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nozo-muu · 5 months ago

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Hello Zero, Could you do a hot David Corenswet scene? the new Superman Something like him feeling jealous of the male reader.By the way, I would like to know if you write for DC too

Thank you so much for the ask! To be honest, I'm not the biggest DC watcher/reader so this might be ooc, but I tried my best. Also, I don't really write for DC since, again, I'm kinda out of the loop, but you can always ask!

YOU'VE CONVINCED ME, SUPERMAN

Pairing: Top!Superman/Clark Kent X Bottom!male reader

CW: Sex, Jealousy, Oral (reader giving), Ass eating (reader receiving), creampie?

Author's note: I don't know how to feel about this...

Metropolis was sunny as always. The sun beamed through the windows of the redaction office. Clark was working on a news article about a mysterious figure spotted multiple times over the last few weeks whenever chaos struck the city.

He knew who that was, a vigilante he had “worked” with a couple of times to fight off some bad guys. He had to admit, he was talented, his energy manipulation magic was impressive. And the way he fought hand to hand… Gosh, it was a sight for sore eyes.

“Breaking news!” He turned to watch the TV they had in the office. “An attack has been perpetrated on the intersection between Rowan and Mains Street. The attacker has already destroyed multiple police units.”

Upon hearing that, Clark made his way towards the stairs that led to the rooftop. He needed to do something. Once he got undressed, revealing his suit, he leaped off the edge of the building and flew towards the place of the incident.

The area was surrounded by police cars, trying to contain the danger, which honestly wasn't going to accomplish much.

He flew down, landing on his feet. There wasn't that much mayhem… some upside-down cars, cracks on the ground, and some nearby stores with shattered windows.

There was a figure though, a big silhouette, almost animal-like. It had shards of some kind of crystal all over its back.

“I would be careful if I was you”

He looked around, seeing you levitating off to the side.

“The bastard's got some strength. And those shards… Kryptonite maybe? I wouldn’t touch them if I were you.” You say, approaching the broad man beside you.

“Kryptonite? How is that possible?”

“Beats me.” You shrugged. “As long as you don't attack his back, we should be good.”

He nodded understandingly, preparing his attack while you immobilized that thing with your magic. You could have gotten rid of the threat on your own perfectly, but you wanted to see him. He was so fine, it was like skipping dessert if you didn't look him up and down after a fight.

The threat now being eliminated, you walked over to the police cars where a head of police approached you two.

“That thing shouldn't cause any problems anymore. I've gotten rid of its body. There shouldn't be any more issues, officer.”

Clark stood silent behind you.

“Thank you, thank you. I don't know what we would have done without you.”

“You probably could have handled it too, I'm sure of that.” You replied smiling.

There you were again, making small talk with some random guy. He didn't know why, but he hated it when you did that, always having flirty remarks and comments, and smiling at strangers.

Some passers-by were shouting your names, and of course, you went and took pictures with them, smiling and being friendly.

He hated it.

Once everyone had started to dissipate, you went back to his side. He was silent…

“What?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing, I just need to go get my clothes.”

“I'll come with you. We can go watch the sunset later or something.”

He grunted. He didn't want that, he wanted to fuck you then and there. To show you you were not about to go around flirting with everyone. You weren't together or anything, but he wanted you to be only his.

When you landed on the rooftop of the building, he took his clothes and made his way towards a broom closet where he had been putting his discarded clothes to go pick up at a later date.

That's when an idea crossed his mind. He quickly took your wrist and locked you both inside the broom closet.

“What are you -” you get cut off by his lips on yours. He was a surprisingly good kisser.

“Let me fuck you.”

“What?”

“Let me claim you.” He keeps kissing your neck.

You moan at the sensation, and seeing that you're not pushing him away, he takes that as a yes.

He starts getting rid of his and your clothes, leaving you as naked as the day you were born in that dark room.

He starts planting kisses all over your torso and neck, leaving some marks here and there to show that you are his.

He slightly pushes your shoulders down, enticing you to get on your knees.

You oblige and kneel in front of him, instinctively taking his member into your mouth. You started licking around the tip, slowly making your way down the shaft. The sensation made him tremble and groan…

You kept sucking his cock until you felt him push you away slightly. It was now all wet and ready, but your hole still needed some prep.

“Turn around for me.”

You did as he asked, now facing the door separating you from the outside world. Clark got on his knees and spread your cheeks apart. He spat on your hole, slowly massaging the liquid around your entrance. He approached his face and started eating you out. Once he felt you were ready to take him, he got up, embracing you from behind and whispering in your ear.

“Can I fuck you now?”

“Yes.”

He kissed you one final time before lining himself up with your entrance. He slowly pushed in, making sure to not hurt you. You moan at the feeling of it stretching your hole. He paused for a little so you could get used to the feeling of it.

“Can I move?”

“Mmhmm” You nod, not being able to form a coherent sentence.

He started moving slowly, but then sped up, remembering all those fuckers you had flirted with. In a way, fucking you was a win against those nobodies who thought they had a chance with you.

The pace was perfect, rough but gentle enough to not hurt you. He kept hitting your spot, your cock leaking from the pleasure. For an alien, he sure knew how to fuck a man’s ass well.

He then pulled away a little, turning you around.

“I want you to face me.”

You nodded, and he took you in his strong arms, pressing you against his muscular torso. You straddled him while being suspended in the air, his member lining up with your hole. He inserted it again, this time hitting deeper because of the position. He started kissing you while you bounced on him.

He took your cock in his hand, and using the precum he rubbed your tip, before starting to stroke you while fucking you.

“Clark…” You moaned in his ear.

“I’m also getting close, pretty boy.”

You kept that position until you both hit your climax. You came first, your cum coating his hand and your abs.

“Can I cum inside?” He asked sultrily.

You hummed, still kissing his neck and leaving the occasional bite mark from pleasure on his neck and collarbone.

That’s when you felt it, the warm liquid filling your hole. He pulled out his thick member and rested you on a table as he kissed your forehead.

“You okay?” He asked.

“Yeah. You fuck like a pornstar��Damn.”

He chuckled softly at the compliment.

“That means you’ll only flirt with me from now on then? “

“Fine, you've convinced me, Superman.”

He smiled. He officially had you for himself now. And if you ever started your little games again, he’d jealous fuck you again and again until you understood.

#male reader #male y/n #x male reader #male reader smut #mlm smut #smut #gay #clark kent x reader #clark kent x male reader #clark kent x m!reader #dc x reader #dc x male reader #superman x you #superman x reader #superman x male reader #fanfiction #fanfic

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littleboss-lazulis-reblogs · 2 years ago

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Really ???

listen. i missed the entirety of season of shattering

#thatskygame #sky cotl #sky: children of the light #my art #ooc #season of shattering #i also have never drawn a krill before so heres my krill artist debut #based on the events of literally this morning btw #i set an alarm based on the shard times because i am trying so very hard to complete these missions #it wasnt even early in the morning my sleep schedule just sucks.

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cabotwife · 3 months ago

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Finnick x victor!reader where reader returns from the Capitol to district 13 (after like torture and stuff), and Finnick comes to the realization that Snow started selling her while she held there? Only if you’re comfortable ofc.

Guilded Lily

finnick odair x fem!victor!reader

warnings: ooc finnick(?), not proofread, alludes to sa/forced prostitution

word count: 747

a/n: i don't usually write for male character bc i'm a lesbian and well- i'm not attracted to them.. but finnick is an exception. all the lesbians love finnick.

you can’t remember the moment they pulled you out of the capitol.

not really.

one minute you were burning up, bones dissolving under electric shocks, white lights breaking into kaleidoscopic shards behind your eyes. then there was darkness, clean sheets, the muted hush of underground air systems, and a woman’s voice. not sweet, but somehow kind.

“you are safe now.”

you don’t believe her.

.☘︎ ́˖

now you’re standing in a concrete corridor in District 13, wrapped in a standard issue gray sweater that swallows your sunken frame. you weigh less than you did when you won your games. you had always believed that was going to be your lowest point. you were wrong.

the door slides open with a soft hiss, and he’s there.

his hair is pushed back messily, as if he’d tried to look presentable but gave up halfway. there’s a tremor in his fingers that’re clenched by his sides. you wonder if it’s from seeing you or if that’s just his usual state nowadays.

you stare at each other for a short moment.

“hey,” he says, soft as the sea breeze.

you don’t answer. you just move past him into the room. it’s small, clean. the walls feel closer than they should.

“you’re back,” he speaks again.

he doesn’t mean it as a question, but you still say, “yeah.”

he’s quiet. you sit on the edge of the bed, knees together, handing clenched so tight that your nails dig crescents into your palms. there’s blood under some of them. old blood. your blood.

he crouches down in front of you.

his eyes flick over your face. you know what he sees.. the healing scabs under your jaw, the too-sharp cheekbones, the faint burn marks under your ears. you hate that you still flinch when he reaches up, but he doesn’t pull away. his hand is warm. familiar.

but the way he looks at you now, it’s not just pain.

“i asked them what had been done to you,” he says quietly. “they wouldn’t tell me.”

you look past him to the gray wall. it feels safer than his face.

he breathes out, voice catching. “but i know.”

your jaw tightens. you didn’t want him to say it.

“i know what snow does,” he says. “i know what he did to me. i should’ve realized–”

“don’t,” you whisper, your voice cracking. “don’t say it.”

“he sold you, didn’t he.” it’s not a question.

you wish you could lie. you wish you could say that you just don’t remember. that it wasn’t that bad. but there’s nothing left to protect. no dignity to shatter. not anymore.

you nod. just barely.

finnick stands up too fast. he paces the room like the air is choking him.

he runs both hands through his hair and then slams his fist into the wall. not hard enough to break it, just hard enough to make it hurt.

“i should’ve known,” he says. “i should’ve–”

“it wasn’t your fault, finn,” you say.

but he’s not listening. he’s spiraling, and you know that feeling too well.

“i kept thinking–i kept hoping you were dead,” he says. his voice breaks halfway through his sentence.

you stand up and cross the room to him.

“well i’m not dead. i’m here. with you.”

he looks at you like he doesn’t believe it.

you reach for his hand. he doesn’t flinch, not like you did. he just wraps his fingers around yours and holds on like it might keep you both from drowning.

you lean your forehead against his cheek. he smells like soap and something earthy. a little like home. if that even still means anything.

“did he make you talk?” you ask. the words are barely audible.

he knows what you mean.

“yeah,” he says.

you close your eyes. “me too.”

he presses a kiss to your hairline. it’s too soft for how broken you’re both feeling. but that’s the thing about finnick; he has always known how to be gentle. even when no one was gentle with him.

for a long time neither of you say anything.

then, he whispers, “i’m going to kill him.”

you don’t ask who. it’s not just a sentence anymore, an empty threat you both would pass around every time something happened. no. now it’s a vow.

you pull back just enough to look at him in the eyes.

you’re not whole

but neither is he.

but you’re both here.

and that’s something.

or maybe it’s everything.

#finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #the hunger games #catching fire #mockingjay #finnick odair x platonic!reader #finnick x reader #thg finnick #hunger games finnick #finnick fanfic #katniss everdeen x reader #katniss everdeen #katniss everdeen x peeta mellark #thg johanna #johanna mason

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secretaccountlol · 2 months ago

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GDA SUPERHERO NO WORKER COMP

Author note. (Holy yap I’m sorry)

If you've seen my Tumblr, you know l've only written for Spider-Man before. But recently, l've been getting into Mark Grayson (Invincible), and there aren't many fics for him yet, so... (atleast at the time of writing this)

Disclaimer: I'm still getting a feel for Mark's character, so excuse any OOC moments. Also, slight canon divergence-Mark's a bit older here (early 20s, college arc), and Omniman is still gone. Oh, and his bathroom is connected to his room because I said so. Uhhh plz comment, repost etc if you like this, (I read ALL OF THEM) and first time out of my comfort zone highkey scared ngl...

Shoutout to the lovely, supportive, stunning : @sobbingscripter

Another shout out to @clownprincesshq , the detailed notes on how write/the character of Mark is something I read to trying to study his character.

I hope I don’t let yall down LMAO.

About 4,000 words give or take.

18+ no minors go away!

Warning : uhh not much? Mark is kinda pissed at the reader at first due to story beats. So yk some name calling but only once.

Oh and typos, guys I'm dyslexic and this is my first story in a while go easy on me.

Oral sex on reader, the smut is short I got waaay too into the writing of the reader and mark.

Reader is AFAB, she/her pronouns aren't used :D (if l missed any please let me know l'll correct it)

Y/N is not used.

Reader has superpowers, they are * undefined* Very vague like super strength and flying.

SUMMMARYYY:

You’re hurt, no where to turn. Maybe Eve? Rex? No, too far. You’ll never make it.

You see his house.

Mark. Invincible.

Would he even open his door? Or would he just slam it in your face?

PART TWO IS UP NOOWWW

The world was spinning.

Or maybe that was just the blood loss.

Your arms trembled as you slapped a weak hand against Mark’s bedroom window, the glass cool against your burning skin. Inside, the faint outline of his sleeping figure was barely visible through the haze of your vision.

“Mark!” you hissed, voice cracking.

Nothing.

A frustrated groan tore from your throat. Of course! He was a heavy sleeper.

“Fuckin’ dumbass,” you muttered, though the insult lacked any real bite. If a doctor asked you right now, “On a scale of one to ten, how much pain are you in?” you’d probably throw them through a wall for wasting your time.

You balled your hand into a fist and slammed it against the glass again—harder this time.

*Crack.*

The window shattered under the force, shards raining onto Mark’s floor.

“Oh.”

Turns out, when you’re bleeding out and half-delirious, controlling your superhuman strength isn’t exactly a priority.

Mark jolted upright, eyes wide with alarm. “What the fuck are- ?!” His voice cut off abruptly as he slapped a hand over his own mouth, glancing toward his door. Right. His mom.

“Why the hell are you here?” he whisper-yelled, scrambling out of bed. His feet barely touched the floor before he was at the window, shoving it open. “And why did you break my window?!”

“Thank god,” you breathed, swaying slightly. “I thought I was gonna have to hover here all night—”

Your vision blurred. The edges of your consciousness frayed like a frayed rope, darkness creeping in. Just as your eyelids fluttered shut, Mark’s hands shot out, gripping your forearms.

“Shit—I got you, hold on—”

With a grunt, he hauled you inside. Your body hit the floor with a dull *thud*, sending a fresh wave of agony through your ribs.

“Dude, my mom is sleeping!” Mark hissed, crouching beside you.

You let out a weak, pained laugh. “Geez, how about ‘Are you okay?’ Or ‘Why are you covered in blood?’ Or—I dunno—‘Are you dying?’”

Attempting to sit up, you winced as your spine protested, a sharp spike of pain shooting through you. You collapsed back onto the floor with a groan.

…Actually, the floor wasn’t so bad. Cold. Solid. Maybe it would soothe the fire licking at your skin.

“I would’ve even taken ‘Why aren’t you at the GDA?’” you muttered, tilting your head to look at him.

Mark’s expression softened, worry etching deep lines into his forehead. “Okay, yeah. That was a dick move. I’m sorry—you just fuckin’ spooked me.” He shifted uncomfortably, eyes scanning the gashes and bruises littering your body. “Are you… okay?”

His hands hovered over you, trembling slightly, like he wasn’t sure where to touch without hurting you further.

You smirked. “Nah, I just love lying on the floor.”

A laugh tried to force its way out, but it turned into a wheeze halfway through. Ow.

“Hey, hey—careful,” Mark murmured, his touch feather-light as his palm pressed gently against your sternum.

You swallowed thickly. “I… Do you have a med kit?”

“Uh—yeah. Yeah, my mom kept one from when she used to patch up my dad, but I—” He ran a hand through his sleep-mussed hair. “I don’t really know how to—”

“’S’okay,” you slurred, fighting the heaviness in your eyelids. “I can walk you through it. Just… get it before I pass out again.”

Your fingers twitched toward his wrist, brushing against his pulse point. Warm.

“Please?”

Mark’s breath hitched. Your eyes were half-lidded, glazed with pain—in any other situation, they might’ve been mistaken for bedroom eyes. He shook his head sharply, as if dispelling the thought, before scrambling to his feet.

“Be right back. ”Don’t die.”

“I’ll try”

You hummed in acknowledgment, but the darkness was too inviting. Your eyes slipped shut.

The next thing you knew, a hand was shaking your shoulder.

“Hey- hey! Are you dead? Please don’t be dead. I really don’t feel like explaining why there’s a dead person in my room.”

You cracked an eye open. “Oh, wow. Not even sad I’m dead, huh? Just ready to bury the body?”

