#and recording the melancholy so i can move on

[sevennone]

240505 VGK@DAL | last game

[padfootagain]

Grey Days

Hi everyone! Here is a little Hozier oneshot for today! It’s a little sad, but mostly hurt/comfort. Did I write it after crying when I watched that interview he did where he spoke about his struggle with mental health? Yes. Obviously. I want to give him so many hugs…

I hope you like it! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader

Warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, mentions of depression

Summary : Andrew is used to feel low sometimes, he has been plagued by those periods for as long as he can remember. But if he usually solves his sadness by being alone, this time, the antidote to his pain might be you.

Word Count : 2671

Hozier’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

There were days like this, where everything was grey for no reason.

The sky rolling with clouds, heavy with rain, threatening with thunder, for sure wasn’t helping. But Andrew couldn’t pretend that it was at fault. Nor was the season, spring was on the horizon after all. There were boughs staining the branches, the first flowers blooming, the air a little warmer, the wind calmer than the winter storm. The birds had been chirping all morning, even if they had quietened now, under the menace of rain. He should be happy. The sun was high this morning, he had gotten some work done at Alex’s, he had had a nice lunch with his parents. Nothing but positive things, in theory.

And yet Andrew could feel his skin crawling, the tears that threatened to rise and spill, the numbness that came with spleen. Christ, melancholy was such a bitch, sometimes.

It was a bad day, the voices in his head were louder than usual. Despite the distractions he couldn’t keep them down. He kept on thinking about the pieces of songs he had recorded this morning with Alex, and on the spot they sounded good. Now, all he had left was doubt. For sure, none of it was good enough, and his lyrics were all over the place, and they didn’t do the subject justice… the didn’t do you justice…

He felt the burn in his eyes and the tightening in his throat again, his breathing grew more laboured, so he took a deep breath. He was driving, now was not the time…

And yet the thoughts were still there. As he entered his tiny town, the swirling of voices kept shouting.

Not good enough…

Don’t know how to write a proper song…

Got lucky with one song, will never be good enough again…

Imposter…

He entered his driveway, parked the car there. He didn’t notice your car until he was turning his head towards the front door.

Fuck…

He wasn’t in the mood for socialising, for pretending that everything was alright, for playing perfect boyfriend…

Another person you’ll end up disappointing…

Another thing in your life you don’t deserve…

He closed his eyes for a moment, tried to shush the voices. Just voices. It was just his busy head being louder than usual.

He just needed to calm down…

Damn, he should have called to cancel for tonight. You had a date night planned, you had told him you would come to his place early to start preparing dinner. You weren’t living together but he had a change of keys to your place, and you had one to his. He didn’t need to be home for you to come in.

Yesterday, Andrew was thinking about asking you to move in with him, to make a common home out of his large house.

She’d never say yes to you anyway…

He clenched his jaw, until his teeth gritted.

Just voices. Just voices. He was okay, he was fine…

It was just dinner, and it would be lovely. He loved you, he would have a great time…

He blinked his eyes open, brushed the wetness from his eyelashes.

Put on a brave face for her, come on…

He released some of the tension across his jaw, finally let go of the steering wheel. The soreness in his fingers made him realise how tightly he had been holding it.

He had no strength left in his body to open the car door, but he did it anyway. He was kind of used to it, the falls that followed the heights. It hadn’t happened in a long time. So bad, out of nowhere? Probably a year. Yeah, not long after the two of you started dating. It was pretty smooth after that. There were days when he didn’t feel great, but he didn’t feel terrible. With no energy left in his frame, no positive thoughts on his mind, no faith in himself, and no social battery either. Usually, when he felt like this, he simply locked himself up for a couple of days. The solitude usually helped. And now, he needed to be left alone, or at least he thought so. Besides, he would be in a terrible mood all evening, you would properly get tired of the sight and his sharp tone very quickly. And he didn’t want to take it out on you, it wasn’t fair, and he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t. He was too tired to be angry anyway.

He unlocked the front door, was welcomed by the smell of spices. It should have made him smile, but instead, his heart clenched.

He took off his shoes and jacket, slowly, too slowly. Any other day he would have hurried to join you.

Tonight, all he wanted was to be alone, to not talk to anyone, to get out of his clothes that felt like a burden too heavy to carry, and get under the covers, and lie there for the rest of the night, and maybe throughout tomorrow too.

Instead, he walked to his kitchen, nervously rubbing at his palms. God, he bet he looked terrible. He didn’t have a hair tie, and his hair was frizzy with the humid air, and he felt so fucking ugly when he entered the room, knowing he looked like a mess in sweatpants and an old t-shirt when you looked stunning, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen…

You didn’t seem to notice, because when you saw him, you let out an excited gasp and hurried into his arms.

Why did the feeling of you in his embrace make him want to cry?

“Hi, baby! How was your day?”

He cradled the back of your head in his large hand, gently, as if you could break under his touch. He rested his lips on the top of your head, took a deep breath of your shampoo, the scent so familiar, so soothing, so reassuring…

He closed his eyes.

It lasted a couple of seconds, and then the voices were back.

One day she’ll see you can’t make her happy…

He pulled away.

“Good,” he answered elusively, forcing a smile, but he knew it was tight-lipped. “Busy.”

“Did you get some work done with Alex, then?”

“Hmm… loads.”

“Good! You must be tired then, you can sit down, I’m almost done!”

He looked at the meal you were making for the two of you. You had set up the table, had even lit up some candles. It was fucking nice, so damn romantic…

“Smells amazing,” he complimented, but you seemed to notice that there was no light left in his voice. “Gonna take a shower before joining you, okay?”

“Sure! But… you’re okay, honey?”

Honey… Honey…

“Yeah, just… tired. Long day. I won’t take long.”

You nodded, offering a smile and he did his best to give it back.

He thought the shower would help, but it didn’t. He almost let the floodgates open while the warm water numbed his muscles, made his body feel like it wasn’t there at all. He had even less strength as he walked out of the shower. But at least, now, he was wearing a shirt and black jeans, and he had tied his hair in a low bun, looking close to presentable. He was wearing his glasses, he didn’t have the energy to put some contacts on.

When he entered the kitchen again, you had poured some red wine, were humming to a tune he didn’t know, checking the cooking of your vegetables.

“Almost done! Perfect timing!” you announced with pride.

“Thank you for cooking tonight,” he let out in a breath.

He knew his shoulders were bent, he knew you had noticed the way he was trying to look as small as possible. He read it in your frown. He nervously rubbed at his collarbone, felt irritated now.

She’s doing all this for you, you can’t get mad for nothing. It’s not her fault, calm down.

He sat down, as you invited him to do so. You brought food a couple of minutes later, and he asked you about your day. But unlike any other day, it wasn’t out of genuine curiosity and fondness; he simply didn’t want to speak.

He had done a good job at playing pretend the rest of the day, but he had no energy left to keep the mask on. The cracks were all over his features, in every forced smile, in every glance, in every blinking of tears. Your food was delicious, he complimented you on it, forced himself to swallow it fully, even if he felt like he might throw up if he kept on eating.

“Andy?”

He looked up again, noticing all of a sudden that he hadn’t paid attention to the conversation in a few minutes.

“Hmm?”

“Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?”

You offered him a kind smile, reached for his hand across the table. An anchor, an intimate gesture of support.

His throat tightened, he couldn’t find his voice.

“Baby… it’s just me. Why are you all closed up all of a sudden?”

He gave you a sad smile, although he had aimed for it to be reassuring.

“Just…”

Just tired was the excuse, but then again, he didn’t feel like lying now. Didn’t have the strength for it. Maybe if he were honest now, you’d show him the voices were right, you’d realise what a loser he could be sometimes, how you should leave…

Shut! Up!

“It’s just… it’s just a bad day.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing. I mean… nothing in particular, I just… I don’t know… sometimes my head gets messy with thoughts for no reason. I’ve been working a lot for the past couple of months, it’s more frequent when I’m tired.”

Slowly, you nodded.

“It’s pretty bad today, right?” you asked, and he nodded.

“I’m sorry. Your meal is truly delicious, and I was really excited about having a date night. I know I’m kind of… fucking up the mood.”

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

“Isn’t it?” he asked with bitterness in his voice, and he clenched his jaw at the sound.

He wouldn’t let himself get angry against you. He was in love with you. So fucking much. And you didn’t deserve that.

“There’s nothing wrong with feeling down sometimes, Andy.”

He looked down at his empty plate.

“It’s a bit worse than that.”

He heaved a sigh.

“I’m fine though, it just… It just needs to pass. I’ll be back to normal in a couple of days.”

“What do you usually do when something like that happens?”

“Erm… I just… shut down, basically. Wallow in self-pity for a while,” he tried to joke, managed to get a smile out of you. “I just… lock myself up on my own until I feel really low, and then I go out, and… it lingers a few days, sometimes a few weeks, but by then I can put a mask on again.”

“Do you put that mask on with me?”

“It hadn’t been so bad in a long time.”

“And when it’s not as bad?”

He shrugged.

“There’s no need to worry you about that.”

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

“I’m your girlfriend. I tell you when I’m unwell.”

He started rubbing at his collarbone again, until the skin turned a bright shade of red.

“I don’t particularly enjoy talking about it,” he replied, his tone dry and distant.

“But I… you know you can trust me, right? That you can talk with me about these things…”

“I know… It just doesn’t help. I know how to handle this, I’m fine. I promise.”

Slowly, you nodded, but he could feel that your silence was a bad sign.

“So… usually, you just… spend time alone?”

“Yeah.”

“And it helps.”

“Yeah… yeah, it does. I just… I’m kind of introverted, in case you haven’t noticed,” he gave you a small smile. “I recharge my batteries when I’m alone.”

You seemed to be thinking for a few seconds, and then you were standing. He looked up at you in surprise.

“I should leave you alone, then.”

“Wh… what?”

“You said you needed to be alone… you should have told me, I would have let you have a moment on your own. It’s fine. I get it, if that’s what you need.”

He blinked up, not fully registering what you were doing. His brain jumped to the worst-case scenario, as per usual.

“Are you… are you breaking up with me?”

“What?! Of course, not!”

“You… you’re leaving…”

“Because you said you needed to be on your own for the evening. That’s okay. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

You heaved a sigh, took his hand in yours.

“Andy, I’m very happy with you. I know you love me. There’s nothing wrong in needing to spend some time on your own. You should have just told me. I’ll give you some space for tonight.”

You took his face in your hands, dropped a gentle kiss to his lips.

“I love you, baby,” you whispered as you pulled away. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

And with that you left the room. He heard you fumbling with your things in the hallway.

Being alone was what he needed. He had always longed to take a step back from everyone, even his partners, when he felt like this.

Except that tonight he didn’t want you to leave. He didn’t want to be alone. He wanted to hold you as tightly as he could, and cuddle in bed, and just forget about the world outside your arms, let you hold him until he couldn’t have a single thought anymore…

He jumped to his feet, rushing across the house as you put on your coat.

“Don’t go.”

The plea cut the air like a knife.

He blinked tears away.

“Please, don’t go. I don’t want you to go,” he confessed.

“But you said…”

“I don’t want you to go.”

“I won’t be mad if you want to take the night for yourself.”

“Y/N. I don’t. Want you. To go.”

He struggled to swallow back the lump in his throat.

“Please… please, don’t leave.”

You stared at him for a moment, motionless. But then you put your coat back on its hanger, took off your shoes.

When you walked back to him, he almost started to cry.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes… please…”

Before you could say anything else, he was holding you in a tight embrace, one that you quickly reciprocated.

“What do you want us to do, then?” you asked, rubbing his back, and for the first time that day, he felt his muscles relax.

“Honestly… I just want to go to bed, cuddle with you and not move until… the end of the month.”

You laughed, kissing his shoulder through his shirt.

“Well, we’ll have to get up before that I’m afraid… but cuddling for the rest of the evening sounds nice.”

He heaved a relieved sigh.

“I’m sorry, I’m fucking up our date night… it was so lovely of you to cook and everything…”

“It’s okay. It’s fine.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Of course not.”

“Good… that’s grand…”

He finally pulled away, took your hand to guide you to his bedroom. The dishes would have to wait for tomorrow.

He got ready for bed first, and then waited for you. And while he was looking at you as you moved around the bed, plugging in your phone, setting up an alarm for the morning, drinking some water… all he wanted was to hold you close. You were the first person who made him feel that way. Who made him long for companionship even when he felt so low…

… and then, you were in bed, opening your arms for him to settle in your embrace, letting him bury his face in the crook of your neck.

Perhaps this one time, his busy brain was wrong. Perhaps you wouldn’t leave. Perhaps he would stay. And maybe, just this one time, not all things would end…

[jaebeomsbitch]

Best Friend's Kisses (E.M.)

Summary: After seventeen long years of friendship Eddie decides to fulfill a ten year old promise. Something whispered in the middle of the night. He gives you the best gift of all.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem! reader, really only mentioned like two or three times

Mid-twenties Eddie and reader. Mechanic! Eddie

Warning: Slight smut at the end, talks of insecurity, making out, flirting, swearing, and melancholy reader. MINORS DNI!

AN: This is only my third fic on here. I'm still trying to understand the formatting.

Eddie Munson had been your friend since you met him on the playground in third grade. He had defended you against some asshole kid who tried to take away your toy. Pushed him to the ground and yelled at him, you’d been inseparable since then. You saw each other through the awkward phases of becoming teenagers, watched him struggle through high school, and then eventually graduate.

Now you were both in your mid twenties, still having movie nights at the Munson’s every Friday after your shift at the record shop. You had a chance to leave, to go to college in New York but you turned it down. Not that you told Eddie, you didn’t want him to feel guilty. Truthfully you did stay for him, afraid that he might break without you but, did he really need you?

Eddie was an incredible sweetheart, making friends left and right with whoever would listen to him. It seemed like anyone that had a chance to really talk to him could see beyond the rumor around him. He was surrounded by people who loved him. Sometimes you regret staying, maybe you could’ve become something. Maybe you could’ve gotten a good degree, move your parents out of this shitty town but you were afraid.

The truth being you use Eddie as a crutch, you always had. Hiding behind him, gripping onto the back of his shirt as he yelled at another person for you, cleaning him up after he fought with a guy for groping you, Eddie was your protector in a sense. So you stay, stay in the shitty down you despise, wallow in self pity for being a fucking coward like you always are, and spending your days drinking or getting high with Eddie and his friends.

Today was a special day, Eddie had gotten a job at a mechanic shop. He always said that when he got his first paycheck he’d buy you something really special. He’d jump around from job to job until he found Earl. Earl was the only person who truly gave Eddie a chance.

“Honey, I’m home,” He jokes, walking into the trailer. Already expecting you to be lying on his bed when he comes home like you always are. He walks in shoulders hunched, face covered in grease stains, and hair knotted. “Gonna take a shower, then’ll be back. Got something exciting for you sweetheart,” He smiles, grabbing the pile of clothes you left on the foot of his bed ready for him. “Toodaloo,” he wags his fingers behind him as he exits the room.

Oh god what did he get you? Eddie had a reputation for going overboard, always saying he had to spoil his ‘princess’ because you were his longest friend. Always rambling about how you deserved the world for sticking by his side. Steve and Robin like to tease him, poking fun at your friendship. Always whispering, “you’ve never thought ‘bout it?” with their questioning gazes. It didn’t matter what either of you said, they never believed you. They could see the way the tips of your ears turned red or the way Eddie silently threatened Steve.

