#i really am not ready for this to end at all | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

froggiewrites · 1 day

Note

Hello! I was wondering if i could request a Zoro or a Law x gn! or m!reader with angst? They are in a fight and reader kinda ignores them and hides from them and Zoro or Law realize how in love they are with the reader? Can end however you want!

Sorry I've been so slow on requests, writer's block hit me pretty hard this week! I chose Zoro with a gn!reader for this one, it just seemed to fit him pretty well (man is not good with his emotions). I hope you enjoy it!

A Bridge Too Far

Pairing: Zoro x Reader

SFW

Summary: Zoro is terrible at handling his frustrations, and you're tired of being his punching bag. He doesn't realize what he's lost until it's gone. Warnings: Angst, Zoro being a bad boyfriend, not a happy but possibly a hopeful ending? Word Count: 2.3k

Like most of your arguments with Zoro, he started it.

He always starts it, even when he doesn’t want to. When his frustrations start to bubble, he can’t help but lash out at whoever’s closest, and that’s normally you. You’re always there, waiting for him, and you never hold it against him once he calms down. Frankly, they’re less arguments and more one-sided furious rants, as you never rise to the provocation. So he doesn’t think much of it when he snaps at you again after a particularly tough battle, one that left a buzzing under his skin and a strain in his muscles that he couldn’t shake. You wouldn’t mind. You never did.

A few minutes after you follow him to the training room, sitting quietly in the corner while he readies his swords, he finally snaps. “Will you just leave me alone for once? How am I supposed to relax with you trailing after me like this?”

You don’t just sit there and take it like you always do. You don’t just get up and leave, ready to come back when he’s calmer. You stare at him a moment, not radiating fury or indignation, simply…disappointment. Weariness. “Again?”

“What?” He snaps.

“We’re doing this again? Really?” You seem completely composed and calm. It infuriates him more than snapping ever could.

“What do you mean, doing this again? You following me around like a lovesick puppy? Yeah, I guess we are.” He hits the target in front of him harder, sending splintering wood everywhere. The sound of it pierces his brain, rattling around, making him feel even worse.

You sigh, sounding horribly burdened and beaten down. “You know what? Sure. Whatever. I’ll leave you alone, Zoro, if that’s what you want. But this is the last time. I’m not putting up with this anymore.”

He grits his teeth. “Won’t put up with this? Shouldn’t that be my line?”

Your eye twitches, finally a show of emotion, a show that he’s affecting you. “I’m not your punching bag, Zoro. I’m not here for you to use to work off your adrenaline instead of learning to deal with your emotions like an adult. I’m supposed to be someone you care about.” You finally stand, gathering your things and turning to leave. You don’t look back at him as you call, “You’re going to regret this, but I won’t.”

The door slamming echoes through the room, sounding horribly…final.

He ignores it.

It takes a few hours for him to finally wind down, for the buzzing to quiet and leave nothing but a blissful silence. He doesn’t bother cleaning up the wood all over the floor, or taking a shower to rid himself off all of the sweat. He has only one thought: his bed, warm and soft and welcoming. If he’s lucky, you’ll be in it, waiting for him to hold you close and kiss your face, the closest thing he’s ever given to an apology. He eagerly makes his way to the Sunny’s sleeping quarters, opening the door slowly to the cacophony of snores coming from Luffy and Franky, accompanied by Sanji, Chopper, and Usopp’s quiet breathing. Brook is still on deck, on watch for the night, so it makes sense his bunk is empty, but Zoro notices your bed is also suspiciously clear. Even your pillow and blanket are gone, the sheets not even wrinkled, as though no one had ever slept there at all.

A small part of him tells him he should check on you, make sure you’re alright. But a much larger, louder part is crying out for rest, and he cannot help but give in, falling face first onto his mattress without even changing clothes. He’s asleep within seconds.

He’s alone when he wakes up. He doesn’t typically sleep very long, instead napping in short bursts throughout the day, but he can see the light pouring in under the door and he realizes he must have slept at least until noon. He’s shivering, still on top of his blanket. Usually when he falls asleep like this, you throw one of the extras in your locker over him, tucking him in like a child. You must not have come back in at all last night.

He ignores the uncomfortable feeling nipping at him, something he will not name. You’re fine. You’re an adult, and one night away from your bed doesn’t mean anything.

But then you aren’t at lunch.

Sanji is giving him dirty looks, and Nami is giving him the most foul side-eye he’s ever had the displeasure of receiving. The rest of the crew are trying to act normal, but Franky is suspiciously absent and Usopp is so nervous he keeps dropping everything he tries to pick up, ending in him spilling water all over himself and taking the excuse to “take a second to go change” and never come back.

He finally breaks after Sanji brings Nami another drink, takes an obvious glance at him, and they start to whisper to each other. He makes out the words idiot, asshole, and loser (the first two from Nami and the latter from Sanji), before he slams his fork down. “What? What is it?”

Nami turns to him, filled with the sort of righteous fury she only saved for those who dare hurt her friends. “God, Zoro, you don’t even know? What’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you? You’re all acting weird as hell!”

Sanji jumps in. “Because you’re acting like a jerk and have the gall to pretend everything is normal, asshole! What the hell did you say to them yesterday?”

What he said to…oh. That feeling comes back again, and he furiously clamps down on it, replacing it with a significantly more comfortable and familiar indignance. “That’s none of your business, cook.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, I think I deserve to know why I had to find them sleeping in the goddamn kitchen this morning, actually.”

In the kitchen? Of course. It’s the one place you knew he would never find you. He never went there other than mealtimes, avoiding the possibility of another stupid fight with Sanji when he wasn’t up for it. “How the hell should I know?”

“Are you still pretending you don’t know it’s your fault? They were bawling their eyes out after leaving the training room.” Nami’s even angrier than Sanji is, and Zoro genuinely thinks she might hit him. The smaller, more tender part of himself, the one he’s ignoring, wouldn’t even blame her.

But that part isn’t in charge today. “My relationship isn’t your goddamn business.”

“Relationship? You seriously think you still have one of those?”

His blood runs cold, but he forces the feeling away, standing up from the table and stalking off. “I don’t have to take this.”

Nami calls after him, “I hope they dump you!”

Sanji cries out soon after. “I hope you fall into the sea, asshole!”

Zoro could go look for you. Should, even. But he instead makes the trek to the crow’s nest, cherishing the quiet, the solitude, the safety of it.

But as he sits in what is usually his sanctuary, he begins to feel that itch beneath his skin. Quiet turns to unbearable silence, solitude turns to loneliness, safety turns to suffocation. He tries to close his eyes, to center himself, take control as he loves to do, but the moment he does he can see nothing but your face. He can almost feel your hands on his back, rubbing soothing circles while your voice gently shushes him. You were so good at that, calming him down right when he needed you. Giving him a patience he simply didn’t deserve.

A patience he had been taking for granted.

What would he do, if another man had made you cry? If someone else had raised their voice at you as he had, time and again?

Part of him tried to justify it. But I don’t mean it, some petulant part of himself cried. They know I don’t mean it.

But do you? And would it matter, anyway? He’s still shouting. You’re still taking it. How long can you perform the same song and dance before it stops being a performance?

He needs to apologize.

He just needs to find you first. You aren’t in the kitchen, though Sanji is, and he doesn’t even speak with him this time, just giving him a mean glare that would send a lesser man running. Zoro hates to admit he deserves it. You aren’t in your bed, and your things are still missing. Not in Chopper’s office. Not in the library. Not in the bathroom, though Robin is, and he has to take a moment to furiously apologize for not knocking while she laughs at him.

He can only think of a few more places to check when he remembers who was missing this morning.

Franky’s workshop is quieter than he’s ever heard it, only filled with the quiet clanking of a small hammer against an even smaller piece of metal. Franky is using his second set of hands to put together some clockwork trinket, a significantly more delicate project that he usually takes on. Zoro is confused only for a moment, then he sees you, eyes intensely watching, and he realizes what’s going on. Franky has taken you in today, chosen something simple and small to distract you, to allow you to participate in some way. He’s always been great at small comforts like this, allowing someone the peace of his presence without worrying about being a burden.

Zoro could learn a lot from him.

Franky clearly knows he’s there, shoulders tensing slightly, but he doesn’t speak, waiting for one of you to take the first step. You don’t seem to notice either, too enraptured by the small metal bird in Franky’s hands, a look of wonder on your face that makes Zoro’s heart skip despite himself.

“Hi.” He cringes the moment he speaks, the peace shattering instantly. Franky doesn’t turn to acknowledge him, but he can practically feel the wince that must be on his face from the lame opener. Your head shoots up like a frightened rabbit, every part of you tense and ready to run. You pull in on yourself, making yourself smaller, like if you’re lucky he might miss you entirely, move on to the next prey. He puts up his hands, the first and only act of surrender he has ever performed, before continuing. “Can we talk? In private?”

You look to Franky, and Zoro doesn’t know what the look you two exchange means, but it makes you get up and approach. You give him a wide berth, not even coming within a foot of him, but you nod at him briefly to indicate he should follow. However small of a gesture it is, you’ve finally acknowledged him. That’s something.

You lead him back down to the training room, still covered in splintered wood and reeking of sweat. He can’t help but notice you didn’t pick a neutral location. You lead him somewhere he feels safe.

You turn to him. “Talk.”

He hesitates a moment, trying not to trip over himself and somehow make this work, but he can see that he’s finally reached the end of your apparently not-quite-infinite patience. “I’m…sorry.” He says the words through gritted teeth, feeling as though they burn his mouth as they leave. He doesn’t like to apologize in words, but in action. In gentle hands, in small acts he could deny later. He doesn’t know why it embarrasses him, to admit he was wrong. He is pretty often. But something about it makes him feel so small, so weak. But he can be small and weak for you, right now. No matter how much it hurts.

Your eyes widen, and you take the smallest step backwards. Shocked by him admitting for once he’s at fault. “You’re…sorry?”

“Yes. I’m sorry.”

You narrow your eyes at him, searching for some kind of trick, some hidden knife ready to plunge into your back. “For what?”

“For…for what? You know for what.” He winces at how defensive he sounds, at how you start to pull in on yourself again. “Sorry. Um. For yelling at you. For taking my anger out on you when you did nothing wrong. For how I always do that. I…I don’t know why I snap at you. And it’s wrong.”

