#the kind of sad things that would need a tw
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Kiss Me More
Hi guys :)
I had a request for the last chapter for the serie "Kiss Me", so here it is :)
I hope it will suits you, dear anon.
Enjoy ♥
TW : Mention of cheating
PART 1 | PART 2
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Being Katie McCabe’s girlfriend is something you were hoping to be for several weeks before it happens. You both needed a little of adjustment at first, Katie was sometimes a little bit reluctant to pass to much time with you. You were hurt at first, thinking that she finally wasn’t interested to the idea of making things with you. When she realized that she hurt you, you had an explanation, where she basically told you that she didn’t want things to go to fast. Because a part of her was always scared of something going wrong or something.
You were great now, she isn’t the most demonstrative person in the world, at least when you are not alone. You can live with that actually, both of you decided to hide your relationship to the public for now. Not all of your teammates know about your relationship, but the ones who are your friends know.
Katie makes a point to let you understand that she is in charge in this relationship, but as bossy as she wants to be, you can only see how much she looks for you. When you are not coming to work together, she always waits for you in the locker room to have her kiss before going to training. When you are eating with other of your teammates at the training facilities, she always sneaks her chocolate to you. And you can say that she remembers everything you tell her.
Your favorite chocolate, your favorite flower, your favorite color, the name of the cat you had when you were a kid, where you like to go for a walk, your favorite TV show… She knows everything and she is always proud about it.
That’s the kind of things that makes you realize that she really cares about you.
********
“Do you really need to go?” you ask in a pouting tone, wrapped around your girlfriend.
Katie needs to go, you know that. She has to go to Ireland for the national break. You stay in London yourself, your ankle being a little sore and Australia only playing friendly, both of your teams decide to let you rest. You’re a little sad not to go have fun with Caitlin, Steph and Kyra, but you will next time.
“Yes, I have to. But I still could take you in my pocket” she smirks.
“I think I’d like that” you smile back.
Katie laughs and you cuddle even more against her, trying to get as much from your girlfriend as possible. It’s only two weeks, but you don’t like when she’s not around. She seems a little less needy than you are, but she never said anything about your behavior with her. Katie being very honest, you know that she would have said something if she didn’t like something you do.
You feel her shiver when you take a big breath in her neck and you smile, letting your finger run on the skin of her abs. But she knows what you’re doing, because several seconds after, she takes your hand in hers.
“We don’t have time for that, my pretty lady.”
“Can’t make it quick?” you tease.
“Not with you.”
She kisses you and you let her, distractedly asking yourself if it’s a compliment or not. But you soon come back to reality, Katie will leave in some minutes now. You’re at her house, you’ve got her cat’s supervision while she’s away. Ella, her sister, has too but she will rejoin her for the game in Ireland in some days.
You will not, because it would be too risky to do it. People would easily understand what’s happening if you go to the game. And with the social media, it would be impossible to hide. You know it. You’re still a little sad, but you don’t say anything to Katie about it.
She seems a little sad when she says goodbye to you at her door. The way she puts your hair behind your ear before kissing you softly say it all. You don’t need Katie to words what she’s feeling because you can feel it too.
“Write me?” you ask when she takes you against her one more time.
“Course. You too, ok?”
You nod, not trusting your voice at this moment. You hide your face on her neck one last time, breathing her sent. But you know you have to let her go; her Uber won’t wait for her forever.
After a last-minute recommendation about Coopurr, she kisses you a last time before running to the car with her suitcase. You can’t help but smile, waving back at her when she does from the back seat.
********
Katie lost her first game against France and in your opinion, it wasn’t really deserved. Maybe you are biased, but Katie would have deserved to score the goal at the 86th minute. She’s still fuming about her teammates fail and you try to distract her while showing her cat.
It’s seems to work, Coopurr’s purring making her smile. Ella left this morning, and you feel a little lonely here. Thanks god, Lia is in London too and you have someone you like to pass time with you. She is dog-sitting one of the dogs of your teammates and you wonder how it would look like when some of them would have children too.
You were actually walking Calvin with Lia, when you receive a message from one of your friends. You don’t really like when someone send you a “Have you seen that?!” with an article. You were not walking fast because of Lia’s leg, so you don’t have to slow to read it. Maybe sitting on a bench would have been a clever idea though.
You are currently reading an article of a girl, explaining how she slept with Katie McCabe. Your girlfriend. You know that Katie had some hookup before things are getting different between you, but the timing isn’t good. Katie and you are together for four months now. And this girl is literally talking about last week, exactly the day when Katie and her teammates went to a bar to decompress from the training. When you said to Katie that you find it strange, she laughs and answered “Meh we are Irish. Beer is in our DNA.” Which made you laugh at the time, but you are far from laughing right now.
“What’s going on?”
You realize that Lia called your name almost two times before you raise your face to look at her. Not being able to talk, you just give her your phone. You watch closely at her face when she reads it, and you see her passing from questioning to shock. She looks at you straight in the eyes when she gives you your phone back.
“Do you think that’s true?”
There is a lump in your throat that keeps you from talking right. You try to swallow it before talking.
“There are a lot of details.”
Lia nods. There are a lot of details. About Katie and her flat in Dublin, the same one where Ella was living before coming to London too.
“Come on, let’s go home. You need to call Katie.”
********
You did not call Katie, but you didn’t answer her messages or her call either. You know it’s stupid and maybe a little immature. But you cannot face it now. The betrayal is too hard to support, and you cried so much that you are not sure that your eyes will be white again one day.
You still take care of Coopurr though, the cat not leaving your side when you are at Katie’s house. You know she can see you coming if she wants, she installed security cameras outside and inside the house. Other than that, you just go to your flat to sleep the most that you can. You do not want to face this, maybe if you keep hiding the pain will fade away.
It doesn’t. You are startled awake two days after, with loud banging against your door. You hesitate to go answering, but you are clearly in fear that the person will break your door if you don’t get up.
So, you do, trying to arrange your hair in a messy bun. You are wearing Katie’s Irish away jumper and a pair of black Nike shorts. You’re pathetic. But Lia seems to be more relieved than judgy about your appearance when she sees you. She has her phone in her hand, but the relieved soon let place to a frown.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“Sleeping?”
She grunts and close the door behind her when she comes in your flat. Thanks god you cleaned last night, tired to be in a messy place.
“Why aren’t you answering to Katie?”
“I can’t” you whisper, following her in the living room.
Lia turns around to look at you and her face softens when she sees you. She hesitates several seconds, before handing you her phone.
“Well, do it now.”
You look at the screen to realize that she was already calling someone for almost 45 minutes already. It’s Katie. Lia encourages you to take it with another nod of her head. You sigh and take it, letting yourself fall in the couch behind you.
“Hello?” you mumble.
“Bloody hell, where were you?!”
You wince at Katie’s tone, Lia taping your shoulder in an attempt of recomfort before leaving for the kitchen. You appreciate the intimacy she offers you, but you would have preferred to have her with you to be honest.
“Why aren’t you answering to any of my text or call? What happened?”
Katie seems on verge of breaking down and that’s maybe what made you snap. You don’t shout with Katie; you know that it doesn’t make any sense to do it with her. She’s loud, but you were always able to talk about things without shouting.
“I don’t know, you tell me?” you say icily.
“I don’t understand.”
You can easily imagine her with her eyebrows frown. You sigh before rolling your eyes. If she wants proof, you’re going to give some to her.
“I’ll send you something. After that, if you have something more to tell me, call me back.”
You don’t wait for her answer before hanging up. You take your phone, looking for the article your friend sent you. You didn’t answer to him, but right now, it doesn’t matter. You sent the link to Katie, before going to the kitchen to give Lia her phone back.
“Do you want me to stay, or can I leave?” the Swiss captain asks.
“You can go, Wally. Thanks for coming.”
“Anytime. Call me, ok?”
You smile slightly and nod, letting her kiss your cheek before she leaves. You just have closed the door behind her when your phone start ringing. It’s Katie, requiring a FaceTime. You answer and Katie’s face is almost white when you see her.
“This is bullshit. I never did that, I swear.”
You sigh, rubbing your forehead. You are honestly so tired, the amount of sleep you had those past hours are not very good. And sad, of course.
“I don’t know, Katie” you whisper.
“No, it’s the truth! You have to believe me, baby please.”
“How can she know all of these things, Kat?” you say wearily. “She even knows that you have a birthmark on your tummy, or how your kitchen is decorated.”
“Ella always made TikTok in that flat before she comes to London! And for my birthmark, it probably visible on some pictures. You know that I give my jersey to kids sometimes after the game. People take me on picture every time.”
You let several seconds passed, trying to listen to her. The last part is true, you saw thousand pictures of your girlfriend in sport bra on the football fields. For the second part you don’t see her making things like this, particularly with the fact that you just have to go on TikTok to see if it’s the truth or not.
“Come on Babe, why in the world would I ask you out if it’s just for sleeping around soon after?”
“I don’t know.”
You are desperate. You want to believe her, of course you do. You know she has sometimes trouble with talking about her feelings, but you never thought about her cheating on you. She’s one of the most loyal persons you know.
“You know what? I’m taking a plane right now.”
“What?”
Katie is suddenly moving, and the noise of a suitcase that is open is audible from the phone.
“No Katie, you can’t do that. You have training tomorrow and a game in two days against England.”
“I don’t give a damn fuck.”
You almost roll your eyes.
“Katie, stop.”
She listens and look at you, her face dark and her eyebrow frown. She looks determined but she still stopped when you asked her.
“You can’t do that” you repeat.
“Well come to Ireland. I’ll sent you the ticket for the plane.”
“Katie…”
“Stop calling me that!” she shouts.
“Calling you what?” you ask, frowning.
“Katie.”
She says it like it’s a bad world or something and this time you can’t help but roll your eyes at her.
“It’s your name?” you point.
“You stopped calling me that after we start dating. Stop calling me Katie and come to Dublin. Please.”
********
That’s how you find yourself in a plane for Dublin, reserved by Katie who put you in first class. You roll your eyes when you realize it and sent her a picture of you in your seat when you are in the plane. Since your call, Katie almost never stops calling or texting you. You don’t understand how she managed to get the time to go to training, but she does. And the pictures of her on Instagram can say you that it’s the truth.
She warned you that she won’t be able to come to pick you at the airport, but you are surprised to see a man with your name on a paper waiting for you. He smiles at you, informing you that Katie sent him to drive you to her hotel.
He talks to you about Dublin and some places during the journey to the hotel, while you are looking by the window. You never went to Ireland before, only for football. Maybe Katie will show you around if you manage to forget your fight. And you definitively need to change the idea you made in your head that Katie really cheated on you.
You know that some of your friends saw the article too, but no one talked about it to you. Maybe because you were ignoring everyone, true.
When you arrive, you hide behind your hood because you don’t want anyone to recognize you for now. You’re really fearing to find yourself facing Ruesha, for example. Katie told you her room number and your hands are shaking when you knock on the door of her hotel room.
It took her several seconds to respond, but she finally opens the door. She looks tired honestly, but she’s at camp so it’s maybe not surprising. She froze a little when she sees you, like if she doesn’t believe that you will actually come. You’re the one breaking the silence, rather awkwardly to be honest.
“Hi” you whisper, waving your hand.
Thanks god, Katie doesn’t seem to mind. She doesn’t laugh, taking you against her. Hard.
“You’re here” she whispers while holding you.
You nod, finding solace in her embrace. You missed her, obviously. It would have felt better to find her without all this drama though. She lets you go only several minutes after, not only releasing you totally. She looks at you and you look back, both of you not knowing where to start.
“I’m sorry for the article” Katie finally says after some time.
You shrug, not knowing what you could answer to that. She doesn’t ask for it, cheating or not cheating.
“Do you believe me now?”
You know that the answer to the question is important for her. Like you said, Katie’s loyal. And it’s one of the things who are the most important for her. You know it, you know Katie.
“I think I do” you finally say very slowly.
You see that Katie is looking at your face and your eyes with attention, maybe looking for any trace of doubt from your part. You believe her, that doesn’t mean that the article was forgotten. The way you felt when you first read it is still very perennial in you.
“Yeah?” she asks softly.
You nod, smiling very lightly when she strokes your cheek. She gives you the impression that you are made of glass, and you don’t know if she ever been so delicate with you.
“Come sit down.”
She takes you by the hand and you let her drag you in her bed. You sit here, next to her, with your back against the headboard. Katie sits in front of you, playing with her thumb and her nails.
“I’m going to talk, but if you have something to say please feel free to stop me, ok?” Katie asks.
You nod, looking at her. You are curious to know what she might want to tell you. Does she even know that girl? Or did that girl create all this story?
“I know that I’m maybe not the perfect girlfriend and I know that our relationship didn’t really start like it was supposed to. I’ll always had a thing for you, but I was scared, I was an asshole, and it was honestly easier for me to just sleep with you and try to pass to something else. That’s what I tried to do, but it didn’t work. I was still thinking about you, even more than before.”
Katie stops to take a breath and you are still looking at her, not saying a word for now. You don’t know if Katie thought about what to say to you, but for now you understand what she’s saying.
“I never slept with someone else since our first time, I couldn’t even if I tried and that scared the shit out of me. It was so hard to deal with the breakup with Ruesha, not because I was still in love with her, but because it was so shit, you know? I really don’t want to have to deal with that once again.”
You nod slowly, still not talking. This point makes you a little uneasy to be honest. You knew that Katie’s ex will be here to the camp. And you don’t know how the hell are all the people doing, because it was hard for you to be ok with the fact that Ruesha was seeing Katie every day and not you.
“But then there was this damn girl hitting on you right in front of me and I couldn’t support it. I was only thinking that you were mine, but you weren’t. And at that point I didn’t know if you wanted to be mine or if my behavior ruined everything we could have. But you give me a chance, and I’ll be forever grateful for it. That’s why I will never do anything and take the risk to lose you, Y/N. I really care for you and you mean more to me than you think.”
Katie never talked to you about her feelings the way she is doing now. You are touched, of course. You were in love with her before you slept together for the first time, not thinking a second that she might be interested in you too. She seems so vulnerable now, her voice shaking a little at the end. Maybe it’s the emotions, maybe it’s because how much she talked. Maybe both.
You softly take her hand in yours, interlocking your fingers together.
“I really care about you too. That’s why this… things was so hard to read. I don’t understand why someone would invented something like that.”
“I dunno. For celebrity maybe”
Katie shrugs, not really having interest in that for now. All that mattered to her right now is being sure that you trust her. That you believe her and she didn’t lose you.
“Are we good?” she asks, searching for your eyes.
“You promise that nothing happened?”
“I swear on Coopurr’s head, babygirl.”
“Ok” you laugh, rolling your eyes.
You can’t hide the fact that this is the first time that you laugh since you red this article on the park with Lia.
“Hug?”
Katie opens her arms with a slight smile and you don’t hesitate once second before going for her. Your movement make you both fall in the bed and you smile when you hear Katie’s laugh. You missed it. You missed her.
“God I missed you” Katie mumbles from under you, reading in your mind.
“I missed you too” you say honestly, letting your head rest against her shoulder.
She just hums, stroking your back softly while steering at the ceiling. You feel yourself dozen, you haven’t really had a good sleep those last days. But soon there is knock against Katie’s door and you jump.
“McCabe, diner!”
Katie sighs softly and release you to sit on the bed.
“Is it now that I leave?” you asks, not able to hide your disappointment.
“If you want to. Otherwise, you can wait for me here, I’ll sneak something for you to eat and we can sleep together. Tomorrow morning I’ll make my sister come to get you and you can come to the game?”
“Won’t people ask what the hell I am doing here?” you arch an eyebrow.
“That’s not their business. Unless it disturbs you.”
“It doesn’t”
“So it’s settled then” Katie shrugs, getting up from the bed.
She kisses you one more time before leaving and you decide to take the time to shower. You fall asleep while waiting for her, only taking the time to eat the sandwich and snacks she takes with her in the room before falling asleep again. You slept better in her arms than you did since like forever.
And the next day, when Ella came to take you to Katie’s flat at Dublin, you are feeling good again. Katie didn’t cheat on you.
Ireland didn’t win against England, but you are prouder than ever of your girlfriend. You decide to wear Katie’s jersey and to watch the game with her family in the stadium. Your presence didn’t went unnoticed, but like Katie said, you both didn’t care. To be honest, you even have fun to post what fans like to call soft launch.
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Okay listen. Listen okay. Dumbledore’s moral failings are a result of poor writing.
Like jkr goes out of her way to describes Albus Dumbledore as this paragon of virtue who’s constantly trying to do the right thing and he’s practically omniscient and one of the only reasonable people in the entire wizarding world
And then she turns around and goes “but he didn’t check on the boy he left in the care of a Muggle he had been warned was going to mistreat him by someone he’s known for years” and he didn’t check for eleven years.