Mark exhaled sharply, relief washing over his face. “More like I don’t wanna explain to my mom why her son—who just got back from college—is suddenly a serial killer.”

You snorted. “Yeah, I’m sure she wouldn’t be thrilled if you took after your dad.”

Silence.

“…Too soon?”

You winced. “My bad. Pain makes me a jaded fucker.” Your voice dropped. “I wish I had a family as tight as yours.”

Mark’s jaw tightened. “Yeah, well… it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

You blinked. Then grinned. “Mark Grayson making a pun? Has the world gone mad?”

He frowned. “What?”

“Cracked?” You coughed out a laugh, propping yourself up on your elbows. “Considering I definitely have cracked ribs right now?”

Mark rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “You must be feeling better if you’re able to lift yourself and make shit jokes.”

You choke back a laugh as you wriggle out of what is left of your costume off your body. You scoff as Mark’s breath hitched, turning away from your indecency.

“Still a virgin?” you teased, reaching for the med kit.

“Still a bitch?” he shot back.

You smirked. “Touché.”

Mark sighed, rubbing his temples. “Can you just tell me how to patch you up? I’d like you out of my house before sunrise.”

“Right.” You fumbled with the kit, hands shaking. “Okay, take this gauze and press it here to stop the bleeding. Then I’ll thread the needle so you can sew me up.”

Mark paled. “Sew you up? I can handle basic first aid, but I’m not playing surgeon tonight.”

Your fingers missed the wound entirely, and a frustrated tsk slipped out. “I said I’d walk you through it. It’s fine.”

“You can barely hold your hands steady,” Mark argued, snatching the kit back. “Let me just—uh—” He rummaged through the supplies. “Liquid bandages. Here.”

His fingers brushed your side as he leaned closer, applying the adhesive with surprising gentleness. “Most of the big cuts are already healing,” he murmured.

You grinned weakly. “Might not have Viltrumite recovery, but close enough, eh?”

Mark grimaced at your smile, your bloodstained teeth made his stomach turn “Jesus.”

A comfortable quiet settled between you, broken only by your occasional hisses and Mark’s muttered apologies. His hands were careful, methodical—like he was afraid you’d shatter under his touch.

“Instructions say to wait five minutes before it’s waterproof,” he said finally, sitting back. “After it dries, hop in the shower. I’ll lend you some clothes so you can leave after.”

He stood, moving toward his dresser.

You watched him for a moment before sighing. “Trying to get rid of me that fast?”

Mark stiffened. “Yup.”

“Then, why are you giving me a reason to come back? ” You teased, gripped the wall, hobbling toward him as you motion towards his clothes.

He didn’t turn around. “I’m not.”

“You don’t want the clothes back after y’know I wash them of course”

“Nope.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, rubbing your temples before you speak.

Your chest tightened. “Mark, I said I was sorry.”

“Sorry, doesn’t cut it.” His voice was sharp, but you could hear the hurt underneath.

“Mark—”

“No. Don’t ‘Mark’ me.” He finally faced you, eyes burning. “I confided in you. You were my teammate—” His hands clenched. “You were my friend.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut.

You reached for him instinctively, fingers grazing his cheek. “Mar—”

“Get your fucking hands off me.”

The venom in his tone sent a chill down your spine. That was the voice he used on villains. On traitors.

And now, it was the voice he used on you.

“You have to see it from my perspective!” you snapped, gripping his collar. “Your father was one of the strongest heroes we had, Mark! He killed the Guardians! He was a double agent for 20 years fucking years before he attacked—how was I supposed to know you weren’t the same?!”

Mark’s eyes flashed with guilt, then angry pushed “Don’t you—”

“Especially because he coincidentally decided to fuck the world up right when you got your powers!” Your voice cracked. “It was fucked for Cecil to put that shit in your head. I know that. And I hated myself for taking their side. I still hate myself for it.”

Your arms wrapped around yourself, nails digging into your skin.

“I thought I didn’t have a choice,” you whispered. “I had no one but him and the government.” A bitter laugh escaped. “Had being the key word.”

Mark’s breath caught. “Is that why—?”

You couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t bear the pity in his eyes.

“Yeah. He didn’t… take it well when I said I wanted to leave.”

Mark’s hands twitched at his sides before he stepped closer. “Did he do this to you?”

Your brain racked itself for a response, Mark wasn’t waiting, hands zip to your shoulders.

Mark’s grip on your shoulders tightened. “Did. He. Hurt. You?”

You whimpered. “Mark—you’re hurting me.”

He recoiled like he’d been burned. “Shit—I’m sorry, I just—” His hands hovered. “Did he?”

You swallowed. “No. I was pissed. Went on patrol. Found trouble. Got fucked up.” You exhaled shakily. “Usually, I’d go to the GDA, but…”

Your voice trailed off. You’d left your entire life behind for your morals. For him. And now you were standing here, pouring your heart out like some guilt-tripping mess.

“I should go,” you muttered, swiping roughly at your face. The words tasted like ash. “This mess is mine —not your problem. Thanks for… y’know. The patch job.”

You lunged for the window, ignoring the scream of protest from your ribs. Just get airborne. Just push through. But your legs betrayed you, buckling like paper under the weight of your own hubris. The sonic boom you’d aimed for sputtered into a whimper, gravity clawing you back toward earth.

Mark’s house grew terrifyingly large in your plummeting vision. At least you're aiming for the yard.

Strong arms intercepted you inches from impact, the sudden halt stealing your breath.

“Yeah,” Mark murmured, his voice vibrating through your back where it pressed against his chest. “You’re definitely staying over.”

You craned your neck. The dim streetlight silhouetted his hero gear—the sharp lines of his reforged Invincible suit, goggles still faintly glowing from the chase.

“Aren’t I glad to see you?” you rasped, forcing levity into your voice.

He huffed, the sound warmer than it had any right to be. “Dunno. You ran out pret-ty fast.”

“Costume change just to come get lil old me?”

“Well, you can get a little squirrely, I didn’t know how far I would have to chase you.”

His feet plant on his roof as he bridal carries you inside,

“Alright- uh, so the bathroom is over there and I left you some clothes here to use.” Mark motions with his head.

“I think you can put me down now, in-vin-ci-ble” Your smirk widens as Mark's face turns beet red as he drops your legs softly.

“Yes, right right right. Sorry sorry- uhm. I-i’ll stay here“

Mark awkwardly shuffles to his bed, hands in his lap as he watches you slink into the bathroom.

The shower scalded away the night’s failures. You lingered until the steam thinned and the water ran cold,

Mark’s silhouette was a shadow against the moonlit window, his shoulders slumped in a poor imitation of relaxation when you emerge,

You can tell he's pretending he doesn't notice your there, he was a lousy liar, his body too honest you watch as it shifts feeling his eyes on you. You cough to get his attention

“Clothes are over there,” he blurted, jabbing a finger at the dresser without turning. His ears burned crimson.

You smile, nodding as a thank you, The towel hit the floor with a damp thud.

He choked. “Jesus—warn a guy!” His body makes a 180 to the wall barring his view of bare legs.

“Pfft, Mark, it’s fine,” you snorted, flapping a dismissive hand even though he’s still stubbornly facing the wall.

“ I - mean are you sure I-just, y’know your privacy and, and stuff!” You giggle as Mark's hands karate chop the air as he intensely monologue.

Even his posture screamed guilt—one foot pivoted toward you like a compass needle, betraying him entirely.

“Privacy’s a luxury where I grew up, Flyboy. “

“Still—you don’t just do that without warning someone!” Mark’s protest cracked mid-sentence, his head twisting to steal a glance over his shoulder before committing to facing you fully. ”Plus,

You’re not with them now. Remember?” The edge in his voice bled into something softer—an oath masquerading as a reminder.

The words hung in the quiet of the moonlight. “You get to choose what you want to be now.” Your name—always a weapon in others’ mouths—feels soft, malleable on his tongue as he stepped closer.

You curled inward, arms wrapping around yourself. “I-I don’t… I’ve never had choices before.“ The admission clawed up your throat, raw and bloody.

Well now, you have plenty of time to figure that out.” His eyes breathe hop, taking a hold on you as his gaze softens, mellowing the heat of the unknown for you.

”Its late, we should lay down.” Mark smiles at you as you nod. .

The floorboards creaked as you knelt, laying flat.

“What’re you—?”

“Laying down to go to sleep?.” You shift on the floor, wincing as your ribs protest. “Goes great with existential crises.”

“Absolutely not.”

“It’s fine! Feels just like home!”

Mark dragged a palm down his stubbled jaw, the *click* of his molars grinding louder than his words. “If you sleep on the floor, I have to sleep on the floor.”

You square your shoulders, chin jutting. “Your roof, your rules, right? I rule that you get yourself into that damn bed, and I stay here. Not like you can make me”

A beat. Then—

The grin that split his face wasn’t boyish. It was predatory, all white teeth and dilated pupils.

“Oh, no. I can make you.”

He moved faster than your battered reflexes could track. One second you were glaring up at him—the next, his arms banded around your waist, hauling you onto the mattress.

“Mark Put me down, you asshat!”

“ Issa compromise,” he declared, legs tangling with yours to pin you in place. His knee brushed dangerously close to your thigh.

You squirmed out of his grasp. “You’re insufferable.”

Your glare could’ve scorched planets as toss it over your shoulder you lunged for the bed’s edge.

His forearm banded across your ribs, hauling you backward into the crater of his body.

His palms splayed hot against your hipbones, thumbs digging into the hollows like he was mapping fault lines. You arched, but his grip was tectonic—unyielding.

“Nope, no escapin’”

You grunt wriggling once more, his knees caging your thighs as he wrestled you flat.

“Goddamnit, Mark! You are so-“

The contact was accidental. Had to be. But when his knee brushed that electric junction between your thighs, your breath shattered into a gasp—sharp, fractured. Mark stilled, arms iron bands around your ribs as he hauled you backward into the heat of his body.

"I win," he purred, lips skimming the helix of your ear. The vibration unspooled something primal in your gut.

"Y-you’re a dick“ you hissed, though the tremor in your voice betrayed you.

“Ah yes.” Mark chuckled, as he nosed the frantic pulse at your throat. ”I’m a dick for making sure my friend doesn’t sleep on the floor.” His knuckles grazing the waistband of your borrowed sweats.

His head tilted to meet your eyes “How terrible of me?” he grins.

Asshole.

You feel your face is a nuclear plant right now.

He has to know right? That he’s turning you on? That you're basically soaking the brand-new pants he gave you?

“Y-y- I- “ Your words dissolved into a choked stutter, palms slamming over your burning face as you twisted away.

“Hey? Oh— shit. Did I crush your ribs or something?”

“No– you didn’t I just—“ You bite your lip, not exactly first-date conversation material to tell him you want him to fuck you senseless? You swallow the confession, reaching for the closest lie instead.

“I- uh.. can feel..” you squeak,

You turn to look at his face again, eyes moving between his mouth and then his eyes as Your teeth sink into your bottom lip.

“I can feel you- against my ..-butt..”

You mentally scream into the void, what are you 5? as if your brain short-circuited mid-crisis. Ass was right there. Ass was obvious. Why didn’t you say ass.

“I-“

Mark is short-circuiting too, lips stuck on a half-formed syllable.

“I am so sorry- I just and we uh, it’s -“ his body launching upright so fast the headboard rattled. Palms slapped the air in surrender, then cycled through all the gestures of sorry he could muster.

A quiet huff of laughter escapes you as you watch him unravel - his hands conducting an invisible orchestra of panic, gaze ricocheting between your face, the ceiling, and some fascinating spot on the bed sheet that might hold the secrets of the universe.

You slip your hand up to his cheeks, “Mark, it’s okay.”

His entire body stills—that terrifying, pre-battle freeze—before his gaze locks onto you.

“I-..I liked it.” Your lips curled into a smile, suckerpucked his heart.

Your mouth brushes his cheekbone - just a whisper of contact,

Your lashes dip—not from shyness, but from the weight of this moment, the gravity of him.

The kiss you press to his cheek is featherlight, barely there, yet it sends a current through both of you.

No script for you. no rehearsed lines—just instinct and the way your pulse roars in your ears.

Movies never showed how soft skin could be, how his breath would catch, how right it would feel when he leans into your touch like you’re the only solid thing in the world.

The first real contact of lips ignites something primal in your veins.

Not fireworks - that's too tame - this is a supernova erupting behind your ribs as Mark's tongue slides against yours, your teeth clashing against eachother.

He braces above you, the solid heat of his body pressing you deeper into the mattress as one broad hand slides down the arch of your spine. When he finally breaks for air, his breath comes in ragged gusts against your swollen lips. Your hands skate lower—hesitant, then hungry—nails catching on the hem of his shirt.

“Do you want to-? I mean we can stop here I don’t .. I don’t want you to feel rushed, okay?”

“You said I get to choose now, right? Right now, I choose you.”

The words leave your lips repeating the vow he spoke before, rough at the edges but unshakable. Before he can react, you surge forward—capturing his mouth in a kiss that’s all heat and no hesitation.

You didn’t even have to ask, he rips it off without a second thought, and you reach to do the same before he stops you.

“No.. keep it on, I- .. like how my shirt looks on you.”

A grin appears on your face as he leans in to kiss you again, his hands once again finding your waistband, this time slipping your pants, his pants off your legs, and you kick them off.

You palm his member through his shorts as you groan into his mouth.

“Fuckk-“ Mark's words slip through your mouth before allowing his hands to slip down your stomach to your folds.

Your thighs clench as hands fumble, to find your clit, hips buck in response, your whines fueling his attack.

“Feels like your thighs are gonna break my wrist-“ A small chuckle at your dismay.

You offer a whimper as a rebuttal between your lips as you widen yourself, pushing harder against his clothed crotch.

“Not fair-“ you pat your way back up, slipping your hands into his shorts, your hands making contact with his burning hot skin. His cock, feels strong, solid.

“Holy shit- your-- your hand, oh fuck.” You watch as Mark's eyes squeeze close, brows knitting together as the pleasure flows through him.

His hands grip your wrist as he grinds down into your hand.

“Sorry- fuck. ss’feels so fuckin’ good-“ his whimpers fuel your core with desire, you pull away as Mark keeps bucking at your hand, and he whines at the loss of your hand.

“Nonono- why’d you?” He pouts as he starts to rub your clit once more, and you buck again.

“Take- ah! Take off your pants, I refuse to be the only one naked here.”

“You can still talk in a full sentence, I guess I haven’t done my job clearly yet”

“What are you talkin’ about?”

Mark offers a smirk as he slithers down your body, His hands slip up your shirt softly cupping your breast,

His lips graze your waist as he sinks into your heat.

A tentative lick sends your body in a state of shock, your head throws back a moment before you steady yourself to look at him again.

“ That felt-“

“Heavenly?” His mouth hungrily at your clit, Licks tantalize, each one deeper than the last your hips try to buck up his hands grip your waist, pinning your place, heavy pants feel the room as you grip his hair earning a moan that vibrates your clit, and as an ever delicious way.

“God, You taste so fucking good, I could keep eating out for days” his fingers prod your hole, circling its edge before slowly stretching your cunt, you swear you can hear god calling your name as he fucks his fingers deeper.

An intense pressure is building inside you, clawing at you as you grip the sheets of the bed, “Ma-shit what- something, what-“

Mark groans in response, his fingers moving as he sucks on your clit, your eyes shut.

“I— I feel like I’m going to - hn-feel“ your hand reaches for his hair again, earning slurps from Mark's punishing mouth “I f- I—-i’m gonn- burst!”

An overwhelming surge of energy pluses over you, as your stomach twists, your eyes roll back. Your mouth chants Mark’s name like a mantra.

You struggle to breathe as you come down from your high, hazy vision as you see Mark hovering over you with slight concern on his face.

“Wha- what was that?” Your eyes blink slowly as your vision begins to clear.

“Uh- well, that was- you came, I think? Honestly, I’ve never- seen someone do that when they cum?” Mark rubs the back of his neck as he speaks.

“Do- do what?” Your head cocks to the side as mark bewilderment grows,

“You don-?” His mouth splits into a grin, “I made you cum so hard that you have memory loss?”

“I-“ creeping embarrassment reels in your mind, “Shut up! It’s - I don’t have experience like you!”

“Cleaaarly? And you called me the virgin?”

You lunge forward and shove him with all the force you can muster.

At least you tried to, but he doesn’t move—doesn’t even flinch. It’s like trying to push a brick wall. That infuriating smirk still clings to his face, calm and smug,

“Just tell me what happened!”

“Fine, fine-, when you came, you caused a power surge, knocked out the power in the neighborhood for a good minute.”