“I feel so much better,” He sighs, throwing himself next to you. He cuddles into the pillow, throwing the sheets over himself. “You forgetting something?” You laugh.

“Oh shit, sorry. M’tired,” He mumbles, eyes open wide. “Just go to sleep, Eds. You can give me whatever it is tomorrow,” You whisper. Trying to lull him back to sleep as you massage his scalp. “No, been waiting forever,” He murmurs, eyes blinking slowly. He must’ve been really tired for him to forget dinner. Eddie was never one to skip meals, always saying they were his favorite part of his day. You watch him sleep, he looks so peaceful with his eyes closed, his lips slightly parted. It isn’t until you hear the phone ring that you move your hand from his curls.

“Hello?” You whisper trying not to wake him up. “Oh hey! I was expecting Eddie,” Steve says on the line. “He got home and fell asleep immediately, I was just about to make dinner. What’s up?” You ask.

“You sound so domestic, like a housewife,” Steve chuckles.

“Yeah, yeah. Hardy har har.” You roll your eyes leaning against the wall.

“H-has he given you the present yet?” He asks out of nowhere.

“No, he just said he had something for me then fell asleep two seconds later. I don’t know what he did today but he skipped lunch. You know how unusual that is for him,” you say slightly concerned.

“It’s just… he loves you a lot you know?” Steve says, his voice sounding a little weird.

“Yeah and I love him too,” You reply quickly, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Just… keep that in mind, I’ll see you tomorrow,” He says.

“What wh-” He hangs up. What the fuck was that about? Of course you’d see Steve and the gang tomorrow, it was your weekly get together with the adults of the group but this felt weird. It almost felt like something monumental was supposed to happen today.

You try to shake away the feeling, looking through the fridge to see what they have. Cheese and tortillas, the ones you brought from home because you ‘accidentally’ bought two packs. You make quesadillas like you’ve made all your childhood, they were quick to make and easy for Eddie to eat while he’s half asleep. He had this miraculous way of waking up, eating, and forgetting that he even ate when he woke up.

“Eds… Teddie,” you whisper, gently shaking his shoulder until he groans. He gained the nickname after a long night of calling each other annoying nicknames, you saw your childhood teddy bear and instantly thought of Eddie. Just like it, he brought you comfort and he was also the person to give it to you. Claimed he won it in a claw machine for twenty five cents but you knew he had saved his money for weeks to buy it for you. You'd seen it at the store when your mom dragged you shopping for your sister's new clothes.

“I know, I know, baby. Just eat and you can go back to sleep okay,” You whisper, sitting on the ledge of the bed next to him. He slowly blinks, turning toward you as he scratches his neck languidly.

“Come on, eat,” You show him the plate but he still blinks at you not understanding. So you feed him like a sick child, watching as he takes little bites and tilting his head forward when he needs a drink. “Go back to sleep,” You whisper, kissing him on the forehead as his eyes close again.

Steve was right, it all felt entirely domestic. You’d never treat him, Robin, or any of your other friends like this but Eddie, he was special. Your heart clenches at the idea, always longing for Eddie in a way you know is not possible. Always afraid you’d ruin your seventeen years of friendship, afraid you’d lose the one person who made you feel comfortable. You’d always cuddled with him, he was overly touchy with you to the point that everyone thought you were together. You were always off limits to the other guys in Hawkins, only ever catching the eye of passersby. You fall asleep, thinking about all the should haves and could haves.

The sun filters through the small crack in the curtains hitting you straight in the face. You look around the room, remembering you fell asleep next to Eddie. His arm is around your waist, head buried in your neck, hair tickling your nose. You try to stretch as much as you can while being basically pinned down by Eddie.

“Ten more minutes,” he mumbles, pulling you closer.

“You slept for sixteen hours already,” you snort.

“Not enough,” He nuzzles into your neck.

“You gotta stop that or I’m gonna piss myself,” You say, trying to pry his arm off of you.

“Do it, you wouldn’t dare,” He challenges.

“No I wouldn’t but seriously, I gotta go!” you say more urgently.

“Fine, but you jump right back in bed the minute you finish,” He bargains.

“It’s almost one o’clock, I am not staying in bed,” You protest, still pulling at his arm.

“Either way you still owe me a present,” You say.

“Oh shit, I forgot,” He says, finally letting you go. You run to the bathroom to take care of yourself, peeing and brushing your teeth. You’d had a toothbrush right next to Eddie’s since your first sleepover, he always took charge of changing it out every couple of months.

“So what’s the plan for today?” You ask, rummaging through his closet.

“Eat, present, meet Robin and Nance and 'em,” He says, standing up from the bed to join you. He picks up a pair of black jeans, his favorite because “they fit him the best and they make his ass look good,” according to Eddie. It was warm out, you could already tell by the heat in the trailer so he picks out a cutoff tee that shows off the sides of his ribs if he moves a certain way. He didn’t know this was your favorite shirt of his. He always looked so fucking hot with it on, his tattoos peaking through the side, his midriff exposed at the corner of your eye. Well if he was going to play that game you needed a better outfit, no band tee for you.

You search through your overnight bag for the black lacy cami top that usually leaves him speechless and a pair of shorts. He looks at the outfit in your hand and gulps.

“Great, I’m starving,” You wink at him as you walk by. What the fuck were you doing? What has gotten into you? He might’ve just been thirsty or something. There was no guarantee he even noticed what you grabbed or even cared. When you come out dressed you hear Wayne’s voice to the right of you talking to Eddie about his job.

“Good…afternoon!” You greet them.

“Finally decided to wake up I see,” Wayne says, eyebrow raised. He wasn’t judging you, he liked to tease but he knew how hard Eddie and you worked. He always treated you like a dad, more than your own father. He was protective and caring in his own way.

“Blame Teddie,” You nudge Eds in the ribs.

“You know I need my beauty rest,” He says, flicking his hair.

“Maybe you need to sleep longer,” Wayne’s eyes light up, teasing Eddie.

“Some sleep would do you good,” Eddie says, tone more serious. Wayne had been picking up more shifts lately, you had hardly seen him the last three weeks.

“I’m already as pretty as I’ll get,” Wayne grumbles, not liking Eddie’s concern.

“Weren’t y’all ‘bout to get food, c’mon get,” Wayne pushes you both out, slamming the door behind you two.

“He really is overworking himself,” You sigh as you climb into Eddie’s van.

“I know, that’s why I’ve been taking longer hours at the shop. Just want to take some burden off the old man,” He says, eyes focused on the road. You both sit in silence on the drive to Benny’s, thinking about how stuck you felt.

You wanted to help Wayne in any way you could but you still weren’t making enough money. You rented out a room from your parents because according to them the second you turn eighteen they weren’t supposed to help you anymore. Even if you wanted to leave you couldn’t afford the lease. You remember all those nights with Eddie, dreaming of the day you finally became adults so you could become independent.

“We’re here,” Eddie says, snapping his finger in front of your face.

“Fuck, you scared the shit out of me,” You jump, hand clutching your chest.

“What’s got you so spaced out?” Eddie asks, during the short walk into the diner and into your “designated” booth.

“Nothin’” you say, playing with the salt and pepper shakers.

“C’mon tell me what’s on your mind,” He pushes.

“I just wish I could do something to help Wayne out,” You sigh, not looking up at him.

“Me too,” He says, taking the pepper from your hand and playing with it. You didn’t expect the heavy atmosphere but thankfully it's broken when Doris comes over with your drinks. You always ordered the same thing, every week.

“Here’s your cola’s, just put in your order,” She smiles.

“Thank you!” you beam at the sugary beverage.

“There’s something magical in these sodas I swear,” You moan, as you gulp it down.

Eddie’s looking at you through his eyelashes, tongue swiping at his bottom lip.

“Yeah tastes pretty good,” He observes, voice deeper than normal and pupil’s slightly blown out. You make conversation over your pancake breakfasts, talking about shitty customers and bonding over telling them to fuck off. The tension from earlier is gone as Eddie promises he can scarf down his food in less than ten minutes.

“I never said you couldn’t do it, I just said it wasn’t worth the upset stomach I know you’re gonna have,” You say, walking toward his van.

“Well it was worth it,” He gives you a toothy smile.

“Now for the big event,” He says, as you both get in the van.

“Big event?” You question.

“Got you a surprise, something I promised you a long time ago,” He says, staring into your eyes. There’s something there you don’t recognize, his gaze looking different. You wrack your brain trying to decipher his riddle. What did he promise you? He had made so many promises over the years, pinkies intertwining each other as Gareth made fun of your childish ways.

“Okay…” You look at him suspiciously.

“But, I’m gonna need to blindfold you,” He says, eyes full of mischief.

“Ooh kinky,” you wag your eyebrows at him. His eyes slightly widen before he snaps out of it and grabs a scrap of fabric from his door.

“Turn around for me sweetheart,” He mumbles. You can’t help but slightly shake as he places the opaque fabric over your eyes, his hand brushing the back of your head as he knots it in place. The entire act felt all too intimate, your heavy breaths in the silent van weren’t helping either.

“Can you see anything?” He asks, presumably waving a hand in your face as you turn to sit straight.

“Nothing, scouts honor,” You say, raising two fingers.

“You weren’t even in the scouts,” He laughs, turning the key in the ignition. You don’t know what direction you’re heading in.

“Oh my god are you gonna murder me? Been playing the long con? Get me comfortable so I go without protest,” You tease.

“Oh yeah, gonna chop you up in the forest in the name of satan,” He says dramatically.

“Sounds ‘bout right,” You laugh, as he pulls to a stop.

“We’re here, just give me a second” He says, opening the door and rounding the car to open yours less than a second later.

“Wrap your arms around my neck princess,” He says, carrying you out of the van and placing you on your feet.

“Woah,” You grab onto his arm as the dizziness sets in.

“You alright?” He asks, concerned laced in his voice.

“Yeah just give me a second. M’dizzy” You say, gripping harder onto his bicep.

“Take your time,” He says.

“I’m ready,” You say after a minute. “Okay, just follow my voice. It’s a trust exercise,” you can hear the smile in his voice as he leads you. “There’s like three steps, just take ‘em slow. Here’s the first one,” He says, stopping so you can get your footing. He leads you up the last two, “Before you take your blindfold off… just, I don’t know. J-just I don’t even know how to explain it,” He says, voice full of nervousness.

“Eds, I feel like I've been blindfolded for an hour. If this is another prank I will fucking kill you,” You threaten.

“Not a joke, promise,” He says, “Ready?”

“Been ready,” You answer. He takes your hand putting something cold in it and leaning over your shoulder to see the knot. You blink at the sudden light, trying to grab your bearings.

“W-what?” You asked confused. He’d placed a key in your hand, you were standing in front of a house.

“We always promised we’d move out together, it was time for me to bank it in,” He smiles.

“Wait, what?” You still couldn’t believe it. It had to be some sort of joke, he probably found this key on the floor.

“C’mon open the door,” He nods his head in the direction of the lock.

“You’re serious?” You ask, eyes wide in shock.

“As a heart attack. C’mon! I’ve been waiting for months to show you it,” He says, pressing you to open the lock. Your hands shake as you approach the door, the key surprisingly sliding in and turning. Oh no he wasn’t lying, this wasn’t an epic prank. You open the door to an empty living room, his hand guiding you inside.

“I haven’t picked out the furniture yet, thought you’d want to do it together,” He stammers, as you silently scan over the room. It was nice, the entrance opened to the living room, to the left was an open floor plan kitchen, and to the right a bedroom.

“T-together?” You stutter. You were speechless.

“I know how much you hate living at your folks home and you know we made that promise that we’d move out together when we had the money,” He says scratching the back of his neck. He was nervous at your lack of response, did you hate the house? Maybe he should have consulted you first.

“So you and me, living together?” You question, taking in every single detail.

“Yes, just you and me. Maybe Wayne but I doubt he’ll leave the trailer. He’ll finally have a bedroom again though,” He trails off.

“Holy shit, this is for real?” You ask again, walking around the living room toward the kitchen.

“Oh my god how many times do I have to say yes. Did I tie that blindfold too tight? Not enough oxygen in your brain” he chuckles at his joke. You jump into his arms, legs straddling his waist. You hold onto him like a monkey as he grabs your thighs.

“This is the best present ever! Holy shit, Eddie,” You say hugging him close.

“Least I can do for your long years of serving me loyally,” He laughs, walking deeper into the house. You slide down his body as he pulls you through, giving you the grand tour. The house had three bedrooms total, apparently he got an insane deal on the property. Someone from the shop got a huge opportunity in Indianapolis and was trying to get rid of it. They passed down the title to Eddie instead of going through a broker.

“Now this, I think may be your favorite part,” He says, pulling you toward the back door. Your hands entwined, which was not unusual for you both. He opens the door to a beautiful garden, the previous owners must’ve loved this place. It was full of flowers and fruit trees.

“There’s a perfect shady spot to read your books, we could put a table out there and have breakfast together,” He says.

“Holy shit Eddie, it’s perfect,” You say, pulling him in for another hug. He’s bent at an awkward angle to meet your height. Without thinking you peck him on the lips before letting him go and walking down the steps to the garden. You look back at him still frozen in that weird position.

“What’s wrong?” You ask oblivious to what you had just done.

“D-did you just kiss me?” He asks, running down the stairs to meet you halfway down the yard.

“T-that was-” You stutter, realizing what happened. He towers over you, hand tilting your face upward as he kisses you again.

“This okay?” he mumbles into your lips. You move your hands to his shoulders, nails digging into the skin. “Mhm,” You agree, trying to pull him closer. His tongue swipes against your bottom lip with a groan, his kisses becoming more desperate. You open your mouth inviting him in, his tongue mapping out your mouth as you moan. “F-fuck,” You breathe out as he pulls away, kissing down your neck. You’d never been touched like this by Eddie, his hands running all over you anguished for a piece of skin to grab onto. He leans his forehead against yours, as you both catch your breath, his hands under your shirt on your hips.

“W-what was that,” You stammer.

“Been wanting to do that since middle school,” His breath ghosts over your face as he leans back to look at you, skin flushed and chest rising rapidly.

“Since fourth grade,” You laugh, throwing your arms around his neck to pull him down to your level.

“That long?” He says incredulously.

“You were my first crush,” You admit, face flushing at the confession.

“You were mine!” He says, voice raising in astonishment.

“So we could’ve been doing that for fuckin’ years?” He says more to himself than you.

“Guess so,” You shrug your shoulders.

“No wonder everyone thought we were dating. You made the goo goo eyes at me I made the goo goo eyes at you,” He laughs.

“That was your fault! You always had an arm around my shoulder or were holding my hand. Anyone would’ve thought we were together!” You reply.

“As if you didn’t love it. Don’t think I didn’t see the way you look at me when I wear this shirt,” He teases.

“So you admit you did it on purpose?” You ask, smacking his chest.

“Course gotta make you all nervous,” He pecks you on the lips.

“Well don’t think I don’t notice all the times you stare at my boobs especially when I wear this,” You motion to your outfit.

“I fucking knew it! You’re a temptress y’know that?” He growls, pulling you in for another kiss.

“Anyway, I was always touching you because I didn’t want anyone hanging around my girl,” He mumbles at his admission, neck and cheeks flushed.

“Your girl?” You question, eyebrow raised.