And then after that when Harry’s envelope literally said cupboard under the stairs nobody checked on that?? And hey hey McGonagall was the only one who’d see that letter actually she was the one who signed it so that’s poor writing on her character too
But this is about Dumbledore not her
And then nobody double checked on Sirius Black and whatnot including Dumbledore (and that’s not just Albus?? Like Remus didn’t, nobody else who knew Sirius didn’t) which is frankly ridiculous because he had friends and what can be assumed was an active social life given he was friends with James Potter who everybody falls over themselves to sing the praises of at every opportunity
This is, I think, an issue with writing an overpowered character in general. You describe them as virtually all-knowing, but then don’t come up with reasonable explanations for why they wouldn’t know certain things that need to be unknown for the plot to progress. You give them awesome powers, and then struggle thinking of ways for them to be thwarted.
When this isn’t done correctly, the only possible explanation for the fans is to make the op character in question an asshole. They didn’t care enough to check that a child was safe or they didn’t feel like vouching for the safety of someone else so they just didn’t or they allowed people to become collateral damage even though it would’ve been a perfectly viable solution to let things play out another way.
It’s so annoying to me that people do this but it’s also perfectly understandable because in reality the character is fundamentally contradictory; there’s no real way to reconcile the ideas that “Dumbledore is intelligent and wise” and “Dumbledore didn’t bother checking on an infant who actively had terrorists gunning for him for over a decade.” Those two things just can’t coexist without some serious bending over to make them make sense.
But they have to for the story to make internal sense, because it is a bad story. It’s just bad writing, there’s no way around it. And that’s a really difficult thing to swallow, even after coming to terms with jkr’s bigotry. Because even when she was just transphobic and racist and just kind of a bigot in general I could still say “well, the story was good, but it sucks she turned out so bad.” But I really can’t say that anymore. And that hurts so, so bad.
#tw: jkr#dumbledore#albus dumbledore#fuck jkr#the things I love about Harry Potter come from the fandom#I love the fics I read about it and I love the community it makes me a part of#Harry Potter had a fundamentally good base#but even those parts are iffy#like Merlin supposedly going to Hogwarts? he would have lived 500 years before Hogwarts was supposedly founded#house elves? need I say more#witches and wizards are not gendered terms#whenever I think about this in any kind of depth I always come back to this one tumblr post that describes it as#similar to coming out of a fae spell#like you suddenly come to all these realizations like you were incapable of seeing them before#ugh this was just meant to be another Dumbledore apologist post but now I’m sad#:(#harry potter
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I had an alastor ask you can ignore this but what about an alastor x wife!reader where one day one of the readers old friends from their living days manifest in hell it can be angsty or fluffy but I just really wanna see how you think alastor would react to suddenly remembering that the reader had a whole different life before hell and before him
You're an amazing write and I wanna see your take on this, if not thats ok too !! Have a lovely day 🩷
Ooh this is just juicy-
Alastor X Reader Headcanons
✅️Romantic
❌️Platonic
TW: Alastor being sad, Alastor being jealous
Description: 👆⬆️
Look, Alastor is a smart man who knows you had a life before you met him, before you died
He knows this, he also had a life before you
A rather violent one towards the end there, but still...
But when one of your friends from when you were alive suddenly runs into you???? It suddenly feels like that previous life is coming to slap him in the face
"Y/N? Is that you?"
The way your face lights up with familiarity and you two rush to hug each other, obviously close
It makes him...feel something bad...
The conversation with your friend starts out simple and innocent enough, the two of you catching up with each other
You introduce your husband and Alastor can tell that your friend is surprised, probably not expecting you to be shacked up with the radio demon himself
He preens with your introduction, ready to hear your friend either gush about your amazing husband or shrink away in fear of him
Or at least that's what Alastor assumes the shocked look means
But then your friend mentions something about an old flame of yours and Alastor just kinda??? Gets a white hot flash of anxiety??
You get visibly upset at the mention of them, mumbling something to your friend that Alastor can't hear because he's not listening
You're scolding your friend for bringing up someone you hardly even thought about anymore, someone so unimportant in comparison to your husband
You had someone before him?? Someone you loved and cared about before you died and became stuck in hell?
Would you still go to them now if you had the choice? No, you wouldn't, he's one of the strongest demons in hell. Why would you leave him?
Because you loved people for more than that...
Then your friend is talking to him about your life when you were alive, telling him every stupid, funny, kind thing you did
Everything you enjoyed without him in your life
He's stuck in his own head and hurting his own feelings, the smile on his face painfully tight
"Alastor? Darling?"
Your concerned voice and gentle squeeze on his arm brings him back to reality, your friend having already left without his realizing
"Are you alright? You got quiet on me and that's not like you..."
And he's back to being his charming self, squashing down his ugly emotions
"My apologies my dear~! I just suddenly remembered I must meet Rosie today!"
He's gone before you can even question it, leaving you with a sinking feeling in your gut
The next few days after that Alastor is distant from you even though he's trying to play it off as being busy
Everyone at the hotel can see it and think that you two must be having a fight
You have to reassure them that no, mommy and daddy aren't fighting
He's been off ever since you ran into your friend and they brought up-
...your past...
Oh that stupid man of yours
It takes a lot of work to corner Alastor, he's stupidly clever and always has an excuse to avoid you
You however, did NOT become his wife by giving up easily
One time, he even straight up turned around and ran from you
And you almost fucking caught him if he hadn't cheated and melted away into the shadows
But you manage to catch him in his radio tower, using all your demonic power to sneak up on him
He jumps at the feeling of your arms draping around his neck from behind, feeling your lips on his temple
He's missed being so close to you, he really has
"We need to talk, darling one..."
This is exactly what he's been avoiding though, trying to get his uncomfortable feelings to go away so things can go back to normal between you two
"What is there to talk about, my dear~?"
He's pulling you into his lap, uncharacteristically enthusiastic about giving you affection all of a sudden, kissing up your neck and rubbing your thighs
You know he's trying to seduce you to get out of having to talk about his feelings so you stop him, placing a firm hand on his chest
"You've been avoiding me ever since we ran into my friend."
He visibly cringes at being so obviously caught, his smile strained, sharp teeth clenched tight
"I've simply been busy, I'm sorry if I've been neglecting my little wife..."
He's going in for another kiss, but you pull away with reluctance, you're attracted to your husband after all
You pull on his cheek and sigh, hugging his neck as you lean back to look at him
"Alastor, you know I hate it when you lie to me..."
Now he feels bad, he hates disappointing his wife like this...
"I suppose I have been a bit out of sorts..."
So he does his best to explain to you his uncertainty in your life, wondering if you've simply settled for him because you died
If you would choose your old life over him if ever given the chance, or leave him for a chance at heaven with people from your old life
He won't look at you the entire time he says this, leaning into you and hiding his face in your neck
Just run your fingers through his hair, maybe rub his ears a little, and listen to him vent
He doesn't like being open and vulnerable
"Oh darling, I didn't even know what love really was until I met you. Being here in hell with you has been more fulfilling than any life I had before..."
Not him making a little deer bleat before growling out of embarrassment, clutching you a little tighter
"You wouldn't-"
"Alastor, if anybody even tries to make me leave you, I'll kill them myself."
That makes him chuckle, leaning back to finally look at you
"Oh, you twisted wonderful wife~"
He's literally immediately back to himself after that, almost as though none of it ever happened
You're always surprised by how quickly your husband recovers
Maybe it's just because he trusts you so much, your words alone were enough to reassure him of his place in your world
You meant every word
When your friend comes back to visit you, Alastor actually engages with them this time
He wants to know more about who you used to be now that his confidence in his marriage has been restored
The dude is literally walking around like he got laid for the first time
Angel...shut up...
Holds you close to him the entire time, relaxed as he listens to you and your friend go on about old times
"Wait...you jumped out of a third story window? While being chased by a man with one leg?"
"And LIVED!"
SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG TO GET TO I HOPE YOU LIKE IT
#hazbin hotel x reader#alastor hazbin hotel x reader#alastor hazbin x reader#alastor x reader#hazbin x reader
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Forget Me Not | 4
You confuse healing with hurting others; Azriel's ready to let you hurt him anyway.
WC: 3.5k
Warnings: TW: SA!!! Please do not read if this is triggering for you. Angst, feelings, my poor boy Azriel is sad.
a/n: I'm so thankful for all the support and kind comments for this story! There will still be at least 2 more parts. Sorry for this one being a bit shorter.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5
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Azriel hadn't interacted with you much since lending you his dagger.
He was always there, sure, but he seemed to be letting you lead wherever your friendship would go. He did not try to force you into speaking with him or being around him, but you did notice his nervous energy when you were around.
When you'd pass him in the House of Wind, run into one another in the library, or sit across from each other at dinner, you couldn't help but study how he'd changed. While he had been quiet before, he had always held a certain peaceful arrogance about him. Now, his silence seemed more insecure and anxious, as if he was not quite sure of himself in his own place of residence.
You hadn't had anyone stay the night with you since that night with Azriel either.
You noticed that he kept his bedroom light on every night, though. You weren't sure if he did this to pretend he was still awake, so you'd be less embarrassed if you needed to wake him, or if he did this to reassure you someone was aware and ready in the house during a time of the night you felt more vulnerable. Either way, you tried not to let it effect you too much.
Some nights when noticing the change between Azriel and yourself got too much, you would cry until your eyes became swollen and burned with exhaustion, finally allowing you to fall asleep. Other nights, every noise in the house caused your anxiety to skyrocket, and you found yourself heading to the library to read as a distraction, knowing you would have to try to rest the following night instead.
Nightmares came every now and then. You had mentioned this to Rhys, assuming that he might have experienced something similar with how much he had gone through, and he suggested a sleeping tonic from Madja. You took it nightly, and it seemed to help the majority of the time.
It had been two months since that night, and while your progress was no where near finished, and your trauma would forever be a part of you, you felt less fragile than you did in those previous weeks. You had started showing up to group events again with the whole inner circle, laughing had become more of a consistent part of your days with the help of Cassian and Mor, and the House had even helped prepare food you could keep down until your appetite was back to normal.
The only thing that didn't seem to be getting any better was your relationship with Azriel.
He tried to help in his own way. He left books out in inconspicuous locations that he thought you would like. There would be a box of your favorite pastries on the kitchen counter in the morning, as if anyone else in the household liked their tart flavor. Sometimes you would even notice shadows slinking into your room at night, tugging at the window locks and blinds to ensure everything was secure.
And you knew he wasn’t trying to be noticeable with these things. In fact, it seemed like he was doing everything in his power to not draw attention to himself. He would instead scan through the pages of the books to see if you had made any notes, check the pastry boxes to make sure you had eaten something, or have his shadows close the window when the cold air was beginning to wake you up.
The fact that it all helped only made you angrier.
The inner circle noticed your frustration around the shadowsinger as well, especially during Winter Solstice celebrations.
You had felt good enough to join the rest of the group at the River House, but it was obvious enough how tense things were between you and Azriel:
Friends exchanged gifts, hugs, and laughter, but Azriel kept to himself the entirety of the night, only occasionally sending one of his family members a small smile or taking a sip of his drink.
He had gotten everyone very thoughtful gifts, and he seemed genuinely touched at the presents he received in return. You tried not to flinch at the gardening book he had gotten Elain or the decorated sheath she had gotten him for one of his daggers.
Azriel and Elain didn't speak much that night though, as much as you tried not to notice. You really did try not to notice Azriel so much, but it was as if your gaze was being pulled to him by some unknown force, demanding that you acknowledge that he was here, close to your side, his attention all on you.
And you felt that attention more than ever when Feyre handed you a box wrapped in midnight blue, the wrapping paper glinting from where you sat by the fire.
Swallowing, you refused to look up at Azriel, knowing it would only make the feeling in your stomach worse.
You heard Rhys making conversation in the background, trying to ease the tension and take some attention away from yours and Azriel's exchange.
The shadowsinger also tried to give you privacy, chiming in here and there to add to Rhys’ conversation, but you still felt his eyes keep moving to you.
Fingers fumbled with unwrapping and pulling apart the box before finally revealing what lay beneath.
Underneath a layer of tissue paper sat a delicate piece of glass about the size of a piece of paper. It was transparent, but somehow held some light and color at certain angles, adding a sort of whimsical iridescence to it. It was stunning, and your careful fingers felt unworthy of holding such an awe-inspiring thing. Your only problem was you had no idea what it actually was.
Azriel cleared his throat, and you couldn't stop your eyes from floating to his.
"It's a translator." He fidgeted from the chair he sat in. "From the Day Court. If you place it on a page of writing, it will translate the text to whatever language you request. I thought you might want to expand some of the books you have access to."
Your heart pounded in your chest. He knew you loved reading. He knew you loved studying. He knew you and had gotten you a gift that made you so excited you had to actively scold yourself to loosen your grip on the glass.
His hazel eyes were filled with so much emotion as he tried to gauge your reaction, you felt something physically crack in your chest.
You tried to will your tears down.
"Thank you," you whispered, unable to make your voice louder. Azriel accepted it all the same, giving you a small nod before clasping his hands together and averting his gaze back to Rhys.
You hadn't gotten anything for Azriel.
You didn't have much to give him anymore. He knew that, despite the sadness that surrounded him that night.
Maybe it was because you would have gotten him a solstice gift before. Not only would you have picked something out months in advance, you would have teased him about it, gone giddy with excitement over the surprise.
After what happened, there hadn’t been a gift in that pile addressed to him from you, and it only served to show the damage that had been done to your friendship.
You tried not to let what he had done damage you further, continuing to build up your walls both physically and emotionally.
Cassian’s training was great for the body and mind, and you put all of your focus into that.
Training had allowed for you to channel some of the agony harbored in your chest into exercise. Every night around 9pm you would meet the general up in the training ring, going over anything from conditioning and weight lifting to actual battle tactics like sword training and hand-to-hand combat.
You knew that Azriel normally came up to train late at night, but it seemed like he pushed his time later in order to give Cassian and you some privacy. You tried not to think about how little of sleep he must be getting if he wasn't coming up to train until midnight. It wasn't your problem.
At first, you were scared both intrusive thoughts and your body's memory would hinder your sessions. You had been hesitant and nervous, but Cassian had quickly made you feel at ease. You knew he had trained Gwyn, and Cassian was a trusted friend, so you shouldn't have been surprised when the sessions went swimmingly.
Cassian was such a steady presence, someone you knew you could always rely on. He made sure to check in on you every night, casually asking questions that seemed nonchalant enough to not be overbearing or annoying while still showing he cared. That didn't stop him from overstepping at times though.
Hours ago, Cassian had been sparring with you in the training ring, his steps circling your own and hands raised ready to strike. You had followed his movements, trying to remember everything you had been taught while silencing outside noises.
You weren't sure if he had said it to get under your skin, to win the upper hand, or if it was something he had actually been pondering for a while.
When you had taken a step as if to attack, Cassian had eyed the dagger in your hand — Azriel’s dagger —and had bluntly asked, "Do you think you'll ever forgive him?"
You had nearly stumbled in your stance.
The inner circle had been very careful to tiptoe around you and Azriel. They didn't ask about your relationship or where you stood, never tried to force interactions or situations upon the two of you, and you had gotten used to the peace of their feigned ignorance.
You had to shake off the shock of his question before it festered in your chest.
"What?" You had decided to ask instead, buying yourself some time to think.
You didn't know what you were doing with your body anymore, if you were still on physically guard, fighting, or if all of your energy was being put toward guarding your emotions.
"I'm not saying you should," Cassian had quickly amended. "But I am wondering where your head is at."
Only staring at him, your eyebrow arched in challenge. "Should it be somewhere specific?"
Cassian's sigh had been near silent in the large room, and the large warrior seemed to deflate at your answer. "No. Of course not."
"Good," you had only replied, voice hard and final. "Then let's keep going."
Cassian had gone right back to his teasing, difficult self, but he left not too long after that sparring round ended.
That had been hours ago, but you were still there, knives and daggers lined up, throwing them at the boards across from you. Each throw had you huffing, and with your strength depleting, your aim became further and further off through the night.
Your arms were sore and numb, both from throwing the weapons and from sparring with Cassian earlier. But it felt good, knowing your muscles were being used, knowing you were growing stronger, more powerful and less vulnerable.
Sleep should have found you about an hour ago, but you knew you wouldn't be able to get any tonight. Cassian's words flowed nonstop through your head: Do you think you'll ever forgive him?
I don't know Cassian, do you think he'll ever stop being such a fuck-up?
The question made you angry, because this situation was never about him, and you didn't owe Azriel anything.
You knew Azriel was Cassian's brother. You knew everyone wanted your family to be whole again, to stop seeing each other hurting. But you were angry at the expectations placed on you by your friends to offer forgiveness, you were angry at Azriel for being too late in every area of your life, and you were angry at yourself for missing him.
Gods, you wanted to scream, to thrash, to hit yourself until you could force yourself into just minutes of peaceful rest.
Do you think you'll ever forgive him?
Do you think he deserves forgiveness?