“Really?”

“Really.” He deadpans.

“Huh, didn’t know I could- do.. that? I didn’t think my powers were electric as well?”

You open your mouth to speak, words getting caught in your throat as soon you look at Mark.

Your head turns instinctive, as shame burns your ears.

“Uh. So I know it caused a power surge and all when I came but-“ you face him once more,

“can- can we continue, please?” Your feet shuffle under Mark as he chuckles at your out-of-character shyness, though not unwelcome.

His fingers curl beneath your chin, tilting your face up until you're drowning in those puppy eyes, “As much as I would love that, I ..like you, I don’t want to overwhelm you, especially with what’s going on so much going on, I-“ The words fracture as his smile does, “I feel like I’m taking advantage.”

Your palm seals over his racing heart, your other lays on his cheek, “But you aren’t- I wanna be here, with you, Mark.”

“I know, and believe I want nothing more than to take things fast with you but, ” his thumb swipes across your lips, “But, you have no one to tell you this. When I was in your position -uhm, similar situation? Yeah.. in a similar situation, everyone told me to slow down, to wait.”

A shuddering breath escapes him as his eyelids lift, They flutter heavy as his gaze finds you “You’re gonna experience a lot of new things now that you're not under Cecil’s control. I need…no- .. I want to be that person for you, help you slow down, take in the little things in your new life.“

Your breath catches, as realization settles over you.

He’s right, things are different. You are different.

No handlers. No missions. Just you.

You are not alone, Invincible will catch you if you fall now. The ground is softer when it’s him.

“Okay. I trust you.”

“Okay.”

The slow collision of lips mend the promise between words.

“Okay, I’m getting sleepy again, let’s lay down.”

“Agreed”

A soft hum of agreement as he pulls you back against his chest, his nose finding its familiar spot in the crook of your neck. His arms lock around you like living seatbelts,

The realization comes slowly, sweetly it repeats:

No mission clock ticking down by the bed.

No weapons within easy reach.

Just Mark's steady heartbeat against your spine and the quiet creak of the house settling around you.

You fall asleep to the rhythm of his fingers tracing idle patterns between your shoulder blades.

“I got you.”

The door's whine of protest came a half-second before Debby's singsong voice.

“Mark, I hope you’re hungry. I cooked pancakes and eggs! I tried out a new recipe, so tell me if-“

The sentence died mid-air as your spine met the headboard with a thunk, blankets yanked to your chin in reflex.

“Uh- hi, Mrs. Gray-uh- Miss Debby..?” Your voice pitches up an octave as you yank the sheets higher again , toes digging into Mark’s calf in a what the hell kick that would’ve sent a normal person flying.

Mark jerks awake with a noise halfway between a snort and a choke, hair sticking up in sleep-mussed spikes. He blinks at the doorway like he’s trying to decrypt an alien language.

“Hm- wha, why are you?” His eyes are rubbed from sleep as he turns the door.

“MOM?” He bolts upright so fast the mattress protests, voice cracking.

“ Shit- I mean shoot, I am so sorry I can explain I promise- they were hurt, and we -“ His hands flap between you and the first-aid kit still open on the nightstand like it might magically explain everything.

Debby’s smile doesn’t even twitch.

“Just come down to breakfast when you're ready, don’t let the Pancakes get cold!” she sing-songs, already retreating. The door clicks shut with devastating calm.

“I guess that went.. pretty well?”

Mark collapses backward with an arm over his eyes.

“Oh my god, I’ll never live this down.”

part 2

#mark grayson smut #mark grayson x reader #mark grayson x reader smut #mark grayson #invincible smut #invincible x reader #invincible x you #mark x you #invincible x reader smut #invincible

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dollyrins · 10 days ago

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　　　WiTHERiNG BLOSSOMS ─── WHEN THE FiRST PETAL FELL

[ SYNOPSiS ] — love wasn't always easy. it was especially hard when it was unrequited. and sometimes that one sided love can grow so strong that it starts to kill you. beautifully and painfully, just like the feeling itself.

[ WARNiNGS ] — talks of the dead dad, glass breaking, nothing else i think

[ WORD COUNT ] — 1016

[ TAGLiST ] — open please send an ask or comment if you'd like to be added!

[ RAV'S RADiO ] — we are so back (i hope) Suguru sure is hard to write so i'm sorry if he seems ooc :(

“Did it have to start raining right now?” you groaned, shutting your front door. Shoko, Satoru, and Suguru were scattered about your living room couches still dressed in the school’s uniform.

“Man, I really wanted some mochi,” Gojo said, slumping down in his seat.

Suguru patted the spot next to him and you drifted across the room to take it. “What should we do now?” you asked.

“Don’t we have a bio test tomorrow?” Shoko pointed out. Silence fell across the room before you and Gojo started speaking at the sametime.

“Both of you shut it,” Geto said, grabbing his schoolbag. “Let’s just study for the test, we can go hangout tomorrow.”

Following suit the four of you were crowded around the glass table in the middle of the room, the sound of pencil on paper filling the room only interrupted when someone had a question. Gojo opened his mouth more times than you could count but a sharp look and he’d shut it with a roll of his eyes.

‘What property makes phospholipids the ideal organic molecule to make up the cell membrane?’ You stare at the question, racking through your brain for an answer when a cough builds up in your throat.

It’s rough as always, pushing out an ugly noise as your body tries to expel whatever is irritating it. “I’ll be back,” you wheeze out, before standing up and leaving the room.

Another cough racks through your body when you’re grabbing a glass from the cupboard a low “fuck” leaves your mouth as they don’t stop. There’s something coming up your throat and you dismiss it as phlegm while filling up water to drink.

You take a sip yet the irritation is still there, with one hand you cup your mouth to cough into it and that thing comes out of your body. It’s light, not sticky, covered in your spit, but it’s not phlegm.

With curiosity you peak at your hand and the glass slips from your grip and onto the ground shattering into hundreds of sharp shards.

They sit there innocent and purple, yet they are anything but. The proof of your love but also the proof that it isn’t returned.

It’s as if an insect is buzzing around you, your brain can’t comprehend anything, and your eyes are blurry, not able to focus on anything but the petals of purple clematis.

Someone is calling your name but you can’t bring yourself to acknowledge them, can’t tear your eyes away from the purple corolla.

“Y/n!” The sharp snap of your name brings you out of your daze as you stare at the purple eyes of your best friend in front of you. Gojo and Shoko are behind him, but all you can focus on is how much the color of his iris matches the Clematis.

Quickly as you can you clench your fist and hide the evidence of your love for him again like you have been for over a year now. You hope they didn’t notice anything peeking from behind your fingers.

“Are you okay?” he asks, deep voice full of concern that makes you want to melt to the floor.

Gathering your thoughts you suck in a deep breath before speaking, trying your best to keep the shock out of your voice, “Yeah, I’m fine. A bit shocked but fine. I’m sorry if I worried you.”

“Let me help you,” he offered, starting to make his way around the glass.

“No!”

He flinches away, shocked at the sudden increase in volume. His eyebrows furrow and you know if you slip up even a little bit more your recently discovered secret would be revealed. “Fuck I’m sorry, can one of you just grab me a broom? I can clean it up myself,” you request.

Shoko speaks up, “I’ll get it, you two head back don’t cut yourself open.”

The black and white haired duo nod their heads before heading out and those haunting purple eyes glance over at you once more trying to break through your cover and know the truth, but you had already learnt to hide it.

*: ･ﾟ✧

You weren’t at school.

At 6:00 am your alarm had gone off blaring as it always did. Yet you snoozed it once, twice, before turning it off completely on the third. You weren’t sleeping, had woken up hours ago when the flowers showed up in your dreams.

The gasp you had let out when you opened your eyes was accompanied by them.

A soft knock at your door made you frantically sit up, making sure nothing was in sight before you said “come in”.

Your mother entered your room, ready for her day at her job. Her brows were furrowed, as she looked at you. “You don’t want to go to school today?” she asked, voice that same soothing tone it always was.

Tears fill up your lash line and you rapidly blink them away, never able to hide your emotions from her as you did with other people. “No.”

“Okay,” she says, before coming to your bedside to press a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll see you when I get home sweetheart.”

The nickname rings in your head. She’s always called you that for as long as you can remember. But it wasn’t yours alone, it was your dad’s too. The nickname she gave to her love.

You had seen them exchange words of affection, actions of it, countless times, during countless days. They’d cook together, sit so close to each other they were practically one, leave a chaste kiss on the other’s lips, dance in the living room with soft music playing.

She’d call him her sweetheart, and he’d reply with my dear.

You grew up wishing to find a love that was equal to theirs even in the slightest bit. One where you’d feel content, love each other endlessly until one’s time to leave arrived, and continue loving them long after their bones had settled into the ground or ashes taken back into the earth.

But now you wonder if that was even possible.

#dollyrins #geto x reader #geto x you #geto x y/n #geto angst #suguru x reader #suguru x you #suguru x y/n #suguru angst #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk angst #geto suguru #jjk geto #jjk suguru #jujutsu geto #jjk series

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dreamingofaizawa · 3 months ago

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To Love, Patiently

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of a panic attack, references to abuse, descriptions of scars, nightmares, mild hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1.3k

Author's Note: Okay. So. Have I ever played COD? No. Do I ever plan on it? Also no. I did some mild research into Simon Riley's character and history, and this just popped right into my brain. IDK if it's OOC, I don't know the full depth of his character just yet, but I could NOT get this out of my brain.

Enjoy~

***

I think loving Simon Riley is a difficult task. Not in the sense that he’s a hard man to love, but in the way that he’s so cautious about everything, and doesn't want to accept all of the love you have to give. You need patience with him, need to be gentle because he’s fragile like a Prince Rupert’s drop. Stronger than anything but if that tail is chipped he shatters into a million shards of sharp glass. He’s got a history you’re not privy to, but it bleeds through into his everyday life.

When you’d met him he seemed almost rude and standoffish, but the longer you’re with him the longer you realize that he’s just careful. Careful about what he shares, what he shows, what he says and does. It’s like he’s waiting for something to jump out of the shadows and drag a claw across his chest, then let him bleed out on the ground and vanish without a trace. He doesn’t share a bed with you until long into your relationship, and even then he’s closed off despite being wrapped around your body. You only see him shirtless when he’s stepping out of the shower, and you don’t ask about the scarring. You can guess what the small pockmarked burns are, little roundels the size of a cigarette. The others are more obscure, keloid or hypertrophic, varying in size and shape. You don’t ask, just wait for him to tell you. He will tell you, eventually.

The first time you see him fall apart is in your bed.

You’re woken by rough breathing, a rumbling voice breaking enough to almost sound like whimpers. Confusion comes first, until you turn over and realize those broken noises are coming from Simon. The lamp on your bedside table is switched on so you can see, the warm light blanketing the room in a soft glow, and when his face comes into focus you feel your heart sink. He looks like he’s in pain, eyebrows scrunched up together and lip curling. His chest heaves with every breath, and there’s sweat beading over his forehead and neck, even starting to soak the collar of his nightshirt. His hands move on their own, clawing at his shirt and stomach.

A nightmare haunts him.

“Simon? Simon, wake up.” He doesn’t stir when you try to wake him, your hands planted on his shoulders. You try again, louder, and it takes nearly all your body weight to actually shake his massive, muscled frame. Gently, you pat his face, calling his name louder and louder until he nearly bolts upright.

“Simon? Simon you’re okay.” His eyes are a little wild, pupils drawn small as the sharp end of a needle, bloodshot and looking around the room for whatever monster haunted his sleep. You can feel his erratic heartbeat in his heaving chest where you hold him as best you can from falling forward. He won’t focus, head on a swivel. He meets your eyes when you nearly shout his name to get his attention, but he’s still panicked. Give him something to focus on.

“We ate spaghetti and meatballs for dinner tonight. Repeat that to me.” Big hands grip your wrists when you grab his face, holding him steady. He stays silent.

“Simon. What did we eat for dinner tonight?” He blinks. His voice is hoarse, raw, it cracks when he finally speaks.

“We- meatballs. Spaghetti and meatballs.”

“How do you dress yourself after a shower? Tell me, in order.” His breathing slows marginally, his pupils dilating just a tad. He’s coming back, slowly. His adam’s apple bobs in his throat with his heavy swallow.

“Boxers. Sweatpants. Shirt.” You pat his face, softly.

“You forgot something, love. You always put your socks on before your shirt.” His eyelids flutter with how furiously he’s blinking. You use your sleeve to wipe the sweat from his forehead, keep the droplets from falling on his eyes.

“Can you start again for me?” He nods in your hands.

“Boxers, then sweatpants. Socks. Socks before the shirt.” His chest isn’t heaving as hard anymore, his pupils normal and his eyelids aren’t pried open anymore. His hands shake when they drop and wrap around your waist, pulling you over his lap so he can bury his face in your throat. You can feel his entire body jump with his hiccup, and then he’s sobbing.

“I’ve got you, Si.” Wrapping your arms around his head and threading your fingers into his hair is easy, massaging his scalp while he weeps into your shoulder. You don’t speak, other than to assure him you’re here, and he’s safe. His arms are tight around your torso, almost painfully so, you can feel a small creak in your rib cage where his biceps squeeze. But you don’t dare try to separate. You don’t move, don’t speak, until he’s reduced to miniscule hiccups and sniffling.

“Simon? Are you alright, love?” He nods into your neck, slowly releasing you from his iron grip.

“M’sorry.” He can’t look you in the eye when he says it. Again, you hold his head in your hands, leaning down to catch his gaze. It’s an odd thing to hear from him, he’s not a man full of apologies.

“Don’t be. Nothing to be sorry about. Come on, let’s get cleaned up.” Another nod, and he lets you drag him out of bed. He takes the ibuprofen you give him, drinking down the entire glass of water when you tell him to. You go to leave him in the bathroom, to let him shower alone like he always does, but his hand grips yours tight when you turn to slip out the door.

“Stay.” There’s a plea in his eyes when you meet them. Please stay. All you can do is nod, turn around while he strips down to his skin. You aren’t expecting him to pull you close and start to tug all your clothes off as well. You’ve never showered together. Worry claws at your mind.

“Are you sure, Simon?” When you’re fully bare he turns you around to face him, and he pulls you into his chest again. His breath is warm over your shoulder, voice soft in your ear.

“Need you with me.” Understanding falls over you. The water is hot, steam clouding the mirror and the glass of the shower wall. He’s still somewhere else, eyes going blank every few minutes before you call his name. You take the washcloth from his hands when he stops moving mid-scrub.

“Let me. I got you.” You’re surprised he does, allows you to gently scrub his skin, his shoulders and chest and back. He flinches when you drag the cloth over the patches of cigarette burns, but you don’t linger on them, going over them like all the other ones. It seems to soothe him, if only a little.

“Turn.” It’s a bit of a reach, and he hunches down a bit, but you take the cloth and scrub gently behind his ears and along his jaw. You’ve gotten everywhere the tears and snot and drool might have reached, so you call it there, having him rinse before giving your shoulder and face a cursory scrub. Your shirt caught most of the tears, anyways. You’re both clean and dry and dressed, and slipping beneath the sheets Simon wraps his limbs around you like you’ll disappear if he doesn’t.

There’s a fundamental change between you, after that night. Showers together become more frequent, he’s less guarded about his bare skin. He makes a conscious effort to be in contact with you, holding hands or a paw on the small of your back to guide you round. Kisses come more frequently, but they’re different. Where they used to be quick pecks, they’re deeper now. He lingers longer on your flesh when he dips down to press his scarred lips to your face, to your forehead or cheek or lips. He breathes you in whenever he can, clings to you at night and in the mornings when you wake. And now, maybe, you think it’s not so difficult a task to love Simon Riley. Because he actually takes in the love you give him, lets it soak into his skin instead of brushing it off like dust that’s settled on the surface.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley #ghost cod

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yiichan · 8 months ago

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𝟎𝟏 - 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐒𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐥

pairings. idol!ot13 x m!14thmember!oc. word count. 1.1k. genre. parellel universe au, extra member au, angst.

warnings. major character death, depictions of mental illnesses (depression, self-harming etc.), mention of self-harming, slight OOC.

writers notes. another reupload.

mentioning my imperial beta reader, @sousydive

network: @mansaenetwork

[open] series taglist.

chapter index | navigation | main page | kofi | ao3

It took the manager three tries to get the message across.

Seungcheol froze, the shattered glass slipping from his trembling hand. The words sank in slowly, each syllable carving into his heart. Black spots danced in his vision, and he staggered, struggling to stay upright. The manager's sigh felt like a distant echo in the chaos of his mind.