“Yes, it is.” You close your eyes for a moment, taking a deep, shuddering breath. “It isn’t fair of you to keep doing this. I tried letting it slide, because I know you just don’t know how to handle your feelings, that you aren’t coming from a place of malice. But that doesn’t make it okay. And you never stopped.” You turn your back to him, approaching a nearby window, staring out at the sea.

“I’m going to stop now. I swear it.”

“I won’t be with someone who speaks to me like that. I deserve better. You know I deserve better.” You’re trying to play tough, but he can hear the shake in your voice, and he realizes that just like yesterday you’ve only turned around so he can’t see the tears on your lashes.

He wraps his arms around you, burying his face in your hair. “You do. I swear I’ll treat you like you deserve. If I ever talk to you like that again, I’ll fall on my own sword.”

“...Swords.”

“Huh?”

“Swords. All three.”

He chuckles despite himself. “Alright. I’ll fall on all three at the same time.”

“Good. …You deserve it.”

“I know.” A silence hangs in the air. “I love you.”

You don’t answer.

You don’t hug him back, and you’re still sniffling, but you let him hold you. That has to be enough for now.

Tag List: @pandora-writes-one-piece (if you saw I forgot the taglist when I first posted this no you didn't)

#roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x reader #one piece x reader #zoro x you #one piece zoro #roronoa zoro #one piece #zoro roronoa x reader

107 notes · View notes

stainedglassvariations · 2 days

Text

LADS and Claymores

Inspired by the lovely @heartswithinreach and her amazing imagines. I haven't posted anything on tumblr for YEARS, but I love the boys so much I decided to give it another go!

Inspired by the fact that I am, for the first time in my twenty three years of life, a heavy weapon main in this game. Minor spoilers for some of the main story and yes, no Sylus. I'm trying to be a good girl and not skip ahead so I haven't met him yet :(

Zayne is concerned. Throwing all that weight around everyday applies serious stress on your body, and he wants to make sure you’re taking care of yourself. Are you consuming enough protein, carbs, and water to aid in your muscle recovery? What about your sleep schedule? You are making sure to stretch before and after work, right? You always feel a little dizzy whenever you have dinner together, trying to keep up with his rapid fire questions.

On a softer note, he always offers a massage whenever you come home with him. His evol leaves his hands blessedly cool as he rubs soothing circles in your knots. By the time he finishes, you’re a boneless, half-asleep heap on his bed. They also make up for the foul smelling horse pills he expects you to take with a full glass of cherry juice in the morning.

During combat, he stays clear. He knows his strengths, and they don’t include trying to keep up with your great-sword swinging self. He can, however, freeze the feet of your targets which gives you ample time to wind up a decisive, fatal blow. And… you do look lovely under a shower of ice and Metaflux.

Rafayel is upset. It’s hard to be your knight in shining armor when you’re swinging around a sword as tall as he is! Not that he wants you to be a damsel in distress anymore or anything, but a part of him misses the way you once needed him to come to your rescue. Plus, his flames and dagger are just a piss-poor combo when it comes to your team ups. You spend more energy making sure you don’t end up cleaving your favorite artist in two than you do fighting Wanderers.

Now, outside of fights, it’s a bit of a different story. If you can handle the weight of a claymore then surely holding him in your lap for hours on end is nothing in comparison, right? Oh, and he needs help moving a second wardrobe into his bedroom, you don’t mind do you? While you’re at it, Thomas is having a new frame delivered for his newest portrait so could you please bring that in with you?

You roll your eyes at the majority of his requests, but he always looks so genuinely put out whenever he sees you materialize your sword for combat that you don’t have the heart to say no.

Xavier is confused. What’s wrong with a normal sword, why do you need one that’s almost as big as he is? You honestly don’t have an answer for him outside of “I like the way it feels” and “it’s hard to be scared shitless when you’ve got a big ass sword”.

Really, watching you swing that thing around makes him feel tired. More so than usual he means. You’re not built for prolonged combat, so you go into every fight ready to put down the threat as quickly as humanly possible. He dutifully marches in after you, cleaning up the Wanderers lucky enough to escape your initial slaughter.

It does make it weird for him whenever you ask him to open jars or help lift heavy boxes outside of work, though. Do you really need his help opening this pickle jar or are you just feeling lazy and don’t want to apply the effort? Your silence is telling.

BONUS:

Caleb thinks you’re kidding. He laughs when you tell him that you chose to specialize in two-handed weapons, and then he sees your Hunter’s application. What follows is the most bizarre fight the two of you have ever had.

He asks you if you hit your head on the way to register or if you’re just stupid which immediately puts you on the defensive. When you deny both these things, he proceeds to lecture you on the long term consequences of muscle damage as if that’s the biggest thing you’ll have to worry about when you’re going to be out hunting literal aliens. Surprise, surprise, that makes him even more mad.

In the end, the truth comes: he hates that you’re becoming a Deepspace Hunter. It’s a surprising show of vulnerability that makes your chest go tight and your knees weak. You toe the ground, suddenly too shy to look up at his face, and mumble something about switching over to mid-range pistols before hightailing it out of his room. You don’t, of course, you forget somewhere in the two minutes it takes to wrench open your bedroom door and dive under the covers. The look on his face when he sees you going through some exercises while back home from basic almost, just almost, makes it worth it.

#love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace #xavier love and deepspace #caleb love and deepspace #imagines #x reader #lads x reader #zayne x reader #rafayel x reader #xavier x reader #caleb x reader

93 notes · View notes

vulpixisananimal · 2 days

Text

"And you're absolutely, positively, one-hundred percent sure about this?" (Isabeau asked, he looked at you, concerned. He had worried about you all morning, helping you get ready for the day, checking for bruises, for anything wrong at all. But no, the only issue you had was the same issue you had yesterday.)

"I'm sure, absolutely, positively, one-hundred percent sure." (You nod. It was, it was the only place you could think to go.)

(The Favor Tree.)

(You were going to be useless in the house. Drag them all down, get them killed, fail over and over again if you just ran into that brick wall called the House of Change. No, no what you needed, was, some time alone.)

(It took some convincing, but eventually, everyone agreed. Isabeau would help you to the Favor Tree, sit you down, and you'd wait for them to return. You tried to subtelty give them tips, hints on how to get through the house without you, but it was hard without giving anything away.)

(They would be the heros this loop, you'd just be another frozen soul in Dormont, unless you looped back beforehand, naturally.)

"I-I could still carry you! I wouldn't mind! I can beat sadness AND help you through the house!" (Isa was practicly begging, but you couldn't go, not this time at least.)

(You chuckled, and smiled.) "Hey don't worry, I'll be waiting for you right where you leave me, okay?"

"Ha, haha. ." (The laugh was forced. Jokes wouldn't help warm the air here.)

(Eventually, the two of you ended up at the Favore Tree. It loomed above you; imposing, menacing, taunting. You kept your forced smile, Isabeaus arm holding you up. You still. Couldn't. Fell. It.)

". . . The Favor Tree's pretty cool, isn't it?" (Isabeau says.)

"Yeah it is. . ." (Ah you knew this line.)

"Glad you agree!"

(Make the pun. Make the pun it's the one thing you gotta do each time to stay sane just, make the pun.) "One could say it's a pretty. . ."

". . Uh huh?"

"Tree-mendous tree!" (You say, just like before.)

". . Heh, hehaha! Ha!" (Isabeau laughs, you laugh. This time at least it wasn't as forced but. . . You could still tell he wasn't happy with it. With your whole situation.)

(He doesn't reach for you. Good thing too, you couldn't step back either.)

"Any place you want to be set down, or. . ." (Isa asks)

"Oh uh, just that root over there." (You gesture with a nod. Isa helps you over and sits you down, leaning your back against the tree. He steps back. He was looking at you, his face was full of, pitty? Great, it was pitty.)

"And, you're absolutely, sure?"

"I'm sure, Isa, okay? I promise." (You keep smiling.) "See you after the day's saved, okay?"

". . . Okay, I-I'll, I'll see you. Later. I'll see you later. After we're back."

"You'll do great! Isa! Big buff guy Isabeau! You'll do great!"

"Yeah!!! It'll go great!!" (Isabeau finally smiled back. As forced as it was.)

(He waved, you smiled back, he walked away. You wait untill he's gone. A beat, two, three, four. . .)

(. . .)

(. . . . . . . .)

". . . . Wow Stardust! You've really caused quite the stir!" (And in an instant that familiar voice filled your ears. You turn your head and sure enough, Loop was there. Oh Loop. Reliable, wonderful, annoying as hell. They didnt have a mouth but those eyes were all they needed to grinn.) "You have Isabeau carting you around like royalty! My, lucky you!"

"Loop. . ." (Your breathing gets heavy.)

"Was it all to get more time with me, Stardust? You know you could have just snuck out~"

"Loop I, I can't-" (Your stomach hurts.)

"What, can't move?!?" (Loop huffed, looking away.) "Come on, Stardust! You went back in time! So what if the King snapped your spine, it's fine now!"

"But, it's not-" (Why didn't they believe you?)

"It's fine!! It has to be fine!!" (Their tone changes, angry, or-) "You changed time!! Whatever you did it doesn't matter now!! It gets, turned, back!!"

"THEN WHY CAN'T I DO ANYTHING?!?" (You yell, you yell and yell. You yell and cry.) "WHY CAN'T I FEEL ANYTHING?!? WHY CAN'T I MOVE?!?! WHY AM I JUST, SO, USELESS?!?!?!"

(Loop doesn't reply. You keep crying, you can't, you can't stop yourself.)

"I can't do anything!! I'm useless!!! A sack of rocks to be hauled around!! I can't do anything by myself, always needing help!!! Do you think I want that?!?"

"I can't move!! I CAN'T MOVE!!!! I can't check for traps!! I can't look for keys!! I can't fight I can't walk I can't eat I can't flip pages of a book I can't do ANYTHING!!!"

"We'll never make it out!!! We're STUCK here!!! AND IT'S ALL MY FAULT!!!"

(You were sobbing, you couldn't stop. You were stuck here. You couldn't move, you couldn't fight, walk, win, live, do anything. You'd never escape, you'd never get out.)

(You're doomed.)