You paused, breathing heavily as you thought over your own words and reaction. You knew he was trying, but you also knew some things didn't change. And some people weren't worth getting hurt over again.
Before you could pull the dagger in your hand back and launch it forward toward the wooden board, you noticed the shift in the air.
Shadows danced along the floors, curling and floating around training equipment.
You knew Azriel moved back the time he would come up here to train independently so that you and Cassian could have privacy. You knew that you were technically the one infringing on his claimed time and peace now. That didn't stop the wave of frustration that rolled over you, though.
Azriel's presence mimicked that same wave shoving you under. You were sick of it. Sick of feeling like you couldn't breathe, like you couldn't fight back, like every single inch of your body wouldn't listen to you anymore. You were sick and tired of feeling worthless, like you would never be loved, like you would never be someone's priority. And you were so fucking tired of being sad.
Fire burned within your veins, but it wasn't because of shame or hurt. You were angry again. You had deserved better, and you had gotten left in the dust like a piece of trash. And he thought a pretty present could fix things? Could fix you?
As if the iridescent glass sheet could blur the memory of the male's tongue on your neck, the feeling of his fingers touching where they shouldn't, translating the history written on your body into something more pleasant, more beautiful, like a tale of a hero rescuing the dame and whisking her off to safety.
Before you knew what you were doing, you took the dagger Azriel had lent you and turned with a speed and strength you had never aimed at another person, heaving out a noise of frustration and sending the weapon flying toward Azriel's form just inside the doorway.
You saw red. The red of the male's blood in the alleywall, the red of your own blood, the red of Azriel's blood now beading along his bicep, the red of pure unfiltered rage.
"You are a piece of shit, Azriel. A fucking selfish, cruel, shallow bastard. Do you know that?"
Your chest heaved as you tried to control yourself, your fingers already itching for another weapon. It wasn't enough to see you had nicked his skin. You wanted him to fight back, you wanted to hurt him as badly as he had hurt you.
"Is that why you go after damaged females? In an attempt to find something redeemable about yourself? To act like the hero, like some sort of protector?"
He flinched at the words but otherwise remained unmoving. You hated him for it.
"You're no hero. You're a joke."
You watched as the blow landed, and a wave of adrenaline rushed over you. You deserved this. You had been bleeding for months, crawling up the well of your depression until your fingertips were raw and worn, and these attacks against him felt like a hand reaching down from the heavens, like an extra surge of energy to keep yourself going. You didn't want to be the one bleeding, it was someone else's time to bleed for once.
A step toward him, but he didn't move.
"Do you know what the priestesses tell me?"
He blinked, swallowing harshly.
"They say it's not my fault, what happened to me." You shrugged, letting out a bitter chuckle. "I guess they are partially right. Because it's your fault too. And the male's. But I'm not completely blameless here. I mean what in the Cauldron's name was I thinking, putting my trust in you?"
That got him. Eyes squeezed shut suddenly, eyebrows furrowing as if he had actually been stabbed. Good.
"After all," you continued, beginning to pace around the training area, languidly taking small steps as if you were telling your own tale. "How many of those close to you have you let down before? Mor, Rhys, Gwyn, Elain, your mother... I really should have expected to get hurt because of you."
You could see wetness on his cheeks, but you still did not back down. And he did not move from his spot, his hazel eyes not even hardening at the onslaught.
You'd just have to go harder.
"Sometimes in my nightmares, your hands are the ones hurting me in that alley. I can feel your scars as you pin me to the wall, as I'm violated." You let out a humorless laugh. "I think my mind keeps trying to tell me that's all you're good for: inflicting damage."
A drop of blood from his bicep fell to the floor in a perfect circle.
You stopped your pacing, only about fifteen feet in front of him, and dropped your hands to your side. With your head held tall, you looked him directly in his eyes, pausing to memorize the broken look of him.
His chest was hardly rising and falling. He stood completely and utterly still. Hazel eyes on your own, jaw clenched, cheeks wet.
He was a beautifully broken portrait. And you had just torn him to shreds.
Summoning the rest of your courage, you spit out the thought that had been tormenting you, curling its way around your heart until you felt it would be strangled.
A thought, and a promise.
"You may have thought me worthy of being forgotten, but I will make sure you never forget what you have done to me."
Breaking eye contact, you walked past him out of the training ring, refusing to turn back. If you thought you heard a wounded noise travel softly from his lips, you ignored it.
Maybe you were a bad person, maybe deep down you were a sadistic, cruel being, but saying those words finally lifted something from your chest. Air came easier, and some part of you felt vindicated after unleashing yourself, despite the shaking that immediately overcame you in your retreat.
You might have been confused. Your chest might have been swarming with overwhelming, conflicting emotions and adrenaline. You were filled with so much love and hate, so much yearning and anger, but you at least felt like you had a release, the swirling poison in your chest no longer sitting so close to your heart.
Do you think you'll ever forgive him?
It was cathartic. The sharp words, watching them pierce him down to his core, seeing as he cried over what you'd become. And for once, as you let the cool breeze wash over your overworked muscles, you felt tears build in your eyes not from sadness but from relief.
Like a fire burnt out, you dragged your weary body back to the House of Wind, barely making it to your bed before collapsing.
You imagined Azriel standing where you left him, bleeding from where you had slashed him. He hadn't even said a word — he had just let you tear him to pieces.
Was it his own way to punish himself? Was this about him all over again?
Do you think you'll ever forgive him?
Maybe if you knew what was coming in the days following, you would have said yes. Maybe you would have wanted to be around him more, to actually try, instead of pushing him away. Maybe you would have realized that you weren’t just punishing him but yourself as well.
But you didn’t know what was coming. So you pushed the image of his wounded expression, the way he had physically flinched at your words, away from your mind, closed your eyes, and went to sleep.
If you dreamt about his scarred hands scooping you up in that alleyway, bringing you close to his chest and keeping you safe, you'd never admit it.
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tw angst, breakup
gojo satoru who’s just so used to kindness and patience from you because from the moment you met him, you knew you were soft for him. practically invisible mush. but things have changed now, he broke up with you. and he’s seeing you without the blue and white hues of kindness for the very first time.
it’s almost noble that he broke up with you. one could see it that way, but you see it as selfish.
you always knew his family and jujutsu society wanted him to marry someone with influence and power. marriage was a matter of politics after all.
but you didn’t really care. you knew what you were getting into after all. you’re not an impulsive person, you think deeply and rationally about these things. you didn’t jump face first into love, you slowly sunk yourself down further and further until you reached the riverbed.
so when he mentioned that his family was talking about marriage with Aya Tsukino, the infamous crystalline sorcerer — you were barely phased.
it admittedly hurt a little. you did always imagine a more traditional route with love — with altars, rings, vows, cakes and champagne. i mean, who doesn’t? but you saw reality for what it was and told him it would be fine.
that you would deal with it when it comes, that you would be okay being his dirty little secret if it was okay with ms. aya
but he’s a week away from the wedding — the biggest of the millennia so to speak, and he should be out there attending a celebratory party in his name, but he’s out here standing in your dimly lit bedroom breaking up with you.
you don’t react when he breaks up with you, that wasn’t when you started withholding your kindness from him. no, that night you gave him a measured response — i understand. no, you’re right. yeah, we can try to be friends. i understand. take care. and he surprised that you remained as calm as you always do, but he supposes he shouldn’t have doubted you.
but when he shows up on the day before his wedding — his excuse being he really wanted his jacket back — he sees you laced with anger for the very first time.
he can tell he’s interrupting but he doesn’t really care, he’s not the kind to but he’s especially not the kind to care when he’s practically signing away his love life tomorrow day. so he barges in regardless, and you let him.
he sees the opened bottle of wine — half-empty, a glass of red wine — half-empty again. a romcom of some sort up on TV, throes and throes of pillows and blankets on your couch. there’s a sadness that fills his already bleating heart up, but he doesn’t break.
he maintains the facade — he wants his jacket back, and he definitely isn’t here to see you.
you come out of your room — your expression neutral still as you say, “i can’t find it.”
and he believes it, but if you can’t find it, he needs to leave now and he doesn’t want to. so he insists that he needs it, because he “can’t sleep without it.”
and you frown, “you’ve been sleeping fine for a week.”
“i haven’t,” he says, plainly. you notice the dull blue from behind his black glasses and you think maybe he isn’t lying, so you merely nod as you go back into your room to scramble through your wardrobe.
it takes you about 20 minutes but you show up, and he notices the lack of a hoodie in your hand.
“couldn’t find it?” he asks.
“nope,” you respond. “are you sure it’s not with you?”
“i’m sure,” he says. “can you look agai—”
“nope,” you say. your voice comes out stern and he notices the reclusiveness in your posture. hands folded, and eyes almost a glare. “i think you need to leave. i'll send it with takashi if i find it.” takashi, your driver.
“but i need—”
“for gods sake — gojo. you’re a grown man. take a fucking pill or something.”
there’s no mistaking the anger in your voice now. no, it’s not just slight agitation, it’s anger. it's anger, and it's making you see things in shades of orange.
"what—" he says lowly, as he looks no worse than a kicked puppy. he reaches for his glasses, taking them off as you see his eyes for the first time in 2 weeks. they looks sad, but then again, they always had a certain sadness to them.
his eyes change now, ever so slightly, there's a certain anger brimming through the blue as he stares back at you now, "all i asked for is my jacket."
"well, if gojo satoru wants his jacket. i guess i should put my life on hold, and scramble across the earth to look for it, right?" you roll your eyes with a scoff. and he's taken aback. you've never been petty. you've never been this detached. not when it comes to him.
"not like i'm interrupting much," he speaks up and he knows that he's going to regret what he's about to say before the words even leave his mouth. "you're having a sob fest, if anything — me showing up here is helping."
"are you fu—" and then you laugh, but there's no mirth in your laughter. "how dare you even talk to me like that? you'r— you fucking break up with me. with your bullshit excuses. and then you have the fucking audacity to talk to me like this?"
"bullshit excuses? i broke up with you. for you," he yells back. "you would've been miserable, baby."
"i would've managed," your response is immediate.
"you were upset when aya kept kissing my cheek."
"i never said that."
"you didn't have to," he groans. "it's my- it was job to see that. and that's why i know you would've been miserable."
"i've told you this time and time again. i don't mind being miserable as long as i got to be with you. what's so hard to understand about that?"
"what kin- why? why even—"
"because i love you."
"what kind of love makes you debase yourself in such a way. it's fucking pathetic," he replies, and there's some contempt in his voice.
you see how he views you now more clearer — like you're some sad thing. like you're the world's greatest loser and you should dig yourself into a hole until you've moved on from him.
you're only used to love from him, and that made your decision to stay with him feel revolutionary — like you could've lived the worst life socially if it meant you could stay in love but now — now you're not sure about any of this.
"you would've been miserable. so i made the decision for us. you'll thank me one day," he says.
"maybe," you say with a sigh. you're tired and frankly all you want is for him to leave so you can chug the rest of that wine and pass out. "maybe, but it was our relationship. and you made this decision all by yourself. so don't ever blame me for our end."
part 2
#no idea where this came from tbh#jujutsu kaisen drabbles#gojo satoru angst#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x y/n#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk angst#gojo satoru#gojo x reader angst#jjk x reader angst#jujutsu kaisen angst#jujutsu kaisen x reader angst
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so fucking sad when people struggle so much with their mental health because of fandom like omg
#i really truly hope that that's not been someone's reason for taking their own life but in multiple occasions that's what it seems like#it's so sad#if you feel like you're taking things a bit too seriously and things are affecting you too much#please just take a step back and take a step away from the fandom#possibly friends included if you need to just completely remove yourself from it#💔#these things sadly used to be a kind of common occurance back in the day#??#i mean not like super common just... way more than you would think or expect or ever want#idk fucking sad#but seems it's happening again#please don't take fandom too seriously#it's just such a small part of life and should not have serious affects on your mental health#jesus </3#i really hope that wasn't the reason#suicide tw#fucking hate that i'm even saying that
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The Reunion We Deserved
I said I would do it and so I did, all in one night, one sitting, fueled by nothing but determination, random inspiration, and spite.
I re-wrote and created my version of what I would've liked to see at the end of Nightbringer Season 2.
Is this a bit dramatic? Yes? Is this the kind of thing I wanted anyway? Yes. I want sobbing, I want people being pathetic, I want emotion, I want it all. So, if that's what you were hoping to see for lesson 40, I hope this can ease some of that anger we had.
Spoilers ahead for Nightbringer since this is quite literally my "remaking" of the ending, which includes in-game references to later lessons!
TW: Blood mention, injury, angst.
Word Count: 4,391
Tears pricked your eyes as you looked upon the several smiling faces of the demons you had come to care for. At the beginning, all you could think of was returning to your home, your time-line, your brothers. You had coped thus far by constantly reminding yourself that these were not the same people you had come to know. But now… after delving into their souls, reforging the pacts, fleeing down the different circles of hell to save one only to nearly lose them all… they’d found their way into your heart once more. How could you? How could you leave them so easily? And tell them to their faces that you’d meet again soon when you knew it was a lie. It might be soon for you, but it would be nearly an eternity for them. Not to mention that the way Solomon and Barbatos described it, this was almost like another universe… Would another version of you show up for them? Or would you leave these particular brothers for good?…
Feet frozen in sorrow and anxiousness, you could only look at them and cry. What were you feeling in this very second, now that you were on the cusp of what you had worked so hard for? The way back home was right above you, the air and magic inches away from sucking you up into it’s mystical vacuum. Your precious family, your home was one step away. So why did it also feel like your heart was being torn from you? “I—“ Your words choked up in your throat. You were tempted to tell them everything right there and then, spill the burden you had been carrying on your shoulder this entire time.
“It’ll be alright,” Lucifer spoke up, seeing your worry, but exuding nothing but confidence himself. “I gave you my blessing after all.”
“Plus, with the Great Mammon’s pact, you’re hella lucky! You’ll get home with no problems, I’d bet on it! S-So you better not make me lose, got it? Get home safe…and happy.”
Levi shook his head a little. “You’d bet on anything wouldn’t you…” But then he turned his head back towards you, nearly just as bold as Lucifer in this one moment. “If someone like me can have courage, you can too. Don’t worry! You’re just like a Main Character! You have indestructible plot armor!”
“Did everyone already forget the white dragon I helped summon?” Satan scoffed. “Their safety and success is guaranteed. So don’t give us that face,” he addressed you.
“Besides!” Asmo perked up. “If anything happened we’d all come rushing to save you! Just like we did for Lucifer. If we can do that, we can do anything! Oo, I just said something real dashing just now! You better take that to heart, hun!”
Beel nodded several times. “You have Luke’s wish egg too. I also made wishes over my eggs at breakfast this morning. I wished for you to always feel healthy and full and loved. And that we’d get to see each other again soon.”
“Those eggs might’ve tasted magical Beel, but they weren’t really…” Belphie looked up his twin as he shook his head, but then he shrugged, coming to the conclusion that it wasn’t worth explaining. “Hey,” he stared at you. “Don’t waste your energy crying now. You’ll need all your strength for your journey. I won’t forgive you if you leave too sad.”
All their words ended up making you laugh, the smile across your face twitching as you worked to force out trembling words. “You all better be kind to one another.” Someone behind you was tugging on your arm. “And make sure you don’t tease Luke too hard.”
“Come on,” Solomon whispered softly to you, tugging you a little harder, making you take a few steps back. The rift in space-time started to roar, attempting to drown out your voice as you struggled for these last few seconds.
“And make sure you all remember to eat and sleep properly. A-and, tell the others at the ceremony that I love them. I… love you all so much.”
“We have to go…” Solomon’s voice sounded tense, like he was nearly ready to cry himself, only keeping himself strong for you. Wrapping an arm around your waist, he nearly hoisted you back himself. Before you left, you reached into the pocket of your pants, fishing out the letter that you had written alone in your old room, what seemed like forever ago now, the one still stained with old tears. You tossed it to the ground in front of you, hoping they would read it, hoping it would help…them live without you.
The last thing you heard was a chorus of cracking voices, getting cut off before they could tell you they loved you too…
And then you were gone. A harsh and forceful wind seemed to suck all the air from your breath. It was almost as if you were being plunged underwater, several forces of pressure from the thousands of years you were swirling past was threatening to crush you. The only sensation you were aware of was Solomon’s. His arms were holding onto you tightly, continuing to mutter spells over and over and over again to keep you safe, expending all of his waining power to push you both through the folds of reality and out on the other side.
Gravity. Disorientation. Falling. A heavy weight slammed against your chest so hard, you wondered if your ribs cracked. The back of your head hit something firm. Everything went black for a while.
After who knows how long, your eyes opened again, staring straight up into the Devildom sky, the shifted stars more familiar to you. Your head was splitting with pain, your breath a wheeze as you glanced down to see Solomon’s limp body keeping you pinned against the ground.