“I’m sorry, Seungcheol-nim.” Seungcheol swayed, gripping the counter for support. “We will try to... to secure the news about Gyuhan-nim’s death. But I need you to tell the other members…”

Seungcheol’s grip tightened on the counter until his knuckles turned white. His chest constricted, each breath growing shallower and more painful. How was he supposed to tell them? How could he possibly find the words?

“Gyuhan... he... he can’t be gone,” Seungcheol whispered, his voice barely audible, cracking under the weight of disbelief and sorrow. “It’s his birthday…”

Guilt cut through him, sharp like the broken shards of glass littered around Seungcheol. There was only silence on the other line, and Seungcheol steadied himself, putting his hand over his eyes. “If this is some kind of sick prank, Manager Lee…”

Because Gyuhan cannot be gone. Im Gyuhan cannot be gone. Seungcheol hadn’t apologised to him, the others hadn’t atoned to him. They were only getting used to this parallel universe of SEVENTEEN, and even if they spent years blaming it on Gyuhan—

Seungcheol choked out a broken sob as he fell to his knees. The pain of their unresolved conflicts and harsh words hung in the air like a noose tightening around his neck. Memories of how they had treated him flashed through his mind, the bitterness and frustration now seeming so trivial and petty.

“I’m sorry,” Manager Lee said after a long while. “I still have to settle some matters, Seungcheol-nim. Gyuhan-nim’s… body,” he took a deep breath, as tears streamed down Seungcheol’s cheeks. “Is still in the hospital… And Woozi-nim is here…”

“Jihoonie?” Seungcheol repeated, his mind clear for a second. “What is he doing there?”

The manager hesitated before speaking. “Woozi-nim was the first to discover Gyuhan-nim’s body… He has passed out since then.”

Seungcheol felt a fresh wave of agony wash over him. Woozi had found Gyuhan... the shock and trauma of that moment must have been overwhelming. Seungcheol’s heart ached for Jihoon, imagining the horror and helplessness he must have felt.

“I need to get to him,” Seungcheol said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I need to be there for Jihoon and... and for Gyuhan.”

The manager’s voice softened. “I understand. Please, take care of yourself too, Seungcheol-nim. We’ll handle everything else here.”

Seungcheol nodded, even though Manager Lee couldn’t see him. He ended the call and forced himself to stand. His legs felt like lead, but he moved forward, driven by the need to be with his members, to somehow make sense of this tragedy.

Each step toward the hospital felt like walking through a nightmare. The weight of his guilt and sorrow bore down on him, but he knew he had to be strong. For Jihoon, for Gyuhan, and for the rest of SEVENTEEN.

As he entered the hospital, the sterile smell and harsh lights only heightened his sense of unreality. He found Jihoon’s room and hesitated at the door, gathering what little strength he had left before stepping inside.

Jihoon lay on the bed, pale and still, an IV drip attached to his arm. Seungcheol’s heart broke at the sight, and he moved to his side, gently taking Jihoon’s hand in his. Gently, he swept the younger’s hair out of his face.

His phone buzzed. As Seungcheol answered it, Jeonghan’s shaking voice travelled from the other line. “Cheol… What d-does the news mean?”

“News?” Seungcheol quickly opened his phone. Messages, DMs, and notifications flooded his screen, each one more frantic and heart-wrenching than the last. His hands trembled as he navigated to the news app, and there, staring back at him in stark black and white, was Gyuhan’s smiling face. Next to it, a big ‘BREAKING NEWS’ icon flashed ominously.

Seungcheol’s breath caught in his throat as he read the headline: "Tragic Loss: SEVENTEEN's Gyuhan Passes Away on His Birthday." The words blurred as tears filled his eyes, and a wave of nausea washed over him. He could barely process the shock and devastation radiating from the article, detailing Gyuhan's unexpected death.

“Han,” Seungcheol choked out, his voice raw with grief. “It’s true… Gyuhan is gone.”

There was a stunned silence on the other end, followed by a muffled sob. “How… How could this happen?” Jeonghan’s voice was filled with disbelief and sorrow. There was a sound of something breaking in his background, and then Joshua’s voice appeared.

“Where are you now?” Joshua sounded calmer.

“The hospital. Ji-Jihoon found him and he’s… passed out.”

“We’re coming,” Joshua said firmly. “We’ll be there soon. Stay with Jihoon.”

Hanging up the phone, Seungcheol stood up, swaying slightly as he did. He needed to see Gyuhan one last time, to confront the reality of his passing. With trembling steps, he made his way out of Jihoon’s room and down the sterile hospital corridor.

As he approached the morgue where Gyuhan’s body lay, Seungcheol hesitated at the door, his hand trembling on the handle. Taking a deep breath, he pushed it open and stepped inside.

Inside the morgue, a nurse was quietly organising paperwork. Seungcheol’s footsteps echoed in the sterile room as he approached. Overhearing her soft voice, he froze in place.

“It’s such a tragedy,” the nurse murmured, not noticing Seungcheol’s presence. “Such a young life lost…”

Seungcheol’s heart clenched at her words, the weight of guilt and grief crushing him. He stood there, silently listening, as tears streamed down his face.

Gyuhan lay motionless on a cold metal table, peaceful yet achingly still. Seungcheol’s throat tightened, and he knelt beside him, reaching out a trembling hand to gently brush Gyuhan’s hair back from his forehead.

He’s dead. Seungcheol tried to recall the last time he saw Gyuhan. Was it a week ago? Maybe two? When everyone was gathered in the practice room for their comeback stage?

The scenes flashed past his eyes, bit by bit. Him approaching Gyuhan awkwardly to ask about his new house, Gyuhan turning down Mingyu’s offer to help him move, Seungkwan asking Gyuhan to join him for dinner…

“We’re really pieces of shits to you, aren’t we?” Seungcheol's words echoed in the quiet morgue, each syllable heavy with self-condemnation. He withdrew his hand from Gyuhan's forehead, feeling a profound sense of unworthiness settle over him. He bowed his head, tears streaming down his cheeks unchecked. Guilt, regret, and sorrow intertwined within him, a tumultuous storm of emotions.

When an avalanche happens, not a single piece of snowflakes are innocent.

#🌷kyii #seventeen #svt #mansaenetwork #seungcheol x oc #seungcheol angst #seventeen angst #svt angst #choi seungcheol #seungcheol #scoups angst #seventeen fanfiction #seungcheol scenarios #svt fanfiction

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starrailstories · 2 years ago

Note

Hey! Could you write something about Blade having a keeper of time/ timekeeper s/o? ♥

first ask!!! let's hecking goooooooo

i wanted to write headcanons but then one thing led to another and it's a short story that i hope you enjoy

Blade x gn!Timekeeper!S/O — Seen in the shards

warnings: mentions of blade's depression and suicidal thoughts (canon-compliant), possibly ooc but i really really hope i wrote him well

Blade is destruction incarnate, the mara and rage and grief taking over him sporadically, like bile rising to the throat. He is an effective tool of the Hunters (ironic, isn't it? an abomination like him hardly can Hunt), and many would think that this is all he is, a bounty and a sin and a loosely held leash.

You know him differently, though. You know him in the moments of repose in-between the storm that he brings along, and in those moments, he feels like a large shard of time away from where he'd fit. It's always shards with him, glimpses of past mistakes, and battles, and memories, but mostly sorrow. You think of the ways time cracks as you struggle to keep it whole, revealing the uncomfortable truths you dare not mention to the IPC or the Intelligentsia Guild. It's kind of similar, like if you try just enough, you'll see the complete picture once again.

And he doesn't get you at first, because collecting broken shards and piecing them back is not what Blade does. Blade is all about burning bridges, throwing himself into battle headfirst, Blade does - not - get it when you show concern or worry, when you offer to share a meal, when you tend to a wound of his, when you try and protect him in battle, because he isn't supposed to be together, only apart, shatter and shatter and shatter in hopes that one day, he'll just lie there broken and dead and gone.

You care and that hurts, for some reason, hurts in a way that doesn't sate his urge to be hurt.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

"I almost pity you, Bladie. But envy you all the same," Kafka drops one day as they're sat in a boujee cafe on a planet that will experience a Stellaron catastrophe in about three system hours. She raises her cup of tea to her lips almost immediately, but he catches a hint of a smile.

"Pity, I understand, but I do not welcome it. However, what of the envy?"

Kafka set down her cup gently, in a manner that she would always do, and her smile faded.

"Soon, you would know the meaning of fear. You knew it once, but in a different lifetime. Now, you will know it again, and it will hurt in different ways. It's fascinating."

She spoke with a certainty, as if reciting a script. Possibly that was the case, and that was more sad than anything. Given a power to make anyone listen, but stuck saying words someone else wrote.

"So it will happen?"

"As much as anything said by Destiny's Slave will. There's a seed for fear in that, too. You will resent your wish and your fate, but it still will happen, even if you don't want it to happen anymore."

Right. Blade looks away, because he doesn't usually decipher the grand scheme of things. He was promised a death and a settling of the score, and he is content with that, content in the way a sword is content to rest in its sheath. Kafka reaches across the table to touch his forehead as if to impart a wisdom.

She'd point a gun to his head and he'd be just as apathetic.

"Listen. I am telling you this for your sake, after all."

There's no command behind the word, and Blade regrets this, because thinking he dislikes most of all.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

Fear is a foreign concept, but the more you reach out to him with your care, the more he starts to grasp it. He knows of your strength, he knows of your capabilities, he sees you constantly fixing time itself, reaching into the molten metal with hands exposed and heart bare, to stitch all together before the past pours into the present and the future into the past and a sea of fake stars replaces the cosmos you traverse (you told him once of a world inside an egg one time, where the sky is fake and the up is down and why does he remember these trivial things again).

But he also knows of his own strength, and how all that he touches goes awry, and that is scary — to see you reach out when he knows full well how your care might destroy you, how he might destroy you.

"You shouldn't be picking up the shards. They'd cut you," he says one time after another crack is restored and the anomaly of the Fragmentum shifts into a stable state. His sword drags on the ground, leaving a distinctly red trace. You know he isn't speaking about the timeline.

"Those are big words coming from someone carrying a sword made of shards," you smile like you always do and it hurts. Because it hurts to be cared for and treated like a person and where were you those centuries ago when dying still felt memorable and there was something besides the anger?

He wishes he fell into a timeline anomaly back then because that would mean even for a moment, being caught by you, and that is a scary thought.

"Blade?" he's zoning out. Bad. He is supposed to keep himself in check, because most people are capable of dying and he is a remarkably well-working death machine.

"I will say this more clearly: if you keep reaching out to me, you will die."

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

You don't stop because... actually why. Blade still doesn't get it. Blade doesn't speak up anymore, a sword in its sheath, but he thinks sometimes. Thinking is still a horrible pastime activity. But he does wonder about what it would have felt like to have met you earlier, when there was some feeling left in him.

He wonders if you bandaging a wound of his would make him feel safe. He wonders if the snacks you buy on the planets you visit would make him feel sated. He wonders if after a long day, sleeping next to each other would make him feel truly content.

Dangerous thoughts, yet strangely warm, like candlelight.

You plop on the bed of a dingy hotel room you two are staying at. Blade cares little about the quality of the establishment, but he does care about security, and keeping on the down low is of the essence. He stores his sword next to his side of the bed, to draw if a fight occurs.

He doesn't sleep anyway, simply lies in a dreamless haze, so nothing would catch him off-guard.

"Room's tiny. Bed's hard as a rock, too," you make small talk, untying the laces of your boots.

"Mhm," Blade hums. He thinks that there were free rooms in the hotel. With two beds in each, no less. He doesn't bring this up because it's safer to stay close together and that's the only reason.

"And it's cold."

"Mhm," he hums again. He doesn't feel much in terms of warmth or coldness.

You lie back on the bed, staring at the ceiling as he checks for emergency exit pathways and makes notes of useful items.

"Sometimes I wish there were no anomalies or Stellarons out there. Then we wouldn't have large bounties on our heads and we'd be able to afford all the good hotels."

"We wouldn't have met then. And this room is sufficient."

Blade says sufficient, but for the last while, he found sufficient lacking. He wanted good things, despite being undeserving, and it hurt, too, because he knew all too well what happened to the good things in his life.

He lies down next to you, six inches, seven hundred years and a universe apart.

"Would we? I'd still have found you, I feel like."

It feels weird to hear this. He remembers how you once got hurt because you tried to block a hit meant for him. It was a long time ago, before that could hurt. It wasn't anything serious, but now, guilt eats at him each time he notices the faint scar on your shoulder. He drifts his gaze left, and there it is, a reminder.

And he also sees that you're cold.

What comes next is a whim and Blade never acts on whims. But he turns on the bed and drags you into an embrace.

"You wouldn't have liked what you've found."

Because then he'd be a mara-struck abomination, immortal mess of ginkgo leaves and dripping bile and the same names roared so much that no one would hear what he says. He still is like that, just somewhat grounded.

"You always decide for me. But isn't it up to me to weigh my choices, Blade?"

No, he wants to say, it's not. He's been mortal and stupid before, and that was his mistake. For that, he must pay a price. He doesn't want you to be hurt that way because you, unlike him, don't deserve this.

But he says none of it, as you raise your hand and touch his cheek and it's warm and it hurts—

His voice breaks, in both anger and fear, "I don't want you fixing me. I know you want to pick up the shards and glue them together. But you will regret that wish."

He isn't Yingxing and he won't be Yingxing ever again. What was him died on the Xianzhou Luofu, and it died again and again and again until what was left couldn't recall the deaths any longer. Then, a mess of shards, an empty husk, he was Blade, and he couldn't ever go back.

You smile gently at him.

"I know. If you ever decide to piece the shards together, it should be your choice and not mine, and I have no deal interfering with that. But still, I want to see all of you, Blade. Broken or not."

It's scary because admitting that he wants you to see him too would mean accepting that it won't change a thing. The script is merciless and uncaring. Even if he allows himself to love you, he is already destined to die as part of the performance. It's scary because it changes everything. It's scary because it changes nothing.

He shifts on the bed, so that you're face to face.

"May I kiss you?"

You close the distance first, as you always do, and he, for the first time in seven hundred years, feels seen.

#blade x reader #blade x you #blade x y/n #honkai star rail #honkai x reader #blade hsr #blade honkai #hsr #yingxing

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sky-forts-and-burning-citadels · 5 months ago

Text

Frore Flames II - Torrid

Summary: It seems even after scraping against death, your love for the seemingly unattainable remains untouched...

Warnings: Hospitals, OOC Geode, thesaurus-level lingo.

Word Count: 2.4K

A/N: Have fun with Googling the definitions to words, because I definitely forgot about the sheer amount of over-descriptive shit I made ROFL.

Your eyes ached; the darkness of their lids shielding you from the dim lights that threatened to shine past its pitch darkness, morphing the dark shrouds into muted cacophonies of flame-oranges and honey-yellows.

“Hnn…”

You wonder, briefly, if you’re even still alive. The torrid birching of summer had cooked your flesh, fried your mind-circuits and seared your soul…but this didn’t feel like summer.

Your body feels toasty, as if a warm spring breeze was gently caressing its balmy palms over your unmoving form. Gently soothing and healing the harsh burns that summer’s scorching ornery had devastated upon you.

You notice, in your comatose state, that the light has started to grow more radiant, more luminous, more intense; as if a match had been struck inside the gloom and murk of your consciousness, illuminating the umbra in chandeliers of twinkling lights.

You felt yourself gradually commencing the tedious process of reaching the gates of hypnopompia, whilst somewhere far away, a faint beep started piecemealing its way into your mind. Its annoying chiming reverberates in your skull.

Beep…Beep…Beep…

You feel a wave of irritation slash through the numbing murk, shattering the calm into sharp, serrated shards; their whetted edges piercing and dragging their points into the fogged veils of your somnolent state.

If you weren’t waking earlier, you are now.

But your eyelids felt so heavy, so leaden. How could you possibly slip out of your subconsciousness’ anteroom if your body wouldn’t abide by your minds’ commands?

The beeping was becoming more domineering over the murked blur of the quiet noises that encircled your head.

What in the absolute fuck is that shit?

…am I dead? That’d make a lot of sense actually.

The noise began to pulse in your ears, slowly punching your brain-fogged mind into a state of configuration.

You should open your eyes, lift the accursed flesh-lids that curtained them and let the radiance of the world puncture your pupils and blind you.

Aight…MC…you got this girlypop…you got this.

1…2…wait. Nah, that’s fucking stupid. Whoever actually gets up when they count to three is too self-controlled.

What motivates you. That is the query.

Geo…? Geo would whoop my ass for sleeping in.

God he’s fucking awesome.

You hiss, before gingerly opening your weaker eye.