(It's quiet. You don't know for how long it's quiet for. You sob, unable to stop, eye squeezed closed. Loop doesn't say anything. You hear the wind rustle the leaves of the Favor Tree. You feel the sun on your face.)

(You calm down, taking a few deep breaths, one, two, three, four, five, sex, seven. You're okay, you're fine, you're okay now, you're.)

(You're. Over. It.)

". . . . . . Siffrin, I. . ." (Loops voice. You don't open your eye.) ". . . . I'm sorry."

". . . It's fine."

"No! It's not fine!" (They huff.) "If- since it looks like you really are stuck like this, we need, a new plan."

". . ." (You sigh.)

"You won't be getting anywhere by moping Stardust~" (Loop giggles.) "Who knows! This could be some twisted blessing in disguise!"

"Yeah right. . ." (You roll your eye.)

". . . Well? Are you just going to sit there being sorry for yourself?"

"Sorry, let met just stand up and be sorry somewhere else." (You stick your tongue out.)

"Hah! Hahahaha!!" (Loop laughs, and claps their hands together.) "Well now that you're feeling better, how can I help you out on this wonderful new loop, Stardust?"

#:3 #i need to update a lot of fics BUT #here~#isat #in stars and time #isat fanart #isat spoilers #isat au #isat siffrin #isat loop #isat isabeau #frozen in mind au

75 notes · View notes

simplygojo · 2 days

Text

The Devil He Made Me - Ch. 7

Authors Note: GUYS my laptop crashed last night I am SO SORRY! But now its out and ready for y'all to read it...this chapter is lowkey like a filler episode but it was necessaryyy! Also y'all are so funny messaging me after I posted that this chapter would be up in 2hrs and then I was MIA, LMAO! Anyways, I LOVE Y'ALL <3 lemme know how you like it :)

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f/reader

Series Masterlist

Chapter Summary : After battling with multiple special grade curses, y/n spends some time in the hospital so Shoko can run some tests to get to the bottom of the burning question: what was that cursed energy? With all of these thoughts swirling around y/n's head, she decides to discuss the incident with Gojo.

Word Count: 5.7k

Warnings: mention of d*eath, nightmares, pain, protective satoru

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Taglist: @mawhoreagaa; @simplyyyuji; @peqch-pie; @blue-serendipity; @starrnai; @sorcerersseestars; @n1vi; @angryglitterperfection; @krak-jj; @coweringbear; @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni; @cococola-cocaine; @sdv98o; @theendx888; @dvmb4ssbiatch; if you'd like to be added to the taglist please let me know by leaving a comment :)

“We’ve made our decision,” Gakuganji said, his voice flat. “For the safety of all sorcerers, y/n is to be executed by the end of the week.”

A silence fell over the room, thick and suffocating. Yaga’s fists clenched at his sides, his knuckles turning white. Utahime’s face was pale, her jaw set in anger and disbelief.

“You can’t be serious,” she whispered, shaking her head. “You’re going to kill her for something she hasn’t done? Based on hearsay from a cursed spirit? This isn’t justice—this is murder!”

Gakuganji’s gaze didn’t waver, and his words didn’t hesitate. “This is protection.”

Yaga’s voice was a low growl. “This is cowardice.”

Utahime stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor as she turned to Gakuganji, eyes blazing. “Do you really think Gojo is going to stand by and let this happen? You’re sentencing her to death, and you know damn well he won’t allow it.”

Naobito’s smirk widened. “Let him try. No one is above the rules. Not even him.”

Yaga stepped forward again, fists trembling with barely contained rage. “This isn’t over. There’s still time to change your minds.”

But Gakuganji remained unmoved. “The decision is final. The execution will proceed as ordered.”

Yaga’s shoulders sagged, a mixture of anger and helplessness washing over him. Utahime stood frozen, eyes filled with disbelief, before she turned and stormed out of the room, unable to bear it any longer.

As the doors slammed behind her, the weight of their decision settled over the room like a shroud. Yaga stayed behind for a moment, his eyes burning into Gakuganji’s, before he finally turned on his heel and left.

The clock was ticking. And now, the countdown to your execution had begun.

—

Gojo was walking down the hall, on his way to meet with the second-year students for training. He was flipping through something on his phone when Utahime turned the corner in a hurry, her face twisted with anger and urgency.

"Satoru!" she shouted, her voice sharp and breathless. "We need to talk. Now."

He raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering across his face. "Utahime, is there a spider in your equipment locker?" He teased her, not yet understanding the severity of the situation.

Her glare could cut through steel, but there was no time for banter. "They’ve ordered y/n's execution."

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. His smile faltered, slipping away completely as her speech sank in. His heart did a sharp, painful pang in his chest, the kind he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Execution.

For a split second, he said nothing, and Utahime watched his playful facade crumble as the realization settled in. His eyes widened with fear as his emotions bubbled up inside him.

“They—what?” His voice was dangerously low now, barely concealing the anger simmering beneath. His fingers curled tightly into fists, drawing blood which dripped onto the wooden floor. “Who?”

"Gakuganji. The higher-ups. The clan leaders. They’ve decided she’s too much of a threat, and they have sentenced her to death—by the end of the week," Utahime replied, her tone desperate but harsh. "I came to tell you as soon as they decided. We have to do something, she doesn’t deserve to die…"

Gojo’s mind raced, but the burning anger inside him was sharper than anything else. "Of course, they did," he muttered, and forced a bitter laugh. "They really think they can get away with this again, don’t they?"

Utahime watched him closely, worry flickering in her eyes. "You can’t just charge in there, Gojo. You need to be smart about this."

Utahime’s words still rang in his ears—execution—but all he could see was red.

He had faced cursed spirits, fought beings that would bring terror to most, but the idea that they thought they could kill you? That they believed they could take you from him—from this world, was nothing short of absurd.

His mind was made up. He wouldn’t waste time marching down corridors—with the clap of his hands, space bent around him.

The familiar sensation of teleportation washed over him, and in a blink, the meeting room came into sharp focus.

—

The room was exactly as Utahime had left it earlier—Gakuganji, Naobito, and the other higher-ups still seated, discussing plans that would never come to actuality.

They barely had a moment to react before Gojo materialized before them, his presence sucking the air out of the room.

The tension was immediate.

All eyes snapped to him, the weight of his overwhelming power pressing down on every corner of the room. Gakuganji, seated at the head of the table, locked eyes with Gojo, his face hardening.

"Gojo," Gakuganji began, but Gojo cut him off.

"You made a decision without consulting me. You actually think you can kill her?" Gojo’s voice was ice, sharp and dangerous. His sunglasses were now his hand, and his anger-filled eyes scanned the room.

Naobito shifted in his seat, a smug smirk forming on his lips. "You’re too late. The decision is final. Even you—"

"Shut up, idiot." Gojo snapped, his voice a razor's edge. His gaze was cold and unyielding. "You think this is about rules? You think I’m going to stand by and let this happen, you people are all cowards, I’m not worried about dealing with you."

The atmosphere in the room shifted, like the calm before a storm. The pressure of Gojo’s Infinity (which he was amplifying on purpose) began to fill the space, growing heavier, suffocating, pushing down on the higher-ups until they could barely breathe.

Gakuganji, for all his pride and authority, felt it too—a bone-deep fear creeping up his spine.

"I’m not asking you to reconsider," Gojo continued, his tone terrifyingly calm. "I’m telling you. This execution order? It’s not happening. If you try to go through with it, I’ll personally make sure that none of you live through that day."

The silence that followed was deafening. Even Naobito, usually one to revel in conflict, remained quiet, his fingers tapping nervously on the armrest of his chair.

Gakuganji’s voice, however, remained steady, though there was a hint of something less certain beneath the surface.

"Gojo, you’re walking a dangerous line. You may be powerful, but even you can’t defy the entire jujutsu world! The consequences—"

"Consequences?" Gojo let out a bitter laugh. "You really don’t get it, do you?”

His words lingered, thick with intent, and the threat was real. Everyone in the room knew it.

Gakuganji, Naobito, all the higher-ups—they may have held their positions for years, but no one, not even them, was foolish enough to believe they could challenge Gojo and come out alive.

For a moment, Gakuganji held his ground, his gaze locked with Gojo’s.

But Gojo didn’t flinch. His cursed energy was a crackling storm, barely contained, ready to explode at the slightest provocation. One wrong word, one defiant move, and he would obliterate them all without hesitation.

"You may be strong, Gojo," Gakuganji finally said, his voice low and measured, "but strength alone doesn’t make you invincible. Y/n is dangerous. If her power continues to grow unchecked—"

"Her power isn’t the problem here," Gojo interrupted again, stepping forward. The very air seemed to ripple around him, warping with the sheer force of his presence.

"You’re just scared of what you don’t understand. But killing her won’t solve anything. You did the same thing with Okkotsu and Itadori. How has that been working out for you, hmm?"

Naobito scoffed, but even he didn’t meet Gojo’s gaze.

"And what would you do, then? Let her walk free while her cursed energy spirals out of control? What happens when she becomes a threat to all of us? We don’t even know what she is—A special-grade curse addressed her directly, that will not go unnoticed!"

Gojo’s eyes narrowed, his expression darkening.

"I’ll deal with her. Not you. Not any of you cowards. Me." His voice dropped, lower and more menacing than before.

The room grew even quieter, the weight of Gojo’s declaration pressing down on the higher-ups like a physical force.

"And if you do not cancel, or at least defer her execution?" Gojo continued, his smile returning, but this time it was pure danger, laced with the promise of violence. "I’m siding with y/l/n."

He turned and began walking slowly towards the door. Before leaving, he paused, casting one last look over his shoulder, his voice dripping with promise.

"Consider this your only warning. Try to execute her, and there won’t be a Jujutsu world left to follow your orders."

And with that, he left the room.

—

Gojo stalked down the hallway, the echo of his footsteps drowned out by the whirlpool of thoughts crashing in his mind.

The faint light from the overhead lamps reflected off the polished wood floors, casting faint shadows that danced across the walls, but Gojo was lost in his own thoughts, oblivious to the world around him. It was rare for him to be in this state—this quiet, this uncertain.

For someone as powerful as him, doubt wasn’t something he entertained often. But now, that doubt gnawed at him, an insidious presence that had wormed its way into his mind.