“Always have been, always will be,” He reveals.

“You don’t know how many girls I had to fight off,” You chuckle.

“No way! I had to fight off half the town. You don’t even know how many fist fights I got into because of you,” he says.

“Girls are a lot more vicious. You know there was always a rumor going around about you,” You divulge.

“Oh yeah?” He motions for you to go on. “Always heard you had a big dick,” You reveal before hiding in his chest. You feel his chest vibrate as he laughs, “Wouldn’t you like to know?” He teases.

“Yes I would,” You say, gaining confidence. You look up at him, the way his chocolate brown eyes are swallowed by his pupils. He pulls you in for another kiss, this one faster and more aggressive, it almost felt primal.

“Finally!” Robin cheers from the door, Eddie groans at the sound. He forgot he called them while you were changing. Steve, Robin, and Nancy scramble down the stairs giving you both congratulations. Gareth, Jeff, and, Grant arriving a few minutes later. Eddie’s annoyance dies down when he sees your face loving the way you laugh around your friends. You spend the rest of the afternoon drinking and eating take out with them. Nancy had brought a board game, this felt like home. Having them all here, Eddie's arm wrapped around you as he kisses your temple. You were finally home.

Eddie was finally yours and you were finally his. All your internal struggles and insecurities paid off. You had won the big prize at the fair! You spend the night on a blow up mattress with Eddie, eventually popping it because he has no control. After years of waiting you both felt more than desperate, clawing at each other's clothes.

“Shit- shit shit! M’close,” You moan.

“Fuck me too!” his eyes roll to the back of his head, thrusting in and out at a brutal pace.

“Say you’re mine, wanna hear it,” He begs.

“M’yours, always yours,” You claw at his back. “Yes yes yes yes,” He rambles until you’re both seeing stars. He pulls out of you, pulling you to his sweaty chest.

“This has to be a dream,” He exhales, staring at the ceiling. You kiss his chest in response. It was all too real. Your dreams had become reality. You finally had Eddie in your arms. You were his and he was yours just like you both promised when you were children.

[turbulentscrawl]

A Little Support

The boys just need a little love to ease the pain <3

Prisoner/Luca Balsa x reader | Prospector/Norton Campbell x reader

⭒ ⭑ ⭒ ⭑ ⭒ ⭑ ⭒

Norton Campbell

Yesterday he had a fight with Naib. A real fight, not their usual argumentative banter. It had almost come to blows too, you heard, until Norton suddenly turned on his heels and locked himself in his room. He’d been there ever since.

You were close enough with Norton to know the two sides of his proverbial flipping-coin. The face he showed yesterday wouldn’t have stayed locked away for long; it was too restless, too confrontational. Which meant the venom of the altercation had flipped him back to the safer, melancholy face you were so familiar with.

So here you were, struggling to carry a bulky, portable record player, a selection of records, and a small handbasket of food to his door. Frankly, managing to balance it all while you knocked was a feat worthy of recognition, but Norton just looked bemused when his face peered out from a cracked opening.

“Can I come in?” you ask, when he looked you over and still didn’t say anything. “I brought some stuff.” You nod down to the record player in your arms. Norton’s expression sours, but he instinctively reaches to take the pile of heavy items from you. You manage to shove just the food basket into his hands and slip into his bedroom.

It’s messier than usual inside, but you expected as much. The few spare articles of clothes he owns are strewn about. Books, paper, and a lone candle are sprayed out from his desk as if he’d swiped it clear in a rage. The space was convenient for the record player, at least.

When you turn around to look him over, Norton has already swiped a bread roll from the basket and shoved most of it in his mouth. His hair is mussed and he’s still wearing the same clothes from yesterday, sans gloves, shoes, and suspenders. The bags under his eyes are worse.

“What’s all this for?” he asks, setting the basket down and rifling through the rest of its contents.

“For us!” You announce.

“Us, huh?” He repeats, in his thinking-voice.

“Yes. I’m going to teach you some dance moves.”

“I already know how to dance,” he says matter-of-factly. You can’t suppress the goofy smile that comes with visions of his rare-but-passionate flailing.

“By yourself,” you corrected. “I’ve never seen you dance with a partner.” Something like embarrassment or shame pushes his eyes away from yours for a flicker. You know he’s never really done anything with a partner, romantic or otherwise. No dinner, no dances, very few hurried trysts. He’d always lacked both the time and the funds, and had few people he ever liked well enough to lock hands with.

Evidently he has the same line of thought, and it makes him a bit gruff as he says, “why would I want to?”

“Because I want to,” you say. “With you, anyway.” He scoffs, but an oh-so faint blush dusts his unscarred cheek. He’s putting on a brave face for this conversation, but you see the turmoil of yesterday’s events lingering just beneath his waning patience. He’s tired, raw, disappointed in himself. And probably thinks you should be too. His attention keeps drifting further away, so carefully, very carefully, you step forward and touch one of his calloused hands. “Just for a little bit? I promise it’s easy.”

Norton meets your eyes again…and lets out a sigh that seems he’s been holding for years. His other hand comes up to your waist, holding you carefully.

“Alright, yeah. Just for a little bit.”

⭒ ⭑ ⭒ ⭑ ⭒ ⭑ ⭒

Luca Balsa

At three in the morning, Luca had just managed to stumble his way through the manor and crawl his way into your bed.

His pained groans had woken you up from halfway down the hall, so you managed to open the door before he slammed right into it. He then hit your pillow like a rock, holding his head and sobbing that it was splitting open. Five hours of sleepless agony passed like a slug, filled with a long game of medical roulette where nothing ever helped twice. After the fifth hour, Luca finally passed out.

When he awoke again in the evening, his discomfort was gone. But, and perhaps more importantly, he looked lost.

“How are you feeling, Luca?” You ask. He jumps a bit at hearing his own name and stops scanning your bedroom in favor of curiously meeting your eyes.

“Oh! …Well, I think? Though, ah, I’m afraid I don’t quite know where I am,” he explains. Luckily, you’re practiced in hiding the hurt those words always induce. This is not your first experience with either his migraines or his amnesia, and it would surely not be your last.

“That’s alright,” you say. From the drawer in your desk, you produce a little notebook and pass it to him. Ever curious, he wastes no time in cracking it open. “You’re in my room. You had a really bad episode last night and came here instead of the infirmary. You had an accident several years ago that affected your memory. I’ve written about a lot of it in that notebook for you. Or, you keep some of your own that I can take you to. If you prefer.” He had never preferred that, though, always the trusting sort.

He spends several silent minutes flipping through the pages of the notebook, not bothering to hide his shifting expressions of shock, frustration, and intrigue. There’s a great deal of information in those pages, including the accident—or what you’ve heard of it anyway, the manor, his work, experiments you witness, and all the little ideas you hear him muttering to himself that he might forget otherwise.

“You keep this for me?” He finally asks, astonishment in his tone. “These seem impressively thorough.”

“I do, to make things a little easier for you,” you explain.

A grin splits his face and he turns to the notebook again. There’s no possible way he’s managing to take it all in with the speed he flies through it, but then he stops with purpose, marking a line with his finger and holding it with uncharacteristic force. The familiar determination in his eye is his attempt to bring a memory back through sheer willpower. And this time, it seems to work.

“Y…y—” he stutters. “Y/N! That’s it, you’re Y/N.” His shoulders relax as some great weight slides off them. Before you can react, he leaps to his feet and plants a kiss on your cheek that comes with a spark of static that feels like magic. “I love you too!”

“O-oh,” you squeak, still inches from his face and shocked at the speed he’s recovered. “Do you?”

“I do! Look, I wrote it here myself.” He points down to the page in the notebook. There, in your handwriting, is a reminder for him: ‘I love you, and will do anything to see your safe and happy.’ And in the small margins next to it, in his own quick scrawl, is ‘I love you too, never forget!’ You can’t begin to guess when he had added that note, but the glitter of mischief in his eye seems to indicate he knows with great fondness. “And it’s obvious to see why I would. It’s a remarkable gesture for you to keep this for me.”

Luca stands then, stretches, and tucks the notebook under his arm before offering you his gentlemanly hand, “Now! Let’s get some food, yeah? I’m starved. Oh! And let’s grab those other notebooks on the way, I have some catching up to do.”

“Alright,” you say. You feel lighter than you have in a while, reminiscing on how easily he accepts you back into his heart. With luck, he’ll remember everything else in a day or two. If he doesn’t, though, you’re at least not back to square one. “But in case you don’t remember, you don’t like sugar in your tea.”

Luca laughs boisterously, lays another electrifying kiss on your knuckles, and follows your lead out of the room.

[twinksrepository]

Lucifer's Melancholy

Rating: 18+

Pairing: Lucifer X F!Reader

CW: Implied sexy times, naked, implied shared shower, sort of secret relationship, established relationship

Word count: Roughly 2.2K

A/N: Lucifer is being mopey and you decide to ask him about it.

Pretty much after reading the story for the card, this thought popped in my head so I decided to write it down.

Images belong to Solmare.

Sitting with your feet tucked partially under you and a book in your hand in Lucifer’s room on the couch you feel your nose twitch. Well, and the faltering of the gloved hand that was rubbing your calf as Lucifer let out another sigh, clearly not reading his novel. 

It had become a small part of your nightly routine, sitting with him for an hour or so. Since your return to the devildom things had been … a little different between the pair of you. Like the two of you were trying to find a balanced state. Lucifer didn’t want the entire devildom knowing you were his, yes his brothers knew, along with Diavolo, and Barbatos, but even that small group still had the avatar of pride on edge. 

As for you, you were trying to adjust to no longer being stuck to just phone calls and text messages with your devilish partner. You craved the sensation of physical intimacy, of feeling your smaller hand in one of his gloved ones. Or his arm curled around your shoulders. Lucifer, being one hundred percent against personal displays of affection meant you were denied that craving.

After a few days of sulking with Mammon, who was oddly rather understanding of his brothers’ logic, you had had enough and stormed into Lucifer’s study. 

Several hours later, pressed against his chest with his cloak being the only thing covering either of you, you’d reached an agreement. The two of you would try and act the exact same way you did before you left the devildom, friends in public where Lucifer would still call you out much as he had in the past. The compromise was that after dinner, Lucifer would try and not be a workaholic, with the two of you doing something together. 

Often times, it was exactly like it was now. You curled up against the arm of the couch with Lucifer beside you. Sometimes it was both of you listening to one of his cursed records or having a glass of demonus or just talking softly. The main thing was he was far more hands on and satisfied your need for physical contact with your other half. 

So hearing him sigh this much in the span of one night with the slightest frown marring his handsome features you know something is bothering him. With his next sigh, you reach out to grab your bookmark before turning to him. “Is something the matter?” 

Watching his face there isn’t much of a chance in his expression as he lifts his eyes from the pages he isn’t reading to regard you. “..Hm?” A pause as if your question has taken him off guard. “Oh, nothing major.” You quirk your mouth in disbelief at his answer while crossing your arms against your chest. “What? Is there something on my face?” Closing his book before using his free hand to brush his fingers along his chin as if sweeping something away. 

“Come on Lucifer.” Shifting more on the couch and grinning internally at the hand on your calf that moves to remain in contact with you. “It’s no use trying to hide it! Something’s bothering you.” 

“It’s not as if I’m trying to hide anything.” His tone is neutral but you catch a hint of annoyance in his tone. “It really isn’t a big deal.” The second part is lower, almost as if he’d mumbled it as an afterthought, except Lucifer does not mumble. Ever. 

“It does matter if it bothers you.” Propping your elbow into the couch so you can lean your face against your knuckles as you face him, taking his hand from your leg to trace the seams of black leather that encase his fingers. 

“It’s so minor that it’s hardly worth discussing.” Sending him a look of disbelief before his frown disappears. “... But yes, you’re right. It’s bothering me enough that you were able to pick up on it.” A playful grin replaces that thin line as he lets you do what you want with his hand. “Seriously, I can’t hide anything from you, can I?” 

A soft laugh bubbles up from you and you feel yourself flushing at his teasing. “I’m sure you still can. I’m just slowly getting better at reading your moods Mr. Stoic. Or maybe I have a small advantage at reading your moods.” 

A wink sent his way that has him shaking his head at your antics. “It truly is ridiculous. You’re going to be sorry you asked. It’s about something that happened yesterday. I stopped by the Demon Lord’s Castle on student council business after you left me. When I got there, I overheard Diavolo and Barbatos discussing something.” 

As Lucifer tells you about the events of yesterday you listen your eyes locked on his, almost laughing at the bite in his tone over Barbatos’s baking abilities. “...So, that’s what happened. It’s not like I feel as though he was comparing me to Barbatos. But..” Tilting his head as if in thought you wait as he tries to word his grievance. “How do I explain it?” 

“Maybe you’re feeling a little conflicted over it?” You know him well enough to know he isn’t sad or upset about the comment, regardless of how you cut it he is the avatar of pride, and hearing that from Diavolo would be a blow. 

“Yeah, maybe that’s it. I’ve never felt like I was competing with Barbatos before, like I was inferior or superior.” Dropping his head back against the couch you can see the twitch of his eye as he mulls over his thoughts. “I’ve never even challenged him to see who made better cookies before. And yet, the idea that Diavolo is so certain I would lose doesn’t sit well with me.” Internally you’re pumping the air, it is his pride that’s been wounded and has him upset, maybe you really are getting better at reading him beyond the surface level of his micro-expressions. 

“Okay, why don’t you try making some to see how they turn out? I think that might help settle some of your thoughts about it.” 

“Me? Make hellfire mushroom rolled cigar cookies?” He looks so surprised at the thought you almost squeal at how cute he looks. “You’re right.” 

“Just learning that now?” Teasing him before he swats his hand from yours with a smirk, choosing to ignore your words. 

“Maybe I should stop sitting around thinking about it and do it. Take action.” You grin, pulling away and standing up before trying to tug him to his feet. 

“I think that’s a great idea, how about I come with you?” It doesn’t take much prodding before he agrees, citing how you are rather good in the kitchen based on the days you’re on cooking duty. You see this as a new chance to bond a little more and not just in the confines of his massive bedroom. 

“...I don’t understand. How did they turn out like this? I was trying to make hellfire mushroom rolled cigar cookies. But these don’t even look like rolled cigar cookies. And they were supposed to be sweet, but these are so spicy they could kill a man.” Glancing at you after staring at the curled cookies on the sheet you watch his shoulders slump. “You’re covered in flour from head to toe.” 

“Hey!” Of course you are, Lucifer was so focused on trying to make his cookies that when he was rolling the dough out he inadvertently covered both of you in flour. “You’re one to talk Lucifer. You’re just as covered in the stuff as I am. It’s a good thing you left your cloak and gloves in another room.” 

Watch the frown return on his handsome face you swallow some of your pride down, lifting one of the cookies from the tray. The things you do for your prickly demon. “...You aren’t seriously planning on eating that, are you? You’d better not. I’m not even sure they’re edi-” As you bite down you see his shoulders slump once more, maybe this wasn’t the best idea. “Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” 

As soon as the first crumb hits your tongue you feel your eyes water. Maybe all the times you’ve been cursed with eating Solomon’s cooking has been to prepare you for this moment. “It isn’t so bad.” 

“You’re lying. You look as if you’ve just swallowed a mouthful of dirt.” Attempt at lifting Lucifer’s mood? Failed. “There’s no need to try to finish that for my benefit. One bite is enough.” It’s your turn to let your shoulders slump. “There’s no way I can feed these to Diavolo.” 