Then you immediately shut it, because, well, your pupils are so used to the shadows that the overhead flare-bright lights have probably blinded them. You wince, a scalding pain begins its fervid assault on your eye socket.

Owie.

You think you swallow. Your throat distinctly — and painfully — aches from the force.

You faintly grimace.

As your cerebrum continues its reboot, your physicality and its wounds become more obvious to you. What once was benumbed progressively became blisteringly arid, parching your skin and clawing at the dried walls of your esophagus.

You think you hear a voice; a heavenly harmony that continues to cautiously pry you from the darkness. A siren, come to guide you towards her island, towards your doom.

But…waking up wouldn’t be your doom, right?

Well. It would be if I happened to be in some psychotic lunatic’s basement. That’d suck.

Either way, you had to assert dominance over your stubborn body.

Okay. Baby steps…baby steps.

You agonisingly slowly begin to open your eyes, aiming to at least squint. Any sign that you were alive was good, especially if you get to hear that beautiful voice again.

Your eyelids pried open a crack, the dazzle of the overhead whites and yellows immediately abusing its power over your weakened eyes.

No…c’mon MC. You’ve got this.

Fortunately, eventually, your eyes began adjusting.

Marvellous. Now…gotta sit up.

You tried to move your arms, testing whether moving them was even a possibility in your current state. You move your focus to your hands, making attempts to flex them or to inch your fingers around, to get a feel for your surroundings.

As soon as your hand left your side, it felt horrifically cold, as if some wraith had exsanguinated all the warmth from your soul and left your body a frore husk. You shamefully retract it into the comfortable cocoon of…blankets?

Oh my god…blankets! I love blankets. Blankets are wonderful.

You felt a surge of joy fill your heart, its unnervingly swift pounding now serving as a steady background drumbeat to the endless, unbounding bliss that you now felt. Alas, the realisation that you needed to alert someone of your consciousness quickly became the priority in your mind.

You also just happened to acknowledge you didn’t have a clue where you fucking were.

You draw in a deep gasp, a thinly veiled storm of frustration suddenly onslaughting your mind, pelting your brain with orders to fucking do something.

“H-. Hell…Hello…?”

Your voice comes out faint and rasped, as if your voice box had rusted to near-irreparability and your tongue had been encased in lead.

“Oh?! Oh my goodness!”

Your ears perk up.

It’s that voice…the pretty one.

The silhouette of a woman comes into view, her head blotting out the ceiling lights and leaving her face anonymous under the shroud of darkness.

“Oh my…I’ll alert the doctor, please relax for now!”

. . .

The next few hours passed by in a blur of boring examinations, excessive interviews with some wacko journalists — who were curious about why the famous, privileged, alleged ‘sex-fiend’ Geo Oogami was seen with you in his car (you were so discombobulated with their choice of nickname that water spouted out your nose like it was a fountain).

Now here you lay, stultified, annoyed and exhausted. The emotional toll it had taken to recall why you decided to lie out in a hailstorm was…immense. You cried multiple times in front of the nurses and doctors, who were demanding every piece of information that they deemed necessary for healing you. Also the consistent beeping of the nearby heart rate monitor was pissing you off, but you understood its pricelessness.

As expected, you had hypothermia, and would have to remain here for at least a week under supervision to ensure your organs and bodily tissues hadn’t suffered any long-lasting or permanent complications.

You were thankfully allowed to read books after about a day, so now at least your crippling, (and very lethal) boredom had a temporary fix.

“MC?”

The angelic voice called out again. The woman – Timea was her name, if you recall correctly — stood in the doorway, before swiftly entering and checking your vitals. After deeming your current state as satisfactory, she turns to you.

“I hear you have a visitor.”

You blinked. You? A visitor? Who the fuck would visit you?

What the shit?

You sit up, the sheets rustling under your weight as you turn to look at the doorway.

And from the unseen depths of the corridor, painted in gilded light, a wild Geo Oogami emerged, his icy turquoise eyes staring right into yours.

You swear you forgot how to breathe.

May God Himself preserve you because if this hypothermia doesn’t kill you, the asphyxiation will. Frankly, you don’t exactly care, you’re too busy gazing upon the angelic, elegant face that belongs to the man who sits at your side.

“...Why.”

His voice was like a gong, short and straight-to-the-point; yet so firm and demanding that it left you stunned.

His eyes were filled with a thousand shards of broken glass, each one having once belonged to a mosaic birthed of the stars themselves. Maybe the mosaic was like his heart, cold and sharply-edged, yet so beautiful you couldn’t help but look at it with love.

Wouldn’t that mean his heart is shattered though?

“Why what?” Your query seems to have stilled the air, stilled the molecules in the entire room. Geo looked like he’d been frozen in time, before his face turned bitterly ornery.

“Why the fuck did I find you sitting practically naked in the middle of a storm, then have to watch as you die in my car, then have to pay over 10 grand in fines for speeding you to this bloody hospital?”

His voice was far more hiemal and frosty than whatever you’d felt during that storm. It was as if 0° Kelvin itself had been personified, given a permafrozen heart and the voice of a cold wind-whip. You shiver slightly, but how could you not? Like before, you were now in the direct vicinity of the princeling of winter himself. A very unhappy one, at that.

It was never a good idea to provoke or challenge the wintry wrath of Geo Oogami. Unfortunately, you weren’t exactly the wisest person to have ever lived; a hot burst of annoyance flashed before your eyes, splattering your peripherals in a thousand shades of crimson and scarlet.

“I had my reasons. There’s nothing you need to concern yourself over.”

The scattered shards in his irises seemed to form into serrated points, each one aimed directly at you, as if his eyes themselves wanted to carve you into pieces.

“Need not worry…? Need. Not. Worry?”

He paused, a small vein prodding under the skin of his temple. You gulped.

“Are you demented?”

He was malding now, a spine-chillingly livid anger in his eyes.

“You could’ve died in my car, under my watch, and it’s not something to be worried about?”

“Aren’t I a nuisance to you either way? What difference would it’ve made if I died?”

The words are caustic for the walls of your mouth, leaving a bitter coating on your tongue. You’d thought this way for years, yet having your thoughts be thrown into the expanse of the real world, in front of a real man was…different. Especially considering the fact you idolised, respected…maybe even loved this man.

His face was a vial; a potion concocted of shock, disdain and woe slowly morphing the fury into a condensed cloud of sorrow. One that was now waiting to let loose its tears, to pour rain onto the barren soils of the earth beneath.

“How dare you.”

And so, Winter himself looked you in the eye, piercing the veil of whatever hallowed thing was keeping your emotions safely hidden. The aquamarine depths seemed to be slowly exsanguinating you of reason, of any form of logical function. You wanted to drown in them.

Aight. MC. Stop staring at him, he already resents you, he doesn’t need you to fawn over him like that.

You decide to survey the room you were in, it would be easier than continuing to peer into the unknown depths of his eyes.

White walls. White tiled floor. A couple of pretty paintings. Some fake plants.

A slender bejewelled hand firmly latched onto your chin, steadily, almost like the arms on a clockface, he moved your head towards his.

His hand feels tense, his gelid fingertips bruising the warmth of your flesh. To your left, the bed seems to sink, as if a weight had been strapped unto it.

You still don’t look at him, instead opting to (cautiously) check out his thighs. They were covered by his usual dark pants, the brown fabric ripped and torn in a multitude of places.

God he’s so beautiful.

“You are as much of a nuisance to me as I am unstylish — not in the slightest.”

His voice was monotone, yet — unlike earlier — within its melodious notes was a soft melancholic chime; as if his voice had revamped itself into the epitome of dejection and despondency.

You were as astonished as he was uncomfortable.

Then you felt yourself lose every manner of self control as you began to sob your ghastly heart out.

Fucks’ sake MC. Can’t do jackshit right can you?

You feel a few torrid tears leap over the cliffs of your eyelids and crash onto his pale flesh. His eyes follow the wet trails down your face, before smearing it across your cheek.

You felt yourself losing grip over your mind again, trying to catch onto the grains of whatever cognition you had.

Whatever your brain had repressed from that horrific night was flooding through your consciousness, sweeping you off your feet and leaving you stranded on an island in the storm that was your eternal, unbounding sorrow.

But you supposed that’s one of the reasons why you loved Geo oh-so much. He was cold, hard logic; an anchor for your restless, maladaptive thoughts. His chill soothed the hot anger that pulsed beneath you, both from your fate and at the world for stuffing you into a school where you’d never thrive.

But destiny had its ways, you suppose; for even the most treacherous, onerous and dolorous of winters will eventually (and willingly) surrender to the balmy nature of a newborn spring.

“Whatever it was that led you to commit such a stupid act…I hope you can one day entrust me with the context and reasons.”

“That almost sounds like you care, Geode.”

“Hm. Perhaps.”

You feel his hand, rings and all, land atop your head; before gently, softly, stroking your hair. The tears still fell down your face, but the despair slowly fell muted as you gingerly placed your head on Geo’s shoulder and closed your eyes.

If you’d had your way, you would’ve squished him to death, but you couldn’t afford to push this. Whatever this was.

“Promise me something, MC.”

There’s that monotone voice again…

You give a small thumbs-up in affirmation.

“Promise me that you’ll come to me before you resort to such an extreme act. No matter how stupid it may be to you.”

He lowers his hand, it now lurking near yours; and you feel a small ray of confidence shine through the murk of your paranoia.

“...okay.”

And now, cautiously, almost as if fate Herself was puppeting you; you felt your hand grasp the slender fingers of him.

Touch him, partake in a quick, fleeting moment of heavenly contact.

To your surprise?

It wasn’t short, or brief, or sudden.

It felt more purposeful than every breath you’d fucking taken, hell even Geo looked a tad astounded by the prolonged contact.

Your soul feels a little lighter now.

Maybe the enigmatic winter himself would learn to accept the dawn of a flowery, dainty spring. Maybe he’d even accept himself. And hopefully you’d accept yourself too.

#tkatb x reader #tkatb #geode oogami #tkatb angst #tkatb geo #tkatb geo angst #angst with a happy ending #geo is def ooc #and you're gonna feel illiterate by the end of this

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newwritergirl · 1 year ago

Text

Starting over | Part 14

Masterlist

Summary: After y/n hears her two boyfriends talking about leaving her she spirals into memory lane. Fortunatley the two pilots can catch her before she falls deeper.

Trigger Warnings: 18+! Minors DNI!, past abusive relationship, some memories of previous abuse, migraine, blood, injury, au and ooc, poly relationship

A/N: I needed a bit angst and hurt in this chapter, sorry for that. Please let me know what you think and reblog if you want other readers to enjoy the story.

Word Count: 2.8k +

A loud shattering is stopping Jake and Bradley's conversation. Both men turn around in the direction of the sudden noise.

"Y/n!" Rooster shouts clearly shocked. The man's loud shout and the noise from breaking the glass vaults her right back to a time she so dearly hoped to be over and long forgotten. The sound of glass breaking was always a surety of an upcoming beating. Especially when she broke something. But on not so rare occasions her ex destroyed breakable pieces, in that case she always was quick to clean up the mess he made to avoid or better say lessen the inevitable pain whether from his fists or his words. Absolutely terrified she looks down to her feet, million pieces of broken glass surrounding her figurative for her broken heart. Will she ever be enough for another human being? Will there be a time when she isn't acting like a complete failure? Probably not.

"I- I…" Y/n's head is racing, she needs to clean up the mess otherwise it's going to be bad. She looks like a deer in the headlights, her gaze jumping from the broken glass on the floor to the two men at the kitchen island. "I- clean it…" The young woman stumbles over her words, the tremble of her hands slowly flowing into her whole body.

"No, no sweetheart, don't move. You gonna hurt…" Jake tries to gain y/n's attention but sprints into her direction at the same time.

She just hears static, the voice of the blonde aviator doesn't reach her subconsciousness so she takes a step forwards to bend down and clean up as her ex taught her, as fast as possible, as clean as possible, no complaining. Her legs are shaking so badly she nearly falls face first into the mess of shards when she feels two strong arms lifting her up. She squeals out of surprise and fear. The strong arms are hoisting her up, supporting her whole weight and entangle themselves under her bum, forcing her legs to wrap around the warm body that is carrying her away. She shuts her eyes tightly afraid to see the pure rage in the man's eyes. What had she done? Why is she screwing up so badly?

"Fuck, princess… Jake, she's bleeding, sit her down on the counter." Rooster speaks in a gentle yet panicked tone when he sees the blood dripping down onto the floor.

She feels her calves hitting something hard before Jake sets her on the kitchen counter but makes no move to release his gentle grasp he has on her. She shudders when her bare legs make contact with the cold stone of the countertop. In a protective manner and to keep some of her warmth she wraps her arm around herself, hugs them to her trembling body.

"Baby, look at me. Please open those beautiful eyes." Jake is so close to her she can smell his minty toothpaste and the faint odor of his shower gel but she can't open her eyes, too afraid of what might wait for her when she looks into his face. His hands wander from her waist to her face softly cupping her pale cheeks. A jolt runs through his body when she flinches and tries to hide her face from him.

"Babygirl, we're not gonna hurt you and we're not breaking up with you. Please look at me." The blonde aviator pleads, he needs to explain everything to her. He and Bradley need to explain it to her. His heart is breaking for the young woman in front of him. He knows of her past, knows that she was in an abusive relationship, but with every reaction she shows during a stressful or new situation another piece of the puzzle is adding up, creating a crueler picture of what she survived at the hands of her evil ex.

A warm hand touching her shoulder, she knows this touch. It's Rooster's hand. She always wonders how he can be so gentle with these big hands, hands that only ever brought her love, tenderness and passion.

"Princess, Jakey is right. Please look at us and let me see this foot of yours, you're bleeding. Please let us help you. We've never hurt you and sure as hell never going to in the future. We love you, princess." Bradley's voice cracks at the end a lump forming in his throat, tears threatened to spill out of his brown eyes. If he ever gets the chance to meet this monster that dared to lay a hand on the wonderful woman in front of him, he's going to kill him. With a deep breath he tries to calm himself and once more hide the pure rage he's feeling.

A sob is echoing through the open kitchen and finally the small woman opens her eyes to look at the two aviators who are towering over her. Jake doesn't waste any more time and cradles y/n's head into his broad chest, whispering words of endearment into her ear. Her breathing is increasing and already way too fast.

"Shh, baby. You're safe with us, always. We love you y/n, we love you so much." Slowly rocking her body back and forth, stroking her back and feeling her calm down a bit. The last thing they need right now is her spiraling further down ending in a full blown panic attack.

"I'm so sorry." She breathes out fisting Jake's shirt into her hands to ground herself. "I didn't want to eavesdrop or making a mess. I'm sorry…"

As if on cue Bradley takes a step to his lovers, stroking the smaller woman's back gently.

"Please, princess. Don't apologize. This is not on you. Please let us explain, we're not going to break up. Can I- can I have a look at your foot, it's bleeding really heavy." The brunette pilot explains in a worried voice. He knew that they have to calm her down at first before he can patch her up or even have a closer look on her injury. But when he sees that there's a steady flow of blood dripping from her foot onto the floor he knows he has to stop the bleeding and that fast.

Y/n nods her head and drops her gaze to her injured foot. A whimper tumbles out of her mouth, color immediately draining form her face when she sees the amount of blood on the floor. Her vision becomes fuzzy and wave of dizziness is hitting her. It’s not that she is overly sensitive when she sees blood but the whole situation hits too close to home. The blood drops steadily dripping on the floor, the small puddle that has already been formed, the broken glass, the fear, it all remembers her of the night her ex decided to use a knife against her.

"It's okay. Roo-y is going to help you." Jake tucks her face back into his chest kissing her head softly. He can see her rapid pulse on her carotid and feels her body swaying in his arms.

"Okay, there's no shard in the cut, but I need to bandage it. It's rather deep, but hopefully it will not need stitches. I pack a gauze on it and then Jake will carry you to the couch, so you can lay down when I look for smaller shards and stop the bleeding. Alright my love?" Bradley suggests. He too saw her pale complexion after she had a look at the amount of blood on the kitchen floor and he doesn’t feel any better seeing his love bleeding.

When Maverick requested Rooster to take a young woman in and let her live with him and Jake in their house, he was more than suspicious. Who just lets a complete stranger into their house? And why is Mav so anxious to give that unfamiliar woman a safe place to stay at the base? So after a long conversation Pete finally came out with it and showed Bradley the file the Navy had about her. Of course they had to check her background thoroughly even with Mitchell bailing for the young woman, after all she would work with highly classified data as an IT-specialist. Rooster saw the police report of the fateful night her ex nearly killed her. He saw the pictures the big puddle of blood she laid in. The bloody handprints on the kitchen table where she tried to keep her body upright after the attack. He saw the amount of destruction her ex did on the whole interior of their apartment. He stopped reading in the middle of the police report when they explained her multiple injuries and how she had several old injuries from previous beatings. Nearly every rib in her body has been broken at some point of her life, old and new bruises littered her body. From that day Bradley swore he will do everything in his power to protect this young and beautiful woman.