Execution. By the end of the week.

The words rattled around in his skull like a curse of their own, echoing with a cold finality he couldn’t shake.

No matter how many times he tried to reason his way out of it, the same truth remained: they had sentenced her to death.

You.

He let out a sharp breath, his chest tightening painfully as his mind spiralled.

Gojo was many things—arrogant, cocky, reckless—but he was not naive. He knew exactly how the higher-ups operated. He had dealt with their politics, their cowardice, their obsession with control for years—he dealt with Itadori’s execution sentence and Okkotsu’s…But this? This was different.

His usual air of ease and invincibility felt strained, replaced by a heaviness he wasn’t used to carrying. The decision of the higher-ups was gnawing at him, and for the first time in years, he felt... uncertain.

As he rounded the corner, lost in thought, a voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Satoru?"

The soft sound of his name pulled him from his thoughts, and his heart skipped a beat as his worried eyes met yours.

The way you said ‘Satoru’ just now, gentle and familiar, struck something deep inside him. When his eyes met yours his heart fluttered again—-there you stood, your eyes bright, practically sparkling in the dimly lit hallway.

He felt a pang in his chest that caught him off guard like a dull ache he hadn’t noticed until now. But your gaze—those sparkling eyes—seemed to hold the light, a warmth he hadn’t truly appreciated before.

‘When did I start noticing such small things about her?’ He thought to himself.

The smile he plastered on was instinctual, a façade to hide the turmoil inside. "Hey," he greeted, his voice lighter than how he felt. "What brings you here? Couldn’t stay away from me, huh?"

But you weren’t fooled, not even for a second. Your eyes narrowed, observing him with that sharp intuition you always possessed, though a soft, breathy laugh escaped your lips. "Hey…is everything okay? You looked like a dear in headlights for a second there."

Your words pierced through the casual wall he had built up, and he felt exposed under your gaze.

You could read him too well. It didn’t help that this was the first time you’d crossed paths since that moment on the bench, heightening the already charged tension between you.

He tried to brush it off, letting out a short laugh. "Wrong? Nah, everything’s fine. I’m just, you know, dealing with the usual—saving the world, being ridiculously good-looking, that sort of thing."

Another breathy laugh left your mouth. Your eyes softened as your gaze met his again, your presence grounding him in a way he didn’t expect. "Are you sure? Please don’t lie to me—there is already so much going on…"

For a moment, Gojo stood there, the words he wanted to say lodged in his throat.

His instinct was to shield you from the truth, to protect you from the weight of what was looming ahead. But looking into your eyes, he couldn’t lie to you—not about this.

His smile faded, and for the first time, you saw the worry etched in his expression.

"The higher-ups," he started, his voice quieter now, "they’ve made a decision. One that... involves you."

Your brows furrowed in confusion, but the concern on your face grew. "What do you mean? What decision?"

Gojo exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair.

"They’ve ordered your execution," he said, the words heavy on his tongue. "By the end of the week."

The hallway seemed to grow colder as the gravity of his words sank in. Your eyes widened, the colour draining from your face as you felt your stomach drop.

"Execution? But... why? I haven’t done anything—"

"I know." Gojo’s voice was firm, his gaze locking with yours again.

"This isn’t about what you’ve done. They’re scared of what you might do, what your power could become. It’s all paranoia and fear—they do this a lot—and they’re using it as an excuse to get rid of you before they even understand."

You took a shaky breath, and your hands trembled slightly. "And—um—you’re telling me this because...?"

"Because I won’t let it happen," he said, stepping closer, his voice growing sharper with intensity.

"They think they can decide people’s fates like this—this is the third time they've tried to dictate when someone’s life ends, and I’m done with it. I’ll protect you—those cowards can’t beat me."

For a moment, you just stared at him, your emotions swirling beneath the surface—fear, confusion, but also trust.

You nodded, your voice barely a whisper. "I believe you."

Gojo felt that pang again, a deeper one now, knowing what he had to do to keep you safe. The stakes were higher than ever, and for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t sure how this would end. But as long as you were involved, he knew one thing for certain: he wouldn’t let you face this alone.

And he wouldn’t let them take your youth away.

—

The night was still, but your mind wouldn’t stop racing. You sat at the edge of your bed, the moonlight filtering through the curtains, casting pale shadows on the walls. Every thought seemed to tighten the knot in your chest.

‘How could I stop this?’ You thought, with your execution day looming over you like a dark cloud, suffocating every plan you tried to form. Running wasn’t an option… was it?

You clenched your fists, your knuckles white. Each idea seemed to spiral into a dead end, no matter how much you turned it over.

Could you appeal to the higher-ups? Or should you run before the inevitable happened? Each option left you trapped—an inescapable fate drawing closer as your chest began to tighter with each failed idea.

Finally, exhaustion weighed heavy on your eyelids, pulling you into sleep. But sleep wasn’t an escape—The nightmare returned.

This time, it was different—darker, more vivid.

You were back in the forest, the same one from that night. The air was thick, suffocating, pressing down on your skin like a weight.

Soon enough you felt the pain creeping in slowly, building in the pit of your stomach until it felt like fire burning through your esophagus. You stumbled forward, struggling to breathe as the searing heat spread through your limbs. But then… you saw him.

The figure from the dream wasn’t a blur anymore. His face was clear.

He wore a long, dark robe, his black hair tied back loosely. His appearance was calm, almost serene, but there was something sinister in the way he carried himself.

His robes shifted slightly in the wind, the wide sleeves brushing against his side. A slow, sickening smile spread across his lips, the kind that sent a chill down your spine.

He opened his mouth to speak, but the words were drowned out by the pounding in your head, the pain radiating through your body. It felt like your bones were cracking under the weight of his presence.

The agony became unbearable, and you screamed—high and desperate.

Your eyes flew open, and you shot upright in bed, drenched in cold sweat.

The scream had escaped your throat, ragged and raw. Your body was trembling uncontrollably, the phantom pain still lingering in your spine as if his cursed energy had left its mark.

Before you could steady your breath, there was a knock at the door, sharp and urgent.

“Y/n—are you alright?”

Gojo’s voice, usually playful, was unmistakably laced with concern. The sound cut through the haze of terror clinging to you.

You sat frozen for a moment, heart pounding in your ears, your mind still caught between the nightmare and reality. The pain, although fading, still clung to your nerves. You heard the knock again—firmer this time.

"Hello there? Y/n? I'm coming in."

"Uh—No! I'm okay!" You stammered, your voice hoarse and trembling. But it was too late. The door creaked open, and Gojo stepped into the dimly lit room, his figure casting a long shadow on the floor.

His usual air of confidence followed him in, but there was something different this time. His bright blue eyes, often filled with mischief and amusement, now gleamed with concern as he took in your state—sitting on the bed, drenched in cold sweat, body trembling from the remnants of the nightmare.

“Satoru! I could have been naked!” You shouted at him.

“I couldn’t be so lucky,” he joked, but his tone quickly changed,

“You just screamed bloody murder, I doubt you’re okay, and with this whole execution thing, I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He said softly. Without waiting for permission, he closed the door behind him and walked over to your side, his eyes scanning you with an intensity that made your chest tighten.

“I… I had one of those nightmares again. That's all,” you whispered, your gaze shifting down to your trembling hands. It felt ridiculous to admit, but the dream had shaken you to your core, and no amount of forced composure could hide that. That pain…

Gojo didn’t respond immediately. He crouched down beside the bed, bringing his face level with yours. His presence, as overwhelming as it always was, somehow brought you back to the present, pulling you out of the lingering haze of fear.

"You’re still shaking," he noted quietly, his eyes narrowing slightly. "What was it about? The same thing as before?"

You hesitated. How could you explain? You didn’t want to admit the truth—the figure, the pain, the overwhelming sense of dread that had seeped into every part of you.

You didn't want to sound weak or paranoid, especially not in front of Gojo. But then again, this was Gojo—he had a way of seeing through you no matter how much you tried to hide.

“It was… him. The same man from the forest,” you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “This time, I could see him. It was clearer, and the pain—God, it felt real.”

Gojo’s expression shifted slightly, something hardening behind his eyes, though his voice remained gentle. “What did he look like?”

You swallowed, the memory flashing vividly in your mind. “He was wearing a dark robe, his black hair was tied back. His eyes—they were so cold, almost… empty. He looked at me like I didn’t matter, like I was nothing.”

The weight of your words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, Gojo remained silent. He stood up slowly, his hands slipping into his pockets, as though he was trying to make sense of what you had just said.

The moonlight caught his profile, casting his expression in shadow, but the tension in his body was unmistakable.

His silence unnerved you. You weren’t used to Gojo being anything but playful and brimming with confidence. This quiet, almost contemplative version of him sent your mind spiralling further into doubt.

“Gojo?” you ventured softly, your voice fragile in the stillness.

His eyes flicked toward you, sharp and calculating, as if weighing whether to say what was on his mind. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke, his voice low and serious. “This man—he’s not just in your nightmares, is he?”

The question hit you like a punch to the gut. You hadn’t wanted to admit it—not to yourself, not to anyone. But Gojo’s words peeled back the thin layer of denial you’d been hiding behind.

“He… he feels real,” you whispered, the confession trembling on your lips. “Every time I dream about him—-the forest, it doesn’t feel like just a bad dream.”

Gojo’s jaw tightened, his gaze darkening. "And the pain?"

You nodded, unable to meet his eyes. “It feels like it's happening all over again, like he’s reaching into me, twisting something inside. I don’t know how to explain it… but it’s more than just a dream.”

Gojo took a slow, deliberate breath, then turned and sat on the edge of the bed, his proximity grounding you. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he stared at the floor, deep in thought.

“Do you think…” You hesitated, unsure if you even wanted to ask the question. “Do you think it’s a curse? That he left something behind?”

Gojo didn’t answer right away. Instead, he ran a hand through his hair, his fingers lingering over his temple as if trying to dispel a headache. “It’s possible,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “If he’s who I think he is, then this isn’t just a nightmare. It’s a memory.”

Your breath hitched. “A memory? You think this is real? The the man—and this pain?”

Gojo finally looked at you, his expression hard, more serious than you had ever seen him. “Y/n. If he marked you in that forest, then this pain, these dreams—they’re not coincidences. He’s using them to get inside your head—-causing you to relive memories.”