“S-Solomon?” It took a short while for the panic to settle in. “Solomon!” After a moment of struggling, you managed to get him off of you, setting him on his back in the grassy plane you had been spat back out onto. His face looked drained. A chant left the base of your throat, using the last scrap of magic you had to give him a spell to reinvigorate his body. His eyes shot open, coughing as he rolled over onto his side, pushing himself up onto his arms before he fell down again. “Take it easy!” Together, using each other as support, you both got back up to your feet.
“I’m sorry…I had meant to deliver us right in front of the House of Lamentation, but…”
“You did alright,” you assured him, rubbing his back to keep his dizzy mind conscious. “A bit of a rough landing, but we’re alive…” But then, the better question was… “Are we—“
“There you are.” A calm voice manifested itself as a demon in front of you. Barbatos stepped out of a portal, his expression nearly as neutral as ever, except there was something in his eyes that was shining, a strange tremor to his hand that was completely unnatural for someone as him. Then he frowned as he took in the state of both of you, his nostrils flaring as he took the both of you with him, each with one gloved hand. You were pulled into a much less chaotic rift this time. Although the jolt was still enough to nearly cause both you and the sorcerer to fall back to your knees. Before that could happen though, you were shoved into a bed.
The guest rooms of the castle appeared the same as always, but something in particular felt nostalgic, like you’d just returned to a childhood home. Solomon appeared to be ushered into a bed right by your side, both your minds too rattled to resist, as the butler threw open the guest room door from the inside and summoned nearly every Little D in the entire building. “I need human medication, bandages, two sets of pajamas, the herbal tea I set aside in the kitchen. I need the oven preheated, the counter prepared, two trays set, and need them all done within the next two minutes.” There was a very subtle raise to his voice, the seriousness of his tone sending a chill down your spine and sending every Little D scattering for their lives. Barbatos spent one second observing them flee before he dissipated once more, getting wisked away through another portal of his own making.
This all felt…so surreal. Perhaps it was the pain that you were in that was making it feel like a dream. Like you’d wake up in Cocytus Hall and be right back at square one. And yet, something in you was missing that place… that house that you had just started to get used to. The furniture and things both you and Solomon had bought to make it your shared home. But your real home was here. Well, hopefully here.
You wouldn’t get your hopes up over anything yet. Not until you got to see them.
Barbatos returned before you could even begin to ask Solomon about any of this. A whirl of varying shades of green caused your vision to do somersaults as you were quickly fretted over. Salves and bandages were wrapped around your torso and a damp cloth gently touched the back of your head. That splitting pain resurfaced, joining forces with an added stinging. Maybe it was your body going into shock, but you could’ve sworn you heard a shaky shush coming from your current caretaker as you were cleaned and patched up quickly. Luckily, it wasn’t too much longer after that till the aches went mostly away, your head clearing up again as a set of your own pajamas were settled at the foot of the bed, a silver tray stretched over your lap and propped up on two stands. A small plate with a single pastry sat in front of you, along with a bitter smelling dark-green tea that you could tell you’d rather avoid imbibing.
Swiveling your head to the side, you saw Solomon leaning back against the headrest and a few pillows, a bit more vibrancy in his eyes, although those intense dark circles were hard to miss. He was okay. Thank…everything.
“Eat. Drink. Both of you.” The butler stood between the beds, realizing he’d spoken quite against his normal demeanor, he cleared his throat, his palm pressed between his collarbones. “Phoenix’s Breath Tea. You’ll both need it to recover. I apologize for making you both consume something so distasteful, but I’ve found it goes down a bit smoother paired with something sweet.”
A single whiff of the hot beverage in your hand was enough to make you cough, some sense burning in your nose. You settled the cup back down, taking a deep breath, trying to get your head on straight. “Barbatos… Are we…?”
The butler’s eyelids fluttered slowly. “You are,” he stated, his voice quiet, almost in awe. “You’re home. Back in the world you belong.”
A lump immediately formed in your throat, pushing the tray forward and turning to get out of bed. “I need to go. I need to see them, I—“ Before you could get one foot touching the ground, you were wrangled back into bed.
“I’ll fetch them. I swear you won’t have to wait too much longer. But you must drink the tea and you must take a moment to recover. If the others were to know the state you both were in right now, the castle would be torn—“
A banging sound ripped through the room like a gunshot. The guest room door was busted completely off it’s hinges, the wood of the frame splintering, the door soaring across to the left and fully embedding itself into the wall like a dart stuck in a board. If it weren’t for Barbatos’ inhuman skills, you’ve spilled the tea and dessert all over yourself. The royal attendant audibly sighed, sweeping himself to his feet and holding his arms out, his demon form manifesting, wrestling back a writhing and screaming black mass.
Your eyes went wide.
The mass stopped fighting, going rigid, stepping back to form seven different individuals. Three more non-hostile forms stood back in the wrecked doorway, two white, one red.
The bottom of your lip trembled as an overwhelming surge of joy and despair and relief and guilt all flooded out of you in tears. Your fears were pushed away. Your soul seemed to click back into place, like you’d been the last puzzle piece just waiting to finish the picture. “I’m home…”
Chaos erupted in the castle guest room. A few cracking wails nearly burst your eardrums. Asmo’s arms were the first to wrap around you, mascara running down his cheeks in large inky trails, but he didn’t seemed concerned in the least. Kisses lined your face with each sharp intake of breath, too shaken to even speak, he could only address you in his cries as he clutched onto you, trembling. His hand stroked your head, his breathing stopping for a moment when he saw the damage the landing had caused. This only caused him to whimper and cry harder, his thumb running over the outline of your features, running the back of his fingernails over your cheeks.
Levi was stuttering incomprehensibly. As he fell to his knees, he clutched at his head, going through an entire panic attack. He clawed at his chest, tearing gashes into the front of his clothes, looking up at you behind large welling tears as his tail wrapped around his entire torso. Mist filled the entire room as he continued to shake and cry so fervently he couldn’t even stand.
Luke was quite a ways away, holding onto Simeon’s clothing as he screeched out painful genuine child-like cries. The Angel curled over him, shushing him, getting to his own knees to hold the fledgling to his chest, assuring both the little angel and himself that you were okay. You were alright. Miracles had brought you together again. They didn’t have to worry any longer. The sleepless nights, the endless nightmares, the never-ending cold grip of sorrow could go away. He spoke this mantra- this prayer- over and over again, taking deep breaths between the words, blinking rapidly as he had to sway him and his charge back and forth to keep themselves both at ease. The older angel took the occasional glance over Luke’s shoulder, muttering a thankful blessing on repeat every-time he locked with your eyes.
Satan was thrashing around the room, screaming wildly, out of control, ready to beat Barbatos and Solomon for making you arrive in this condition, for not bringing you sooner, for not telling them sooner, for— Eventually, after getting thrown around the room a little, he ran out of things to be angry for. All it took was one look at your face to calm him down. He approached carefully, angry at himself, angry at whoever it was that took you away, but trying to keep himself together. Satan gingerly pulled Asmo off of you, turning Lust over to Solomon. Clearly, he’d been worried about his other pact-mate, hugging the sorcerer and crying a little more softly into his shoulder. Meanwhile, Satan reached a hand out hesitantly, like you were a feral cat he was trying to pet, worried you’d run away. His hand brushed through your hair and settled at the side of your face. Once he realized you weren’t going anywhere, his arms pulled you to him, pressing your face against his shoulder. “You’re here. You’re here again. You’re—“ His voice went hoarse, like he was losing it, like he’d been doing nothing but screaming for the entirely of your absence. Soon his words were nothing but faded squeaks, trying to portray his words but unable to. He simply held you instead. Then he tore himself away from you, heading over to the back wall and punching holes into the structure till his knuckles turned bloody.
Someone crawled onto the bed. Belphegor peered at you with an almost blank expression. His hand reached out, touching your knee, flinching as soon as he made contact, like the very act of him doing so would hurt you further. You could tell that maybe he felt like some of this was his fault, like he’d deserved the pain of having you be sent away from him, like if he did anything wrong again, you’d vanish for real this time, How many times could you come back from the dead? How close was he to losing you entirely? For good? As soon as his warmth mixed with yours, he collapsed on the mattress, curling up at your feet. He gathered the blanket towards his face, the end of his tail twitching erratically. His sobs were silent but violent, the entire bed shifting and bouncing as his body convulsed, his chest pounding as he broke down. Every once and a while, he would become extremely frightened, needing to gasp and look up to ensure you were real. You weren’t a dream. He pinched himself, shook his head, even almost bit at his hands to snap him out of this vision. But you were really here. He would curl back up and continue to cry.
White hair bobbed in front of your vision, two hands going to your shoulders and shaking you, pinning you against the headboard, fingernails careful not to dig themselves into your skin as they gripped your body. “What the hell is wrong with you?! Huh? Huh?! Do you have any idea what you put us through?! What you put me through?!” Mammon growls and screams shocked you.
“Mammon.” Lucifer’s voice settled as a stern warning, but something about it seemed weaker than usual.
Greed ignored him, continuing his rant. “You were just gone. Gone! You know that?!” He shook you again, careful not to rattle you too much. “And what am I supposed to do about that, huh?! What did I say?! I said—“ His voice cracked, trails of moisture streaming from his eyes and over his lips. “I said,” he repeated, “if you’re ever in trouble, you have to let me save you. What part of that didn’t you understand?! How dare you get taken somewhere where I can’t reach you?! How dare you?! How dare you?!” His voice continued to raise in pitch, sounding more and more unstable with each accusing question. Then he slumped, his forehead pressing against your chest as his hands held onto your shoulders tighter, almost bruising them, fearful of letting you go. He began shaking you a few times more, each shake meeker than the last. “How dare you. How dare you… How… W- What was I supposed to do if you didn’t come back?… The world is nothin’… I’m nothin’…”
Beel came over and helped his older brother to his feet, allowing him to sit on the side of your bed as Mammon furiously used the back of his wrist to rub at his cheeks. Gluttony stood over you, looking down with a wide close-lipped smile. “Welcome back.” He leaned down, pressing his cheek against yours as his large arms wrapped around the back of your neck. He took in the scent of you, burying his face into the crook of your neck for a moment. His body didn’t shutter, didn’t make noise, but you felt a few warm tears of his drip onto your skin. He silently and secretly teared up for just a few moments before he stood back up straight, gesturing to the tray with your items on it. “Eat, please. It’ll make you feel better.” The sixth-born took a few steps back to let you breathe, and as he moved back, someone else moved forward.
Lucifer stood at your bedside for quite some time in silence, looking down on you with a rather unreadable expression. He had a frown, eyes squinting like he was upset at you. He scanned you over, his brows furrowing, his jaw clenching. He refused to move, refused to say anything, refused to look you directly in the eyes. You moved forward a little, grabbing his hand, holding it in yours. All the sudden, the tension released. His eyes widened before his eyelids lowered, glancing at you past the vulnerable shimmer past his irises. Wrinkles of stress deepened in his forehead as his whole face contorted in agony. He held your hand tightly, bringing the back of it up to his lips. After that, he pulled you against him, his forehead pressed up against yours, his wings in his demon form acting as some sort of visual blocker, as if he couldn’t stand to have the rest of the room see how he was acting right now. He rubbed his face against yours back and forth, one small touch away from cooing, his hands caressing the sides of your neck, feeling your pulse, hearing your breath, taking in every detail and confirming to himself that you were indeed in his arms again, alive and mostly well. “You’ve come back to us,” he whispered, the end of his nose touching yours as one of his hands cradled the back of your neck. “Back to me.” His breath was hot as he panted for a moment, taking a deep breath and speaking in a hushed tone. “I had nearly begun to entertain the thought that…”
You pulled him closer to you, letting his head rest on your chest as you reached around to his back, grasping the cloth of his clothes in your hands. “You know I would fight through all the layers of hell to get to you.”
That seemed to resonate with him, but you weren’t quite sure he remembered that you were speaking quite literally. All those adventures…the things you’d all learned. How lost were they?…
However, Lucifer simply smiled, laughing a little, squeezing you before laughing again. “Yes, if anyone would do such a thing, it would be you. I shouldn’t have doubted you.” He straighted, fixed his clothing, lowered his wings, and moved further back into the room, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger as he paced towards a back corner.
Levi had finally soothed himself enough to move, walking on his knees towards the bed. His hands were fidgeting with every part of his outfit. Eyes puffy from crying, throat raw from his collapse earlier, he kept himself from speaking. You managed to smile down at him and wipe away the last few of his tears. His lips shook again before he lowered his head into your lap. Face-down in the fabric of the blanket, he kept shaking his head. He didn’t stop until your fingers ran through his hair. With a forced gulp, he eventually vocalized words. “I missed you… I was- was- was so scared I would…”
“Lose you.” Belphie sat up in bed, ignoring the fact that his face was now a mess. He scooted closer towards your side on the bed. “We thought we lost you.”
The youngest was able to say what none of the others could. Full silence washed over the room as the reality of the situation fully seemed to hit them, their shock slowly starting to fade.
Diavolo strode in, everyone moving out of the way to allow him to have his own time with you. The corners of his eyes crunched in happiness. His tight and broad shoulders sagged. Both of his large hands scooped up one of yours, bringing your touch to the side of his face. He closed his eyes, almost appearing as if he might purr any second. As he opened his sight back at you, a fire of positivity and excitement lit within him. “A party! We must throw a party! A welcome home celebration! This is…this is… a joyous day.”
At first, the others seemed confused. Then, one-by-one, small determined smiles spread across their faces. The sorrow melted and gave way to pure uncontrollable elation. People hugged each other, danced around the room, cheered, bounced, came back to kiss you, came back to hug you, nearly passing you around the room till Barbatos barged back in and took your hand, bringing you back to bed.
For a while, you assumed he would shut the idea down entirely. But then, the butler grinned. “I figured you would all say as much. Some preparations are already being made. In the meantime, we should let these two rest. They’ve had all too much excitement today.” Barbatos pulled the blanket back over your legs, readjusting the tray and giving you a biting glare that told you you wouldn’t be able to get out of drinking that god-forsaken tea. “But after that, we will celebrate. We will take every day and night to cherish you, and make up for the time we lost.”
Most of the brothers tried clinging to you, demanding they get to stay, but Diavolo, Barbatos, Lucifer, and Simeon managed to corral the desperate demons and one small angel out of the room.
But before they all left, you shouted. “Wait!” They all turned, worried that something was wrong. However, you smiled, happy tears running down your face this time. “I love you all. So very much.”
“I cherish you with every fibre of my being.”
“There ain’t nothing more priceless than you.”
“E-Everything is so much more fun with you here with m-m- us…”
“I…don’t want to even try to imagine a world without you in it.”
“Nothing, and I mean nothing, hun, is as charming as you.”
“Our family isn’t complete without you in it.”
“You belong with us. End of story.”
“You are one of the most precious beings the three realms has ever known.”
“I find myself discovering new things to enjoy every moment I spend with you.”
“Listen, you are a shining beacon in the night. Know how special you are.”
“You teach me so much! If it weren’t for you, I might still be scare— I mean, dislike demons!”
“My dear apprentice… We couldn’t have gotten home without you. You deserve the world. I will stick by you no matter where you go. And you deserve to know—“
“How much we love you too.”
#obey me#obey me shall we date#obey me headcanons#obey me imagines#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me levi#obey me satan#obey me asmo#obey me beel#obey me belphie#obey me diavolo#obey me barbatos#obey me simeon#obey me solomon#obey me luke#obey me nightbringer#nightbringer spoilers
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Darkfic!Gaz, nothing too extreme but this is not loverboy!Gaz, this is more of It-makes-me-want-to-laugh-at-you-when-you-cry!Gaz.
TW: emotional manipulation, a bit of dubcon, mentions of kidnaps
Everyone has a limit, and Gaz is not an exception.
He is still made of meat and bones, and emotions can be tamed but not ignored forever.
Working in the military takes a toll on everybody, both physically and emotionally. And survivor guilt is the worst of them all.
Gaz is back from his last mission, but many of his colleagues won't. Ever again.
Too many casualties.
Too many lives lost.
Too many injured.
And he is fine.
Not even a scratch he could pick at to feel the pain he deserves.
He shouldn't be walking home so freely, dozens of families are about to find out they will never be whole again.
And he is walking home to you, happy to welcome him back as if he was a hero, dinner warm on the table and you talking to him about your day.
As if he would care about how your colleague invited you to a company dinner in a couple of days. People died today, he couldn't care less.
But it seems you cannot get the memo.
“Can you shut the fuck up for a fucking second? Shit! I have been out for months, I just want some fucking quiet time and you keep fucking going on and on about you. How can you be so selfish?! Fuck! Just shut up, for fuck sake!” He says, standing up from the table and dropping his half-eaten dinner on the sink before walking upstairs to the bathroom to shower.
He regrets it the moment the words leave his lips, the hurt look on your face as if he had just hit you.
It had happened before, the pressure of his work gets too much, he keeps it in, not being able to complain to anyone, until it overfills and in the end you are the one that takes the fall.