---

Finally laying on the couch with her head in Jake's lap and her legs on Bradley's thighs, slightly elevated to reduce the bleeding further and to gain back some color in her face. The shock of hearing that her two lovers talk about leaving her, the flashback of past memories and the blood loss now fully taking in leaving her drained and slightly nauseous. She fights to keep her eyes open but with Jake massaging her head and Bradley slowly stroking her calves makes it hard for her to stay awake. Before y/n can fully slip into a deep slumber she suddenly startles up with a loud gasp, her heart thundering painfully in her ribcage.

"Work…we have to go, we will be late." In a panic she untangles her leg out of Bradley's soft grip and sits up in a rush.

"Hey easy, Babygirl." Jake brushes his hand over her back gripping her shoulders slightly to prevent her from standing up. All color has left her face once more with her sudden action and her heart beating way too fast from the initial shock.

The brunette pilot cautiously changed his position and sits down on the hardwood coffee table to be directly in front of the panting woman afraid she would fall face first into the table. "We don't have to work today, princess. We called the base that you are not coming in today. With your migraine yesterday Mav even insisted you staying at home today and tomorrow. We all care for you." He tells her while holding both her hands in his stroking softly with his thumbs over her knuckles. His warm brown eyes looking directly into hers.

"But what about you… And- I-…you leaving?" The young woman asks confused in nothing more than a whisper.

Jake places a soft kiss on her temple to let her know that there is nothing to be afraid of. He wants her to be calm and feel safe when they explain to her why they have to leave in two days. Bradley locks eyes with his partner silently agreeing that he will break the news to their girlfriend.

"Princess, Jake and I are going on a mission. We have to teach and train the crew of an aircraft carrier. So, no real war mission, just us playing bad instructor, good instructor." He explained in a light tone winking at Jake who sits beside y/n stroking her thigh which is touching his upper leg.

"You don't break up with me? I'm so stupid… I'm sorry." The young woman looks down in embarrassment. She can't believe how stupid she is. She listened to a conversation and assumed all wrong, destroyed a glass, cut her foot and nearly had a full blown panic attack.

Jake says her name to get her attention, with cautious movements he puts his finger under chin tilting her head. Deeply looking into the eyes he had fallen for a long time ago, he softly kisses her plumps lips. The blonde aviator may look like a cocky bitch to outsiders, like a guy with too much self-consciousness who can't seem to shut up even if his life depends of it, but deep down he's an affectionate lover who wants to show all his love he feels for y/n and Bradley with his actions. He wants her to feel all his love before he uses his words to explain everything further.

"I- I'm sorry for eavesdropping and breaking the glass. I didn't want to make a mess…" She shudders at the thought of the breaking glass. "Ehm, in the past…breaking something always meant that - that he got mad at me. One time, he shoved me into the shards of a broken mug, sliced my entire hand. I bled so heavily that - I must've passed out and when I woke up there was a big puddle of blood… he beat me into a pulp before bringing me into the ER. Telling the doctors and nurses that I fell down the stairs with a mug in my hand." With a wavering voice y/n tells her boyfriends one of her many bad memories. Jake puts his right arm over her shoulders supporting her body with his broad frame. He can feel her trembling and when he takes a look at Bradley he sees the brunette pinching his eyes shut as he wants to get rid of the pictures y/n created with her story.

"The stupid clumsy girlfriend…that what he called me."

Rooster takes her left into his own inspecting the scar from where she had sliced her hand in the past. He places soft kisses in the palm like wants to kiss away her pain. All pain she's ever endured.

"Sweetheart, you're not stupid. You're the most intelligent, beautiful, sweet and sexy woman we've ever laid our eyes on. Of course we're not breaking up with you. We're just out on a small and uncomplicated mission. Like Roo-y said, a bit training here a bit teaching there."

Y/n let's out a sigh they're not really leaving her, even with her baggage they're still loving her. How does she deserve these two?

"When do you have to leave?" She asks while turning her head to look at Rooster.

"We're flying out in two days. Mav said we will be away for roughly two weeks. I'm sorry, princess. We really don't want to leave you here on your own. We will miss you. Jake really wanted to strangle the Admiral."

"I'm going to be okay. Just please come back in one piece, both of you. I- I love you!" She says, breathing the last three words, the most important words of the day. "Can we cuddle, before you have to leave?" The young woman suggests as she batts her eyelashes. Everything is going to be okay and two weeks will be over before she knows.

---

With y/n still recovering from her migraine attack the two pilots let her sleep on the couch after she fell asleep cuddled in between her boyfriends. So they make use of the time by preparing their departure. Even if they most likely don't need much if any civvies they have to pack and organize some things.

Small hands sneaking around Rooster's muscular body, bringing him out of his concentration. He turns around and envelopes y/n in a tight and lovely hug.

"I thought Jake and I made ourselves clear when we said that you're absolutely not allowed to wander around in the house with your injured foot." He mumbles against her head while placing soft kisses in her silky hair.

"I missed my boys. I needed a hug. You just sneaked out on me and left me alone on the couch na-" Y/n squeals when the brunette hoists her up with a firm grip on her bum.

"You, my dear woman, will be the death of us." Bradley jokes before he captures her lips in a passionate kiss, nibbling at her plump upper lip, eliciting a breathy moan out the young woman's mouth when he grinds his groin into hers.

Another set of hands sneaks around both of them kissing Bradley and Y/n on their cheeks.

"What did I miss?" The blonde aviator asks in a flirtatious tone.

"Well Lieutenant Commander Seresin, Miss y/ln went against direct orders." Bradley teases in a playful but dangerous tone.

Jake clicks his tongue, bringing his chest flush to the back of the smaller woman who is still clinging to the other pilot. "Miss y/ln, is that the truth? What do we do with such a tease, Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw?" His teeth softly grazing and nibbling y/n's sensitive neck, making her squirm in the other pilots hold.

"Well, Seresin. I guess we should think about an appropriate punishment." Bradley whispers seductively when he turns around and lets the woman gently out of his arms and onto the bed, soon following her and laying beside their girlfriend. She protests, missing already the touch of both her men. Jake lets himself plop on the other side of the squirming girl immediately stealing a heated kiss from her already kiss-swollen lips.

@djs8891

@darksparklesficrecs

#hangman x reader #rooster x reader #tgm #new writer #top gun fanfic #jake seresin x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin #top gun

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ukininayu · 1 year ago

Text

—WRONG NUMBER! megumi x reader

🎀🎧‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧ 🎧🎀

CONTENT. modern!au, characters are aged up. (first year college.), hurt/comfort, miscommunication (not in a relationship) FEATURING. Yuuji & Nobara (NOT a ship.) WARNINGS. ooc, wrong description of college(?/), grammar & spelling, im trying to convert to a reader that can be read as f or m! sorry if it sounds f tho!! WC. 1789. A/N. first account terminated, woohoo! gotta say bye to 20+ drafts, my notes, AND MY MUTUALS. MY 50+ MUTUALS. :( but yeah!! no worries! hahahhahahahah!!!

🎀🎧‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧ 🎧🎀

while you put your coat on, the voice of Nobara explaining... something... blurs out when your focus travels to the voices at the back of your mind, though the front of your mind continues with college.

collage has been a bitch. it does not give two flying fucks about shit. tired? unstable? broke? unwell? drained? no fucks given.

but thats okay!

as long as you had your friend group with you, you would survive collage, and so on.

You, Nobara, Yuuji, and... Megumi.

starting from when you and Nobara went out of your's and hers hometown back in Tohoku, travelling to Tokyo to start a new life as high schoolers, she met Yuuji and Megumi, the day after that, introduced you to them, then the history of your now formed friend group with them goes on.

one part of history was the oblivious fact that you liked Megumi from the start until now. another part of history was the annoying fact that Megumi was so oblivious to it. for how observing he is to everything, how did he miss how you felt for him?

this goes on vice versa.

for as much as you (healthily) observed his every move, knew everything that was about him, yada yada, you didn't realize the clear fact he liked you. from the damn beginning.

only poor Nobara and Yuuji could do was die watching the both of you. especially when something involved the both of you in close proximity. Take for example,

Your body slightly jumps in surprise when you go back to consciousness and collide shoulders with megumi, the beaker on his hands dropping down and meeting the cold floor.

"ah!— fuc-... sorry, I was out of the world for a second, didn't realize-" You continue to apologize, kneeling down so you could reach the shattered pieces of glass in an attempt to clean up the mess, ignoring the unknown violet liquid pooled on the floor.

"it's okay— wait! you'll get hurt," with your peripheral vision, you see him kneel on one knee, his gloved hands reaching to your bare wrists, pulling them away from the broken beaker.

"If you're gonna help, at least wear gloves.." He sighs, surprisingly you don't hear an annoyed tone in his voice.

another apology murmured from you.

You scramble standing up to get a piece of cleaning cloth while your black-haired crush picks up the sharp shards of glass, placing them on a nearby counter.

And behold, you and him surrounding the slight mess, your hands wiping the colored liquid from the beaker while his continue to carefully pick up the pieces of glass. the sides of your hands brushing against his as you two work to clean up.

Yuuji and Nobara would probably be laughing at the sight if they couldn't feel the awkward tension between the two of you.

It hurt the both of them so much. You still pleading for forgiveness while Megumi tries to assure you all was fine. even your conversation, if you can even call it that, was awkwardness.

Still, it was pretty adorable watching the both of you. just two shy crushing little souls conversing.

After you and him had tidy up the small problem that occured and went back to focusing on the laboratory experiment, you hear Yuuji and Nobara, the rest of your groupmates, whisper to each other while looking at the both of you.

You couldn't care less either way, you were more focused on the fact you were, once again, this close to Megumi. standing just beside him, sides almost pressed with the way he reached for the test tube all the way to your side of the counter, his fluffy yet spiky looking hair so close to you that you had to resist the urge to pat and comb your fingers through it.

🎀🎧‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧🎧🎀

Another friday movie night with the group. He hated the way the whole group (yuuji and nobara) decided to make his apartment the "cinema" for almost every movie night. with the stupid reason of: "your da- guardian is from the richest family! you have the largest tv AND air conditioning, too! obviously!"

Usually, he wouldn't give a damn if his friends would barge in his apartment while its not that clean and tidy, but you were a part of his friends. He's not gonna risk the chance of you being uncomfortable because his place isn't shining clean, so almost every friday, he would clean his apartment, ignoring the obvious signs of tiredness after days of college lectures.

...

Here he is, sitting on the couch, his head resting against the top of the couch, his hands getting a new addition of small scratches from the wild effort of cleaning.

Megumi's senses perk up when he hears his apartment door open.

to his dismay, Nobara walked in alone.

immediately, his mind asks about you out loud, not giving Nobara the chance to even close the door. She takes her time in taking her sandals off and walking over to the couch he was lounging at to sit at the opposite side, which annoys megumi more than it should as he stares at the side of her head, impatiently waiting for an answer.

"they said they couldn't come tonight, something about studies—" "That's all?"

now he's the one being glared at. "Let me continue, have some manners." He doesn't have any choice but to hum and nod, silently (b)egging her to continue explaining.

"and, Yes. that's all. Don't worry your pretty little head off, they're not on a date with somebody."

when he was about to respond, Nobara's phone rings and she answers it, her hand going up and signalling for him to stay silent. with the way she was talking, the caller was probably you.

🎀🎧‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧🎧🎀

You sigh in delight as you lay on your cheap dorm bed, limbs spread, phone in hand. You were beaming with joy inside as it was another day with Megumi— though the events weren't the best, the proximity of it was worth it.

You really did want to go to the movie night at Megumi's, but if you would see him again, sit close to him even, your feelings would be too much to bare (affectionately) and you were still ashamed for breaking the lab equipment he was holding hours ago. so you had to lie to Nobara and tell her it was due to the amount of books you had to study and lectures to memorize and understand.

gosh were you thankful you and Nobara had a schedule of when you guys would call, because this was one of them,

plus,

you knew Nobara would never let anybody hold her phone, so this was your chance to avoid the affectionate heart attack cominf for you and simply rant her ear off while she watches a movie.

Perfect!

You sit up, going to your phone's contacts to call your brown haired best friend.

🎀🎧‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧🎧🎀

He only sighs when Nobara starts to ignore him as she focuses on you and he pulls out his phone as well, checking the new post the campus added onto their social media. (and trying to eavesdrop on whatever you and her were talking about.)

only a few minutes later, the two hear Yuuji's voice coming from the kitchen, asking(shouting) for assistance

His short haired friend stands up, placing her phone on the coffee table. "here, they're calling me right now, tell them I had to go help Yuuji— just talk to them, lover boy."

and off nobara goes, running to the kitchen while cursing yuuji for burning the snacks.

He only stares at her decorated phone in surprise. she actually let him use it?

when he takes the phone and puts it next to his ear, your voice quickly evades his senses.

"well... this might be the wrong time to talk about this, but can you just let me talk about him? if i'm being honest, this is the only reason why i'm calling you.."

His throat suddenly feels dry.

Did you actually have a date? did Nobara not know?

thankfully, you continue on, not bothering for "nobara" to speak up as you would expect her to tut at you in annoyance if you let her.

"I can't do this anymore! He's just... perfect! in every way! of course, you would probably disagree, but you literally have been friends with him for so long, how can you still not see that? honestly, I couldn't be surprised if you said you liked him— wait... that's too far... anyways—"

With every word you rant out, his heart gets pierced. was he too late to confess? only thing he knew about the mystery guy was that he was one of Nobara's long-time friends, even so, she had quite the amount of guy friends.

"I'm about to die of happiness thinking of him... he's everything good. His morals, height, personality, looks, and do I have to talk about his smile? I think I mention that in every call we have, well, continue!-"

his mind goes overdrive as itt pieces every description you mentioned while you go on to rant about your dream man in the call.

oh.

Yuuji?

He was the perfect description. he had good morals, taller than an average college student and is fit, and his smile... a contagious one, in honesty.

You were clearly in love with his best friend. and he couldn't do anything but realize and let it sink in.

While you continue on ranting, he only thinks about what he should do. should he avoid and ignore you? no... he couldn't bare to do that, and if he could, you were in the same small friend group with him. so he was only left with the choice to drive you away from him.

When you end the call with a goodbye, Nobara and Yuuji finally appear at the comfy living room holding snacks and sodas in their hands.

🎀🎧‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚‧🎧🎀

"well, continue!... But seriously, how am I still Megumi's friend? it feels like I don't deserve to have that title... Compare me to him and I would look like a banana peel next to a sports car, no wonder he looks so... bored, when im around him... that's okay, though! I can accept that, as long as he still considers me a friend."

"Im excited when I see him again cause... now that I think of it, I'm ready to talk to him about how I feel.."

Unfortunately, you were met with pure silence from the other call. Nobara wasn't like this when you would call her, so she was probably busy, and you didn't want to bother her.

"uhm— well, actually, I got to start studying now... I'll talk to you later, bye!"

you take a deep breath, then you open your notes app on your phone, ready to prepare something, maybe a poem, to anonymously give to Megumi.

you could do this.

... yeay!!! unfinished piece!!! :3

---

A/N. MY MUTUALS. NOO

also, at one particular paragraph, itafushi took over my hands, oops!

also, my writing is very sloppy, i know. im just bummed out abt my deleted drafts

i ws supposed to start making this my official signature on "dark red" p3 but now thats delted.. here it is!

#jjk x reader #jjk #megumi #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro #ukininam

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inuiiwonderland · 2 years ago

Text

The beauty beneath the veil

Characters- Lucifer- Mammon- Leviathan

Fem reader

A/n: I finally decided to write for obey me! I got this idea a few days ago and ughh it wouldn’t leave my head so I HAD to write it! Sorry if the characters are a bit ooc! I need to start playing again🥹 (mc wears something like this!)

Angst to comfort(?)

You never showed your face to anyone, not even to close friends. You always make sure to not accidentally reveal your face to people when you're in public or just anywhere where anyone could see your face by mistake.

You don’t want them to see the unpleasant sight underneath your viel.

Hideous

That what you are

Someone who isn’t pretty or beautiful. You never really saw yourself as ugly. But when your ex fiancé made it his mission to make sure you knew you weren’t pretty, that's when you started believing his words and thinking that maybe he was right.