“But you’ll let your partner eat them?” 

“You chose to bite one.” His voice has no pity for you, far more concerned with his failure or so it seems to your eyes. “Why don’t we pretend they never existed? They’ll be our dark little secret.” 

It might be breaking the rules, but you are in the house of Lamentation. And it is just the two of you in the kitchen. Stepping closer and placing your hands on the sides of his face. “You’re fine just the way you are, Lucifer. You’re so talented at so many things, I don’t think anyone is going to fault you over the fact you can’t bake cookies.” 

“Are you trying to comfort me?” His voice might be flat but him leaning more into your touch gives him away. “It’s not as if this really bothers me. After all, think about it. If we take Diavolo’s comment and turn it around he said that making hellfire mushroom rolled cigar cookies is the only thing Barbatos does better than me. In every other area, I compare favorably.” That self-assured prideful grin on his is back on his face and you feel your toes tingle at the sight. “That’s what it comes down to, right?” 

“Now there’s the confidence I’m used to from the avatar of pride.” Stepping away from him to start cleaning up the mess and cookies before anyone comes in to try and eat them. 

At least until Lucifer’s voice cuts through and makes you pause. “It’s got nothing to do with confidence. I’m simply stating a fact. One other thing, thanks to a certain someone acting as the devil on my shoulder and convincing me to make those cookies, I haven’t had time to feel down. Focusing all my energy on the cookies ended up putting me in a better mood. I have you to thank for that, my Little Lamb.” 

Hearing him tack on that little nickname at the end has more than just your toes tingling, how he can say it in such a way that you’re ready to melt takes you by surprise every time. “I’m glad, and hey. There’s always next time if you wanna try again, I had fun baking with you today even if I know next to nothing about hellfire mushrooms. Maybe we can try it again sometime?” 

“Maybe. I don’t know how many centuries it’ll be before I try my hand at those again, though. I’ve learned my lesson.” You try to keep the frown from your face, he just said those, he didn’t flat out refuse the offer of baking again in the future. “Anyway, look at us.” Waving his hand at both of your figures again. “We’re really covered in flour. It’s awful. Look, even your cheeks and the tip of your nose are white.” 

You can feel the fire start to burn along your skin as he casually reaches up to brush the fine powder from your face with gentle fingers. His eyes are focused on the patches which are promptly removed from your cheeks. Sometimes you question if he knows the effect he has on you. “There we go. Got rid of that. Hey, what’s with that embarrassed look? You’re bright red.” 

“I’m flustered, not embarrassed. I swear you do this stuff on purpose.” Grousing a little at him as you turn away to try and hide your furiously blushing face. Even the tips of your ears feel like they’re on fire. 

“If you’d like, we could take a shower together.” That. Has your head whipping around quickly to look at his smug expression. 

“I ummm… sounds great!” Your voice is more like a squeak than its usual tone, excited by the offer since it is a rather tantalizing idea. 

“I was only joking.” Slapping his chest just sends a puff of flour into the air and Lucifer laughs at your reaction. At least before he grabs your hand and pulls you closer to slot his lips against yours. “Or am I?” It’s always a power play with him, but you don’t complain as he guides you to the bathroom without running into anyone else in the house. 

The next morning you feel terrible. You and Lucifer got a little too distracted in the shower (as well as after) and poor Beel ended up eating all of the cookies. A second lesson for you is to not let Lucifer use his charms to seduce you away from your attempts to finish cleaning up after a misadventure. 

[umemiyan]

𝙒𝘼𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝘽𝙀𝘼𝙍𝙀𝙍.

𝗛𝗔𝗝𝗜𝗠𝗘 𝗨𝗠𝗘𝗠𝗜𝗬𝗔 𝗫 𝗙!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥. ⌇ 18+ only, mdni / sibling incest / one brief instance of physical violence (from reader) / use of “pretty girl” + “good girl” / unprotected sex / 1k words

i'm very new to wind breaker but the idea of big brother!umemiya has completely consumed me within the last 24hrs. i'm still getting to know him, so i apologize for any injustices to his character, but i simply needed to get this out of my system. i hope you understand 🙏🏻

“Fuck me, Hajime,” you breathe. It’s a demand, not a request.

Driven by a flame of intensity that you can no longer contain within your own body, you assault his lips with your own. It rips and burns through you, turning your veins to ash and inhibitions to dust, every heavy, fiery emotion making you into a walking fever. 

You need your big brother to burn with you. It urges you to take dominion over his lap where he sits, pressing your bodies closer together than they ever should be while stealing open-mouthed kisses from him that he fails to return in full.

Hajime steadies your hips with his hands upon instinct, moves his mouth against yours for pacification’s sake, but he’s still not ready to be consumed by your flame. He puts distance between your lips so that he can say, “Let’s settle down first, okay? You’re worked up—”

Boiling, you react with a sharp slap to his face before he can even finish. You don’t want him to dote and coo—you want him to stretch you out like you know he can so well, to fan the flame of anger caused by whatever it is that brought you here to him in the first place. But you should’ve known that your brother was a cool stream of mending water, whether it be to a potted plant or your heated passion.

With a red cheek, turned head, and a few out-of-place white strands, Hajime takes your abuse in stride—stone-like, seemingly unaffected. He knows you don’t mean it. Not really.

“Alright,” he says evenly after a good few moments, yielding. 

Your hand stings from the impact, your heart thumping with a mixture of frustration and regret. Why is he always so goddamned unbreakable?

Hajime sets aside the ongoing moral dilemma in his head in favor of cupping your cheek and offering you a kiss. He shivers with a deep-seated guilt, but is ultimately more satisfied with how you arch into his willing affection, enthralled by the chance to get what you want.

But he has no true intention of fanning your flame. Even as he kisses your neck and peels the shirt from your body with haste, Hajime aims to soothe.

When you’re finally seated on his cock, eyes rolling back with the pleasure of being filled, you have the innate urge to devour. You want to bounce on every inch, feel it push the intensity up into your throat until you’re choking on it. You drive yourself on him until you’re coated with sweat in record time, your insides churned by the force of your conquest.

Juxtaposed, Hajime’s loving smile beams up at you with adoration and a touch of… pity? melancholy? as you repeatedly sheath him. 

“You need big brother’s cock to help make it okay? Hm?” He forces your gaze with a sincere blue one and a voice to match. You abhor how he refuses to stoop to your level, saccharine even as he impales you. “Yeah, alright then. My pretty girl…” his fingers brush at your hair and lips suckle on your neck as he accepts his fate as your healer.

It isn’t long before the muscles in your thighs are trembling and he’s more or less maintaining the pace by lifting you up and down his length. You’ve burned bright and quickly, and while he was willing to entertain it for perhaps a moment or two longer, this now gives Hajime the opportunity to gradually slow things down to his liking—to what he knows will be best for you in the end.

He kisses you through it, injecting you with the easygoing syrup on his lips until you’ve nearly stopped your movements. “Shh, shh… relax. There we go. Just feel it.” he gives you a series of shushes and forces you to slow yourself, to feel his cock reach every part of your insides. He accentuates it with a hand on your lower belly.

Hajime leans forward and presses his forehead to yours, closes his eyes, takes a deep inhale and prompts you to follow his lead. Without even thinking of refusing, you mirror him as the blaze within you begins to die out. Breathing so deeply makes you feel as though he resides somewhere deep in your soul, penetrating via the most intimate part of your body—stretched, filled, whole. You belong to each other for better or for worse.

“Good girl,” he praises softly, pleased with your efforts and the snug feeling of your cunt as it flutters around him. “I want you to cum for me, okay?” it’s a gentle proposal as though he isn’t asking for something despicable; but it isn’t so despicable to Hajime in this moment, not when it comes to seeing that you are tended to, fulfilled.

He aids you in rolling your hips slowly and easily into his, pulling you in until your clit brushes against his pelvis with each languid motion. He likes it better like this: sensual with your heart soaring, breaths laced with genuine pleasure and satisfaction. You find peace in finally succumbing to his consoling, and so does he.

“Haji—” you moan, and he threads your fingers together like puzzle pieces made to fit. Your musical whimpers mixed with the sound of his name and slick heat of your cunt send him over the edge with a grunt, cock pulsing streams of hot seed against your womb. 

But even as he breaches ecstasy, Hajime doesn’t stop you—not until you’ve used what’s left of him to stumble over the edge yourself, crying into his shoulder with relief once you do. He holds your head there with a comforting hand, feels you tense and tremble until you eventually go slack and begin to leak with his spend.

Hajime strokes your hair, and you are no longer angry. Your fire has been doused, contained, eliminated for the time being. This pleases him beyond words.

“I’m sorry,” you admit softly against his skin, tucked into his neck with shame. All he does in return is take your face in his palms and bring your forehead to his lips for a series of silent, tender kisses as if to say, “I know. It’s okay.”

Somehow, he will always understand. And he will always be there to wash over you with his gracious, healing waters.

[skiyoosmi]

it kills me a little, that's okay 'cause i'd die for you—

⤷ contents. gender neutral reader, petnames (he calls you baby and dude), angst (and a sprinkle of fluff i think)

there's stillness in the night as gojo lays idly on his bed, relishing the very short break he has before the strenuous work at jujutsu tech begins once again. his room is engulfed with darkness, barely lit by the dim brightness that comes from the screen of his phone.

"hello, satoru's phone! yn here, hehe."

a minimal smile appears on his face as he plays a familiar video, greeted by your bright expression as you try to position the phone in a better angle. his thumb hovers over the screen as he pauses when your face comes near, mimicking gesture as if he's stroking the apples of your cheeks. there are veins of melancholy that burrows its way deep into the crevices of his core before he resumes the recording. 

as soon as you've achieved your goal of stabilizing the device, you start speaking again.

"so, you might be wondering what in the world am i doing right now. well, this is a surprise video mess—" 

"baby, have you seen my shaving cream?" he hears his voice ask in the background, albeit muffled. he remembers how he was poking around the bathroom cabinet, preparing for a flight he will have to catch in the evening, he remembers how you scoffed beforehand when he told you suguru or shoko could do it for him, he remembers how long you nagged him about being a responsible adult and that he should learn to do it on his own. he remembers it all too well. 

he chuckles lightly upon watching you roll your eyes.

"top left in the drawer! silly 'toru, what would you do without me?" you whisper to yourself as you shake your head and turn to face the phone again, "anyway, as what i was saying, this is a surprise message! you might see this once you're in the airplane, or in the hotel room… heck, you might even see this as soon as you hold your phone, which would be a bummer but…"

"... what are you doing?" his face appears in the video and although he has seen this video for so many times already, he reels back in surprise at how different he looks– a bit younger yet so much happier. he watches the youthful him naturally place his chin just above your shoulder blades, eyes scanning the lens before leaning in to peck your cheeks multiple times. you giggle and try to move away, but he follows you.

and if he had the chance again, he'll willingly follow you anywhere.

"ahh, satoru, you big bummer. this was supposed to be a surprise! i was recording a video for you…" you whine out and he remembers raising his brow in interest, intrigued by the reason why you thought of such idea. he assumes you recognized his facial expression as one of curiousity so you continue to talk, "you know, so that if we break up, you'll never be able to move on and you'll be too busy missing me."

there's a pause of silence in the video and once again, he recalls the two of you staring at each other after you say that. you purse your lips when he suddenly lets out a boisterous cackle, "pfft— baby, what the heck? that won't happen. you're never gonna get away from me. it's you and me forever now. it'll always be you for me, dude."

the video shakes and satoru only sees blurry frames but his mind and soul vividly pictures the memory of attacking your face with more kisses as he wraps his arms around you while you squeal and giggle, "satoru… *kiss*… stop! let …*kiss*... me finish… *kiss*... the video… *kiss*"

a few seconds later, you reappear and satoru wonders how is it possible for you get even brighter and more beautiful. you pout and look at the boy beside you, who only grins smugly, "you ruined it. plus, that was supposed to be romantic and shit but you just had to call me dude, huh?"

"nyenye, finish that already so we can kiss," he says exasperatedly and slumps his body on yours. you roll your eyes once again, "you're such a boy, 'toru. are you even done packing yet?"

he freezes and slowly lets you go, sheepishly smiling before going back to the bathroom. you laugh, "so irresponsible, you dummy!"

you turn your eyes back on the camera and he sees pure adoration and fondness swimming in them, "you know i could never say all these to you directly, 'cause your head might get big. but it'll always be you for me too, satoru."

a sharp claw of agony grips his heart tightly and it refuses to let go. he refuses to let go. and suddenly, he's opening up his contacts, scrolling through the list before he stops right when he reaches yours– he never changed the nickname, never even thought of blocking you after you broke up with him through the same, exact phone he was holding, telling him how you couldn't do it anymore; being a jujutsu sorcerer, losing friends, being with him, and all that there is to it. so, you reopen the same wounds suguru left him and bid your own farewell. and yet, he could never do all those, couldn't change nor remove anything that has something to do with you, because that would mean giving up on you. it would mean he was letting you go.

and just like how he can never delete your number, he can never delete you from his life.

thus, he clicks. and he feels so anxious, so impulsive and so sad. the ringing goes on for what felt like forever. then it stops.

"satoru?" he hears your voice, his name rolling off your tongue, so sweet and silky. and suddenly, he's back in the years of his youth, as if he was eighteen all over again.

"i…" he feels a sickening lump in his throat when he starts to speak, desperate to get out and cry to you, "sorry. i'm stupid, i didn't mean to disturb you."

he hears a soft rustle from the other side of the phone before he hears you once more, "hmm, it's fine."

there was a hint of sleepiness in your voice and he figures the call woke you up, "were you sleeping?" 

you only hum in agreement and satoru feels awfully jealous at how you can sleep in peace at this hour while he spends most of his nights trying to fight the insomniac thoughts that threaten consume his mind whole. but he feels relieved in a way, because he wouldn't want you to spend these lonely evenings and midnights the same way as he does. he's only wanted to keep the smile on your face, after all. that's enough for him.

"i was watching the video," he gulps the pain away, "and you were right, i don't think i'll ever be able to move on."

you don't reply but he thinks… no, he knows you're listening.

"i'm too busy missing you, you know," he manages to chuckle despite the claw that rips his heart out of his chest bit by bit the more silent seconds that pass by.

"but i know. we've had our time," he adds when he hears you trail off while speaking his name once again.

"you… you're happy, right?" he chokes out a cough to cover the wavering of his voice when he feels that the end of the phone call is nearing. from the other side of the phone, you sit up and hold the phone by your ear tightly, "mhm, i believe so."

the claw has finally made a hole on his chest, "o-okay… that's good. that's good."

it's fine, he tries to convince himself. you're happy and that's all that matters to him anyway.

"you should go back to sleep," he whispers when a tear finally escape from the windows of his eyes. you hum quietly, "i really should."

"okay."