He hates himself for it, you are literary the best thing he has, his sweet girl, always willing to take him in, more ways than another, always willing to listen to him, always patient, always kind.
And this is how he repays you, with shouts, sex and apologies. That's the cycle.
He'll get out of the shower and you'll be lying on the sofa, not wanting to share the bed with him, he'll pull you apart and back together on said sofa, and once you are satisfied and pliant he'll take you to bed to sleep on his arms.
Until it happens again.
He gets out of the shower, towel around his hips, and goes down to the living room. But you aren't there, his brows furrow; maybe you are picking the blanket from the room.
So he goes upstairs again, smiling when the room's light is on, and enters; smile quickly dropping when he sees you.
No. No. No. No.
His stomach sinks when he sees the suitcase open on top of the bed, clothes being thrown inside by you.
He can see the tears in your eyes, but you don't look sad, you look angry. You have never been angry at him, he can't wait to feel it.
“Hey, hey, hey, what are you doing?” He asks stepping closer, closing the suitcase so you can’t put any more clothes in.
You huff, looking at him with hate and tears in your eyes as you try to move his hand away from the suitcase. “I'm leaving, Kyle”
No, no, no, you can leave, he needs you, how can you leave him? What will he do without you?
“Why? Love, please, stop, talk to me, please?” He begs, making you throw the t-shirt on your hand to the floor.
“Talk to you?!” You shout at him. “Maybe I should talk to you the way you talk to me, Kyle! Then maybe you would get an idea of how much it hurts!”
He deserves it, he knows he does, but you have never spoken this loudly to him before, and it stirs something inside him. It makes him wonder if he can make you moan as loud, scream his name.
“I know, love. I'm sorry, I really am. You know that, right? You know that I love you to bits?” He asks, manipulation at his best. But you don't fall for it, you are far too smart to be blinded by his hurt expression. He tries to cup your face, if he can touch you he knows he's got you; but so do you, and you quickly move his hands away from your face.
“If you loved me you wouldn't treat me the way you do, Kyle.” You argue, clever girl you are.
“How can I not love you, dear?” He asks, body moving closer to you. Your hand rests on the middle of his naked chest, keeping him back. It's the back of your hand that touches him, almost as if your palm was too good to touch him.
Your touch is cold, both literally and figuratively and that makes him start to panic. What if you actually leave? What if he can't fix this before is too late? What if it is too late?
He needs you, he needs the control he has over you. Everything in his life constantly feels out of control, his superiors barking orders at him, enemies playing with him, and comrades dying on the battlefield without him being able to do anything about it. He needs to feel he is in control of something, even if that something is a someone and even if that someone is you.
He still pushes closer, the heat from his body pooling into the coldness of your touch. He resists the urge to smile satisfied with how your body betrays you. Kyle does love you, even if it is in an unfair, distorted and macabre way. And he knows you love him, in a genuine, comforting and undeserving way.
His hands manage to get to your face, pushing his face forward to kiss your cheek. Baby steps.
“C’mon, love. I'm sorry, please. I won't do it again, I promise. I'll work on it, I promise I never intended to hurt you. I'm sorry, it's the job, I promise. I love you, darling. I really do.” He says, as he drops kisses on your face, lowering to your jaw and the moment he reaches your neck, he smiles, hidden from your eyes, knowing he is keeping you once more.
Shouts, sex and apologies. That's the cycle.
“Kyle…” You protest, your hand still on his chest and some fight still in you, but he can work it out of you.
“I'm sorry, dear. I'll treat you better, I promise. As good as you deserve, I promise.” He has you against his chest now, and he feels your hand slowly turning on his chest; your palm much warmer against his skin.
He sucks on your neck making you whimper and he needs every bit of self-restraint not to laugh at you, not to laugh at how easy it was. He shouldn't have gotten nervous, he’s got you eating out of his hands.
The part of his brain that is still human, that tells him that you are still human starts to talk to his dismay. He knows it! He perfectly knows that he is a monster for how he treats you, that you should be with someone a hundred times better, such a sweet girl stuck together with such a horrible man.
But one of the many traits that make him such a horrible man is how egoistic he is, so he will keep you, even if you don't want to. He'll keep pushing you away and locking the doors so you can't run. Tomorrow he'll burn the suitcase, he is not letting you get this far ever again.
A glimmer of guilt sits at the bottom of his stomach, a useless feeling. It only means he needs to get inside of you soon, fill himself with the love he so little deserves and fill yourself with empty lies of eternal love.
He grips your thighs, urging you to jump on his hips. You resist for a second too long and he slaps your asscheek making you jump with a whimper.
“I'm gonna make you feel good, love. I'm sorry. I'll make it worth it, I promise.” He says, still biting your neck. The towel around his hips falls at some point, not that he cares; it would get in the way anyway. Just as much as your clothes are, he doesn't bother to let you back on the floor to take them off. He simply grabs the material and rips it on your crotch leaving your cunt exposed.
He is still standing, he doesn't want you to be able to rely on any support, he wants you to feel that if you don't grab him you'll fall, he wants you to need him just as much as he needs you. He slips his hand behind you, getting a finger inside of you making you whimper as you hide your face on his neck; clinging onto him and he loves it.
This is how he wants you, desperate for him. Just like he is for you. At his disposal, just for him.
He can feel the wetness dripping down his fingers, he knows he should add more fingers before sinking you on his dick, but he wants to feel you stretch around his dick, moulding yourself just for him, shaping your insides only for him.
You bite his shoulder when he does and he smiles, loving it, he needs it. He needs the pain you inflict on him when he is like this, the bites on his shoulders, the scratches on his back, the kicks on his lower back, all of it. He deserves, he deserves much more. You could sink a knife into his shoulder, cut him to his hip dragging the blade and he would still feel you need to do more.
He is so horrible to you, he knows he hurts you, and he wishes you could hurt him back, let him know what is like. But you never do, because you are too good to hurt the man you love and it only makes him want you to hurt him more.
He grabs your hips hard, making you bounce on his dick, the room filling with your moans and the sound of skin slapping on skin. There are no more thoughts inside his head, already forgetting the faces of those men who died today, already forgetting their names. This is why he needs you, it would consume him alive if it wasn't for you. He needs you.
You cling to him, moaning his name, you mind forgetting his harsh words already only being able to focus on the way his dick is hitting so deep inside of you.
He makes sure to go round after round, his seed spilling out of you making him grunt. He should get you pregnant, stuck with him for real that way, forever.
It's only when you can no longer talk that he gets in the bed with you, hugging you tightly, too afraid you'll think about leaving again.
It's usually at this point he can finally relax, go to sleep and forget about the nightmares his days have been.
But a new nightmare arises when he says, “I love you” and you answer “I know”.
Tomorrow, he is burning your suitcase and he is tying you to the bed. Enough playing around with him, he is here, and you don't need to go anywhere.
Shouts, sex and apologies. That's the cycle.
And that will remain the same.
Whether you want it or not.
This was my first try at writing something more dark-ish. I'm not really sure if it even classifies as it, but. I hope you guys enjoy it anyway 🩷🩷
@waiting-so-long this is what you have done to me. I don't know if this fits the vision you had but I hope you enjoy it my dear! 🩷🩷
@sgtgarricks here you have it as well, wait no more 🩷🩷
T-List: @whos-fran @thevoidwriting @sklt987659 @kayden666 @dumb12bvtch1212 @thatonepupkai @glocuseguardian3rd @darkangel4121 @risingofjupiter @spadekip @herefor-tojis-tits @lunari0 @dukeofjjune @soupinasock @marymustdie @arbesa-mind @cmbghost @dilara-del @multifandomheathenannie @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @tooloudarts
#call of duty#cod x reader#cod#task force 141#call of duty x reader#cod modern warfare#call of duty modern warfare#cod mwii#task force 141 x reader#141 x reader#kyle gaz garrick#gaz x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#gaz#gaz fanfic#gaz imagine#call of duty imagine#kyle gaz x reader#kyle garrick#cod smut#call of duty smut#kyle gaz smut
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can I request steeb taking care of shy!reader who is upset after a bullying incident in school? I figured she would be a year younger (like robin’s grade) because I don’t think anyone would touch her if king steve was around. I feel like he’s be so soft with her but also reeling at the thought that someone hurt his girl!
thanks for ur request anon! idk if i can count this as a blrub because it's nearly 3k words but alas pls enjoy! tw for blood (knee scrapes) and j*son c*rver
You come to Family Video with a scrape on your left knee.
It’s not the weirdest thing in the world — you ride a worn-down bike that’s probably older than you are. Steve’s been begging you to get a new one for as long as he’s known you, outright offering to pay for the damn thing as long as he’s sure it’ll get you to him without getting hurt in the process.
You reject him every time. “It gets me where I need to go,” you always shrug. “What more could I want from it?”
And he wants so badly to be angry at the beauty you manage to find in mediocrity. But he can’t be, really. It’s why you fell in love with him in the first place, isn’t it? Why you took the heartbroken boy in your arms on Halloween night in 1984 and convinced him he wasn’t bullshit despite what he told you. He’d be an idiot to be mad at how kind you are.
But when you walk into Family Video, halfway limping with blood dripping down your knee, he knows it’s different.
Something more than a toppled bike hurt you.
“Oh, god, babe,” he winces from where he stands at the counter with Robin. “What happened?”
“I fell,” you shrug as he races over to you.
“You fell?” Robin scoffs. “Knock me out with a feather.” You know she’s joking, but it’s a little too monotone, and you’re a little too sensitive. Something in her words hurts more than your throbbing knee.
Steve, who knows you like the back of his hand, understands exactly what your diverted gaze means. When you look down to the floor, he shoots Robin a firm glare.
What? she mouths, obviously confused at the sudden silence.
“Can you get the first aid kit from the back? I think there might be some gauze in there,” he asks, deciding to change the conversation entirely. He wraps an arm around your waist and walks slowly with you to the counter. He meets your grimace with a soft smile. “I’ll clean it, wrap it up, and you’ll be good as new.”
You don’t give him anything in response. Not even a pity smile.
He sits you on the counter with the open first-aid kit beside you. Robin flips the store sign to closed. It’s barely five o’clock. She starts tidying up the store to go home, anyway.
Steve wipes up the warm blood with a napkin and cleans the scrape with an alcohol wipe. You hiss at the feeling — it’s like a hundred tiny bee stings. From where he sits just below you on a worn swivel chair behind the counter, he leans in to press a kiss just above the cut.
Without all the blood, it looks a lot less gnarly than before.
“See? It’s not so bad,” the boy smiles as he unravels some gauze. “I’ll patch it up, baby you for the rest of the night, and you’ll forget it ever hurt by morning.”
Again, you don’t even smile. You just purse your lips to the side and nod.
Steve’s heart stings, but he doesn’t take anything by it. He wraps the bandage down and over your knee in an even rhythm. He tries not to be so direct when he asks: “How’d this happen, anyway, huh? Did Ol’ Sliver finally give up on you?”
You shake your head, eyes on the gauze instead of the boy. The white cloth splotches with pink from where your wound still weeps. “No,” you answer quietly. “Just fell.”
“Just fell, huh?” he repeats quietly. A few caramel-colored strands fall over his forehead as he peers up at you with his chin tilted towards his chest. He tries his best to smile. “You’re givin’ me the sad eyes, babe. I feel like it was more than just a fall.”
“It was stupid…”
He scoffs. “Never.”
“A car drove by me,” you confess, only half-lying. You try to look down at him, but your gaze wavers along with your courage. “And the music was kinda loud, and it… It startled me a little.”
You don’t tell him that Jason Carver intentionally swerved on the wrong side of the road to scare you — or that he yelled mean things through the rolled-down passenger window before speeding off again. It’s easier to keep it to yourself. You don’t want it to become a whole thing.
Steve’s brows furrow as he tucks the end of the bandage to keep it from unraveling. “Were they going too fast?”
“I don’t know. Kind of.”
“It wasn’t those football assholes, was it? I swear to god, they need their license revoked.”
“No,” you answer, quick to soothe his rising anger. “It was— It wasn’t anyone. I just got scared, and I swerved off the road, okay?”
Even in your mousy voice, it sounds like you’re being stern with him. And you’re never stern with him.
“Well, that’s okay,” Steve assures with a shrug. “We all get scared. It’s better than you getting hit, I guess.”
“I guess,” you echo with a huff, a teasing smile on your lips.
Steve grins back, happy to see you less pained. He smacks a gentle kiss to your wrapped-up knee. “Go get in the car, okay? I’ll clean up here, put your bike in the trunk, and we can go home.”
You go shy as you peer at him from beneath your lashes. “Your home?” you clarify, secretly hoping he’ll say yes.
His answer isn’t surprising. “Of course, my home. You practically live there, anyway.”
You smile and brush a soft kiss to the scruff of his jaw, murmuring a quiet thank you there before leaving. You’re not limping nearly as badly as you had been before.
Robin waits for the door to ding shut before blurting: “I think it was Jason.”
Steve stills with the first-aid kit in his hands. He squints at her from where she stands between the horror and X-rated horror aisles.
“What?”
“I think that’s who might’ve run her off the road.”
“…Why?”
“He gives her a hard time sometimes, I don’t know,” she explains vaguely and with a sigh. “Normally, it’s stupid. Like, honestly, I just think he’s super shit at flirting. Maybe he was just trying to scare her and… got a little carried away…”
Anger burns red hot in Steve’s chest. It blooms just behind his ribcage like a flower with fire for petals.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks through gritted teeth, trying not to sound too angry. It’s not like Robin was the one who hurt you, after all — just some douchebag who wouldn’t have laid a hand on you if he knew who your boyfriend was.
Steve’s knuckles go white as his grip tightens on the plastic box.
“Because I thought it was harmless!” Robin agonizes as she rushes to meet him. Her deep ocean eyes swim with worry, frightened that he might be angry at her. “Seriously. Most of the time, it sounds like he’s just being mean to get into her pants. And, like, I don’t know if that’s how he landed Chrissy back in the day or what, but he’s obviously got no clue what kind of girl he’s flirting with because…”
She trails off at Steve’s hardened umber gaze.
Robin groans and leans over the counter, reaching for the boy’s wrist. “Please don’t be mad at me, Stevie. My heart can take that. I’ll be sick for days—”
“I’m not mad at you, Rob,” the boy promises. He sighs. “I just gotta… go beat up a kid now.”
—————
You’re too focused on the stars and the feeling of Steve’s warm hand on your thigh to notice he’s taking the wrong route home.
The car slows way sooner than you expected. When you come back down from the clouds, you find that you’re in a near-empty lot. The car jolts softly when Steve puts it in park.
“What are we doing?” you turn to him with furrowed brows.
Steve unclicks his seatbelt. “I’ll be right back.”
You look past him, at the large building lit up by amber streetlamps and the green door with a light in its window. Every so often, someone will whip by it wearing a white jersey. Your heart sinks.
“Why are we at school?” you asked, scrunched-faced in a mixture of anger and worry. You don’t know how he knows what happened to you, only that he does know.
“I need to take care of something here. It’s okay—”
“Don’t go in there,” you plead. “Please. Let’s just go home—”
“I’ll be right back,” he repeats. He leans over the console to kiss your cheek. You don’t lean into it like you usually do.
“Steve—”
The car door shuts and cuts off the rest of your pleas.
Steve has an easy time getting into the gym. The backdoor is propped open with a small wooden block like it always is. The coaches welcome him in like usual. They beam as the old team captain waltzes into the newly painted gym like he owns the place.
“Harrington!” the burly man calls over the sounds of squeaking shoes and bouncing basketballs. “Come to turn in an application, finally? I’ve only been asking you to be co-coach since you graduated.”
Steve smiles coolly. “No. Not yet… I, uh— I actually needed to talk to one of your players.”
The man shoots him a look.
“Jason Carver.”
“Oh,” the man chuckles, a deep belly laugh. “You only wanna pull my star player out of practice, huh?”
“It’ll take, like, two seconds. Tops.”
A momentary stare-off ensues. Steve knows the answer he’s going to get. Everyone at this damn school has got a soft spot for him. Perks of being Hawkins High royalty, he figures.
“Two,” the coach says in the place of any real answer.
He takes the green whistle from his neck and blows into it. The shrill sound echoes through the gym. Like trained dogs, the boys on the court still.
“Carver!” the man shouts, almost too loudly. Steve winces from beside him. “Get over here!”
Jason passes the ball off and jogs to meet them without question. When Steve says he’s got something to tell him, the blonde-haired boy smiles like it’s a privilege. Red-faced and out of breath, he trails behind Steve as they walk out into the hallway.
“Don’t tell me you’re coming to be assistant coach,” the boy says with an audible smile. “Coach Blair has only been talking about it for a year—”
When the double doors shut behind him, Steve whips around and shoves the boy into the lockers. They clang beneath his sudden weight and echo down the empty corridor. Jason’s smug face contorts into shock. “—What the hell?”