“Only a demon would ever think you're beautiful and marry you!”

Lucifer

The first time he saw you he didn’t really care about why you wore a veil. You were just an exchange student for diavolo program and nothing else.

Until later on. As your relationship with him and his brothers grew closer, and him then starting to grow feelings for you, he started to wonder why you cover your face. Of course he wouldn’t ask you, not wanting to offend you or make you upset so he decided to just ignore it and forget about it. Though he wouldn’t lie that he wasn’t curious about how you look under that veil that you always wear.

It was late at night and Lucifer did his nightly checks around the house to make sure his brothers weren’t up and doing something they weren’t supposed to do. After checking and seeing how his brothers are in their room he then started walking to his office to continue off where he left off.

Until he heard crying

He stopped and listened closely only to realize that the crying was coming from your room. Panic settled in him and he quickly made his way to your room. Opening the door to your room he was met with the awful sight of you kneeling down in front of a shattered mirror and your veil on the floor.

He slowly walked towards you while gently calling out your name.

“Mc?” You gasp and quickly cover your face with your hands. Even though your back was facing him you still covered your face, scared that he would accidentally see it.

“I-I’m sorry….I didn’t mean to disturb you”

His heart ache at the sight of your trembling figure and how weak your voice sounded.

He looked at the shards of glass and saw bits of blood. He then made you turn towards him which now he was able to see your bloody hands. Probably from you punching the mirror.

“Mc your bleeding”

“I’ll clean it up! No need-“

“Mc” You still have your hands covering your face. You couldn’t see the gentle expression that he had on as he tried to get you to lower your hands down so he can help you with your wounded hands.

“N-no! You’ll s-see my ugly face!”

His eyes widened at your words and he looked at you with a puzzled look.

“Ugly?”

“Yes! I’m ugly that why I cover my face”

“Mc….even if you think you're ugly, just know that I won’t ever think the same”

You slowly part your fingers to see him looking at you with a serious yet gentle look. You build up your confidence before taking your hands off your face and showing him your face.

You stared at him for any signs of disgust but found nothing and only him smiling at you with those beautiful lovely eyes of his.

He grabbed your face with both his hands

“You look beautiful”

Your eyes water at his words and you quickly pull him into a hug. He hugged you back and comforted you as you continued to cry.

“N-no one has ever said that to me before” He only hugged you tighter as he began cursing at the ones who dare to call you ugly.

Because they were wrong. You were a hidden gem underneath that veil.

“Now let’s clean those wounds you have there”

You nodded before letting him help you up.

“Thank you Lucifer”

Mammon

Mammon was a bit weirded out by the whole veil thing but also didn’t really care at first. But when the two of you made a pact and started to grow closer, he started to grow a little curious about why you wear the veil.

He was a bit scared to ask you. Scared he will offend you or worse, make you mad! So he decided to keep it to himself and wait until you either tell him why you cover your face or show him.

After all, the boy has grown to love you more than just a friend and doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable of any sort.

He was just coming home from rad. He was excited to see you since you didn’t go to rad today because you didn’t feel good. He was the first one to make it back home since he literally rushed out the school gates to see you. As he set foot inside the house and was about to call for you he stopped when he heard the sound of glass shattering followed by a loud cry.

He quickly ran to your room and slammed the door open with a panic expression on his face.

“Mc?!” You flinched at his voice and quickly covered your face with your bloody hands.

“N-no! Go away go away!” His heart broke seeing you trying to shoo him away. Ignoring your protests he walked towards you and knelt down next to you.

“M-mc your bleeding!” He says as he then quickly runs to your bathroom to get a rag to clean up the blood on your hands.

He comes back and as he was about to take your hands away from your face you quickly back away.

“N-no! I’m hideous!”

His eyes widened and it took him a minute to process what you said.

“H-hideous?!”

“You won’t like what you’ll see once my hands are away from my face!”

His heart broke hearing you say such things. He puts the rag down before pulling you into a hug.

“Don’t say that. You aren’t ugly”

“But you haven’t seen my face yet”

“Even if I haven’t seen your face I know you aren’t ugly”

It took you a bit but you decided that it was finally time to show him the face you hid underneath the veil.

You pulled away from the hug and watched closely to see how he'd react.

He looks at you with such love in his eyes as he smiles down at you.

“Your beautiful mc”

Your eyes widened as he then kisses your forehead

“Whoever said you are ugly are definitely wrong! They have no idea what they’re talking about!”

You smiled at him

He made you fall even deeper in love with him

Leviathan

Levi didn’t notice that you were even wearing a veil at first since he was busy playing games on his DDD. But when he finally looked up from his phone, he was a bit surprised. He didn’t really make it a big deal but he wouldn’t lie that a few anime characters didn’t come to mind when he first saw you.

Once the two of you grew closer, he started wondering why you cover your face.

There was this one time when he accidentally blurted out why you cover your face during one of his nightly gaming marathons and was mortified when he realized what he said. He of course quickly apologized and then started blaming himself for being so stupid and not being careful about what he says.

It was late at night as usual and Levi was busy playing games on his computer. As he was reaching inside a bag of chips that he had next to him he realized that he finished it. Pausing his game, Levi decided to quickly make a run to the kitchen and get some snacks before returning back to his game.

As he was walking towards the kitchen, leviathan heard a noise coming from your room. He stops and listens closely and was able to hear your loud sobs coming from inside your room.

Panic washes over him as he questions what he should do. Quickly deciding that he should check up on you, levi slowly opens your bedroom door and peeks inside.

He gasps as he sees the broken mirror and your bloody fists. He then fully opens the door and rushes his way inside.

“M-mc! What happened?!”

“Levi? N-no! No get out please!” You say as you cover your face with a blanket.

He felt a bit hurt that you wanted him away but he ignores it when he sees your bloody hands.

“N-no! You're bleeding mc!”

“No! You can’t see me right now! I’m ugly!”

He stops and looks at you with wide and confused eyes.

“Ugly?”

“Yes! You can’t see me right now”

He watches as your body trembles and you trying your best to not let the blanket fall and show him your face.

“Don’t say that mc”

“But it’s true! You won’t like what you see”

He grabs your hands that were tightly gripping on the blanket and with your permission he takes your hands in his. Which causes the blanket to fall and reveal your face to him.

You avoid eye contact at first but when you suddenly gain a sense of confidence you look at levi only to see him already staring at you with rosy cheeks.

“Your beautiful mc” he says almost breathlessly. You stare at him in shock and he gently holds your hands against his.

“Don’t ever think your ugly mc…because your far from that”

“Levi” Your eyes water which caused him to panic. Thinking he might’ve said or done something wrong but soon relaxed when you pulled him into a hug.

“Thank you leviathan…no one has ever said that to me”

He could feel himself slowly turn red but he hugs you back nonetheless.

Should I make a part 2 with the rest of the brothers?

Anyways hope you guys like it!🤍

#inuiiwonderland🤍#obey me x reader #obey me x female reader #obey me shall we date #obey me luficer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #lucifer x reader #mammon x reader #leviathan x reader #obey me angst #obey me fluff

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red-riding-wood · 1 year ago

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Yellow Light

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x F!Reader

Summary: Jonathan is your guide as you escape Arkham Asylum.

Based off the song "Yellow Light" by Of Monsters and Men (original version here and acoustic version here). This song is really special to me and helped me brave my heart surgery in August. A lot of this fic is a projection of my own experiences, trauma, and health issues over the past several years -- but Arkham can represent absolutely anything you want it to that you or the character is trying to escape.

Song lyrics are in bold.

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, depictions of PTSD (hospital trauma specifically), drug addiction/use, psychosis, hallucinations, fear of death, blood.

Will also use similar themes to my upcoming series "Darkness Until Dawn" and OC Cassie Hart but this is a standalone x reader fic.

I also feel like Crane might come across a bit OOC in this fic because he's in an established relationship with the reader and he's in a comforting role, but I promise I have some very fucked-up stuff for him coming up where he's an absolute menace.

WC: 3309

Sounds of Hell threaded themselves into the night air. Howling, bleating, baying down the streets. Whispering thoughts of death into your ears. Thoughts that formed into icy talons that raked down your spine, that stirred goosebumps along the bare flesh of your arms. That froze you in place, your heart slamming against your ribs as they tethered you to the cold concrete like vines.

Frantic looks cast to your left, to your right, you turned, stumbling over your own feet as you whirled, the darkness of each alleyway sinking into your soul. Staring back at you as if to say, you cannot escape me.

I’m looking for a place to start. Everything feels so different now.

Which way was out? Which way was back there? Back to the dingy halls of Arkham, the acrid stench of spoiled cafeteria food, the howling of patients that still seemed to echo back to you from the alleys.

The maw of a great beast parted, razors of teeth glinting silver in the dark, stretching from one brick wall to another. Hurtling towards you, wisps of black smoke emerging from the darkness and curling round you like hissing tongues. The roar started as a peal of thunder, and ended as a shockwave, razor teeth shattering into glass as the beast collided against your skull. Dizzying waves sent the world spinning, brought you to your knees before the Devil himself.

She’s good as dead.

The beast’s maw burned hot as hellfire, breathing smoke into your aching lungs, ripples of molten lava racing beneath your skin. Teeth tore into your shoulder as your hand met the ground, shaking fingers settling into the grooves of the concrete like cold tiles. Death’s talons wrapped around your throat as a cry twisted from your larynx, pointed nails morphing to scalpels and tearing down your sternum, splitting open your ribs and baring your bleeding heart.

Crimson freckled the concrete, splatters of your blood landing hot and thick against the back of your hand as cold washed over each limb, the darkness creeping in from the corners of the alleys. You reached your free hand to your forehead, and nearly cried out again in pain, but you couldn’t speak; something sharp wedged itself between your fingers, something sticky attaching webs of hair against your clammy palm.

Your hand came away with a shard of glass protruding from the stretch of skin between your fingers, red dribbling down flesh too pale to be living.

Your stomach buckled, and you curled in on yourself, eyes rolling to the back of your throbbing skull and voices pouring in like a tide.

Get back here! She’s running. Running away. Where does she think she’s going? She’s not going anywhere. She can’t escape us. You can’t escape us.

Patients rattled the bars of their cages, threw themselves against their padded walls. Screeched warnings and mournful wails and haunted cries into the stale air of the hospital, into the icy chill of night.

Fingers seized into talons as they closed around your ears, attempting to block out the noise as it built into a terrifying crescendo, wails and whispers melding together as if the darkness were mocking you but the chill that swathed your impotent form reminded you of your isolation.

GET OUT! your lips parted to say but fell silent upon the words of the damned. Let me go. Let me go, let me go.

Warmth brushed your shoulder, and you blinked saline from your eyes, streaking salt down your lip, dampened hair falling over blurry vision as you looked up to the hand held to you in the darkness. The white cuff of a shirt disappearing beneath a black suit.

Just grab hold of my hand. I will lead you through this wonderland.

And his voice, soft and warm and human, cut through the noise. Hollowed a path through the tunnel of voices and breathed life into lungs that gasped for air. Sent a tremble of fear through death’s icy talons and made the demons crawl back into the earth.

I’m here, he said.

You couldn’t straighten your claw-like grip as it brushed the warmth of his hand, but his fingers entwined in yours and the glass split his palm and bled over your knuckles and he pulled, your shoulder screaming in pain and your legs wobbly beneath you, but you stood.

Your fingers balled into a fist, the touch of his hand dissolving like a pill in water, like sutures that held you to together for one moment only to leave you in pieces, scarred and bruised and broken. For a moment, you thought you’d fall again.

Faintly, a glow emerged from the blackness, silhouetting the lazy fall of a feather, so tranquil in contrast to the tendrils of ink black that writhed in your peripheral. You swiped a hand out to the feather, its softness akin to his hand, but the voices hissed at you to look up.

The jagged peaks of the skyscrapers groaned above, folding in across the dim sky and curling into black tides that came crashing around you as pressure mounted in your skull.

The darkness devoured you.

Water up to my knees. But sharks are swimming in the sea.

The ocean came flooding in around you, dampness seeping into the cuffs of your trousers, rising as the blackness pressed in around you. Ahead, the light glinted yellow, casting a thin line of white against the waves. The feather bobbed along the surface, chased by current that now buffeted the backs of your knees.

One foot placed before the other, you waded through the water, each step weighing heavier than the last. Each time, the light ahead grew just a little brighter, though the sides of your vision darker.

Wretched creatures began to emerge from the darkness, hissing and snarling and reaching for you in tendrils of smoke and ink. Gravity began to pull you downward, the current guiding you forwards as the alleyway morphed into a tunnel, and the voices of the underworld rang louder in your skull as you descended into the bowels of the city.

She’s heading into the darkness. The rot.

A giggle, echoing against the walls of the chamber that reeked of all things barren and desolate. Her mind’s a disease.

The reach of death grew thick here, in twisted ropes and vines that swallowed the arched ceiling, that bore down on you like snakes and streaked through the sea like eels of tar, the water itself no longer seeming so heavy in comparison as they engulfed each limb. Tightening. Shuddering.

She can’t get very far. She’s killing herself.

She has to. She has to live.

The voices were starting to argue.

Some were even voices you knew; they came to you past the iron bars nestled into pockets of your memories, depressions in the walls – people you’d known in that awful place cried out to you, cursed you, their faces fuzzy but still recognisable even in the darkness. Fellow souls trapped in the place that knew not of the sun’s warmth against your skin or the whistle of freedom through the wind.

Look. Look, girl.

Your brow furrowed, and your eyes scanned the darkness. With each face they landed on, the symphony of wails seemed to spike in volume along to the frantic thud of your heart, the little weaving line of a monitor etching itself across your mind’s eye.

Not there. No, not there.

Can’t she feel it?

It’s too late. The rot has her.

Soon it will reach her soul.

Your heart came lurching to a burning throat as the waters stirred and a creature emerged from their murky depths, slivers of metal protruding from its back before it disappeared, for half a moment resembling the wicked tips of syringes that still pricked your swiftly numbing skin.

Tearing your hands from the water, you froze, paralysis seeping in to every pore.

Ink tendrils snaked across the pallor of your flesh. From your fingertips to your elbows, the rot had taken you. It tightened round your forearm, your fingers turning completely numb.

You screamed.

Shhhhh, he soothed. Just come to me, darling. I’ll make it all better.

“JONATHAN!” Your mangled cry turned into something intelligible, the name sweet like honey on your tongue despite the bitterness of bile at the back of your throat.

Just follow my yellow light. And ignore all those big warning signs.

You began to slosh through the water, seeking him out in a frenzy, your teeth gritting as the walls of your skull began to cave in, as the rot spread to your shoulders and turned the water to pitch.

And at last, you saw him. Like the feather, silhouetted by the light, but unmistakably him. He paused, looking over his shoulder, strands of his black hair wisping this way and that. His face was shadowed, the sockets of his eyes black. The frames of his glasses glinted silver in the dark, like the teeth, the scalpels.

And he disappeared round the corner that twisted, walls shifting and shuddering as if forming a maze for a path.

Death’s icy fingers pried their way beneath your skin as the cold seeped past your blood and bones and settled somewhere deep inside the dwindling warmth of your soul. Freed from the water at last, you turned the corner and raised a rot-wreathed hand to the light fractured by a criss-cross pattern that reminded you of the bars of the asylum’s gate.

And the damp air became dry and musty, and the sewers morphed into dingy halls, alabaster wallpaper peeling back to reveal the black rot. Your pace quickened as these walls closed in, groaning with curses of the damned.

Just a little farther, the soothing, slightly-lilted baritones of his voice encouraged you on, but every turn you made down the narrowing halls, he managed to evade you, disappearing just out of reach. At the end of each hallway, what must’ve been a sewer drain and not a gate yawned from the blackness, little pockets of light stretching wider with each turn.

The feather crunched beneath your toes.

Fingers wrapped around the bars of the gate, and the hinges squealed as it swung open, your feet slotting into indentations along the walls as you desperately attempted to pull yourself up.

Warmth made you shiver in your cold sweat, and whispers funnelled into thin threads and lay buried beneath the ground as his hand met yours. In the faint glimmer of the light, you witnessed the rot dissipate, chased away by his touch. Purified.

“Jonathan,” you breathed, pulled flush to his chest, the mint of his breath raking across your lashes and the familiarity of his musk inhaled deeply through flared nostrils. You buried your face in his wrinkled tie and dress shirt and sobbed, your tears still tasting like saline. You savoured this moment, trembling beneath his touch, his hand petting the back of your dampened hair. You pulled away only as he hissed in pain.

