shakes out his dark blond curls. He tosses the mask onto your chest and disappears out of the bedroom.

You shake your head and smile to yourself as you clutch the balaclava.

You will always love Michael best in his signature white mask, but a bit of fun in a balaclava from time to time will certainly be a treat.

Perhaps you can show him all of your other kinks now too, seeing as he seems happy to indulge you. And maybe he has some of his own?

You get up to go enjoy a nice hot shower. Sore and stiff, but very very happy.

@megangovier20 hope you enjoy it girl. 😈

Not proof read as I did this before work.

#michael myers #og michael myers #rz michael myers #peepaw michael myers #michael myers x reader #michael myers x you #michael myers x y/n #slasher smut #slasher #balaclava #halloween #halloween 1978 #halloween 2018 #rz halloween #slasher fucker

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