The thought made your blood run cold. "But why?"

Gojo straightened up, his eyes flickering with something dangerous, something protective. “I don’t know yet. But don’t worry, nothing will happen to you any time soon.”

His words should’ve brought you some comfort, but the weight of it all pressed down harder. “What if this is beyond even you?”

Gojo’s expression softened, but there was a steely resolve in his voice as he replied, “Y/n, I know it feels overwhelming. But remember, I’m the strongest.” He leaned closer, the intensity in his gaze unwavering. “No one can touch you while I’m around. Trust me.”

Your heart raced at his declaration, the conviction in his tone wrapping around you like a shield.

But—no matter what he said, you couldn’t shake away the overwhelming emotions you felt rising in you. Nothing you did could stop the hot tears that were pricking at the corners of your eyes.

You looked from your lap up to his icy blue eyes, your own filled with the tears threatening to fall.

“Satoru…I’m so scared.” You said, your voice barely above a whisper in fear of it breaking as tears began to roll down your flushed cheeks.

For all his bravado and playful banter, seeing you in distress ignited a protective fire in his chest.

His expression softened, and for a moment, the playful facade slipped, revealing genuine concern. He leaned closer, taking in the way your eyes shimmered with unshed tears, the quiver in your lips that spoke volumes.

In that instant, he was reminded of humanity—of how fragile life could be—how easily joy could be overshadowed by fear. It was a feeling he often masked with laughter and teasing, but now, facing you, he couldn’t help but feel the weight of it all.

His expression softened, and for a moment, the playful facade slipped, revealing genuine concern.

“Hey, hey,” he said, brushing a thumb gently beneath your eye, catching a stray tear.

“It’s okay to be scared, but you have nothing to worry about with me around…”

You swallowed hard, your heart aching at his reassurance and your skin burning under his touch.

His closeness was intoxicating, each heartbeat echoing in your ears as you focused on the way his gaze held yours, a mixture of intensity and something deeper.

Gojo's thumb lingered a moment longer, the connection between you crackling with unspoken words. There was a tension that thickened the air, a magnetic pull urging you closer despite the chaos swirling around. You could feel the warmth radiating off him, the familiar scent that grounded you yet made your pulse race.

“Trust me,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a low, almost husky tone that made your breath hitch. “No one is going to touch you. Not now, not ever.”

The way he leaned in just a fraction more, the heat of his breath brushing against your skin, made your heart pound louder.

“I don’t want to die.” You confessed, your voice shaking, and more tears fell from your eyes. The admission hung in the air, raw and exposed, filling the space between you.

His gaze intensified, and for a moment, you could see the concern etching deeper lines on his face.

“You won’t,” he assured you, his tone fierce yet tender. “Not on my watch.”

Gojo’s smirk returned, hinting at his playful teasing, but beneath that was an intensity that promised more. He was strong, powerful, and yet here you were, baring your fears to him, leaving you feeling vulnerable yet safe.

You wanted to pull back, regain control, but the moment was intoxicating—everything around you fading away, leaving only the depths of his blue eyes and the promise of something more.

He leaned back, a cocky grin returning to his face. “Besides, did I mention I’m the strongest?”

Your heart fluttered at his confidence. “Yeah, I how could I forget.” You said, letting out a small laugh.

“Good! Now, wipe those tears away!” he said with a playful look plastered on his face.

“I’m going to be up for the next while, so if you need someone to sleep wiitthh you, just yell for me.” He said before walking out of your room with a small wave.

As the door clicked shut behind Gojo, a mix of warmth and anxiety settled in your chest. You hugged your knees, feeling the weight of your fears creep back in, but his words echoed in your mind—’Trust me.’

Clinging to the flicker of hope he had ignited, you wiped your tears and took a deep breath, reminding yourself that you weren’t alone in this fight.

With that thought, you closed your eyes, letting the promise of his protection guide you into a restless sleep.

—

The next morning dawned heavy with an unspoken tension. You walked beside Gojo as you made your way to the rendezvous point—an abandoned shopping mall on the outskirts of the city.

The rising sun cast long shadows across the crumbling structure, its shattered windows reflecting fragments of light onto the cracked pavement.

The once-bustling space now stood eerily silent, a shell of its former life. Broken glass crunched beneath your feet, and the distant groan of metal filled the heavy air. But it wasn’t the mall's haunting emptiness that had your nerves on edge.

It was the conversation ahead.

Gojo’s usual carefree attitude seemed slightly subdued as you both walked in silence. The steady rhythm of his steps beside you was the only thing grounding you in the moment.

You could feel his presence like a buffer against the dread curling in your stomach, that unspoken tension between you two hovering just beneath the surface.

It was a quiet intimacy that neither of you acknowledged, but it was there—palpable, real.

Without a word, Gojo’s hand brushed lightly against your back as if offering reassurance—an uncharacteristically gentle gesture.

His touch lingered, warm and solid, sending a wave of comfort and something else—something deeper—through you. You didn’t pull away, and neither did he.

His fingers grazed your spine, then slipped lower to rest against the small of your back, his hand staying there, the weight of it subtle yet unmistakable.

The gesture was almost protective as if reminding you that he was there, and no matter what happened, you weren’t alone. Your heart raced, each beat echoing in your ears.

As you continued walking, Gojo slowed down beside you, his hand sliding from your back to rest lightly at your waist. The contact was brief but intentional, his fingers curling just enough to hold you close. You glanced at him, your breath catching in your throat at the sight of him.

Gojo had lifted his blindfold without a word, the black fabric slipping up to reveal his piercing blue eyes, startling against the morning light. His gaze met yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to fade away.

His expression, usually so teasing and carefree, had softened, and in the intensity of his eyes, there was something deeper—something unspoken that made your pulse quicken.

Neither of you said a word. There was no need to.

He gave a soft, almost wistful smile before letting the blindfold slip back into place, the casual mask he always wore settling back over him like a second skin.

His hand lingered at your waist for another fleeting second before he finally moved it away.

The moment passed, but the warmth of his touch stayed with you.

As you reached the central atrium, you spotted the others—Yuji, Megumi, and Nobara, joined by Maki, Panda, and Inumaki.

Their expressions were somber, eyes scanning the area as if expecting trouble. They had sensed something was wrong when Gojo called for a private meeting at such an unusual location.

Yuji raised a hand in greeting, his usually carefree smile missing. "Hey, y/n. What’s this about, Gojo-sensei? You’ve got us all gathered like we’re about to face a special-grade curse or something."

Nobara crossed her arms, her eyes narrowed in suspicion as they flitted between you and Gojo. "Yeah, spill it already. This place gives me the creeps."

Maki remained silent but alert, her arms folded tightly over her chest. Panda and Inumaki exchanged glances, their postures tense as if bracing for bad news.

Gojo stepped forward from your side, his tone deceptively light despite the gravity of the situation.

"I won’t sugarcoat it. This isn’t a mission. It’s about her." His gaze flickered briefly back to you before scanning the group. "The higher-ups have ordered her execution."

The words hung in the air like a curse, and you felt the weight of the moment press down on you as all eyes turned your way.

Yuji’s eyes widened in shock. "Execution? What for?"

Nobara’s voice was sharp with outrage. "What the hell? Are you serious?"

Maki’s eyes narrowed as she pieced it together. "This is about that cursed energy inside her, isn’t it?"

You swallowed hard, your throat feeling tight. "I…I think so. I can feel it in me—it's like a separate entity that I can’t fully control." Your voice wavered slightly as you met their stares.

Panda’s calm voice cut through the rising tension. "So, what’s the plan? There’s no way we’re letting them go through with this."

Gojo smirked, though the usual playfulness didn’t reach his eyes.

"That’s where you all come in. We need to figure out how to get the higher-ups off her back. Either convince them she’s not a threat, or we buy enough time to find another solution."

Nobara clenched her fists, fire in her eyes. "Screw convincing them. Let’s just storm the place and tell them where they can shove their execution order."

Maki snorted and rolled her eyes. "That’ll go over well, Kugisaki."

Before anyone else could respond, a sudden, oppressive wave of cursed energy washed over the mall, freezing the air.

The sheer force of it made your breath hitch, an ominous pressure settling over your chest like a vice. Even Gojo tensed, the usual carefree ease in his posture evaporating as he lifted his head, sensing the disturbance.

Megumi stepped forward, his demon dogs stirring, responding to the dark energy. "That’s not normal. Its presence is overwhelming."

Yuji’s reaction, however, was the most telling. His face had gone pale, and his fists clenched at his sides as he whispered, "It’s him…"

You barely heard the words, but the look on Yuji’s face—the fear in his eyes—told you everything you needed to know.

Nobara reached for her hammer, her grip tight. “Who the hell is it, Yuji?”

Yuji’s voice shook as he spoke, his eyes locked on the darkened hallway ahead. "Patchface. He’s here."

The cursed energy surrounding you wasn’t just powerful. It was dark, malicious, and suffocating. The air felt thick with malevolence, pressing against your chest as if daring you to move.

Suddenly, your vision swam, and the world seemed to warp for a second. You blinked, your heart racing, and then—you saw him.

That grotesque figure, pale and scarred, with that same patch of disfigured flesh sewn over his face like a grotesque mask. He stepped from the shadows, his smile sickly and twisted, eyes gleaming with sadistic delight.

“Ahhhhh, perfect, perfect, just perfect!” The patchface curse’s voice was sickeningly joyful, his tone unnervingly light, like a child about to unwrap a gift.

“I get to fight my natural enemy, Yuji Itadori, the famous Satoru Gojo…” He paused, his eyes darting to you, lingering in a way that made your skin crawl, sending a cold shiver down your spine.

“And you… the new experiment…I don’t think I can touch your soul…but oh god, I wonder how your soul feels, y/n y/l/n,” he purred, his voice dripping with twisted curiosity. “Oh, this will be so fun!”

His grin widened, and for a second, you thought you saw a flicker of something darker, something far more dangerous than his playful demeanour.

His gaze flitted between the group, but it kept landing back on you.

“Let’s see how well you break.”