He tries to regain his footing, but Steve only shoves him backward again. His hands twist in the neck of his jersey.
“What the fuck are you doing, man?” Jason shouts.
Steve’s stern features never waver. He leans in close, eyes trained on the boy like a predator to prey. “Leave my girl alone,” he threatens lowly.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about! I don’t know who your girl is—”
“You know exactly who I’m talking about,” Steve spits in response. The lockers bang once more when he shoves the boy backward again. “Should break your leg for what you did to her. What would the star player do then, huh?”
Jason’s wide eyes flit between the both of Steve’s. He racks his brain for what he might’ve done so wrong and who he might’ve done it to. He gapes at the realization — “Bambi? Bambi’s your girlfriend?”
“Oh, that’s what you call her?” Steve muses in a monotone, feigning interest. “How cute.”
“I didn’t know, man. I swear. If I knew, I never would’ve—”
“I don’t care. And stop pleading, alright? It’s embarrassing.”
Jason goes quiet. His Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. Steve’s hand loosens on his jersey. His ice-cold gaze never wavers.
“I don’t wanna know what you did to her. I don’t wanna know why you’re doing it, either — if you think she’s pretty, or if she’s easy-pickings for assholes like you — I don’t care.” He presses the boy further into the lockers, their noses inches apart. “But if I hear you’re messing with her, talking about her to your friends— if you so much as look in her direction again, I promise you won’t like what I do to you.”
Jason’s jaw clenches. He juts out his chin in a feeble attempt to make himself taller. “Yeah?”
Steve nods. “Yeah.”
“That’s real rich coming from someone who couldn’t even beat up Jonathan Byers.”
“I’ve learned a lot since then,” the older boy promises, weirdly composed. “Feel free to find out if you don’t believe me.”
The boy stays quiet.
Steve shoves him backward when he lets go of him. He gives him a final glare and one last warning before walking back toward the gym. “And plant your feet when you’re on the court, alright? It’d be a real shame if you broke an ankle.”
—————
The drive to his house is silent.
It usually is. Most of the time, you’re too zoned into the music or making shapes in the clouds to talk. But now it’s because you’re angry. Steve would be an idiot not to notice. He can feel it radiating off of you like steam.
He reaches for the console and turns the air-con up.
“Are you hot?” he asks in a feeble attempt to break the quiet.
With your arms crossed and your gaze out the window, you deadpan: “I’m mad.”
“I feel like that’s sorta the same thing,” Steve jokes with a weak, lopsided smile.
“I didn’t want you to do that,” you choke through a tight throat. “You’re just gonna make it worse.”
“Well, it wouldn’t have gotten so bad if you would’ve just told me.”
You turn to him with eyes glassy from unshed tears. A stoplight bathes the both of you in shades of neon scarlet. “I didn’t want to tell you because I knew you’d do something about it,” you spit.
“So you’d rather let some asshole run you off the road, huh? Is that it?”
He doesn’t mean to be so harsh. He’s just upset, and the adrenaline’s making him antsy.
Steve learned a long time ago not to be so forward with you. Even if he’s just joking around, even if he’s mad and saying shit he doesn’t mean — you’re not built for that. You’re made of something softer: marshmallow fluff and crocheted yarn and flower petals. It’s why you let Jason Carver pick on you for so long without saying a word about it.
“It’s not like that,” you argue quietly, blinking back tears as you turn away from him again.
Steve sighs. “I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t mean— I’m just upset, okay? I didn’t mean to yell.”
“I know…”
“I just wish you would tell me these things, you know?”
His hand is warm on the skin of your thigh as he smooths his palm over it. Your eyes flit to your leg and then to him. You nod. “I know. I just…” Your features crumple when you trail off.
Steve squeezes your thigh in reassurance. “You just what?”
“I didn’t want you to think I couldn’t handle myself,” you confess quietly. “Everyone thinks I’m so weak. I didn’t want you to think that, too.”
“I don’t think you’re weak,” Steve scoffs out a laugh, like he almost can’t believe you’d even think something like that.
Your brows furrow. “No?”
“No. Not even a little bit. But as your boyfriend— ‘cause I am your boyfriend, right?”
You meet his teasing gaze with a half-hearted scowl. You’ve only been dating for a year and a half. You nod to humor him.
“Exactly. So, as your boyfriend, it’s my job to help you through the hard shit, you know? Just because you can get through it on your own doesn’t mean you have to.”
Your chest swells. You try not to smile too wide, but it’s hard not to. You’ve never had someone who wanted to protect you before. It’s as strange as it is gratifying.
“Okay,” you concede with a nod.
“Okay?”
“Okay,” you repeat with a giggle.
Steve leans over the console, moving slowly like his lips are made of magnets that drift to yours. Through the overwhelming urge to kiss you, he jokes: “Is it— and I’m just checking here— is it okay?”
You shake your head and lean to meet him halfway. “You’re such a dork.”
Your lips barely brush before a loud honk echoes behind you. You jolt apart from him, not noticing that the light had turned green until then.
Steve sighs and mourns your unkissed lips. His engine roars softly as he presses on the gas.
He’d noticed. He saw the light change about twenty seconds ago — how the bright crimson changed into a softer shade of lime that bathed you in its neon hues. He just loved the way you looked in green.
#published by bug#steve harrington x reader#stranger things x reader#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington x you#stranger things imagine#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fic#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington x shy!reader#stranger things fanfic#st drabbles#stevie drabble
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Aziraphale does NOT need to suffer MORE
Can't believe I have to say this.
TW: grief, mourning, death (sorry)
I have, since falling into the fandom 6 months ago to escape real life, seen many takes on how Aziraphale needs to suffer in S3 to match Crowley's suffering.
Mainly as the counterpart to the moment Crowley thinks he lost Aziraphale as he's looking for him desperately in the burning bookshop.
Then drinks, we suppose, to dull his pain, waiting for the Armageddon.
Also, the way Crowley suffers at the bandstand argument, the 'I Forgive You' moments, which many people find utterly devastating and incredibly heartless from Aziraphale.
Not to mention when he doesn't react in the 'right way' to Crowley's confession in the Final 15. And then on top of that, 'abandons' Crowley.
Oh and also for, and I quote: "The smug and entitled way Aziraphale went around in S2 assuming Crowley would love and follow him everywhere."
And for all this pain that Crowley endured for him, Aziraphale should suffer in S3, to I assume, even out the scores.
Some people want to see him lose it, show his emotions, to cry or beg or otherwise show how much he misses Crowley and how very sorry he is for what he's done.
Now for the TW grief content I motioned above. You can skip to the next sentence in bold.
WE ALL SUFFER DIFFERENTLY
I was on holiday late September last year, visiting my mum, stepfather and my two younger brothers. We went to a cousin's wedding. It was great.
The day after, as I was hanging out reading a book my mum got a call.
The kind of call every mother fears. My youngest brother (he was 27) died in an accident. We needed to speak to police and the coroner.
She cried and cried. She's still crying. She asks questions. She gets no answers.
I did not cry. I talked to the police. I googled a funeral home. I bought my brother his last set of clothes. He lived in a hoodie and torn black jeans. Mum wanted a suit. But he died in the one he bought for the wedding.
I texted a lot of people. I bought snacks for the many friends who came to the funeral and wanted to speak to us after.
My grief feels like a vice. I am not sad. I do not appear sad. Contrary to what people expect. But I am ANGRY. I am furious. But nobody can see this. I am not fine and I wish no one would ever* ask how I was again.
TW/Personal content over.
Since I was small (because I am weird like that) I genuinely wondered if, finding myself in danger, I could scream like people in films do. I don't think I could.
I cope with hard situations, fear and stress and anxiety by shutting down, sometimes by retreating too, by furiously trying to find a way out. And I think Aziraphale does the same. And that's why I love him so much. And why I feel get him and understand that people sometimes can't tell how much he's actually feeling.
I also express love the way Aziraphale does - by organising things for people I love, inviting them places, making plans. When Crowley said you call me for three things (and it's basically any old reason) I felt SO SEEN. This is what I would do with a friend who I know is feeling unmoored, sad, stuck. I'd text them with any old thing. I'd never actually say I love you, how can I help though, I would try to get them to talk, meet me, go somewhere.
Aziraphale does not express emotions the same way as Crowley.
But his emotions are valid nonetheless.
He is worried for Crowley from around 3 minutes into their acquaintanceship. And he NEVER stops worrying.
And are we quite sure he has never lost Crowley?
How many times did Aziraphale's heart freeze in horror when he realised Hell has taken Crowley and he had no idea if he'll ever come back and what is happening to him?
Why else would he be so worried about working on the Arrangement?
Was he worried just for himself?
Do we really think that?
Crowley thinks he lost Aziraphale, yes, we saw that, but do they ever talk about what happened to the angel then?
Do we?
That he got blown into atoms which I bet wasn't pleasant and when he arrives in Heaven he limps? Why is he hurt? Why is he quickly pretending he isn't?
Why is he always hiding how he feels?
Also, he immediately deserts, wants no part in the Holy War and quickly finds an extremely unconventional way to get back. It's not a grand gesture, there's no pomp around it, he thinks this and then does it. No hesitation.
Is this coming from an angel who just can't leave Heaven behind and longs to be a part of it? Who loves to follow rules?
And let's not forget in those moments Aziraphale thought Crowley was gone. That he very likely left for Alpha Centauri. Last he heard from him he was told he was talking to an old friend and had no time for him. Why we NEVER talk about how that might have felt for Aziraphale?
Things are not as simple as Aziraphale has been supressing his emotions and lying to himself about how he feels and he should get over it and become free. That's not how this works.
His trauma and his personality are deeply intertwined and he'd never be the kind of person who is open in showing their grief or stress. He will learn to be more open, with his love especially, we see him reaching for and touching his demon in S2. Openly being with him, looking at him without guarding himself. That's HUGE. He's trying.
So. Just because Aziraphale is not crying and screaming and I dunno, tearing his hair out or whatever some people would have him do, does not mean he isn't overflowing with pain, fear, uncertainty, doubts, worries, and so much anxiety that if he let it all out, half of the solar system would turn to ashes.
Aziraphale does not need to suffer in S3 to level out Crowley's suffering. They are, unfortunately, equal in their pain as they are in love.
If there is one thing Crowley would never abide, it'd be this take from the fandom.
* A note on grief
(obviously from my personal experience)
As initiated by @anthony-crowleys-left-nut in a comment
It's not that I mind to know people care and worry etc, but asking how I am can only end in me lying (fine, thank you) and both of us knowing it's not really true and feeling awkward or not lying (I feel like shit, mostly cos I can't sleep and think the world is a stupid unfair place) and both of us feeling awkward anyway.
Does that make sense?
I wish I could tell friends/colleagues to ask what I've been up to or something similar instead. What I've been reading (um, AO3, but I'll make something up), watching, do I want to go see some spring flowers bloom (I do).
#aziraphale#good omens#crowley#aziracrow#ineffable husbands#neil gaiman#ineffable divorce#aziraphale my beloved#good omens thoughts#aziraphale defense squad#suffering in silence#grief#tw grief#dealing with grief#loss#tw death#kaypost
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EVERYTHING IS FINE- Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader
this is it. angsty asf. bittersweet ending it’s sad people. tw: infidelity. based on my most recent post. please comment i’m literally begging you and tell me how you like it<3
In the depths of your heart, you already know. Your Miguel is not yours anymore.
You remember the stolen glances between him and Dana where you pretended not to notice the palpable tension between the three of you amidst the throng of about ten other people in the house.
It was a nice dinner that you’d planned, after spending almost a week away because of your actual job as well as your little side gig that was being a part of spider society.
But fifteen minutes into the little shin-dig and you get a call from none other than your boss. Not the nice one who showed you the ropes when you first joined and provided you with hours of mentorship. The bitch that was a variant of your husband was currently floating above your watch as you glared at him in the bathroom.
“We need you.”
“Not today.”
“It’s an emergency.”
“It’s always an emergency.” you roll your eyes.
“Look this was unplanned, you think my life’s aim is to torment you?”
“Kind of.” you nod and he groans, “Give me twenty minutes.”
——
At the end of twenty minutes, you storm out of your house as quietly as you can, yes it’s an oxymoron but you’re pissed off.
At Miguel, at your husband, at yourself.
Your mother always said that you were one to pity yourself, even when every bad thing that happened was the result of your own actions. All your life you’ve disagreed, but now you think that maybe your mother was probably right.
None of this would have happened if you’d just said no. No to Dana making her way into your marriage to her guy best friend and co-worker.No to the variant of him with fangs and red eyes and No to your own urge of fucking things up because you wanted to see what happened. If maybe what your heart felt was wrong. That there was nothing wrong with you and Miguel, that he still loved you.
You let out a shaky breath and open a portal from an alleyway behind your apartment building. The purple hue reflects onto your face. No, you weren’t a spider. Just a traveller that stumped your boss and changed his perception of everything he knew about the multiverse.
The man himself nodded at you as you stepped onto the platform he was standing on, looking back to the holo of what looked like a rogue Doc Ock, Goblin and another Spiderman.
“What, now we have evil spidermen? Isn’t that breaking the canon?” you raise an eyebrow.
“That’s the thing. There’s no canon event broken. He was meant to be a villain. Yet, I’ve never heard of him, or of this universe.”
You look at him like he’s just told you that he used to be a stripper in college and all his money came from his side-gig, “I’m sorry, what? The all powerful Miguel O’Hara with the pixel suit doesn’t know of the existence of a universe?”
“You’re being real helpful right now.” he grumbles.
“Thank you, I knew you’d appreciate the help.”
——
The house is quiet when you walk in, evidently everyone has left. The kitchen has been cleaned and the lights are off.
He’d always been your biggest supporter. Always so humble even though he had a high position and a fat paycheck, always telling you to let him help you. Doing some of your work for you when you were busy.
The bedroom door creaked a little as you enter, the sound of your loves breathing makes you crack a small smile. His hulking figure curled up and moving up and down. His face slack.
God he was so beautiful.
You shed your clothes and go through your night routine as fast as you can. Brushing your teeth and scrubbing your face. Cursing the pimples that always make their way onto your forehead at the wrong time.
The mattress squeaks as you get on, slowly wrapping your hands around his body. He stirs and looks up at you, his eyes softening. He’d been drinking, you can tell. He hasn’t looked at you like this for a while.
“Hi.” his hands cup your face and you smile softly as you kiss his rough palm. Your own covering his.
“Sorry I disturbed you. Thank you for cleaning up.” your hands mirror his actions, thumbs caressing his cheekbones.
He answers you with a soft kiss. And then another. And his hands are travelling down to pull you to him. Engulfing you as he hides his face in the crook of your neck. Your hands move to play with his hair as he drifted back to sleep.
You close your eyes and pretend that everything is fine. That the lipstick stain on his shirt in the laundry basket wasn’t the same as Dana’s.
———
“Are you fucking dumb?” O’Hara seethes, as he disinfects the gash at the bottom of your neck.
“It’s just a graze, i’m fine.” you grumble, “it’s not like anyone’s gonna care if i die.”
“No, just shut your mouth. Stop talking like you’re some martyr. There are plenty of people here who would miss you.”
“Miguel, let’s not get ahead of ourselves here.” you chuckle, “i get it-
“No, you don’t. actually, you don’t get it. the woman i loved died, and she’s gone and i’d do anything to have her back, and you’re so convinced that if you died your own fucking husband wouldn’t want to die too? Stop acting like you’re expendable.” his eyes glow and yours widen, “This may come as a surprise to you, but people care.”
You gulp, “Sorry.”
He grumbles under his breath as he sprays the wound with bacta so it heals faster. Apologising when you wince.
You look at his concentrated face that is focused on wrapping the bandage around your shoulder and the bottom of your neck. His face is mere inches from yours. He is the splitting image of your husband, save from the red eyes and fangs. But this close you can see the differences, his eyebrows are a tad thicker and his ears are smaller.
He is harder and his words are sharp. Your love is soft and quiet. Mean when he has to be, but kinder. More open.
More loving. Yes. He’s more loving and he loves you.
You look away and focus on the ceiling. You don’t see his eyes watching your face. Eyes filled with sadness and want.
——
“Dana, here. Have some tea.” you pour a cup for the woman sitting next to Miguel at the table. At your spot.
Is it toxic to think that maybe you want her to choke on her tea?
She’d started to carpool with Miguel a few months ago , seeing as they worked together and were on the same team, it was more efficient and made more sense.
You didn’t want to seem like a toxic wife so you nodded and agreed, because you were secure in your relationship with your husband.
“Thank you.” she says your name with a wide smile as she sips the tea, “Amazing, as always.”
“I know right, she makes amazing tea.” he smiles at her and raises an eyebrow. Dana snorts.
You look between the pair trying to hide their smiles, “Did I miss something?” an awkward smile makes its way onto your face.