“Jonathan, I’m scared,” you whimpered, guilty that you had seemed to wound him but caring only for sanctuary in this moment in which you knew nothing but fear. “Please don’t leave me. I’m so, so scared.”

“I know you are,” he said, squeezing your shoulder. “But you have to keep going.”

“Where? Where are you taking me?” You stared into the hollows of his eyes, still pitch black past the glint of those silver frames. Why couldn’t you properly see him? Could he see you? Was he just another shadow, a trick of light on the wall?

Somewhere deep in the dark, a howling beast hears us talk.

Sirens wailed from the alley behind, and your blood ran cold. Jonathan stepped away, his touch tearing from yours almost painfully. Like he’d left the shards of glass in your palms.

“Don’t let them take me!” You pleaded, stumbling forward through the darkness. “I can’t go back! I can’t! COME BACK!”

She’s so afraid. So pathetic. She can’t do this without him.

The light grew in intensity, tinted more gold now than yellow, bathing the walls in a soft glow as they drew impossibly close, tapering the air in your lungs, building the pressure against your temples until your shoulders sagged under the weight of fatigue and white-hot fire cleaved your skull in two.

Jonathan paused, and turned. “Close your eyes,” he told you. “It’s not so dark here when you embrace it.”

I dare you to close your eyes. And see all the colours in disguise.

“NO!” You screeched, afraid that if you so much as blinked, he’d disappear, and you’d be lost to the darkness forever. You lurched forward on your heel, wedging yourself between the shuddering walls that closed in around you, following the same – and only path – he had taken. Turning sideways, you gulped in a breath of air, fingers scraping madly against the brick walls as the tide beginning to pool again round your ankles. The sky collapsed, pinning you, forcing your only breath from your lungs and snapping your ribs around your stuttering heart.

She’s gone. She won’t make it. She can’t reach him.

The air grew stuffy, stale. Your own breath bounced off the walls and flushed your cold, tear-streaked cheeks.

“Just trust me,” Jonathan said. “Just let go.”

Running into the night. The earth is shaking and I see a light.

With the darkness claiming you and the ground beneath you quaking with wrath, the howls of the damned echoing through a familiar hall, the world swaying on its axis, you had no choice but to suffocate your fear, to shutter your eyes closed on the light that seeped through the crack in the walls, warm against your skin in the cold dread of night.

She’s giving up.

She’s fighting.

She wants to die.

She wants to live.

The yellow-gold exploded across the backs of your eyelids, streaking like fireworks along the pitch black. Your skull still throbbed in pain, and your lips parted, the sound of a window banging against old hinges as death whispered to you through the alleys, the sewers, the hallways.

Next time.

Jonathan’s touch met your clammy palm, and the world fell silent, the walls disappearing around you and the emptiness of air spilling around your limbs.

I’m here, he reminded you.

The light is blinding my eyes, as the soft walls eat us alive.

Your eyelids peeled back to reveal the checkered, rose pattern of your wallpaper, the bright fluorescents of the bathroom, the blue eyes that bore into your own past silver frames. Slivers of ice encroaching on ink black pupils, cold and calculating yet echoing a familiar warmth.

He loosened the makeshift tourniquet from your arm, pins and needles racing from your fingertips to your elbow. A syringe of your favourite poison lay on the bathroom tile, beige powder swirling in a sea of saline.

“Come back to me. Come back to me, please,” he begged, as if for this moment alone, he allowed himself to believe in the higher power you knew he cursed.

Water seeped into your clothing like the sea of pitch, spilling from the bathtub that you had left on. It carried little rivulets of crimson around a minefield of glass. He didn’t seem very concerned with turning it off right now, despite always bitching at you about saving electricity or water. His eyes were on you, and only you.

“Jonathan,” you mumbled weakly, though you thought you screamed; your eyelids fluttered and your heart pounded faster in your chest as the darkness threatened to spill across your vision again. Your nails dug past the fabric of his suit, gripping his arm tight so that he could never let you go.

“I’m here,” he breathed, and reached his other hand around your neck to cup your head, to bring you forward. You glimpsed the white ceramic of the bathroom sink, bloodied where you’d tried to steady yourself with your hand after you’d bashed your skull against the mirror – your ineffectual attempt to cast the demons out. Glass shards lay scattered against the tile. Fragments of your broken reflection.

You still remembered the haunted look you’d hoped to banish from your eyes.

“You have to get your head out of that place,” he murmured against your scalp, his fingers bloody and sticky as he brushed shards of glass from your hair, seemingly immune to the pain. “You’re not in hospital anymore. You’re here. With me. You have to come back to me.”

Your lower lip trembled. “I can’t escape them,” you admitted, voice a mere whimper. “I can’t escape it. You’re here to take me back, aren’t you? You’re gonna lock me up.”

For a moment, you really thought that he might; his palm still rested, warm and bleeding, against your cheek, but his cold blue eyes studied you not as his lover but as his patient, assessing your condition. He sighed, as if disappointed. Shame crawled its way beneath your skin like the cockroaches that had infested the asylum’s lower wards. You had always been so desperate for his approval, he rarely saw this side of you since your rehabilitation. It wasn’t until slivers of ice shattered into twin pools of blue fire that relief began to seep into you, slow and warm but whelming.

“No. No, I’m not,” he said, voice gentle, soothing. Blue eyes glanced to your head again. “Though, you are showing symptoms of a concussion…”

Your heart sped in your chest, and the icy talons of death speared your soul, the darkness hedging the borders of your vision. Innerved by your fear, you reached for the bottle of tiny white pills that lay open, haphazard next to you. But the warmth of his hand left your face, and your fingers clenched around nothing. In a blur of movement, Jonathan threw the bottle at the toilet and it clattered against the back of the seat. You jolted, gasping, wincing as the jagged teeth of the beast sliced through your clothing.

“You prescribed me those,” you told him. “They’re supposed to make me better. You said so yourself.”

“I’ll fill you a new prescription tomorrow. Taper you off. They were no good for you,” he said, and laced his fingers through the bloodied locks of your hair. Pulled your forehead to his so that your breaths became one, and the demons in your skull grew muffled, and his warmth chased away the icy touch of death.

“What am I gonna do?” you whimpered, sobbing, hands grasping feebly at whatever you could grab hold of – his sleeve, his tie, his collar. You felt as if your soul, your mind, were laying in fragments around you like the glass, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t piece them back together. “I just want to be free. I just want to be okay.”

“I know.” He inhaled, closing his eyes, and his grip tightened on your hair, scalp stinging slightly at the almost needy action. Like in this moment he was more afraid of losing you than you were him.

Even he thinks she’s a lost cause.

And Jonathan was never one to utter false truths; because you knew this about him, his silence unnerved you. But finally, after what could’ve been hours or minutes of your pitiful sobbing and the endless drone of the tub, the trickling of water against the tile, he said,

“I’ll be right here, darling. All you need to do is take my hand.” The warmth of his palm slotted into your own, and you wove your fingers so tight that your knuckles turned white around the blood that trickled down both your wrists from the jagged glass that barbed your flesh. A seal. A pact.

“I will see you through this,” he said. “All of it. I promise.”

MASTERLIST • REQUEST

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#jonathan crane #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane x you #scarecrow x reader #jonathan crane angst #jonathan crane imagines #jonathan crane fanfic #jonathan crane fic #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy #nolanverse #arkham #the dark knight #dc #batman #s: yellow light

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sunoorintarou · 2 years ago

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Catharsis: Houseki no Kuni x JJK

Part: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 (parts not in chronological order)

Christmas Special: 1 2 (plot divergent)

Gojo Satoru (platonic) x Phosphophyllite!Reader

Warnings: ooc Gojo, complex emotions, reader goes from happy to depressed to a monster, very angsty, there's an oc named Yuzuru Yukio who takes the place of Antarcticite because I couldn't bear to kill off anyone, death and depression, suicidal thoughts, gore

Notes: I haven't posted in a while and recently watched Houseki No Kuni and fell in love with Phos, so I decided to write a lil smth. This isn't very detailed and is more of a drabble than anything. I also really wanted to highlight Gojo's weaknesses and the inability to stop change in this, so he's very ooc, but yeah, hope y'all enjoy <3

They say history repeats itself, and once again, Gojo Satoru found himself unable to protect what really mattered to him. He was not the strongest. And never would be if he could never protect those closest to him.

It was like clockwork. He remembered when he first met you. You were a girl with a cursed technique never seen before. You had the ability to turn curses into gemstones. You could also absorb them (the beginnings of those together at the end are always similar), but not only that, your body was a storage unit for them, crystallising them and making them part of you, existing as precious gems that sprouted on and under your skin.

You were a precious commodity. Even though you had only molded with a singular curse, the one that had killed your parents. You had absorbed it into you on accident, materialising as the teal in your crystalline eyes and hair.

You were then taken to Jujutsu Tech. You had nowhere else to go. And now that you had absorbed your first curse, you became a beacon for others, your very existence attracting them.

It was fate when you were assigned to Gojo's team. The higher - ups choosing him on the basis that he had "experience" with cursed techniques similar to yours.

Gojo watched you from the beginning. Your bright eyes and clumsy personality something he hadn't seen in a while. You struggled in battle, tripping over your feet and freezing up. You weren't good at healing. You weren't good at admin. Any task you were assigned, you managed to royally mess up. You couldn't even use your cursed technique. You were borderline useless, good for only cheering up the team.

It had gotten to the point where you wouldn't even go on missions, sitting in your room and wondering what you had to do to become better. Gojo never let you be alone. He had learnt better.

Things took a turn for the worse during your first encounter with a cursed spirit that had eaten one of Sukuna's fingers. It was smart, and they figured it had been following you on your daily path from the school to the convenience store nearby. Waiting for the perfect chance to attack you.

Gojo blamed himself. He had been sent on a mission. By the time he arrived, everyone was in a panic, his team having long left to look for you after realising you were missing. By then, it was already too late.

When they found you, the curse had already shattered your legs. A scene no child deserved to see. An event no child deserved to experience. You were in a puddle of blood against the wall of an alley. Your legs had clean broken off, revealing teal crystal in place of bones and muscle, tinted purple from mixing with your blood. It was like breaking open a geode. Nothing flesh lied under your skin, only crystal. It was almost beautiful.

The curse was feasting on the shards of your legs, and by the time Gojo arrived with the group, he could only watch as you finally gained the strength to activate your cursed technique. You touched the curse, watching as its flesh crystallised into agate and quartz.

You then caught sight of your team and your teacher, a broken smile on your face.

"S- Sensei- look, I did it." You tilted your head. Gojo walked toward you wordlessly, his strong hand never so gentle, finding your head as he ruffled your hair.

"You did. I'm proud of you." Gojo's hands found your waist, picking you up as you went limp over his shoulder.

When you were brought back to Shouko, there was little she could do. They brought the crystallised curse with, now just a chunk of agate and quartz. To save your legs, they had to crack it open, having to use the pieces of your legs that were now mixed in with the agate and attach them to your body, hoping your body wouldn't reject them.

You slept for a long time. 3 weeks, to be exact. And when you finally woke up, Gojo couldn't help but begin to despise himself for not being able to protect you.

Where Gojo saw regret, you saw your legs as a positive, however. They were faster and stronger than your previous legs, allowing you to use them in combat, quickly excelling. You were beyond excited when you were deemed strong enough to go on patrol, and Gojo guided you the best he could.

He assigned a 3rd year, a strict, by the books, yet equally as lonely boy named Yuzuru Yukio. And he watched you. He watched as Yukio guided you, teaching you everything he knew. And as the days passed, he felt as if you were going to be OK.

Things were looking up for you. Everyone was praising your newfound talent in an attempt to cheer you up, but what Gojo hadn't realised was that the seed of doubt had already been planted far before he could stop it.

It had started in a casual conversation with Maki while she was attempting to help you train. You had explained your situation to her, eagerly listening to her advice, but one thing stuck. "Change." You knew she hadn't meant it the way you had taken it. She simply meant that you should change your thoughts and strengthen your resolve. But the words played on your long-held insecurities, and you began to feel like you yourself were the problem.

This feeling only increased when everyone complimented how strong your new legs were. Not cracking as easily as your old ones, much faster and more agile. And you only sunk deeper when you had dropped a crate of training swords, and Panda had jokingly claimed that it would be nice if your arms were as good as your legs.

Not even Gojo could sense the darkness that grew in your heart. The nights you spent despising your reflection, wondering if it would be better if every single part of you was replaced.

These insecurities manifested when you encountered a curse on patrol with Yukio. You watched as Yukio fought the gooey green mass of eyeballs, staying back as you still weren't all that skilled. In a moment of hesitance, Yukio had been caught off guard and was flung into a building, leaving you alone with the curse.

"I can eat them for you." The curse smiled, feeding off your insecurities.

"Your arms are so weak. Wouldn't you want a better pair?" The voice was deep and comforting, almost caring, almost worried. You found yourself reaching out to the curse.

When you found clarity not even a second later, it was too late. Your arms were gone.

It was repetition. The way you were rushed to Shouko, Yukio holding your limp form against him, the curse long gone.

This time wasn't as simple. They had nothing to replace it with and, no choice but to send you out to find a curse you could crstalise and use as a prosthetic.

Maki and Toge went with you and Yukio. Gojo once again being barrelled with missions.

What should have been a simple search for a weak curse turned sour. The curse they had found had turned into gold when you touched it.

The alloy was heavy, weighing you down and liquidising, trapping you in a prison of gold. Toge and Maki were forced to retreat by Yukio, forced to contact Gojo as you were being drowned in an ocean of gold.

Yukio tried to break through the prison the gold had formed. A large gold block with a few holes for air. He swore he would get you out, and as his focus remained on you, he failed to notice the curse behind him.

His guts were ripped clean out, body hitting the floor before either of you could react.

And you couldn't do anything. The gold refused to listen to you as you tried to do something, anything, to get revenge, to see if there was anything you could possibly do to somehow change the situation. But it was all in vein.

When Gojo found you, you were covered in blood, on your knees, Yukio's limp body in your arms as you cried. There were pieces of various precious gems and minerals everywhere. He rushed to you, dropping to his knees in front of you.

"Sensei- I- I wasn't strong enough- to- to protect me- he-" In place of tears, ichor ran down your cheeks.

It was then that Gojo watched the beginning of your downfall. You spiraled, cutting your hair, the light in your eyes dying as you committed yourself to fighting curses nonstop. Gojo watched you break yourself apart, skin cracking into pieces only to be filled with gold and repaired again and again.

Nothing anyone said could stop you, not even when your team returned from their mission and were met with you, the new you. You just weren't the same. No longer as happy and joyous, becoming more awkward, quieter. You rarely slept. Sleeping only when Shouko drugged you enough to keep you asleep.

You bathed yourself in the blood of curses, an act of revenge, and strength enabling you to speak to Yukio with a clean heart. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw Yukio dying. Over and over again. It was excruciating. It suffocated you.

The life draining out of your bodies and eyes, but no matter what you did, you just wouldn't die.

Gojo stayed by your side as much as he could during those times. Avoiding missions and watching over you. The only time you were ever out of his site was when you went to the bathroom, and when you visited Yukio's grave.

No one left you alone. But perhaps that worked out for the worse. The comforting words only reminded you of your weakness.

It was like Deja Vu. When the light finally returned to your eyes, it was too late.

"Hey, Sensei." You greeted from across the road as if nothing ever happened. There was a barrier no one could cross between you. It was in the early morning, the bustle of the traffic and people almost sickening to Gojo.

"Y/n. What is this?" Gojo asked, at a loss for words. He had let you out of his site for 10 minutes, letting you sit at Yukio's grave in peace, and when he returned, you were gone. That was days ago. Yet by some miracle, he had caught sight of you in the crowd in passing.

"I want to thank you. For everything. You always said I'd find a purpose, something only I could do, and I think I found it. I'm sad things didn't work out with you guys at Jujutsu Tech, though. Tell everyone that I'm sorry, OK?" You said, thoughtfully, eyes widening as another thought came to mind.

"Ah, another thing, 'Sorry for stealing your student Satoru, I just don't think she's cut out to follow the path you're on', something like that, he said to tell you."

At those words, Gojo Satoru was 17 again, watching his best friend leave, unable to do anything about it.

"Y/n!" He screamed as you turned around, ready to rush after you, but the voices of his other students behind him stopped him.

"Bye, bye. See you in Shibuya." You smiled. One last time before you disappeared into the crowd.

History always repeated itself in the cruelest ways. And once again, it was proved to Gojo Satoru that he could never be the strongest.

#catharsis #gojo satoru x reader #jjk angst #jjk x reader #houseki no kuni #phos!reader #hnk x reader #land of the lustrous #jjk x hnk crossover #platonic gojo satoru

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