84 notes · View notes

itneverendshere · 5 hours

Text

tryin' to behave, but i'm feelin' some type of way - r.c drabble.

request: rafe x bitchy!pogue reader pleaseeeee!!!! he just hates that he wants her soo fucking bad and she finds it hilarioussss

warnings: it gets steamy but no smut!; slutshaming; they both need therapy okay.

felt like writing something out of the bartender!reader universe and had this request saved up on my notes, hope you enjoy 🫂 wrote this on my phone so if there’s any typos pretend you didn’t see them 🥰🥰🥰🥰

you’re out of place here, which is exactly why you’re here, tannyhill.

fuck them. fuck him.

every high-strung kook princess with their perfectly manicured nails gives you a quick once-over, nostrils flaring when they catch the sight of your scuffed-up boots. not that you care. it’s not like you’re trying to impress anyone.

and why should you? you’re only here for the free booze, it’s not your fault this place is such a bore. always all pearls, pastels, and the scent of white wine and privilege. who the fuck drank white whine at a party? but the real reason you’re here, the whole damn reason, is staring straight at you from across the room.

rafe cameron. ugh and yum.

he’s leaning against the bar, muscles taut under that fitted navy polo like he was born to flex, with a scowl as always. it’s always that look—the one that’s aimed solely at you, every time he sees you. it’s practically a tradition by now. you show up somewhere, he glares.

there’s a tightness in his shoulders, something tells you he’s going to snap eventually, maybe it’s because you’ve been pushing buttons lately. maybe it’s because he’s got his daddy’s expectations hanging over his head like a guillotine.

or maybe it’s just because he wants you, and that little inconvenient truth pisses him off to no end.

you flash him a slow, lazy grin, shifting your hips as you grab a beer from the cooler. when you catch the way his eyes drag over you, lingering on your exposed skin, your stomach hums with satisfaction.

let him look. let him stew in it.

“country club,” you call sweetly, raising your bottle in a mock toast, the light catching on the condensation like it’s winking at him. “how’s it going?”

his jaw ticks, his lips pressing into a thin, flat line. “you shouldn’t be here.”

“and yet, here i am,” you sing-song back, taking a slow, pointed sip. you’re feeling reckless tonight. he’s dangerous, sure. but he’s also predictable. you know exactly how to make it worse. “aww, what’s wrong?”

you know exactly this’ll go. he’ll insult you, you’ll insult him back, and then—

his eyes narrow dangerously, that vein in his temple ticking. “what the fuck are you wearing?”

you blink innocently, glancing down at yourself. “clothes, obviously. why? does it bother you?”

“yeah,” he snaps, eyes raking over you again, lingering on the swell of your chest, the sliver of skin peeking out above your waistband. “aren’t you tired of slutting yourself around?”

your lips curl into a smirk, the slow burn of satisfaction warming your chest. this is exactly what you were hoping for.

“slutting myself around?” you echo, voice teasing. “didn’t know you were keeping tabs.” you cock your head, letting your gaze linger on his flushed cheeks, the way his nostrils flare, and that slight clench of his fists by his side.

he’s seething—looks ready to burst into flames right here in front of the bar. good.

he’s always been like this with you. short fuse, especially when it comes to what you’re wearing, how you look, where you go. but you’re onto him. you know what it’s really about.

“you must really be obsessed with me,” you continue, “it’s kinda weird, don’t you think?” you take another sip, slow and deliberate, licking your lips as you meet his glare. he steps closer, crowding into your space, his chest brushing against your shoulder. you should back up, or at least pretend to care, but you just tilt your head, looking up at him with a smug little grin. “what’s wrong?” you murmur, “feeling a little tense?

“fuck off,” he grits out, stepping back like he’s burned. but it’s too late. you’ve got him now.

you cock your head, giving him a slow, taunting smile. “why? afraid you’ll get hard in front of your little friends?”

his eyes darken, jaw clenched so hard you wonder if it hurts. “i swear to god—”

“what?” you interrupt, teeth flashing. “you gonna hit me? break another one of your daddy’s toys?” you wave your hand around the pristine room, the glittering chandelier, the polished bar. “go on, then. show everyone what a psycho you are.”

“you think i won’t?”

“yeah, i think you won’t,” you say softly, staring right into those burning blue eyes of his. “because you’re all bark and no bite.”

“you wanna see bite?” he murmurs, voice dripping venom. “i’ll show you fucking bite.”

then his hand snaps out, wrapping around your upper arm, and before you can react, he’s yanking you out of the room, down a hallway that’s all shadowed corners. you stumble, cursing under your breath, but he doesn’t stop until you’re both crashing through a side door into some empty back corridor.

“jesus, cameron, take a fucking xanax—” you start, wrenching your arm free.

for a second, you think you’ve gone too far. his whole body goes still, and something flares in his gaze—something unhinged and a little bit terrifying. but instead of snapping, instead of throwing a punch, he leans in, so close you can feel the heat of him against your skin.

you’re shoved against the wall, hard, his body caging yours in, his hands braced on either side of your head. you freeze, breath hitching. he’s close—too close—and it’s too hot and too much and—

“shut up,” he growls.

you should tell him to fuck off. you should knee him in the balls. you should do anything but feel the way you do right now—flushed, breathless, and…too horny for your own good.

“do you always have to be so fucking dramatic?” you huff, placing your hand in chest in a futile attempt to push him away. you know he can break you in half if he wants to.

he doesn’t move of course, just stares at you, chest heaving like he’s just run a marathon. he’s got that crazed look in his eyes that should make you run for the hills, and yet you stay put.

and then, suddenly, his mouth is on yours, demanding and angry.

it’s not a kiss—it’s a punishment. his teeth nip at your bottom lip, his tongue sliding against yours with a harshness that steals your breath. you gasp, your hands coming up to shove him away again, but somehow they get tangled in his hair instead, gripping the soft strands as he presses closer, closer— it’s a disaster. you’re a disaster. because you don’t pull away.

you kiss him back like an idiot, just as desperate, your nails digging into his scalp as you pour all your frustration into the kiss. why does he have to be this hot? in your books, kooks aren't allowed to be hotter than a 5. unfortunately, rafe is a solid eleven.

he tastes like mint and rage, and it shouldn’t feel this good, but it does. god, it does. he breaks away, panting, glaring down at you like you’re dirt under his shoes. “you drive me fucking insane, y’ know that?”

“good,” you gasp, licking your lips. “you deserve it.”

he laughs, a low, harsh sound. “you’re such a fucking bitch.”

“and you’re a spoiled, narcissistic asshole,” you snap back, shoving at his chest. he doesn’t even flinch, just glares harder, and it sends a thrill through your entire body. you’d never seen him like this, so unguarded and it was weirdly intoxicating.

“i should ruin you,” he murmurs, almost like he’s talking to himself. his hand comes up, fingers brushing your jaw, trailing down your throat. “make you beg.”

you keep your expression defiant. “you think you can?”

rafe smirks, slow and dangerous, and it makes something burst in your belly. “i know i can.”

his hand slides lower, fingertips brushing the hem of your top, and your breath catches. you should stop this again. you should slap him, kick him, do anything but let him keep touching you like that, but you don’t. you just stare up at him, heart racing.

“show me then.”

and then his hands are on you, yanking you forward, spinning you around. you gasp, palms slapping against the wall as he presses up behind you, his body solid against yours.

“you’re a fucking brat,” he growls, his mouth right against your ear. one of his hands comes up, fingers tangling in your hair, pulling just enough to make your back arch.

“and you’re obsessed with me,” you shoot back breathlessly, tilting your head to meet his gaze over your shoulder.

rafe’s grip tightens in your hair, hard enough to sting, and his lips brush your earlobe, “obsessed?” he repeats, like he can’t believe you had the fucking audacity to say it. “don’t flatter yourself, baby.”

but you feel the way his body presses against yours. your panties might be drenched but this man is just as hard. he’s close to you—so fucking close—you feel every ridge of him, and despite every insult he’s ever thrown your way, despite how much he claims to hate you, he’s here. the way he’s breathing tells you exactly what you need to know.

you twist against him, pushing back just enough to test his restraint. “then why are you so worked up, huh?”

“i think you’re confusing us.”

“sure,” you laugh, even as his hands move down your sides, his fingernails digging into your hips. “that’s why you dragged me out here, right? because you’re just so indifferent?”

his chest brushes against your back with every ragged breath. he’s losing it. you’re making him lose it. and fuck, that feels good.

“i could ruin you,” he whispers again, like he’s trying to convince himself. his hand skim up your ribs, thumb grazing the underside of your tit, and your senses kicks into overdrive. “one word from me, and you’re done.”

“you’re all talk cameron,” you challenge, arching your back slightly, giving him more room to touch you.

you shouldn’t want this—you shouldn’t need this—but you can’t stop.

his mouth is on your neck, hot and open, teeth scraping against your skin in a way that sends a shudder from your head to your toes.

“fuck you,” he growls against your throat, the words almost lost in the heat of his mouth. “i’m not playin’ your games.”

you bite back a moan, fingers curling against the cold wall. “you’re already playing.”

“you’re so fucking—” he cuts himself off, breathing harshly through his nose. “fuck, i hate you.”

“no, you don’t,” you turn your head just enough to catch his eye. his gaze is wild, and you smirk, taunting him with your lips just inches from his. “you wish you did.”

you know you’re pushing your luck, but then again, when haven’t you?

“you have no fucking clue what i wish,” he growls, each word dripping with so much frustration it makes you laugh.

it comes out like a soft, mocking sound. “ooh, i think i do. you wish i’d shut up. wish i’d disappear. but you really wish you didn’t get hard every time ’m around.”

his jaw ticks, that telltale sign that you’re getting to him. god, he hates you. you can see it in his clenched teeth, his furrowed brows. he hates that he wants a pogue and you find it hilarious.

“don’t flatter yourself pogue,” he snaps, but his voice is strained. his hands tighten on your hips, fingers biting into your skin just shy of painful.

you push back against him just a little harder again, feeling the rigid line of his cock pressed against your ass.

“yeah?” your voice turns breathy. “then why do i feel that?” you grind your hips subtly, just to punctuate the point, and the low sound that rumbles out of him is almost worth the risk of provoking him further.

“because you’re a fucking tease,” he mutters, voice harsh and low in your ear. “you show up, looking like you want it—”

“and so what if i do?”

it’s a dare. he’s holding you, like he can’t decide if he wants to strangle you or fuck you senseless, perhaps both. you know you’ve crossed some invisible line.