“Inside joke, you wouldn’t get it. It’s a scientist thing. I don’t think your writer brain could handle it.” Dana waves you away as if you’re a fucking waiter and you bristle.
But what drives it home is that Miguel laughs out loud when she says that. His hair flops onto his forehead and Dana fixes it for him, her hands running through this hair.
You fight the urge to break a plate on her head but you know it’ll be fruitless. Because your husband will take her side.
Maybe you’re just being dramatic. Maybe the tears you’re trying to hide as you make breakfast are unwarranted and you can’t take a joke.
Everything is fine.
You call out to them from the kitchen, telling them you’re going to be late and his voice is brighter when he says, “Okay, honey.”
—————
“You okay?”
“I’m fine, boss.”
“You look dead.”
“Your eyes bags suggest the same.”
“You’re hilarious.” O’Hara smirks
“Thank you.” you take a sip of the beer he’d passed.
It was late, far past dinner time. And the both of you had taken time to go over the record of what anomalies were most common and key weaknesses in most villains.
“But seriously, are you okay?”
You gulp, “Tell me about your wife. Please.”
He blanches, and then looks at the tears welling up in your eyes.
“Well, where to begin?” he turns to face you, “She…was a writer, she had her own business. She loved sunflowers because they faced each other when the sun wasn’t in the sky.” he smiles sadly, “she was terrified of frogs and dead fish. And she hated onions. The pickiest fucking eater.” he shakes his head and chuckles.
“She sounds sweet.” you know she was variant of you, Miguel had shown you the web of life and in every universe there was version of you that made their way into his life. It was beautiful, honestly.
“She had short hair, and her smile. God, it could make anyone’s day better.” he rested his head on his hand and looked at the hologram shining in front of the both of you.
“She sounds like a dream.” you reply.
“She was.” he nods.
“Hey would you mind bringing up a live of my house?” you ask.
“Why?”
“Humour me, will you?”
He grumbles and a hologram showing your universe pops up, on the screen is your living room. And Miguel freezes when he sees the scene before him.
He sees himself kiss Dana. The version of him who is married, is kissing his co-worker. He’s taking her in his arms and nuzzling her nose. He’s pecking her cheeks and tickling her like she’s his wife.
Like he’s in love with her.
“I love you.” his voice echoes throughout the room. And Dana says it back.
His head whips to look at you. You don’t look surprised, rather, you look defeated. You breathe out like it’s a finality. Your beautiful beautiful eyes transfixed on offending scene in front of you.
Before anything else happens, he shuts it off. Immediately turning to look at your frozen form, “Hey, you with me?”
You shake your head and smile. Eyes still fixed onto where the hologram was, “I’m fine.” Tears fall down your cheeks as your mouth quivers, “I’m okay. Everyday he comes back around this time. And they carpool. I told him I’d be late today. Just after I made them tea and they laughed at an inside joke amongst themselves.”
His eyes widens, “Oh honey.” his moves to hug you and you let out an ugly sob, “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
“I knew it.” you say into his chest, “I’m so fucking stupid.”
His hand pats your back, “You’re not stupid.”
“I mean, I know i was busy, i know i wasnt always home. But I tried, i fucking tried. WHAT IS SO WRONG WITB ME?” the dam breaks and you let out a wrecked shout of agony that breaks his heart into two, “Why wasn’t I good enough?!” your body shakes violently.
“No.” he says firmly, taking your face in his hands, almost squeezing your cheeks and forcing you to looking at him, your hands fly to cover his, “ You are good enough. You are enough. Listen to me. That fucking idiot doesn’t know who he just lost.”
“But-But if i wasnt so busy-
“If he had a problem, he should’ve told you. He’s a fucking pussy.”
Your words are silenced when he shakes you once, hands still holding your cheeks, “You are the most perfect person. And the both of them will pay. I promise that, cariño.”
His arms wrap around you to engulf you as you hide your face in the crook of his neck, rapid breaths slowing. His pulse beats and you can feel the vibrations on your own skin.
You close your eyes and pretend everything is fine. Because you’re in his arms.
#miguel o’hara#miguel o’hara angst#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel x reader#atsv miguel#miguel x you
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so I had a though what if the Barbies and the Kens actually had private parts but actively avoided them (think, using etc)?
Like Barbies do have boobs and you can see that the Kens have nipples. Also dolls - as far as I remember - had panties, craved in, panties.
I believe in the movie they talk about how they don't have genitals. Though, let's say that they do have privates, what would happen?
Also ignoring the second part
Pleasurable Sin [Headcanons]
Yandere! Ryan! Ken x Fem! Reader
Tw: Smut/Nsfw, Masturbation/Jerking Off, Ken has a dick!
🔞18+ Content due to dark and adult themes. Read at your own risk
The Barbies are more sexually aware/have a sexual education
The only reason the Kens don't ALSO have a sexual education is because they don't take it seriously [Also, they're not really getting laid]
There are no diseases, STD & STIs, because there's nothing to give it to them if that makes sense?
They are humanized versions of their doll personas, meaning they have human bodies and need food, water, air, etc
The Kens are very sexual
Your Ken, Ryan, is always touching you and humping you, quite literally
The first time Ken jerked off he had no idea what he was doing
He grabbed the base/shaft and slowly moves up towards the tip. He slowly picks up the pace, which causes him to groan. He really liked the feeling and speeds up. He quickly speeds up when feeling his lower intestine tighten up and then cums all over his hand
He's out of breath and excited with this newfound pleasure
It makes him wonder if you also feel like this
He's completely clueless and thinks you also have a penis
"Well, don't you pull on it too?"
You look at him confused, before laughing at him. He blushes, embarrassed, feeling like a fool."
"We don't have the same genitalia, you know that right, Ken?"
"Of course I do... So what does it look like?"
Once he does figure out what jerking off and how good it is, he does it a lot
When you rub against him, it's like seeing stars
It feels better when you rub him than when he rubs himself
Man will do anything for you to touch him
He's very loud and cries during sex
He'll cover his mouth when your mouth is wrapped around him, because he doesn't want anyone to hear him
Suck him like a lolipop, it's like a treat for him
Barbie Dreamhouse Ken would care about your pleasure
Ken is so excited and sometimes forgets to please you
He moves so fast and energetically
Though, if you tell him, he'll be more cautious, because his biggest fear is you not loving him. So, when he does realize that he's been upsetting/displeasing you, he's scared
While he does enjoy the feeling of being inside you, if you show any discomfort, now that he has eagle eyes on you, he'll be quick to ask what's wrong
He's willing to do whatever you're up for
He's also really easy to turn on
If Boner Alerts existed, his would go off anytime you're near
You don't even have to do anything; You just talk a certain way/Lean into him just a little to far/ You look at him a certain way... Well, it all works and he gets excited
He gets really sad when you say no, but is willing to do it by himself. He'd rather you help him, but it's okay, he'll just use his imagination
Oh boy, does his imagination run wild
Good thing Porn doesn't exist in Barbie Land, because he'd be wanting to do it all with you
While he does love 'Love-making', he doesn't think about it constantly. Sometimes he loves the way you look in the sunlight. You look beautiful when you smile. Your laugh makes his heart beat and his skin gets those goosebumps. A shiver runs up his back when you look at him like he's the only man in the world
There's no one else like you. Yeah, the Barbies are pretty, but you are one of a kind and you're the only person who owns Ken's mind
#yandere ken x reader#ken#ryan ken#ryan gosling#yandere ken#ken x reader#ken barbie#yandere barbie ken#yandere barbie ken x reader#yandere barbie#yandere ryan ken x reader#the barbie movie#barbie movie#barbie 2023#barbie the movie
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Alastor X Reader Headcanons
✅️Romantic
❌️Platonic
TW: Jealousy, Implied catcalling, Harassment, Cannibalism?? Implied Biting, Possessiveness
Description: Alastor realizing the price he pays for having a total fox as an S/O
LOOK
Alastor is happy to show you off, you're his delicious, tasty, mouth-watering babe of a partner
He likes seeing the envy on other's faces when you two are together, likes having you on his arm
Love love loves having your attention solely on him, ignoring the rest of them
He loves rubbing the fact that you're his and his alone in everyone's face, he practically dangles you in their drooling faces just to snatch you up for himself in front of them
What Alastor doesn't love is when people try to take you for themselves, or take your attention from him
Or when they make you uncomfortable/annoyed/sad/the list could keep going
You often were catcalled or sometimes even followed when you walked alone, thirsty demons drooling/hooting over you as you walked by
It's all Alastor can do not to simply just hunt down every single offender, knowing you can take care of yourself
But still
You only need to ask
He never really imagined anybody would make a move on you until it actually happens
He only stepped away for one moment and when he came back some idiot was already flirting with you
Like backed you up against a wall while trying to win you over kind of flirting
Saying filthy things that made Alastor's skin crawl when he pictured it
You looked bored and annoyed 😒 arms crossed defensively over your body(any extra limbs are also tucked in close)
You were hardly listening, perking up once you saw Alastor coming back, moving to meet him halfway
Alastor knows you're tough, knows you can take care of yourself, but when he sees them actually go to make a grab at you
Motherfucker-
Not him physically ripping the offender away from you
Not him using his power to hold them down while he punishes them for even thinking of touching you
Just when he's about finished he'll ask you what their real punishment should be, leaving their fate in your hands
He just wants to please his lil boo-thang
If you choose mercy then Alastor will simply toss them aside and loop his arm with yours, continuing your day as if nothing had happened
If you don't choose mercy then Alastor will gleefully devour them right in front of you if, not even hiding the fact that he's showing off his more monstrous form
Then it's right back to whatever you two were doing before
"No, don't kiss me until you wash your mouth out!"
Maybe is a little more...clingy...after realizing that others are drawn towards you just as he is
He love hates how attractive you are, almost whining about it at times when you two are alone
As if you even asked to look so fine
Can't you just...always stay in the hotel or something???? No????
Maybe wear a collar that says "Alastor" on it???
Um no bitch
Bby why
Let him give you bite marks and hickeys for everyone to see??? Just a few~ He'll be so gentle~ Won't taste your super tasty blood at all~
Okay maybe you two found a compromise
"Alastor w-wait~ Not there~"
Not him biting you in public to mark his territory
Your mans is FERAL
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Lego still not sponsoring me (dark!Konig x fem!Reader)
Konig is a nerd who needs to get sprayed with water for being a fucking creep. You're an adorable cashier at the Lego Store in Berlin who doesn't know any better and is too nice to lose. He will have you. Mostly because he wants someone to do his Lego sets with.
Details count: 2922
AO3
TW and Tags: Dub-con/Non-con, age gap, size difference, kidnapping, awkward colonel Konig, nerd Konig, hurt/comfort, Konig's POV(mostly), awkward German, yandere Konig.
You didn’t want to build Millenium Falcon with him.
You didn’t want to shower or eat, you didn’t want to do anything besides crying, and even though your tears, as he expected, were beautiful and adorable, it was kinda hard for König to take care of your mental and physical needs while he was rock hard from watching you cry so sweetly.
König is patient, kind, and a model citizen through and through. Why are you upset? He is doing everything he can, just to make you smile! Seriously, Schatzi, the desire to make him as miserable as you possibly can doesn’t make you pretty or cute or even the least bit adorable. Good thing that he is used to feeling sad and kinda of bullied – you’re lucky he doesn’t even try to feel good anymore. Not in his destiny book to live a good life.
— I brought food.
You groan lightly, whimpering somewhere in the corner of his basement. To your justification, his basement is a bit dirty. He forgot to visit the house for months after deployment, which was never enough to fill out the blanks of loneliness in the empty rooms. His dogshits methods of choosing decorations also made the mere existence in the house a hard mission even in itself. He looked at the anime posters in the guest rooms, which made him want to sell the property to anyone willing to pay 50 Euros for the processing fees. The posters(Sword Art Online because why the hell not, he likes cool swords and a power fantasy about a loser getting the chick) and artwork of his queen and savior, The Busty Blond Lady From Fate because, unlike those waifu-obsessed freaks, he did have a life and not enough time to actually remember her name. Something about light sabers. Or cats.
— Are you going to kill me?
He sighs because you sound like a broken record. All the time – the questions about his intentions, like you can’t see the tent in his pants every time you open your eyes, about letting you go, about at least allowing you to text your family that you decided to change your country of residence and would need to revoke your German visa.
You’re way more soft than he thought you’d initially be – no fighting, no arguing, just pure terror and desire to die every time his hands brush over you. König is a sweet guy, as sweet as someone like him can be – but he only has a few weeks until his next mission, and even a few days of your moping around is bound to make him not just blue-balled, but also very, extremely, offensively hot-headed.
He spent two days with you chained up in his basement and, he thinks, that should be enough for foreplay. He is extremely generous and kind – usually, at this point, he’d already start breaking the fingers of whoever poor fuck is his torture victim for the mission.
— I don’t want to kill you.
You whimper – somehow, his answer didn’t calm you down. Fucking women and their inability to talk to their kidnappers – he considers spiking your food just this once, so he could have a nice session with your little drunk self and some roofies but, of course, he is a nice guy who brought you takeout in a reheatable container, with a cute plastic fork and some sparkling water in a glass, just so you won’t feel like he is making you eat some garbage. It’s good food, too – he’d love to cook like this, but the heights of his skills are runny eggs and burnt coffee. He hopes you like the Italian because it’s the most inoffensive stuff he could have brought you without resorting to pizza and cup noodles. He will never let you eat cup noodles on his watch.
— Are you going to rape me?
He can’t exactly say no because, as a matter of fact, pulling your cute body under his is one of his intentions. He wanted to do it since he was you in this fucking store, but, of course. saying this to a pretty girl is lame. And completely counter-productive. And would make him a villain in your eyes, even though he tries so fucking hard to be a hero. He can make you feel good if you were to just open your pretty legs for him and moan under his tongue – god knows, he wants to make you feel good. He wonders what would it take for him to please you. If he could have a full-time job at this.
— Nein. Thought I told you already.
— I don’t…I shouldn’t believe you.
He shook his head, pushing the plate(he had to go out of his way to actually put the pasta from the tray to a proper plate, enjoy this, woman) towards you. You’re adorable like this – naked, trembling, a bit too weak to actually fight him over not eating anything for the past two days – you’re repeating the same conversation over and over again and König wouldn’t mind living in a groundhog day if the loop would end with his fucking you on that thin mattress each time.
Speaking of mattresses – he needs to get you a thicker one.
Speaking of thicker mattresses – he needs to relocate you into his bedroom as soon as possible.
Speaking of his bedroom – he is fucking bricked.
— If you don’t trust me, why do you ask?
You bite your lips. He can see you’re hungry and thirsty – he doesn’t want to forcefully feed you, so, yeah, you better be very hungry very soon. He pushes the plate towards you, hoping you won’t launch it on his head. He survived worse, a 6’4 British dude in a ski mask falling on him with the speed of Brexit, but getting hit by a plate when your angry girlfriend is being an angry girlfriend is…the best thing that could ever happen to him, actually. Gott, he is miserable.
— I…I don’t know. Don’t want to get killed.
— I won’t kill you.
— But you will hurt me.
— I don’t have to do that, Liebling.
No, he doesn’t.
But he sees the way your plushy thighs are squeezing into that tiny corner where your mat is, your squishy body getting all shaky and trembly, your lips in a tight line with tiny blood droplets from biting on them too much – and, by his fucking god, you’re beautiful. He wants to make you wet, to make you squirm, to make you beg and cry for mercy as he pounds into the sweetness of your cunt. He wants to try you on the inside and out, lick you all over from the inside, and then make you lick your love juices from his lips.
König knows he is hard and can’t really hide it – it’s useless now, really, he is being very nice and considerate to you. Changing your life is hard, especially with how quickly you moved to his place – like a good boyfriend, he should help you adjust. And aid you in recognizing that he is, in fact, your boyfriend and future husband. The perfect partner to ever exist.
— What is it?
— Pasta. It’s…it’s good. Should be good.
He is nervous, anxious. Seeing a pretty girl in her natural habitat – a Lego store – is one thing. He was barely able to talk to you properly, especially right after his deployment, where the only female attention he ever got was Roze asking to cover her or additional female soldiers groaning in pain as he stomped them. But you…he shouldn’t be colonel around you – absolutely not. You’re soft and civilian, you’re as polite as a girl in a basement could be, and you deserve to have something nice for once in your life. Licking his lips, König gently picks up a fork and presses a small amount of pasta – rich, creamy, with some nice cheese that smells divine - -against your lips.
You refuse.
A smart move, he could have poisoned it – so he thinks for a few seconds, staring at you like a smart girlie you are, and then – lifts his hood. If only barely, revealing his scarred chin and bruised lips. The initial swelling after getting his head bumped by a guy who was speaking like an edgy teenager in the Counter-Strike lobby was already gone by the time he managed to get you into his basement – but no amount of rest could hide all other marks from his job.