"okay."

and as if it was all a mere dream of his, the call drops along with his heart. he opens up his gallery, welcomed by the paused video he was watching a while ago. it stopped with your face in view again and his fingers hover the screen once more. you gotta stop, you gotta let go now, a voice screams at the back of his mind. and he clicks,

this video will be deleted from the icloud photos on all your devices

delete video

cancel

the layers of gloom return in his chest, marking your image within him, carving each and every of your features, and he feels like he's at the beginning of the end once more. his thumb presses on the screen and the loop of his remorse repeats, over and over again as he whispers, "it'll always be you for me."

cancel

—you know i'd still die for you 

[eepyuii]

frostbite — pt. 15

pairing ; childe x gender neutral!reader

content ; childhood friends to “rivals” to lovers, slow burn

cw ; none, dottore is mentioned but none of his hideous acts

notes ; WHATS UP SMART FELLAS AND FART SMELLAS ⁉️

I PROMISE IM NOT DEAD,,,, see the thing is that since i published the last chapter of this, i’ve done some crazy things like finishing and graduating highschool and studying and doing national exams and preparing to apply to colleges and yknow….. really normal, totally not time consuming stuff LMAO i can’t promise that i’ll be consistent again as i am still pretty busy with all that bizz but i’m very happy to have finally gotten a new chapter out

ANYWAY ITS MEROPIDE TIME BABEY ‼️ finally get to write my pookie wookie shmookie wriothesley, can u tell that i think he’s neat :3 can u tell that i am brewing up something with him :3 can u :3

also i HAVE OTHER WRITING PROJECTS COMING OUT SOONER OR LATER MORE LATER I PROMISE,,,,, currently cooking up something for whatever dungeon meshi-heads out there that r willing to enjoy it!!!!!

previous | next | masterlist

this line could not be moving slower.

you’ve been standing here for so long— any progress forward is merely two steps further but your legs have long since turned to lead, making each movement arduous and achy. mind hazy and limbs sluggish as you drag your feet through the rusted metal flooring. the most likely cause for your sudden stagnation is the overwhelming pressure from being… however many feet underwater you are, as you haven’t had much time to adapt to that yet.

ironically, it almost makes you regret your decision and you hadn’t even truly gotten inside the fortress of meropide. perhaps this was some sort of intentional psychological warfare towards the new prisoners, some sort of initiation for the upcoming torments of their sentences. even so, you look back on the moment and think it was the best course of action.

you remember the way your heart dropped upon hearing the word ‘guilty’, the way it fell all the way down to your feet and picked its pace back up again, beating a hundred miles per hour. you remember the way you weren’t even given time to say goodbye, to reach out to childe as he rebelled against the guards and was immediately detained by the iudex.

the iudex… you become conflicted at the thought of him. part of your brain tells you that you should be angry and despise him for only letting you visit childe after he was reported to be missing from the fortress, under the guise of inviting you to investigate his disappearance. though… he was so kind about it. you must’ve visited his office nearly everyday to ask for permission to visit the prison, every time being met by the same answer of ‘it’s beyond my capabilities’, but each of them he remained utterly patient and civilized— something that you ashamedly can’t say that you did in return. and even so, he graciously offered to grant you a fake sentence so you could find the harbinger yourself, with the help of the traveler and paimon of course.

there was a certain air to monsieur neuvillette, one of silent melancholy and deep thoughtfulness. your first impression of the iudex had you recalling zhongli as a comparison, but now you’ve grown more certain that they have far more in common. neuvillette is most definitely not human, you’ve long since assessed that, but every time you get a look at his eyes while visiting his office, you notice an almost draconic appearance to them. perhaps that’s why you can’t fully bring yourself to dislike him— he reminds you far too much of you the fond friendship you’ve found within the consultant of wansheng funeral parlor.

there’s a shove to your shoulder that snaps you back into reality and you realize it’s your turn to have your mugshot taken. mugshot… what would your mother think of you now? both her own child and their childhood best friend having criminal records in another country— you can practically feel the pinching of your ear, even if the false charge was something as ridiculous as stealing lady furina’s cake. despite the flash of the kamera making your eyes sting, you do your best to maintain a neutral expression and wonder if the traveler and paimon had already gotten their turn and have long since installed themselves in the fortress. you especially wonder so when you’re left to venture the fortress of meropide alone, with only a room number and no knowledge of the prison’s system to your name.

“hey! you there!”

oh dear heavens, it’s already started— you’ve not stepped foot into prison for one whole minute and you’re already about to become a bullying victim. you swallow thickly and turn around meekly like a cornered rabbit. a particularly grumpy-looking guard is the one who calls you over, expression hard and stoic. you nearly consider begging him to not be mean to you like a cowardly little kid, but he speaks before you even get to open your mouth and spew anything embarrassing.

“you’re y/n, the new inmate, right? the duke wants to see you in his office.”

oh it’s so over for you.

perhaps you haven’t become a punching bag just yet but you’ve sure, somehow, irked the warden enough to be immediately sent to his office. oh gods… is it because you’re fatui? you heard there were quite a few fatui operatives already residing in the fortress of meropide— perhaps the duke has a particular distaste for your kind. the guard half-heartedly shows you the way to the duke’s office, the singular, imposing tower at the center of the fortress.

the silence inside the tower is deafening, the only sound heard is the clang of your steps against the metal stairs, almost as if you’re the only living being inside. the second floor introduces itself through the incredibly faint, almost innate herbal scent that wafts around you more and more the higher steps you climb. finally, it reveals an atmospheric office with bookshelves rounding the walls, a comfortable-looking sofa with a coffee table littered with teacups before it and in the grand center of the room, a wide desk— the last thing you register is the man sitting at it expectantly.

he looks nothing like you expected him to.

by the title of duke, you were picturing an older, posher man adorning expensive fabrics and a distasteful, condescending expression towards the ‘lower lifeforms’ of his prisoners. instead, he’s much younger and rugged, littered with scars, dark tones and sharp edges to his outfit— he almost looks like an inmate himself. despite not appearing necessarily condescending, the duke of meropide is still plentiful imposing, as his icy blue eyes and platform boots send a shiver through your spine when he stands up to greet you. he sticks out a hand and you instinctively flinch away, although the hand only hangs in the air passively awaiting a handshake.

“y/n l/n, prisoner 7458, it’s a pleasure to meet you. welcome to the fortress of meropide.”

oh… his tone is so casual and friendly, it completely takes you aback— like you’re meeting a friend on the street instead of the highest authority of an enormous prison as one of his very own prisoners. you scramble to shake his hand and awkwardly fall into some sort of bowing motion in the midst of you’re panic.

“a-ah yes! thank po you very m-much, your grace.”

with this proximity, you have no choice but to look at the duke’s face up close. he wears an easy smile on his otherwise seemingly hardened face, one that you can’t help but subconsciously think of as handsome. another juxtaposition to your expectations toward the duke is that, despite his rugged and troublesome appearance, he is quite well kept— as seen by his neat peach fuzz. he confuses you entirely.

the duke chuckles amusedly at your entirely perplexed demeanor.

“no need to be so nervous, this is a casual talk that i personally wanted to have with you, rather than a… part of the fortress’ welcoming ceremony. so please, have a seat, make yourself comfortable— i’ll prepare us some tea. oh! and call me wriothesley.”

you do as… wriothesley says and sit on the surprisingly cushy chair in front of his desk as he himself steps off to the side to make the tea. your mind is still running at miles per hour with everything that’s happened and with what might happen next, with what to say or not to say to the duke, with where childe, the traveler and paimon might be right now. not to mention the sickeningly sweet smell that fills your brain even further… this must be some strong tea. wriothesley sets a teacup in front of you and sits at his grand, tall chair behind the desk. he faces you with a bright smile that you force yourself to return, yet you still can’t help but keep the thought of this ‘casual talk’ having other intentions gnaw at the back of your mind.

“so, i won’t dilly-dally with what i’d like to talk about— as you may have noticed, the fortress harbors quite a few inmates from the fatui.” bingo. who knew that your blinded anxieties were actually right.

“all of them arrive here with similar ranks, under similar sentences for similar crimes. standard stuff, really… but this is the very first time we’ve gotten ourselves a sergeant.”

although the duke keeps up an easy-going and lighthearted demeanor, you can’t help but remain on edge. you feel once again like prey cornered by a calculating hound. the smell of the tea still plagues your mind with its unavoidable presence— what’s even worse is that the scent isn’t entirely unfamiliar to you, the memory is just out of your grasp, frustrating you even more.

“and even further, this is our very first time we’ve gotten ourselves a fatui sergeant whose crime was… to steal a cake from lady furina?” wriothesley briefly looks down toward a document on his desk to make sure he’s actually recalling your crime correctly. you barely listen to what he’s saying, still laser focused on recognizing this irking fragrance.

“adding onto that, it seems as though we’re receiving two new inmates today who are arriving on the exact same sentence for the exact same crime as yourself. seems a bit curious, doesn’t it?”

your attention is caught by the mention of the traveler and paimon and you shoot up in your seat.

“oh yes, those are my friends! a-are they okay? have they arrived yet?”

wriothesley is seemingly surprised by your sudden enthusiasm, as he chuckles with certain shock and amusement. he looks at his file once again, eyes trailing over to the two other prisoner registry’s below your own with a certain analytical hint to his gaze.

“i’m certain they’ll be arriving at the fortress shortly. in the meantime, why don’t you tell me how exactly the three of you managed to commit such a heinous crime?” he asks humorously.

wait!

you’ve finally recognized the scent… a lesser known tea leaf from liyue, with no real definitive name for itself— only truly studied within the medical field for being one of the few tea leafs to contain sodium thiopental, a barbiturate that slows the speed of the communication between the spinal cord and the brain, making high-functioning tasks such as lying harder to perform. a truth serum.

wriothesley has served you a truth serum.

so much for a ‘casual talk’. you’ve known the man for not even a full day, yet you still feel a sting of betrayal fermenting in your chest. but truly, what can be done when you’ll always have a big fat target on your back that labels you as nothing more than a fatuus? you’ve chosen this wretched bed, now you must lie in it.

and lie you will.

with a forced laugh, you feign a reminiscent smile. “a-ah, it’s actually quite silly— i believe it goes without mention that my friends and i are foreigners and still wildly foreign to fontainian customs. we were invited to a meeting with lady furina and monsieur neuvillette in the spirit of diplomacy but, ahah… i guess we were unfamiliar with lady furina’s predilection for sweets and just took one for ourselves!”

wriothesley laughs in turn, but you’re unable to discern how genuine it is. you watch his periwinkle eyes flicker briefly toward your untouched teacup and suddenly, the atmosphere turns into one akin to a game of chess— innately hostile and strategic, where both of you must be hyper aware of the other’s next move lest you make a mistake and lose your carefully constructed composure.

“i must say it is an unlikely set of circumstances…”

you subconsciously look toward wriothesley’s own teacup, seeing that his remains as unsipped as yours. with a chilling feeling, you look back up to see that the duke’s gaze was already fixated on you, which means he saw you checking his teacup. which means he knows that you know.

“though, i’ve got to ask… what exactly entails your position in the fatui? this is purely out of my own curiosity, as most of our inmates all come from the house of the hearth.”

you swallow hard.

“well… i’m head of the infirmary, that’s all my position is, really. the sergeant title is just a half-assed justification for how high my ranking is.”

the calculating hint to wriothesley’s gaze softens in the slightest amount possible and he lightly looks off to the side, as if reminded of something, or someone he knows by your answer.

“i work directly under the second fatui harbinger, il dottore. i’m somewhat his… assistant.” the word assistant leaves your mouth with a tinge of disdainfulness as your body almost instinctively tenses at the mention of… him. the duke picks up on it.

“the doctor, huh— haven’t heard much about him myself, but what i have heard seems like more than enough for me.” you can’t help but snort at that.

“do you like it? working for him, that is.”

you’re staggered into silence and a shocked expression— the suddenness of the question completely taking you by surprise. the speechlessness you feel is painfully reminiscent of when kunikuzushi asked you if you’d like to kill dottore. despite the answer being obvious to you, there’s a subconscious fear gnawing at your side that dottore might be out here listening, disguised as someone else or as one of his segments, living a false life. but you can’t allow yourself to live in fear of him anymore— his segments are gone and he’s pathetically stuck in zapolyarny palace by himself while you’ve been out and traveling miles and miles away from snezhnaya. kunikuzushi doesn’t fear him, so why should you?

you’ve always been terrible at bluffing, so fuck it— you might as well not bluff at all.

instead of answering wriothesley immediately, you lunge for the teacup and gulp down the entire thing, much to his surprise. the duke is stunned in return as he merely watches attentively for your reaction to the serum. the silence between the two of you is prolonged as you give the serum time to take effect. the taste itself is a delightful, slight earthy flavor— making it even more enticing to drink normally for one unaware of the leaf’s properties. you don’t feel any different after a few seconds, if not ever so slightly woozier. you breathe in and out deeply, letting the first answer that comes to your mind be the one that comes out.

“i take my job very seriously, your grace— i am a medic, my ambition is to save lives. and there isn’t a soul in teyvat that i would ever want to kill more than i want to kill him.”

the answer feels foreign and unexpected even to yourself. the first time you were asked such a question, before one who was once the balladeer and dottore’s experimental god, your answer was no. it felt easier to say no— to tell him you’d rather he be the one to end the doctor’s reign of terror, because for the most part it was true. but then kunikuzushi found closure, he found new life and prosperity in places outside of godhood or tormenting others or spiting his ‘mother’ or going after dottore.

and you, you stayed the same. you’re still suffocating within the grimy, clawed grasp of the second fatui harbinger. you’ve been through so much, visited four different nations within the span of the last year, fought an abyssal creature and an artificial, nearly god-like being yet you still feel as stuck as you did while you were still stationed in snezhnaya. you’re still stuck having reasons to want to kill dottore, kunikuzushi moved past his.

the duke still can’t find an immediate response, as he merely scoffs incredulously at what he’s just watched. you see a faint glaze take over his gaze when he looks aimlessly down at his desk, as if truly involving himself in memories of the past— his eyebrows furrow briefly, as though the memories he recalls aren’t good ones. something grips at your throat, an anxious feeling, as you regret being so impulsive as to reveal something so damning about yourself. to a prison warden, no less. you feel as though you’ve sobered up and feel the need to make up for what you said and excuse yourself, but before you can even open your mouth wriothesley is already standing from his chair.

“well i respect your honesty, sergeant. i’m afraid we’ll have to leave our talk here, as i have to welcome more of the new prisoners into the fortress, maybe even your friends will be amongst them— i’ll make sure to give them the word that you’re here.”

you nod briskly and scurry to leave the office while the duke insists on seeing you out himself. your head pounds with nervousness, and perhaps slightly with the truth serum tea you just downed all at once— so much so that you almost don’t notice wriothesley’s hand sticking out once again in a polite handshake. much less do you notice the fascinated studying scan of his eyes across your face as your hand meets his.