“you’re gonna regret this,” he murmurs.

“maybe,” you shoot back, unflinching. “but that’s the thing, rafe.” you twist, just enough to look at him over your shoulder, “i think you’re more scared of what you might regret.”

instead of shoving you away, instead of storming off, he does the one thing you didn’t expect. he laughs.

it’s that crazy sound he makes before he does something reckless every time, the kind that makes people run away. it’s such a humorless sound, it should scare the living shit out of you as he leans in, lips brushing against your neck. “don’t say i didn’t warn you.”

before you can answer, one hand slides up to cup your jaw, tilting your head back so you’re forced to meet his eyes. they’re wild, almost feral, just like you expected.

“tell me to stop,” he whispers, his thumb brushing your lower lip, the touch so gentle it’s almost jarring. “go on, say it.”

you swallow hard, pulse hammering in your throat. you should say it. but you don’t want to.

“make me.” you know he hears you—feels you—because the corner of his mouth lifts in a slow, taunting smirk.

“yeah?” he drawls, thumb slipping from your lip to trace along your jawline, his touch featherlight and maddening. “you sure?”

“prove me wrong. or are you scared?”

“you think ’m fucking scared of you? think i can’t handle a little mouthy brat like you?”

he’s goading you, pushing you like he always does, and every word you had prepared dies on your lips

“i’d loooove to see you try.”

“oh, you will.”

68 notes · View notes

r3leee · 2 days

Text

you asked, you shall receive !

HEY QUEENS!! i am SO sorry for getting this out so late, your girl was going through it 😭😭 (two concerts, two tests, socratic seminar prep, and finding out i’m bi all in one week). anyway, thanks for waiting, here you go <333

pairing: dom!billie eilish x sub!fem!reader

summary: your girlfriend, billie’s, been doing promo work all day for her business trip. naturally, when she gets back, she wants a piece of you, and though you can offer that to her, you have to be quiet…

warnings: RPF!! don’t like, don’t read, established relationship, no direct smut but like a little if you squint (i’m not sure if i’m ready to sail that ship yet), hickeys, exhibitionism kink if you squint, implied-girly/femme!reader

word count: 716 (IT'S SHORT IKKKK I'M SORRY)

listen to: needy by ariana grande

IF YOU COULD use one word to describe your girlfriend, one of the last things in your mind would be clingy. handsy? yes. possessive? yes. dominant? oh, ya. but clingy? no, not really.

she only ever got like that when she was away from you for a while or really, really horny; today’s case was the latter.

you two were currently in paris for a bit of promo. you both were very happy you were able to be on this trip, since you were usually subjected to staying at home.

the past few days were relatively normal: getting settled in and a photoshoot. but today was more intense.

today, billie had multiple photoshoots and an interview. she had to wake up early for them, so by the time you were up, she was gone. instead of heading straight for the studio, you decided to treat yourself a bit.

that morning, you ate at a small café and went shopping at the local stores. you got lots of things: jewelry, makeup, accessories, and of course, clothes.

while in a certain store, you found this gorgeous dress. it was sleeveless and shiny in your favorite color, fit with a bow in the back.

you immediately bought it and changed into it before going to visit your girlfriend.

she was on her break when you walked in, hands riddled with bags galore. when she heard the door open, she looked up, a stern expression on her face, but it immediately softened when she saw you. “hi, sweet girl,” she immediately beamed.

you walked over to her, placing a light kiss to her cheek before she cupped your face and kissed you in the lips. “hi,” you replied softly. she smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before you sat on the velvety couch.

“where were you?” you quickly set your bags down, going on about the morning you had. but, she couldn’t help her eyes constantly drifting down to your dress. the way it fit on you, slightly raising up on your thighs was enamoring and she couldn't tear her gaze away.

later, billie was doing a photoshoot as you sat behind the camera and watched. she was stunning with her ocean-blue eyes and long black hair. you weren't aware of it, because, at some point, you had some emails to reply to, but when she wasn't being photographed, she was staring at you. so much so that at some point, the director had to tell her to focus.

that's how you ended up here: in your girlfriend's lap, a hand over your mouth.

“shh…gotta stay quiet, baby, right?” she nodded towards the bathroom.

for this specific trip, like most, you booked a connected room for you two and finneas. but, upon arrival, the staff had informed you there was some kind of plumbing issue in finneas' bathroom, and that the shower there was shut off.

of course, it was unrealistic to make him not shower the whole trip, so right now, he was borrowing yours. you were just wondering why he had to be borrowing it right now

you nodded as she whispered, “good."

at this point, she'd been on you for what, 10 minutes now? you weren't sure how she still had room to keep sucking and marking at your neck, almost similar to a mosquito drawing blood. red and purple hickeys cascaded all over your neck to the point it was almost painful, but you didn't ever tell her to stop. not once. she was too precious for you to tell her no.

every time you heard a noise coming from the bathroom, you turned your head, worried you'd get caught. but, never more than two seconds later, a hand on your jaw would turn you back. "it's fine, baby," billie would whisper. "we're gonna be careful, not get caught," she'd reassure you before attacking your neck again. all you could do was whine.

that was until you heard the door creak open. "fuck." immediately, billie threw a stray blanket over you as she went on her phone. you just stared up at the ceiling.

finneas walked back to his room without a second glance. and as soon as the door shut, your girlfriend took the blanket off you. "come here. we're good now."

#lmao get edged #don't know if i'm gonna ever write a part 2 to this but oh well #again love writing shit in school #billie eilish #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish x you #billie eilish x y/n #reader insert

91 notes · View notes

boguspearl · 2 days

Text

So what are my thoughts for Arcane season 2? Well from what I've seen in the trailer, I think almost every character in the series is going to go through a massive shift, starting with caitlyn in the first season caitlyn was calculating smart not rash (okay not rash enough to wage full on war, but rash enough to let a criminal out of prison) she was new to the scene but she knew that she didn't want war with the undercity, but now in a fit of blind revenge she's going to war anyway

And by the looks of it Vi's right along side her she's given up on Jinx its even the first lines of the trailer, she starts out fighting along side the enforcers, along side caitlyn, but we see her off on her own broken, this most likely because she's finally seen just how far caitlyns taking things.

However the biggest change of this season is going to be Jinx, in the first season Jinx was crazy, but things are about to take a turn i mean sure on the surface we see her bombing the city leading a revolution piloting an airship while looking deranged but looking deeper does she really look completely insane.

Personally i think she looks kinda sad, i mean sure they show her looking completely done with it all ready to blow the world that's wronged her apart, but there's something deeper I think we're going to start the season with Jinx truly regretting what she's done, she's going to panic as the floor gives away beneath her and that will be her tipping point the point where there's s small possibly of her being reached, but there's no one left to reach her no one left willing to try, caitlyn wants her dead, Vi has given up on her, Silco is dead her hand, she's alone, alone except for sevika who will most likely use her to rule the undercity Jinx will be forced back into believing what she's doing is right

Until eventually she's going to snap, she's going to see that she has nobody and she'll be exactly who they think she is and she'll be more broken than ever.

But never mind all that the real thing that i think the arcane trailer is showing or more accurately hiding is the enemy. Okay hear me out we all know that season 2 just like season 1 will be releasing in three separate arcs each obviously show casing a separate story of the same season, now while Netflix has released three separate posters for said arcs they seem to have only given us one trailer, now if you look the trailer like that you can see the story breaks of the arcs, in the first part they show a clear enemy jinx, Vi and Cait are trying to take her down, the second the people of the undercity as they rise up but near the end there's nothing each shot fired each punch thrown even jinx threatening to burn it all down unlike the beginning of the trailer we aren't shown the enemy, this concerns me because who are they fighting, am I reading into this is it still Jinx that's the enemy or is caitlyn and Vi fighting each other or and what is most likely is there a new enemy something so feared that it actually makes them all fight together in some strange twisted way and if so what, i mean im actually clueless I've never played the game or gotten into anything else part of this universe so i have no idea what they could be up against.

Anyway thanks for reading my craziness, debates bellow

#arcane league of legends #vi arcane #jinx arcane #arcane #violet arcane #arcane caitlyn #caitlyn kiramman #vi x caitlyn #arcane netflix #arcane season 2 #arcane show

108 notes · View notes

softly-sirius · 3 days

Text

Will you watch the Barbie Movie with me? (fem!reader)

Currently on shift: Carmen, Richie, Sydney

I know, I'm so late, I'm sorry :(

Richie:

Richie Jerimovich is not going to the Barbie movie

No way

Absolutely no way

He cannot be seen standing in line for that movie, it would ruin his reputation

Until you look at him with that look

Until you tell him you were really, really, really looking forward to it

He folds very quickly

You and Eva watch the Barbie movies you grew up with in preparation

Richie really starts to regret his choice to come with you about two movies in

Like what the fuck is a bibble and why is it so annoying

Starts to backtrack, but it's too late, he has already agreed.

He gets in line, dreading the next two hours of his life

Comes out of the cinema wiping the tears from his eyes, because holy shit.

Eva is holding one of his hands and you’re holding the other.

You end up driving the car home and he sits in the back with Eva

When he’s tucking her up for bed that night he gives her a big smooch and promises to protect her from everything.

He’s ready to fight sexism with his bare hands for his little girl

Holds you all night and tells you how much he loves you and that he’s an alan right? Right!?

You and Eva get matching bibble Croc charms and Richie gets a complex

You do buy Richie an ‘I am Kenenough hoodie for his birthday’

He goes on a tirade and says he hates it, but he wears it all the time at home

It's comfy god damn it

Carmen:

INNSISTS you buy your pink outfit with his card

Releates, because you are everything and he is just ken

Thinks, Holy shit, is this really that hard for you to be a woman

Fucks you so good and praises you so much when you get home

Maybe when you’re having a talk and he’s trying to explain how he feels, is embarrassed because he finds it the best way to explain it

He doesn’t understand how you can love him so much sometimes, because he feels like you’re so amazing and he’s just ken.

You tell him you love him chef ken

When you buy him a chef ken for christmas he fucking looses it

Also, if you collect vintage barbies or are just all into barbie facts history he will listen to you talk about it for hours and would adore it if you showed him your collection.