Despite being a seasoned mercenary with hundreds of killed targets and completed objectives, he feels…insecure. You’re a nice girl, a good girl, the type that used to look at him with hatred while he was bullied at school. Hatred or pity – but you only look at him with fear, and it cements his understanding that you’re not going to give in to loving him so easily.
König sighs deeply, his lips, curved into that awkward, boyish smile that creeps on his face every time he as much as thinks about you, now transforming into a scowl as you proceed to whimper and try to get lost in the wall behind you. Like he wouldn’t be able to track your scent if you would disappear. He slowly presses his fork towards his mouth, chewing on the food – showing you that it’s not poisoned.
He smiles again when he sees you slowly parting your lips, expecting him to feed you with less of a fuss. He’d propose something else – maybe even untying your hands and allowing you to actually for yourself, but something in your helpless state made his cock throb in his pants. God, König knows he isn’t his strongest soldier, but could he please make you less adorable? He doesn’t want to push you on your knees and make you suck on him until he whimpers, but the way you lick all of the cheese from your lips and try your best to look presentable in front of him…
The process of feeding someone shouldn’t really be sexual, but König gently pushes the hair away from your face and lifts up the fork over and over, sometimes only changing to bring a glass of water to your lips. He can do this all day. Every day. Pleasing you already becomes second nature – and he spends most of his life thinking that the only thing he can take care of is his rifle and a few tortured enemies that need their teeth extracted. You require gentle handling – and he wants nothing more but to give you that. Just…a bit later. Preferably after the already came in your pussy at least two or three times and made you choke on his dick as a little thank-you gift.
You finish eating after a short while, thanking him for bringing you a napkin to clean your lips. König gently caresses your head, enjoying the sensation of your hair under his palm – it’s like petting a cat. A soft little pet just for him and no one else – if only he could actually bring you to like him. He has a few bond activities in mind, though.
— You liked it, ja?
You lick your lips again, and his breath hitches. This is going to be hard, this is going to be impossible, it’s worse than having to work with high Krueger on a ship that made everyone feel like they were the ones doing crack in the backroom of their makeshift base.
— I…I did.
He pets your head again like you’re his pet – and you gently move your head to lean into his touch. Perhaps you’re dumber than he thinks. Or way smarter – a clever strategy to make him relax and nice to you without making him too suspicious. You slowly get back into your corner, but König wouldn’t have any of it – he drags you back by your arm, making you whimper and sob in his hold. It’s bad, he doesn’t want you to squirm from under him as much as you do, but…if you don’t want to be a good girl, he might as well force you to.
You cry as he pushes you deep into the corner, his hands roaming over your body. Thank god he ripped your clothes before you woke up – now there isn’t anything protecting you from his hands, not even that adorable bra he ripped in pieces because, as much as he loved wearing a uniform with straps and buttons everywhere, he could not figure out how to take this thing off you without breaking it. The last time he was sleeping with a woman, she wore a sports bra that could be taken off easily. It’s your fault that you decided to be more girly, really. Not his.
His hands cup your breasts roughly. Tugs and twists your nipples, a few shaky moans telling him exactly how sensitive you are – he might not have a girl in a hot minute, too busy with being the best freaking mercenary in the world, but even he knows how to take care of a pretty thing like you. Your tits fit in his hands perfectly, even more, reasons to believe you were just made for him. Not for some lame job at a Lego store counter – you should be waiting on your knees in his bedroom, with your mouth open wide and neat to fit his cock right in. With some sweet things lingering on your tongue as he bullies himself right in, getting what he deserves for protecting peace – and installing violence – while doing his job. He might not be the best freaking guy around, but he deserves something nice.
He pinches your nipples until they’re firm and swollen, every little cry escaping from your lips is only encouraging him to proceed. Licks on the open skin of your neck until his eneve stubble makes you whimper from how sensitive you are – it should be painful, he thinks, with how bloody the little bite marks from his teeth have become.
König marks you as thoroughly as possible, smiling each time you cry and beg for him to stop. You’re changing between bad German and good English, between loud cries and small whimpers, which he can’t determine from pleasure to pain. Not like he cares, too determined to make you cry his name – even though you probably don’t know it. All of his desires to claim you taking full power now, not listening to the way you plead with him. Whimper for him. Your skin is a clear canvas, allowing him to paint you with hickeys and marks, enjoying the little blood droplets covering your collarbones.
— Quiet, please. Don’t…don’t move, Schatzi. I don’t want to hurt you.
— Please, please, just…anything but…
— Won’t take long. Promise.
— I don’t want to-
— Quiet. I know you don’t, Liebling. Just…Scheisse, you…fuck.
— Stop!
— Can’t. I apologize, Schatzen. Relax for me, ja?
He whispers, he whimpers, he is almost out of his mind when he can finally put his tongue on your swollen nipples. For some weird, depraved reason, he almost expects the milk to start flowing from your chest, allowing him to drink up as much as he wants. If he could get you pregnant, he might enjoy it for a few months – although having a kid on his hip isn’t as fun as it could have. He tried to babysit Hutch kids once when he brought them to base – and it was the worst fucking day of his life. Besides, little children can’t be around Legos – it's already a deal breaker for someone like him.
Speaking of legos…
You wiggle in his grasp, as good as you can with your hands still in the handcuffs – he should give you that one, at least you aren’t just laying lifelessly in front of him. At least you’re putting up a fight. At least he doesn’t feel too bad about restraining you without proper reasoning.
You lick your lips again, that cute tongue of yours going over all the bite marks. You take a deep breath, shaking in his hold. God, he can just look in your face the whole day – barely knows how to handle himself around you.
— I…I thought you wanted to…build this set with me?
Smart girl. Way smarter than he gave you credit for – you know how to make him stop in his tracks and finally look at you differently. Maybe, you’re too good for him. Maybe, he doesn’t really care about that.
Millennium Falcon, still sitting in the box – König hoped you’d start slowly putting it together but, seemingly, you need a bit of encouragement. The only thing that could tug him away from your breasts is the expensive set sitting just next to him.
Might start bonding with you as well.
He tugs away from your nipples with a loud pop, an obnoxiously wet sound emerging as a thin line of saliva connects your breasts and his tongue. You whimper when he smiles, that scarred face of his twisting in a huge grin. Knows he’s not the most charming person around, but it’s not like you have any choice now – not with the limited options he gave you. Like a good girl, you’d probably pick doing Lego Sets with him than taking his cock in that tight pussy of yours. He’d be satisfied with any outcome.
— J…ja. I’d like that.
He has to give this one to you – you really know how to get a man going.
Bu building this insane set with him, that is.
#cod#konig x reader#konig#yandere konig#cod x reader#call of duty#yandere cod#cod x you#konig mw2#konig x you#konig cod#lego
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All eyes on us.
Summary: This wedding needs to happen, it's the only way you can protect the ones you love, the only problem is that you're in love with your husband-to-be and he would never love you back.
Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Stark!reader.
TW: Really not so many, talks of murder but very lightly, mentions of mysogyny, implications of mafia kind of stuff, death of parents, mention of future smut, curvy!reader, no mention of y/n and reader's nickname is Bells (context coming soon), kind of enemies to lovers but not really enemies, arranged marriage, this will be a +18 story so minors dni.
Disclaimer: English is not my first language, please tell me if I make grammar mistakes.
Part of the Yours to lose series.
Pictures from pinterest and graphic and dividers by the amazing @ firefly-graphics so all credits to the creators.
Everyone was waiting for her but she kept looking at herself in the mirror.
The wedding dress was beautiful, Pepper told her it was what Maria Stark –her mother- wore in her own wedding day and she loved it, the silk was too soft, hugging her curves with an ethereal touch and it had a subtle scent that she assumed belonged to the mother she couldn't remember.
Tony swore their mother loved her, their father too, the young bride couldn’t help but doubt it, they would not love her if they could see her now about to get married to a man who didn’t love her back, a man who humiliated her once for his pride, someone who probably only wanted what this arrangement could give him back.
How would she survive this marriage when it was impossible to leave the room and get to the Cathedral?
A knock in the door pulled her out of her mind, finding Natasha smiling at her in the reflection of the mirror.
“Are you ready, dear?” her friend knew the real answer but still gave her the chance to speak.
“I was about to go” she lied and the redhead gave her a knowing look “everyone it’s waiting, isn’t it?”
“You’re the bride, honey, they can wait” Natasha walked to her, looking like a goddess in her silver dress and put her arms around the bride’s body “you can say no, we can fight Russo’s father, hell, Billy would love having one more excuse to kill him.”
She was sure Billy would do it, not only for her but for his sister, for Madani and for himself but it wasn’t time yet, the alliances needed to be settled, Stark and Barnes had to fight alongside to kill Pierce and Carlo Russo. She made all that mess before getting her family back and nobody would take them from her, never again.
“It has to be done, Nat” she put the veil in her head and took the beautiful bouquet Becca left for her earlier “let’s go.”
Her friend must have seen something in her eyes that made her nod.
“Alright, Bells. Let’s do this” her nickname, the one Yelena gave her when they met years ago, made her smile, who could ever thought that knocking someone out with Christmas bells will change her life?
Natasha guided her trough the corridors to the waiting room where Tony was talking in a hushed tone with Pepper, her sister-in-law radiant with her baby bump, reminding her why this alliance needed to happen.
“I’d be waiting outside, dear” Nat kissed her cheek and went to take her place with the other bridesmaids.
Tony was staring at her, pale like a ghost, whispering his sister's name. It wasn’t the first time in the last months Bells was told how much alike she was with his mother, their mother but this time Tony didn’t say anything, just looked at her eyes to find determination that matched his concern.
“Everything it’s beautiful, Peps, thank you” the bride said and the ginger smiled with a hint of sadness barely visible.
“It’s the least I could do for you, topolina. You deserve beautiful things” she never had a mother, not that she could remember, but with Pepper there she could feel like she did.
Pepper gave her husband a gentle squeeze in the arm and went to join the rest of the guest.
“I have Frank ready to go, say the word and we leave” his first words almost made her chuckle, he spent the last fifteen days planning ways to get her out of this but Bells always refused, a small and stupid part of her happy because she would marry the man she loved.
“I want to do this, Tony, for all of us” that part it was true, this marriage was the only way she could protect him and Pepper and the baby, Billy and Dinah, Frank and Maria and the kids, the family she dreamed about since she was a kid and that she finally had. It also would save her from Carlo Russo’s greedy hands.
Bells knew one or two things about the mob, mostly from movies and for that she was sure the respect from his brother to her choices were more part of his good soul, she heard some stories from Maria that made her want to kill Carlo Russo even more.
True to the man she met not too long ago Tony didn’t fight her, instead he straightened his bow tie and extended an arm out for her to take it.
“Then allow me to walk you down the aisle, signorina, it will be my honour” the charm went back to his eyes and Bells could breathe, if she could count on them, she could do anything.
The music started playing when the wedding planner gave the signal and every one of her friends smiled at her or blew kisses at her before marching down the aisle. From where she was she could see Maria walk with confidence, not sparing a glance to her father who unfortunately was sited next to her brother Billy and Dinah.
Natasha was the last one, looking at her with reassurance one last time before following the others, then it was their turn.
“I love you, topolina”
“Love you too, Tony”
The crowd of guest was an unfocused picture, she only had eyes for the man waiting for her at the altar, wearing a black tux with a new haircut, his long chestnut locks were gone, sending a silly wave of sorrow through her veins.
She loved his hair, in an embarrassing impulse she remembered pulling his long hair to get him to kiss her again when-
Bells stopped herself.
It was dangerous to think about those times, they were gone the minute he saw her as one of his properties and decided to punish her for something she never did.
Bucky’s eyes never left her the whole way to him, drinking her like he was dying of thirst. Steve must have noticed too because he gave him a subtle bump to get him to blink and stop looking like he would commit sacrilege in the middle of the church.
The beautiful glass windows projected a million colors around her when Tony lifted the veil and with a barely visible hesitance put her hand in Bucky’s.
“I’m confident you will protect her with your life, Barnes” was all he said, dead serious when Bucky gave him a solemn nod and her brother kissed her forehead.
With her eyes watching her step, Bells avoided looking at him until it was impossible to keep going.
A soft smile, one she thought she lost forever, resurfaced when their eyes locked and the bride could read what he was thinking.
She was his, always was and always would be and he would never let her go.
I'd do bad things with you >>>
Hiya! I'm super happy to post this story even if I don't know what I'm doing, to be honest I'm not fluent in italian, so here's the translation of the pet names I used:
-topolina: Little mouse.
-signorina: Miss.
If I made a mistake with that, feel free to correct me and tell me what you think! What do you think it will happen?
Love, Lily.
#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes x f!reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x curvy!reader#mob!bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes angst
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Pitch Black (Astarion x Reader)
TW - panic attack, claustrophobia, themes of death/rotting
I based this off some sad lore I found out about him yesterday :(
Recommended Song: Rainy Day Loop - SALES
There's a lot of things Astarion hasn't told you. You don't mind, because a lot of those things are hard to relive. Everything he tells you comes with a price, but he does it mostly out of necessity. There are times you know something lies deeper, and yet you don't pry. It will come to light if he decides it needs to.
However, he never told you about one of the first truly cruel things Cazador did. How one day he refused him, told him no for once. He woke up buried six feet under, starving in undeath for an entire year until his master dug him up again. That was the last time he disobeyed.
This led to a fear he never told you about, claustrophobia, that terrifying feeling of being unable to escape small spaces. He doesn't like closets, this you knew, but you assumed it was because they're dark and sad, not because they're small rooms.
One morning you're sleeping, peaceful, arms wrapped around him tight. He wakes up before you, calm at first. When he realizes his discomfort at feeling trapped in your arms, he gently tries to move you off of him, but you grab back in your slumber, not knowing what's going on beyond the barrier of sleep. That first wave of panic sets in as you wrap yourself tighter than before, and he freezes up, remembering the smell of musty dirt and bones. He tries to scoot away, and you unknowingly pull him in again. That second time is enough for him to feel fully trapped, and without thinking he bites down hard on your arm.
"GODS!"
You bolt up out of your sleep, holding your arm, realizing it was Astarion who caused the sudden alarm. He sits at the edge of the bed, breathing heavily, still trying to ground himself. You try to ask him things, why the hell he'd do that to you, but he can't hear your questions. The worms, the beetles, at some point you become accustomed to the tiniest sounds. He wondered if they'd start to eat away at him, if vampires were like corpses, if he would slowly decompose in the ground. You go to touch his hand and he yanks it away, standing up.
"Astarion!"
And he finally turns to see you on the bed, your arm bleeding badly, how concerned you look. He can't speak though. Footsteps, people passing by, unable to scream because of how tightly packed the sediment is. You try anyways.
"Aster, listen to me. I need you to listen to me, okay?"
You're panicking. You haven't seen him this bad in a while. He's not there, at least not truly there. To be knocked out, only to wake up in pitch black, what a horror.
"I think you're having a panic attack my love, can you try to focus on one thing in the room?"
A painting, a landscape of a graveyard. He was put in a graveyard, some kind of cruel joke. His eyes wander to the frame, golden, like thread. He remembers stitching little phrases and stories into his clothes, he remembers the first time he did such a craft for you. The breathing starts to settle, still shaking, he sits back down next to you, and just starts sobbing. You go to hug him and he flinches.
"No!"
You are almost taken aback, but you remember that it's not your fault.
"Okay, that's okay. I'll just sit here with you."
He just cries for a while, and you let him. Clearly something startled him badly, badly enough that he bit you. You forgot until now that you were bleeding. Not only did his fangs pierce, but many of the rest of his teeth got through the skin. As you're analyzing your wound, you take part of the blanket and press it into your arm, trying to stop the bleeding. Astarion notices the movement, and you see guilt overcome his face immediately. You interrupt before he can speak.
"It's okay darling, I know you didn't mean it."
He wipes at his tears, finally coming back to reality, truly grounding himself.
"I... I'm sorry."
"I know, it's okay."
He stares at a crack in the floorboards.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
He nods, mainly because he hates it when you're confused.
"So... a long time ago, Cazador decided it would be fun to bury me alive."
He almost laughs at how ridiculous it is, how someone could even think to do that. You just listen.
"And I stayed there for an entire year. And I don't know how it happened, but you tried to hug me tighter while you were asleep, and I- I just panicked, I felt so trapped and it just reminded me so much of-"
He can't even bring himself to say it again.
"I'm so sorry, I had no idea."
He scoffs.
"Yeah, you were asleep, and I freaked out like a monster and bit you."
He gazes down at the wound, wincing at what he's done.
"Hey, look at me. Wounds heal, I'll be okay. What matters is that you're okay."
"I... I think I'm okay now. Just, feel miserable."
"That's okay, you're allowed to feel however you want."
"I know. Thank you my sweet."
He picks your hand up off the bed, holding it to his face. It takes weeks after for him to be hugged again, especially being the little spoon, but you don't mind. You'll go through every phase of his, good and bad. This one just happens to be bad, and that's okay. He'll be okay. You'll both be okay.
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