“and again— welcome to the fortress of meropide, y/n.”

you don’t sleep well on your first night at the fortress.

perhaps it’s due to not being used to the overwhelming pressure of the water, perhaps due to the lack of warmth that your metal surroundings bring, perhaps a side effect of the tea.

or perhaps… it’s because you dream of ajax.

at first, the dream is sweet— drowning in cheesy, tooth-rooting romance tropes dug from the most delusional corners of your brain, ones that you desperately tried to suppress after you got over your phase of reading romance novels as a child. you’re reliving the tension-filled moment inside your hotel bathroom from the other morning, where some mystical force had pulled you and ajax so close together you shared the same breath, getting painstakingly closer still. only this time, instead of getting interrupted by those guards, the scene keeps going… and going… until you truly, finally meet each other in the middle.

within the misty midsts of your slumber, it almost feels real— there’s a shock of electricity when your lips touch, your heart beats faster from even outside the dream, you can nearly feel the warm sigh of satisfaction that ajax lets out from his nose and onto your face. but it still isn’t enough, the tightness in ajax’s desperate grip onto the back of your head and on the small of your back aren’t present enough. the juxtaposition of his fiery warm skin against your own cold one isn’t contrasting enough, your skin doesn’t burn as fiercely as it does when you touch him in the waking world.

and soon enough, the dream shifts… shifts into scenes of ajax inside the fortress. you’re not lucid enough to find the images strange, as you’ve never seen him inside the fortress yet— so you remain stuck, watching as he sneaks past a plethora of guards to reach a decrepit tunnel, overridden with plant-life as it connects out into the fontainian sea. your vision starts to blend incomprehensibly like watercolors on wet paper, until all the remains is a blinding, blue mess and a faint whisper in ajax’s voice:

“something’s… calling me… i… i have to go…”

taglist ; @kentply @osaemu @rain-and-a-nice-nap @koichirana

and don’t forget to boycott this shitty game!!

[arachnixe]

Kinship

I peer through the glass into the holding chamber. The specimen within paces aimlessly, without purpose or direction, interacting with nothing inside.

“What’s wrong with it?” I ask.

“She’s been restless and agitated like this since we separated her from the others.”

I glance over at my partner. “‘She,’ huh?”

He shrugs, looking self-conscious. “I mean, look at her. She looks like a woman, doesn’t she?” He gestures vaguely into the chamber. “Or like she used to be one. We’re working on saving her, making her a person again anyway, right?”

I suppose we are trying to save it, but I certainly can’t think of this thing as a person the way it is now. Especially so utterly directionless with its connection severed to the rest of its Swarm.

It is a pretty thing, though, I must admit, vaguely person-shaped as it is.

Its skin—or carapace, rather, rigid and chitinous—is a lovely jade green, its limbs elegant and many-jointed.

The dark, hair-like structures on the top of its head are similarly striking. They’re probably some kind of setae; I’ll want to collect a sample for study.

It looks right at me through the glass, and I exhale softly in an involuntary expression of wonder. Its multifaceted eyes—two perfectly cut rubies of immaculate shine and impossible depth—grip me with something like longing until, an eternity later, it resumes its pacing.

“Doctor Klein? You catch that?” My partner interrupts my momentary lapse of concentration.

“Hm? Oh yes, remarkable eyes. I should document the observation.”

“Er, no. I was reminding you that I will not be staying to join you on your overnight observation.”

“Right. The wedding. Good luck on that. Or congratulations? I’m never sure what to say about these things.”

He laughs, clapping me on the shoulder. I flinch at the unexpected touch and hope my tight-lipped smile reads as genuine.

I breathe a sigh of relief when he leaves.

“Maybe I am the opposite of you,” I confide to the creature through glass. “You barely function without the company of your kind, and I barely function while in the company of mine.”

I settle down and get to work. “Perhaps with just the two of us, we’ll make good progress.”

I review my notes. When it was captured, the creature was observed to be patient, intelligent, and confident. It threatened several researchers and nearly escaped a half-dozen times before it could be brought to this facility.

And then it abruptly stopped trying.

We predicted some kind of reaction, of course. This facility had been specially constructed to isolate those inside from the—still poorly understood—mental connection between members of the Swarm.

We expected it to show signs of agitation, but not this…listless melancholy.

Its behavior remains unchanged as the hours pass, even as I try various forms of stimulation. It acknowledges nothing, not even recordings of others of its kind. Its eyes focus on nothing in particular, with only one occasional exception.

It watches me observe it sometimes.

I visit the glass-walled room with a fresh mug of coffee, and I catch it looking at me again. I move, and its eyes follow.

Yes, I manage to be a figure of interest even when nothing else is. Because I am the only other living thing in here, perhaps?

I approach the speak-through grill and attempt to open communication.

“Hello, my name is Dr. Klein.”

I did not think this through and find myself at a loss without a script. “Can you even understand me?”

It stares at me, unanswering. I fidget with my skirt uncomfortably.

There is something so compelling in its eyes. Though it does not emote like a person, it somehow projects a sense of deep sadness and longing.

“You’re lonely, aren’t you?” The insight strikes me with the force of lightning. I can practically feel its loneliness myself.

Why do I feel like I understand this creature better than my own family or coworkers? Their moods could be inscrutable, but I read this creature’s melancholy as plain as day.

I press my hand to the glass, and to my surprise, it approaches the window to mirror the gesture.

To hell with the study protocols. I want to understand these creatures, and this is the furthest anyone has gotten.

I override the security on the holding chamber and enter, hoping to reinforce whatever this tenuous connection is. I am more determined than ever to save it.

“Does this help?” I ask. “There’s no Swarm here, I know, but I’m here with you, and I’m on your side.”

One step at a time, it closes the distance to me. It moves slowly, as if to avoid startling me. The whole time, its beautiful eyes stare into mine.

Soon it’s inches away.

So close, I cannot help but acknowledge to myself that it is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I am utterly entranced by it.

When it reaches its hand-like appendage to my face, I lean into the touch.

So smooth. Cool to the touch. Oddly sweet and comforting.

The affection I feel for this thing surprises me, but I do not care to debate myself about the validity of those feelings.

I probably should interrogate my willingness, however, when it pulls my lips to its mouth in a kiss.

The taste is sweet, like honey. Its tongue is almost human, though alien ridges and protrusions along the sides tickle my own tongue in novel and exciting ways.

It pulls away. The experience leaves me feeling gently fuzzy headed and with a welcome euphoria.

The creature opens its mouth to speak at last. “You save me?”

I recognize, somehow, that it pulled the thought—and maybe even the words themselves—from my mind. Something about that kiss…

I nod. “Of course. That’s the most important thing. May I exit the room?”

It permits me to leave.

I do not bother to reactivate the security.

What I need is fresh air to clear my head, I decide. I make my way through the facility toward the exit, flashing my badge to the overnight guards at the checkpoints.

I need to think clearly if I am to come up with a way to save this creature. And I will save it in a way that is kinder than my partner intends.

No, he would force it to be a person again. That’s a cruelty I’ve had to live my whole life with, and I now know of another way.

The lock cycles. As I take my first step outside, the fuzziness in my head clears. It focuses into distant chatter, into light and life and song and…

The Swarm floods my mind. The sudden connection nearly drops me to my knees, but I maintain my outward composure.

Knowledge, thought, and desire floods me in a way that nearly overwhelms.

The feeling of connection and belonging is so beautiful, I nearly cry.

I don’t. A precious member of the Swarm is still held captive.

With our combined knowledge, we make a plan to save it.

[sonarspace]

Could we get Geto, Gojo, Nanami and Choso reacting to their artist s/o overworking themselves? Like barely taking any breaks and stuff like that, I need fluff :C thank you 🖤

DAARIN - ダーリン

wc: about 700 a/n: daarin = darling in japanese :D the melody I described here is reflections by toshifumi hinata. i don't know much about that genre of music but it's one of my favorites. sorry if it's not that good i kinda slacked but hope you like it anon :)

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

it was late at night and you were trying to perfect the tempo of a ballad you recorded. you had a deadline of four days but nothing was sounding the way you wanted. two days left now. you've locked yourself in your studio trying to write and record a few melodies to send to your team. only leaving your studio to get yourself a snack or use the bathroom. even your phone is switched off so you could fully immerse yourself into the music. you had one more left. but you just couldn't get it right. you sigh as your head falls down onto the table in front of you. you hear a loud knock and move to open the door.

you’re greeted by the sight of your boyfriend with a big smile on his face and a bag of food in his hand. you return the smile as your head meets his chest and you hold him tight. he puts the bag down and hugs you back. he smells fresh and warm. comforting. "my daarin," he whispers.

the way he holds you with so much delicacy and care has tears brimming your eyes. you pull back and look up at him. you love him so much you think to yourself. and give him a multiple pecks. "ordered some takeout,” he chuckles quietly through your endless kisses. you both sit down on the couch in the studio and catch up. he tells you about the work trip he came back from and asks you about your progress with the project . “you’ve been overworking yourself, again.” he looks at you worriedly. “i’m almost done, but it just doesn’t sound right”. he moves closer to you. his hand scratching your back lightly and then moving up to your neck. he massages the formed knots there and you hum in relief. “why don’t you show me what you’ve got? maybe i can help.” he suggests. you play him the piece and he just stares straight ahead the entire time. start to finish. “soooo what do you think?” you ask him nervously.

it’s a viola melody accompanied by the piano. the viola is main attraction of the piece whilst the piano plays in softened manner in the background. he felt like it was speaking to him. his heart clenched at how pensive it sounded. “it’s beautiful.” he smiles at you sadly. “what was the inspiration?”

“youth. the good and the bad.” you smile back at him. there were moments of melancholy and happiness which you tried incorporating the best way you could in the piece as well. “i love it. i think it sounds perfect the way it is.” he says as his palm holds your cheek. “you really think so?” you ask him. “mhm, being in the studio for two days straight is probably clouding your judgement. you need rest baby.” his thumb strokes your cheek. “hear it back tomorrow and you’ll know.”

“okay, let's go upstairs.” you say to him tiredly. you decide on taking a quick shower. you're looking up at the shower waterfall as you feel his hands on your shoulder. you tilt your head as he leaves a kiss on your neck, your jaw, the side of your face and you exhale contentedly as his hands massage your shoulders. you turn around as his hands move in your hair scratching lightly at your scalp as he helps you wash your hair. he takes a loofah and pours your lavender scented body wash. he plants kisses all over your body as he drags the loofah over your arms, chest and slowly moves down to your abdomen and over your thighs. your heart feels full seeing him take care of you like this. feeding you, helping you, cleaning you up. he helps you out of the shower and into your pjs.

you're both laying in bed facing each other as you cup his cheek and whisper an "i love you". he kisses your wrist "i love you too, sweet girl." and you fall asleep in his arms. content.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

GOJO | GETO | NANAMI | CHOSO | YOUR FAV

© SONARSPACE 2023 | DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORK ON OTHER PLATFORMS!

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

I don’t know what type of magic you posses but Blanche has been like digital therapy I’m losing the stress I didn’t realize I had.

Like??? Why does reading about him make me feel so calm??? What’s happening????

It would be so cute if you knitting sessions with him and at the end exchanged the things you made

Also I think Yves could work as a middle child🤔 I’m an older sister and while Yves could work as the oldest, Blanche kinda out older brothers him imo

Tw: implied drugging

He would be hopping in joy when you agree to sacrifice your weekend to spend time with him. Blanche would excitedly clap his hands as he cheers, successfully winning you over instead of that indecent hussy who usually invites you to those raunchy home parties. It was also a smart move to choose him over some boozy party, as he was on his last straw. He would have sabotaged it out of spite, causing a casualty or two to scare you off.

"Oh, you are such a sweet little angel! Thank you, thank you!" Opened his arms, you would jump in and then he would gently twirl you around. Giggles resonated throughout his living room as he continued playing with you with such glee.

He carried you on his hip as he made his way to the sofa. Blanche set you down and stroked your hair, kissing the crown of your head before leaving for the stairs. You turned your head to see him taking his first step, using his trusty wooden cane.

You told him that you could help him take whatever he's trying to retrieve. He doesn't need agonizingly go up a flight of stairs for that.

He smiled. "Well. If my helpful darling insists, could you be a dear and bring us the 'box of Jolly and Joy'?"

You nodded and hopped off the couch, Blanche chuckled deeply as you bolted past him, rushing up the stairs.

"Oh, my sweet. There is no rush, there is no need to run. You could trip and fall, that wouldn't be ideal. Would it, dear?" You're already out of earshot before you can even hear him finish his sentence as you heard it more than thrice.

__

The box of Jolly and Joy is a large but lightweight wooden chest. It contains a random assortment of items, which includes at least two sets of knitting needles and a wide array of yarn. It definitely contained your favourite colour and in your favourite shades. It had other items in there, like his past wood carvings and relevant equipment, art supplies, bobbins to make lace, ribbons, music boxes, musical instruments, pottery tools, scrapbooks, stickers, VHS tapes of old, popular movies, embroidery and its relevant objects... He basically has every homely and vintage hobby contained in this chest.

"What can the box of Jolly and Joy offer you today, my flower?" Asked Blanche, as he sits with his legs together. He rests his hands atop his lap.

You rummaged through it, taking your time deciding what to do. Too occupied with it to realize that he is jotting down something in his notebook while his pocket watch is out.

You pulled out the knitting needles and yarn. Handing him a set while you held onto yours.

"Ah, wonderful choice. Thank you, my love. Thank you, box of Jolly and Joy!" He began casting a few loops onto his needle using the colored yarn you picked out for him. "What would you like me to make, my dear?"

You told him whatever he wanted. You said that you're going to make something for him.

That earned you a kiss on the temple. He said nothing else as he bent down to pick up a few more colors of yarn. You noticed that he also picked up a tattered, square sheet. Which you then recognized as the cover of a Vinyl Record disc.

You already started knitting as he stood back up, walking to the gramophone nearby and setting it up so that it could play the music he wanted.

Half a minute after he set the needle on the rotating disc, soft, crackly music started playing. A slow, calm, and elegant Valse Serenade sets the tone of the room to be lazy, carefree, and lax. There was a strange sense of longing, melancholy, and nostalgia that you didn't truly understand while listening to it, but it was so mild, that it became negligible. You let your muscles relax as you felt the burdens of the world evaporate from your shoulders, all you had to do was knit and enjoy.

"I shall prepare us some delicious snacks and cups of hot, herbal tea to enjoy." Said Blanche as he held onto his cane for support. You shot up from your seat and dropped your work onto the seat, you said that you could do it for him.

You told Blanche that you wanted him to stay here and rest his joints.

"Oh, my dove. You pamper me too much." He smiled, caressing your cheek. "What about preparing them together? You can choose your favorite types of treats."

And so, you agreed. Walking to the kitchen with him and chatting about the cookies and pastries he baked while you're away. You had a lengthy list to choose from: classic, chocolate chip cookies, raisin scones, lemon squares, palmiers, gingerbread shapes and men, pecan rum bars, oat cookies, mini rhubarb pies, slices of fruitcakes, strawberry and creme whoopie pies, shortbread and blueberry muffins, fudge brownies and finally, meringues.

They're all apparently baked fresh, this morning and yesterday. It's unbelievable, with his snail-like speed and capabilities, but you're not one to question a good thing. Whatever he makes, it's bound to be heavenly.

While he's brewing the tea and filling the kitchen with pleasant floral and earthy scents from his special blend of herbs, you were building the treat platter; choosing the ones that you like and the treats that you think Blanche would want.

He sets up the coffee table in the living room with saucers and small dessert forks. Blanche would return to the kitchen when he heard the kettle whistling loudly, he took it off the heat and poured it into two quaint teacups.

He giggled at how you decided to pile the plate with his baked goods, it was heaping over like a mountain. Blanche is always happy to know you enjoy his cooking.

The vibe was undeniably cozy. The warm, orange lights from his incandescent lightbulbs illuminated his cottage. The doors were shut to not let a draft in from the heavy rain outside in, but it was still a bit chilly. So Blanche took out a massive, weighted blanket from his 'Chest of Comfy' next to his gramophone. The two of you had it draped over each other's laps.

You hadn't restarted your knitting project yet, as you were too busy stuffing your face with Blanche's godly desserts. A knowing smile rested on Blanche's charmingly handsome features as he took a sip from his tea, his pinkie lifted up gracefully. In a few seconds, you will be asking if you could drink from his cup.

And he was right. Of course, he agreed. Anything for his beloved dove.

The rainy afternoon passes by with him knitting, while you're mostly eating and drinking. Making multiple trips to his kitchen to refill your cup and his, and the snack platter too. The record Vinyl played numerous other songs, all of which were vintage, gentle, kind, romantic, and easy in nature. Sometimes it would make you somewhat sad, but you think that's just how it sounds like back in the olden days.

Blanche would have been done in fifteen minutes, but he wanted to prolong the time spent with you as long as possible. So he pretended that he needed quite a bit of time to finish. Whereas you barely even started, not even 10% completed. But that's alright, he knows that you felt great and entertained, as his tea should make everything extra amusing to you no matter how mundane or boring. You're in your own bliss and he is in his own as you decided to knit while being perched on his lap. Blanket wrapped over the two of you.

However, when a certain song began to play, he would set his work down and have a joyful, toothy grin. "Oh, how fun! It's our favorite song to waltz to, can we please do that?" He watched you with such large and pleading eyes as he clasped his hands together in anticipation.

You mirrored his smile, hopping off his lap to humor his request. He would rise up, abandoning his cane and leading you to the clearing in the living room, made especially for waltzing between you and him.

He pressed a hand against your back while he had to slouch since he was too tall for you to comfortably reach his shoulder. You and he intertwined hands and soon, the steps were synced and fluid. Following the beat of the music and leisurely slow dancing around the room.

It's incredibly easy as you had practiced this numerous times with Blanche before, you could even do it with your eyes closed. You felt floaty and loose, eternally grateful to experience this magical moment with someone who you love, someone who actually filled the ominous void in your life.

You rested your head on his chest. This is your paradise and Blanche's heaven.

He let his curls sway to the rhythm of the music, occasionally it would brush your leg due to the close proximity. Neither of you spoke, only letting the rich vocals and melodic piano notes course through each other's blood.

Your project and his were left on the sofa, incomplete. But that only means you and Blanche would be spending much more time together to complete them.

Blanche lets out a soft sigh of delight.

All he ever wanted was dancing with him, in his arms.

[turtlecleric]

What.... did I just write? Hey @justalotoffanfiction this is your fault, I think.

bay!mikey x fem reader, nsfw I guess but the vibe is more... melancholy?

cws: drugs/altered state of mind, negative thoughts/view of self

---

"Bad day?"

It takes you a moment to fully process that he's there. Another moment to fully process the words. You just nod, and the way his bandana falls over his shoulder captures your attention. Spilling down his plastron, swaying in the air as he bends down. Strange, you think. That it's orange like fire but flows like water.

Yeah, okay. You're definitely feeling it.

You feel gentle fingers brush your hair away from your eyes, and you realize they had fallen shut at some point. When they open again, Mikey is still there. He looks concerned. You wonder why.

"You wanna talk about it?"

A lot of answers run through your mind. Yes. No. Will it always hurt like this. Do you think I'm pretty. When does it stop.

You settle with shaking your head.

"What did you take?"

You sigh, stretching your arms above your head and blinking slowly. What did you take?

"Just some... edibles."

The question makes you smile. He always asks, and you've always responded with the same thing, ever since the beginning. "I'd like that, Stranger."

He hums, and it sounds sad. Again, you wonder why. Is he thinking of her again? The vibrations of his voice tangle with your heartbeat. You feel your pulse in his mouth. Your chest hurts.

"Can I stay with you?"

He tucks his arms beneath you and holds you close, carrying you to the bedroom. You always love the way he does this. Handles you like you're precious. Like you matter. You sigh when he places you on the bed and pulls the blanket over you.

Soft. Warm. Safe. Such a pretty lie.

The world flows around you. Like the air is water. But that would make his bandana like the air, and that's not quite right, is it? You hear Mikey moving around the room, then a song starts to play beneath the waves. Hm. Your record player. He must've pulled it out.

The bed dips, and you open your eyes to see him settle over you. His eyes are unbelievably blue. You want to dive in headfirst. He kisses you, and you let your eyes flutter shut. Slow and wet and cool, stealing your breath like there's water in your lungs. Maybe you did dive in.

Could you ever love me?

Treacherous thought. Dangerous, in fact, because it would be easy to pretend that he could. To imagine that you're anything to him other than a way to get what he wants. To feel his lips on your neck and his hand on your waist and interpret that as love.

Could you ever love me? Could you?

His hand massages your side, your hip, your thigh. You let him do what he wants. Let yourself relax. Might as well give him the one thing you're apparently good for, right? Before he leaves again?

Would you stay? If I asked, would you stay?

You're losing time, you think. You said something, didn't you? Or was that him? Him. His hands, his lips, his tongue. It's hard to think past what you feel, what you hear. Oh, he is talking.

You focus on the rumble of his voice, and his words echo in your head long after he says them. Beautiful. Tight. Perfect. Love.

Love? You're imagining things again. Focus on what's real, silly girl. Stop wishing on the stars you keep seeing in his eyes.

More even than the drugs, he manages to silence your thoughts. To fill you up so completely, to replace everything else with only him and you and the feeling of flying. You wish you could stay in this forever. With him.

But you can't.

He's always sweet. Kind. Gentle and respectful and consistent with his aftercare in a way no other man has ever been with you. But he always leaves right after, which means you can never fully enjoy it.

There's a stillness, now. A silence. Is he even there? Or did he leave you already?

"Hey, Stranger," you mumble softly. A hand finds yours. Not yet, then.

You must be quiet for too long, because he calls your name. Your thumb brushes across the back of his hand. The texture of his scales is pleasant, and you wonder if anyone has ever told him that. You wonder if she ever told him that.

You wonder if he's drowning in the air, too, or if he's learned to swim without you.

He says your name again, like a question. You want to ask him to stay. You want him to stay. You want...

"Nothing," you whisper into the water. "Be safe, okay?"

He hesitates. Swallows. Presses a kiss to your forehead. And it would be so easy to see that as love. So easy, if you weren't you. If you were worth anything at all.

"I will. Good night."

You hum, and his hand lingers for a moment more before it pulls away from your own. The world still spins, even now, and it's not fair. It's never been fair.

When you're sure that he's gone, you let yourself cry.

___

Tag list: @yorshie @khayalli @thejudiciousneurotic @mxalmighty @thelaundrybitch @luckycharms1701

[sugar-omi]

Kinda a request but also not: I would like to see jealous/possesive!MC bc I've been somewhat lurking in the tags, and I haven't seen any of it besides one person scraping an idea of both Cove and the MC being yanderes for each other. Like I'm insane about Cove, ik I'm not alone 😭.

It would be super interesting to see how a jealous/possessive!MC responds to Baxter during the step 3 prologue when he hits on Cove. 🤭

i can ramble abt this forever n ill prbly end making a part 2 to this lol pls even a few of my first post have a lotta jealous/possessive reader w a light yandere theme since im not completely in the scene but the possessiveness makes my brain churn LOL <333

tags : Suggestive, step 3, slight yandere theme, jealous/possessive reader

synopsis : you might be a bit too possessive with cove. but if he loves it and it sets the record straight, what's the problem?

when baxter starts making subtle flirtatious comments to cove, it makes your head spin

of course you know your boyfriend is attractive!

you've seen the way tourists look at him, and when you were still in school, you heard and saw the way other students ogled and giggled to each other about how cute cove is.

unfortunately, you can't just put a collar on him with your name on it. although a small part of you thinks cove might like it.

so even after baxter gets the idea that you're both taken. (not that it needed to be said with the glare on your face and the way you straighten up, pulling cove into you)

you still go to some lengths to make sure he remembers that

instead of just holding his hand, you'll pull him into your lap of you can, wrapping your arms around him and kissing his shoulder/neck occasionally

and if you're in cove's car after a dinner date, and baxter just happens to walk out of his condo where he can see you stretched over the middle console, tangling your fingers in cove's hair and kissing within an inch of your lives...

well that's just a coincidence <3

and if you're coming back from a trip at the beach that was getting much too steamy with your hand dipping under the leg of cove's swim shorts, and run into baxter on the way back

you won't easily admit that it brings you too much happiness to see cove fidgeting, itching to get away so he can be alone with you, and how baxter's eyes widen a bit at the blooming marks on cove's skin

if you can put the grudge aside enough to hang out with baxter during the "sightseeing" moment, then of course the topic of dating and crushes comes up

baxter smiles when you say that cove has only ever been with you, and vice versa.

of course you note the melancholy look on his face, and you feel like he's being sarcastic. or at least half-hearted in his well wishes

maybe the look on your face is a bit too much on the sour side, but you don't worry about that. "cove and i will certainly spend the rest of our lives together. our souls are intertwined after all."

your smile is a bit sickly sweet, but you move on anyway

I wanna talk a bit abt cove though...

yk how in step 2, if you punch/scare/cuss at jeremy, cove admits that he likes it?

I think he knows and sees how jealous, how possessive you are and feeds into it sometimes

it makes his heart beat (and even turns him on) that you're claiming him in any way

he sees how you pull him into your lap, or how you hold onto his arm, or how you kiss him even more when in front of baxter

he knows that when you ran into baxter, you find too much pleasure in how he squirms. and when you finally get back to his room for a little privacy, you're almost feral with how you touch and kiss him

he sees the way you leer and smirk when baxter walks by you two, and cove flushes because even though he's embarrassed bc baxter definitely saw you making out, he's also a bit... excited by it

it doesn't make sense, and it embarrasses him more just thinking abt it, but it just makes him feel so warm and tingly when you act like this that it overrides his shame <33

[skiiyoomin]

⤑Back to navigation

Content: Saiki x reader, fluff

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

ღIf it's for you

'Great'

You think, grimacing at the sight of the unreleting rain cascading down onto the ground, as you shift your gaze from the window of the classroom to the board, where the teacher droned on and on.

Previously, the weather seemed warm and sunny enough to not expect any rain, although, said weather clearly had other plans.

See, you normally didn't mind the rainy weather, in fact, you welcomed it, taking comfort in the soft sound of droplets landing on your window, feeling sense of melancholy. Of course, all of this is great when one is inside the comfort of their own home. However, having to walk back home in the pouring rain with nothing to cover you was not something you looked forward with enthusiasm.

The bell rang, signaling the end of the last period. Classmates quickly packed up, rushing out of the classroom in a hurry to get to the coverage of their homes, away from the pouring water. You took your time putting all your materials away, seeing as you'd get wet anyway, there truly was no point in hurrying.

Once you reached the main doors, your steps faltered, the rain looking much more daunting up close. You gripped your bag tighter in your hands, preparing yourself for the fastest dash you were about to make. Before you could take a single step further a voice from behind spoke up "You're not actually planning on going back home without an umbrella are you?" you swirl around, finding Saiki squinting at you, as if inspecting your next move "Well I don't really have much of a choice do I" You cross your arms, huffing. He seemed to think for a second, making a split decision.

"We can share my umbrella" it wasn't a suggestion, but rather a statement, almost as if he wasn't giving you an option. To say you were surprised is an understandment, but you weren't gonna pass up a golden offer.

The walk to your house was silent until you softly spoke up "Thank you, by the way" He glanced at you, quickly looking back, a tint of pink forming on his cheeks "Don't mention it" Your eyebrows quirked up in amusement, a teasing smile forming on your lips "You know, I thought you hated bringing attention to yourself"

"I do"

"Then why suddenly bother helping me?"

It was silent for a few moments, you were starting to think you crossed a line when he spoke up "Because if it's for you, i'd do anything"

Time seemed to stop in that moment as your steps halted, your eyes going wide and a furious blush spreading on your cheeks, for once, you were speechless. Saiki merely looked at you and continued walking as if what he said was insignificant "You're getting wet"

You ran to catch up to him, regaining your senses and speaking up "H-Hey! You can't just say that!"

He smiled smugly, finding your flustered state amusing. In response you huffed, crossing your arms in indignance while you looked to the side, unable to look him in the eye without going beet red again.

At last, your house came into view and in a way, you felt a deep sense of disappointment, not wanting the moment to end, but time was not on your side and soon enough you were at the doorstep.

You mustered the courage to look up at Saiki, opening your mouth to say something, yet your voice seemed to disappear in that moment. The man in question simply looked at you slightly amused, deciding to turn around and walk back to his own home. Without thinking, you grabbed his wrist, spiraling him around and smashing your lips against his cheek. Pulling away slowly, you uttered softly "For the record, i'd do anything if it's for you too"

Quickly, you dashed to your front door, slamming it and leaning back into it as your thoughts finally caught up, making a flush rush up your entire body 'I can't believe I just did that'.

Meanwhile, Saiki stood outside, completely and utterly shocked, his cheeks going crimson. Without helping it, a smile spread on his face.

Maybe walking under the rain wasn't so bad.

[tendaysofrain]

“Three Poems for the End of the Year” (歲晚三首) Translation

(Happy Spring Festival/Lunar New Year/Chinese New Year to all!  I thought this series of poems was a good introduction for certain traditions and customs surrounding the festival, so here they are, please enjoy!)

Three Poems for the End of the Year

By Su Shi (Song dynasty, 1062 AD, 11th century)

Exchanging gifts at the end of the year is called “gifting the year” (1); inviting others to feast together is called “sending off the year” (2); keeping vigil through the night of the eve is called “watching over the year” (3).  Such are the customs in Shu (4) (5).  Since I am now a government official in Qixia (6) and cannot return home at the end of the year, I am writing these three poems here for Ziyou (7).

Gifting the Year (1)

Each household’s harvest is now done, which will aid in the yearly event (8).

Worried about missing out on the festivities, people exchange presents freely.

The contents vary according to their place of origin, the poor gives little while the rich gives plenty.

An enormous carp lays across the plate, within the cage rests a pair of rabbits.

The wealthy displays extravagance, their embroidered silks glowing in lustrous hues.

The poor cannot afford the luxury, and opted for small gifts of pastries.

The official residence doesn’t have familiar faces, while the celebrations continued in the alleys.

I wish to celebrate with the customs of my hometown, yet there's nobody who will join me.

Sending Off the Year (2)

Faraway lives my old friend, reluctantly do we part.

Though people can return to visit, the years never will.

Where have the years gone?  To the ends of the earth.

Off chasing the east-flowing waters (9), and into the timeless seas.

The neighbor to the east has the well-aged wine, and the neighbor to the west owns the fattened pig.

All for a day’s festivity, to compensate for the melancholy of the ending old year.

But never be consumed while mourning this loss, lest you forgo the fresh new year.

If one looks back while moving forward, old age and infirmity shall catch up.

Watching Over the Year (3)

The year shall soon end, a long snake swimming towards the gloomy depths.

Its slender scales already half out of view, who can hide its intention to leave?

And if one wishes to tie up its tail, though diligent this is still in vain.

Trying their best to fight off sleep, children play merrily into the night.

Wishing the morning rooster won’t crow, my anxiety grows amid the urging of the geng drums (10) (11).

Sitting through the night whilst petals of ash drifts from the lamp (12), the Big Dipper already askew when I stand up.

Will the New Year be absent next year?  I fear what’s on my mind will be delayed again.

The youth who can cherish this singular night, their will and spirit are praiseworthy indeed.

—————————-

Notes:

“Gifting the Year”/饋歲/馈岁:  refers to the custom of exchanging gifts at the end of the year.

“Sending Off the Year”/別歲/别岁:  refers to the custom of feasting on the 29th day of the Twelfth month in order to “bid farewell to the old year”.

“Watching Over the Year”/守歲/守岁:  refers to the custom of staying up through the entire night of the eve and the early hours of the first day of the new year; lamps and candles are also kept on or lit through the night so the light can rid the residence of all evil, pestilence, and illness in preparation for the new year.

Shu/蜀:  name of a region; the archaic name of the region known today as Sichuan/四川.

The first two sentences in Su Shi’s introduction here are a direct reference to the records of New Year’s customs from the Jin dynasty (266 - 420 AD) book 《風土記》 by Zhou Chu/周處/周处.  In fact, Su Shi’s description here is a paraphrase of the same information in 《風土記》:  ”蜀之風俗，晚歲相與餽問，謂之餽歲。酒食相邀為別歲。至除夕，達旦不眠，謂之守歲”.

Qixia/岐下:  refers to the foot of the Qishan/岐山 mountain in Shaanxi province/陕西省 today.

Ziyou/子由:  courtesy name of Su Shi’s younger brother Su Zhe/蘇轍, the recipient of this letter.

Yearly event/歲事:  implies the New Year’s festival, colloquially called “passing the year” (Guonian/過年/过年 or Dusui/度歲/度岁) or “yearly festival” (Nianjie/年節/年节), now known more widely as “Spring Festival”/春节 (this name came about in 1914 from an official document), “Lunar New Year”/农历新年, or “Chinese New Year”.

East-flowing waters:  a common Chinese literary motif that refers to the passage of time; this is because both Yangzi River and Yellow River flow eastwards.

Geng drum:  a drum carried by night watchers, called Gengfu/更夫; gengfu will sound the drum every Shichen/時辰/时辰 (1 shichen = 2 hours) during the night while he is patrolling the streets and on the look out for potential dangers like fires or robbers.

It should be noted that in the old times, age is calculated as “1 year old” at birth, and increases by 1 every New Year’s festival (the resulting age number from this traditional age calculation method is now called Xusui/虛歲/虚岁).  This is reflected in the character sui/歲/岁, which means both “age” and “year”.  This also means that in the old times, everyone has a birthdate, but there are no annual “birthdays”.  Now we can understand Su Shi’s anxiety while waiting for the old year to end:  he will be considered “1 year older” after the eve ends, which reminds him that he’s aging.

Petals of ash:  refers to the ash left by the burning candle wick.

—————————-

Original Text (Traditional Chinese):

《 歲晚三首 》

[宋]  蘇軾

歲晚相與餽問為“餽歲”；酒食相邀呼為“別歲”；至除夜達旦不眠為“守歲”。蜀之風俗如是。餘官於岐下，歲暮思歸而不可得，故為此三詩以寄子由。

《 饋歲 》

農功各已收，歲事得相佐。

為歡恐無及，假物不論貨。

山川隨出產，貧富稱小大。

置盤巨鯉橫，發籠雙兔卧。

富人事華靡，彩繡光翻座。

貧者愧不能，微摯出舂磨。

官居故人少，里巷佳節過。

亦欲舉鄉風，獨唱無人和。

《 別歲 》

故人適千里，臨別尚遲遲。

人行猶可復，歲行那可追。

問歲安所之？遠在天一涯。

已逐東流水，赴海歸無時。

東鄰酒初熟，西舍彘亦肥。

且為一日歡，慰此窮年悲。

勿嗟舊歲別，行與新歲辭。

去去勿回顧，還君老與衰。

《 守歲 》

欲知垂盡歲，有似赴壑蛇。

修鱗半已沒，去意誰能遮。

況欲系其尾，雖勤知奈何。

兒童強不睡，相守夜歡譁。

晨雞且勿鳴，更鼓畏添撾。

坐久燈燼落，起看北斗斜。

明年豈無年，心事恐蹉跎。

努力盡今夕，少年猶可誇。

[lephamquynhnhu]

Millennial Aegis

Chapter 3

Jing Yuan x Fem! reader

WARNINGS/ TAGS: Arranged marriage, the reader has a default name, OOC, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Word count: ~2300

Summary: He is so stubborn to give up on you, and you are too hard-headed to reciprocate his affection. When do you both stop torturing each other?

Note: I don't know how you can find my fanfic, but I am genuinely grateful for your support. This will be a short series, and I have already had an ending for it.

However, the general refuses to sleep, his mind falling into spiral thoughts and wandering to the golden day you two first met. 

"I didn't expect that a businesswoman could perry those blows fluidly. They were all perfect movements." - Lord Jing Yuan brightly praised as he escorted you to the Stargazer Navalia's clinic. 

"Father taught me Jujutsu to protect myself in many dangerous circumstances, and a merchant must know some martial art when traveling alone." You replied with a small smile, yet melancholy vaguely clouded your eyes, which Jing Yuan quickly noticed. Your father was a strict and conservative man, so his decision was ultimate. Growing up with countless rules and rigid regulations was the factor of robotic demeanors but resourcefulness in your personality.

Throughout the escorting time, the general loved listening to your distant dreams and seeing your smile, even if you rarely did. Therefore, Jing Yuan cherished each second of staying by your side; and he felt the path shortened more than expected when the two of you reached your destination. Since that day, he could not get rid of your figure, his mind kept rewinding your smile as a broken record, and a nice glow bloomed over his chest as he thought about you. Jing Yuan supposed he headed over heel for you because of the dauntless action and your intellect. Jujutsu was an art of self-defense, but you also used it to taunt the enemy's attention and protect your partner valiantly. 

However, the general did not gain any contact information except your name, so it took him two months to investigate your identity. He knew it was his fault when taking you against your will, but he could not afford to lose his beloved again.

"I vow to my name. By all my intelligence and power, I will protect and adore you forever." - Lord Jing Yuan silently declares as he kisses your lock lovingly. 

You finally woke up and saw him sleeping soundly beside you. His strong arms are wrapped tightly around you. Your body feels relaxed from last night's activities. As soon as you see his face, a shiver runs down your spine as the last-night event flashes back. You quickly turn around and start criticizing yourself. 

" We...we had sex" - The heat is creeping up to your ears again when you recall the general's lustful face pounding into you mercilessly. As you intend to move out, he hugs your frame even tighter. 

"Stay by my side a little longer, will you?" - The general still closed his eyes and murmured in the morning voice. You feel yourself blush harder as turning to him and argue that you both overslept and he should be ready to attend at the Cloudfort. You secretly felt grateful for regaining your sanity and confidence to face him. 

His Highness slowly opens his eyes and softly caresses your cheek, a hint of playfulness dancing in his orbs.

"Don't worry about it. We both got tired after all those fun times yesterday."

Your eyes divert elsewhere except those amber pupils as you gently remove his hand and let go of him.

"Very well then, you can stay as you wish. I will freshen up first."

The moment you start walking, sudden aching shocks to the very core cause you to stumble on the floor. Lord Jing Yuan quickly catches you before you fall. He helps you stand up and holds you close to him, wrapping his arms around you protectively. A knowing concern washes over his face. You politely thank him when peeling your body off him again to take the cloak covering your naked body and carefully stride up to the bathroom. After you leave the room, he sits on the bed, looking at the ceiling. He sighs deeply, thinking about what happened yesterday. A smile appears on his lips as he thinks about how beautiful you were last night. 

As soon as at the private space, you quickly wear off the robe and inspect yourself in the mirror. Three hickeys scatter on your collarbones, several toothprints on your shoulder blade, and a handprint faintly bruise your hips.

You gave an exasperated sigh and internally lamented at the consequence of a passionate night. When you finish freshening up and leaving the bath, your room has been cleaned and decorated with fresh flowers. The general is waiting for you at the dining table with a light meal. He is back in the usual military uniform. His tail hair also dripped off the water, showing he just had a quick shower in the other bathroom. 

You both silently have breakfast together but are lost in thought. When ready to go off, Lord Jing Yuan places his hands on your shoulders and leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours.

"A Zhi, I...- Before he completes the sentence, you interrupted with a light curtsy which implied no farther advance - "I'll see you later, your Highness." 

He nods slowly and says nothing, then before going to the Cloudfort, he turns back to bind goodbye to you, smiling softly.

We then live our plain days for the next one hundred years. Lord Jing Yuan keeps managing the Xianzhou. As for me, I coordinate the domestic affairs in his estate, sometimes being his temporary advisor. Thanks to the peace, I spent most of my time in Lord Jing Yuan's study room reading books or assigned to supervise some vicinity in Xianzhou Loufu. Through a century, I orchestrated him into countless decoys, yet the general never fails into them, even one. The general also attempted to close our proximity but never fruitfulness because I cleverly avoided his affections all the time. As a result, those trials gradually died away as he recognized there was no way I felt in love with him. 

Before the wedding, I used to tell Lord Jing Yuan that it hurt when love someone who did not love him, and it turned into truth. I could sense the sorrow behind his long lashes whenever facing me, yet there was nothing I was eligible to do. We still sleep in the same bed but are always people of two different worlds, and he never lays a finger on me again since the first night. We both are too stubborn, so the price to pay is spirit torture to eternity.

"General, her Ladyship...stays at the Exalting Sanctum and refuses to return the estate." - Yan Qing is his Highness's disciple adopted last year - reports awkwardly.

Lord Jing Yuan quirks an eyebrow at the young boy, and a small smile appears on his lips since this must be one of your traps. He genuinely loves and spoils you rotten, but the obstinateness needs a truce. The general decides to pick you up himself and quickly dismisses Yan Qing. 

Before Jing Yuan arrived at the Exalting Sanctum, streetlights and flower-shaped lanterns lit gloriously across Xianzhou. The ship is even more vibrant than daylight. When rendezvous at the guest room, it seems you have been waiting for him as you read books and leisurely sipped tea. 

"Three rounds of gaming chess. If you win any of them, I will let go of you. Or else, you must stop being stubborn and return to the estate with me." - He exclaims while sitting parallel to you with his chin resting on his palm. 

You perceive that he eventually has lost all patience because of the annoyance in your behavior. The general has fallen into your long-term end when suggesting this treatment and his bargain chips. You expressionlessly observe Lord Jing Yuan's face while carefully calculating the next move. His frame indicates seriousness, yet there is indescribable confidence in the general's eyes. "It is an enormous gamble when playing in his specialty. However, the reward is too good to be true. What a dilemma." - You monologue and start weighing the elements. 

"I accept the challenge, but you must concede me the first five moves in every round because I am on the disadvantageous side as playing your specialty." - You lower your voice when modifying the conditions prudentially. This factor will accumulate your victory and secure your safe point. "I will adapt to the general's playing style in the first round, plan the counteracted strategy in the consecutive wave, and checkmate him in the last game."

As soon as Jing Yuan quickly accepts and hums in amusement at the condition, you think the victorious goddess blessed your side. However, there is a fatal factor that you forget. 

"Checkmate! A Zhi, you lost." - he calmly declares after winning three solid rounds.

[That he would rather die than let go of you.]

You look petrified at the chess with a hollow mind. 

"Absolutely defeated..."

You unconsciously clench your hand so tight that the knuckles become white as a sheet of paper, and your palm threatens to bleed with the pressure of nails. "Lord Jing Yuan's style of playing chess is utterly peculiar. I could not get him because it constantly changed and nullified my moves." 

You feel like you have gone berserk. Everything crumbles. The general of Xianzhou eliminated your strategy with detailed tactics and underwent an entire century in only one step. Suddenly, a warm hand thaws your icy one, which brings you back to reality as His Highness unravels your fingers. 

"You are hurting yourself." - he gently massages your hand with a concerned look.

"My apologies, Lord Jing Yuan. I am just..." - Before you finish the sentence, Jing Yuan quickly removes his cloak to wrap it around your figure. 

"It is getting chill outside, my dear. And don't worry. We can rematch any time you want with the same conditions."

You surprisingly inquire again as if you misheard him. The general pulls you into his embrace and confirms his answer as he pats your head lightly. A glee appears on his face because of two things. You did not push him away or evade his affection as usual, and he found a new hidden aspect of your personality. He never expects you to be that competitive. 

"Let us head home. Little Jin."

You keep your words to the contract but rematch with him restlessly for the next 50 years. The loss counts up to 2573 rounds and shows no stop sign. Finally, you are bored with the repeating duty and head toward the botanic garden to refresh your mind with the old hobby. 

The garden is enormously vast and sublimely tailored to look like the epitome of a pristine forest with emerald color. The dazzling sunlight of early Summer danced through the slit of leaves shining the pathway, and cicadas started their iconic song. You silently rejoice as soft breezes with a faint floral aroma gently caress your cheeks. You began playing a folk song with a bamboo flute, then all your favorite compositions. Birds also sing their melody along with your rhythm. A sudden clap resonates behind your back when completing. You turn around and see Lord Jing Yuan looking at you, grinning happily. 

"Pardon me for my rudeness, your Highness. I didn't notice you were here." You quickly greet him with a small smile. A nightingale flies down to sit at his point finger, then mischievously jumps on his shoulder. The general watches the bird hopping up and down on his shoulder before looking at you.

"It's okay. Don't worry about it." - Jing Yuan's voice sounds gentle and soothing - "So, you are the musical master of Yan Qing? I saw a flute dangling at his side last week, yet I forgot to ask him."

You hum shortly as an answer to his rhetoric question and change the topic. After several dialogues, you learn that Jing Yuan usually stays in the garden to play chess with himself and accidentally hears you playing music. As your spirit is in a high mood, you suggest performing his requested songs. Time seems to flow slower to the general in this ardent Summer, and he feels this peaceful sentiment has not appeared for ages. There is always an invisible gigantic wall between you and him, but now, it is like a rendezvous of two soulmates after a century. Even if this short-lived moment is an ephemeral dream, Jing Yuan graciously treasures each second passing. As long as you stay by his side, nothing matters now.  

When fulfilling the performance, the general maneuvers his hands, and you are astonished by a hairpin in his palm. 

"I never expected my Lord can be a magician." - A light chuckle escapes your lips as you look at the ornament. It is an exquisitely carved camellia with ivory raindrops. The flower petal is as red as his hair tie, and the pistil shares the same color as Jing Yuan's eyes. 

"I intended to gift the bespoken hairpin to you this evening. But my lady is here now, so the wait is needless." - he gently pins it on your hair and smiles brightly as compliments you.

A bittersweet suddenly tastes on your tongue as you subconsciously touch the carved flower. It is sweet because no matter how many times you gave him your cold shoulder, Lord Jing Yuan's adoration for you never changes. It is bitter because you feel guilty, unable to reciprocate his love. The two of you were then immersed in gaming chess at the wood pavilion in the garden until sunset. They were no longer rematches because you wanted to play mere chess with him, and you could practically see the jubilant sparkling in his eyes all day. However, the happier he is, the more sinful you feel. At night, when you both settle in bed, you ask him why you cannot win even a single time, or at least let you win a round since they were not re-challenges. 

"Because losing to you means losing my lady forever." - There is clever wordplay in his answer as the general crosses his arms and stares at the ceiling. Although he hints at humor, you know that Jing Yuan is deadly serious and still clings to a sliver of hope of winning your heart. 

 "Hah...General is always stubborn, after all..." - You internally laugh, but it is humorless.