Sydney:

At first, she didn’t care at all that this movie was coming out until she found out how much you were looking forward to it

Then with Twitter and all the excitement I think she would really get into it

She would have some really cool thrifted pink outfits

I kind of feel like you would sneak in some pink cupcakes to eat at the cinema

Matching painted nails

Probs becomes her comfort movie

You and Sydney are always calling Carmen and Richie Ken, whether that's in front of them or when she's venting

‘God Richie stop being such a Ken’

She is everything, you often think, watching her deal with all their bullshit.

Would you love me if I was a worm?

Would you peel my orange?

#sydney adamu x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto imagine #sydney adamu fanfic #richie jerimovich x reader #richie jerimovich imagine #richie jerimovich fanfiction #carmen berzatto x you

51 notes · View notes

sockmeat · 1 day

Note

Imagine m!reader is an artist who says that they plan on drawing/painting Angel and Angel thinking that they're going to draw him all sexy like and keeps inviting him to come to his room to get some 'nice references' on how to draw him but when m!reader actually reveals their picture of Angel, it's actually Angel smiling while covered in flowers like holding a bouquet with a flower crown on, so real sincere soft looking paintings instead of the lewd stuff Angel was expecting.

𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 -- 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 𝐃𝐮𝐬𝐭…(𝑯𝒂𝒛𝒃𝒊𝒏 𝑯𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒍)

(𝐰𝐜): 587

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: When Angel finds out you plan on drawing him, he's pleasantly surprised to find out the nature of it.

(𝐀/𝐍): shamefully looking into my inbox with month old asks... nony x6 i am very sorry

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): sex talk, not really actually it's brief mentions, but then there's super cute gushy stuff yayyyy

𓆩♡𓆪

♡ You mention in passing that you want to draw him, thinking nothing of it

♡ Angel wouldn't let that slide though

♡ Obviously Angel gets drawn often, but he couldn't care less about that

♡ To know that you, somebody he's actually attracted to, wanted to draw him...

♡ You would never hear the end of it

♡ Angel pesters you constantly about it

♡ He does assume that you meant a sexual drawing, even though you were very calm and casual when you mentioned it. He just thought you were ballsy (and maybe already drew some)

♡ He never forgets to bring it up in conversation, if it's just to you or with others around

♡ He'll slip in the fact that you've been drawing sexy pictures of him in any conversation he can. If it seems like he can't, he changes the topic until he can

♡ He also never fails to offer you personal references for the drawing, even a "test drive" if you "aren't sure" how to draw him intimately

♡ You always stay polite though, merely gently rejecting or laughing off his suggestive comments with a flustered demeanor

♡ While Angel was bragging about the "sex art" you were making of him, you made one little doodle of him in your sketch book every night

♡ None of them were sexual like Angel had assumed. Each had its own sweet theme, from Angel surrounded by flowers to him during a moment of peace

♡ There were some made from your creativity, like Angel Dust with a bouquet of his favorite flowers

♡ But most of them were from real moments where he hadn't noticed you'd been drawing him. From him cuddling with Fat Nuggets, when he was smiling in a conversation, him in your favorite outfit of his, to him in his messy pajamas

♡ You made each drawing with pure infatuation

♡ Which is exactly why you put off showing him for so long. You were so nervous he'd feel uncomfortable by your art you hadn't noticed how desperate he was just to have something from you

♡ Eventually, you decided to just show him anyway

♡ You invited him into your room late one night and Angel made such a show of "getting ready" for you

♡ He came with his favorite pink robe and was surprised to see you still in your casual clothes with a notebook on your lap

♡ Angel sat next to you as you flipped through the book, which was entirely dedicated to him

♡ Every time he thought he would finally see himself in a sexy pose, he didn't

♡ His heart warmed as you explained the intention behind every doodle and how much thought you put into it

♡ Eventually, he completely forgot about why he was there in the first place

♡ He became so relaxed, his head found place on your shoulder as you droned on about your drawings

♡ You both relaxed into the bed as conversation moved from your art to random topics

♡ It wasn't long until Angel shuffled into your arms and fell asleep

♡ But you were so relieved, you couldn't help but fall asleep with him

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel angel dust x reader #angel dust x reader #angel dust x male reader #hazbin hotel angel dust x male reader #hazbin hotel x male reader #male reader #headcanons #my writing #angel dust

37 notes · View notes

corazondebeskar-reads · 6 hours

Text

perchance, to dream

Jackson!Joel Miller x f!reader

technically a you know you never stood a chance post-series drabble, but all you really need to know is that joel and reader are in an established relationship and living in Jackson.

series masterlist

words: 548

summary: this is straight up domestic fluff with a hint of smut at the end. i wrote this after hbo hurt our feelings this morning. dedicated to @milla-frenchy - because you said please and ily 🖤

warnings: technically tlou pt. ii spoilers but not really and the angsty events of the game never happen. established relationship. fluff and domesticity. just a little snapshot of what their life is like in jackson.

dividers by @saradika-graphics

“Oh my god,” you hip-check him. “Are we getting ready for bed at the same time?”

He rolls his eyes and scowls, patting his face dry with a faded peach hand towel before padding out of the room. You watch him blatantly as he goes, his sweatpants sagging below the soft curve of his bare stomach.

“Rude,” you call after him. But it’s not long before you’re pulling back the covers and climbing in behind him, arm sliding around his side.

“Hey,” you say with a softer smile. “We’re actually going to bed at the same time.”

“Yep,” he grunts. “Means I get to do this.”

You jump and shriek as he moves to stick his ice cold footsicles against your bare skin.

He grabs you by the waist. “Where d’you think you’re goin’, huh? You’re the one who always takes the late patrol. You owe me.”

You wriggle and laugh, pushing at him to get away. He nips at your neck, and you grin devilishly.

You know how to win. All you have to do is turn, rub your ass against him “accidentally,” and he’ll quit fooling around.

But he catches you by the hips, wise to your wily ways. “Not tonight. I’ve got an early one.”

“What? No, you're off tomorrow. We’re both off tomorrow!”

He grimaces, rubbing his beard against your neck while he confesses that Tommy asked him to help out, trying and failing to distract you.

“But we’re both going to bed at the same time.” The pout is unintentional, but you stand by it.

“Yeah. We are. Going to bed, to sleep, at the same time. Ain’t it nice?”

“Nobody said anything about sleep,” you cross your arms, leaning against your pillow.

“I did. I am. Go to sleep, sweetheart.”

He leans in and you turn your head, meeting him halfway. No matter that you’re sulking; you’ll never miss out on this. The kiss is sweet but loaded, drawing a groan from you both.

“Just can’t help yourself, can ya?” He says, shaking his head as he lies down and turns off his lamp.

You lay down and roll over, back to back, pressed up close to one another. “Love you, Joel,” you whisper, heaving an overly dramatic sigh.

“Love ya, sweetheart,” he mumbles.

Damnit. Nearly asleep already.

You scowl at the darkness.

It doesn’t last long. He’s rolled you over before you know it, tugging his old tee up over your head. “Goddamnit,” he grumbles. “You’re right. We’re goin’ to bed at the same time.”

You smirk. “Hold on, now. You gotta get up early. I’m not gonna be the reason you’re like, Deluxe Cranky.”

He pinches your nipple in retaliation, but the only reaction he gets is a hitch of your breath and a soft “mmm” before you keep on with your schtick.

“No way,” you shake your head like he’s a naughty dog, “I’m not giving you an excuse.”

By then, though, he’s got your panties down around your knees, and your playful denial disappears with them.

“Oh yeah?” he grumbles, lining himself up and pushing into you slowly, just to watch you arch beneath him, gasping.

“Y-yeah,” you say stubbornly. “You gotta waive the right to complain in the morning.”

He rolls his eyes above you, and you think never, you’ll never tire of that view.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #jackson!joel #tlou fic #fic: you know you never stood a chance

30 notes · View notes

dragon-ashes1485 · 20 hours

Text

TROP s2 ep7. A rant.

Firstly, this episode has been such a joy to watch, secondly, my heart rate is concerning.

Galadriel:

I loved the scene where she was in the cage, completely ready to die, because she wants to make things right. The scene with Celebrimbor was fantastic, at any moment I expected it to actually be Sauron, but the gentle way she talks to him and held his face like a child broke my heart. Phenomenal acting on both sides and the music was also amazing. Her kindness towards Arondir broke me. Her advising him against seeking out Adar was pure irony given her hunt against Sauron.

Galadriel sneaking around in that orc cloak was so stressful, even though we know she lives.

She seems kinder than in previous episodes, perhaps a result of no longer being around the ring? Or maybe she's just realising everything is going wrong. Either way, can't wait to see where her character goes next.

Elrond:

This guy. I loved how at first he looked ready for battle, but that he was also terribly afraid. But something seemed to switch in his character when his horse was killed and his pure anger there really shocked me. Also absolute savage for sending that orc flying.

I would like to take a moment to admire that he pauses to briefly mourn his horse.

The stunts that he performed are insane in this episode, and I love how Arondir keeps him safe throughout the later part of the battle.

"Durin will come" was such an important part to me, Elrond really looks like a young boy, as if he were sat on the beach during the third kinslaying again. I think the way that was portrayed was breathtaking.

And how he sits, looking up at Adar, completely ready to give in, broke me, he is utterly defeated. He has been abandoned once more (I know there were reasons but that's probably how Elrond feels). He then tries to stab Adar, but it is clear from where he aims for that he doesn't want to kill Adar, he wants to hurt him. His sigh when Adar got the ring kind of made me laugh, he's so done with all this crap.

I can't wait to see the aftermath of this.

Minor characters:

Camnir: so glad he was not in this episode or I would have cried.

Vorohil: please let this guy live. I will be sad.

Rian: I am sad. But absolute props to her for that savage arrow in her final moments.

Narvi: he just watched his kin be killed by his own king...let Narvi be ok.

Celebrimbor:

Ow. I hurt. Charles Edwards is an absolute gem, no he may not "look right" for Celebrimbor, but his potrayal of Celebrimbors descent was amazing.

Also, props to the set team for the scene where the forge transforms into its true state.

He tries so hard to fight against Sauron, he literally cuts his own thumb off. His own. Thumb. And when he's caught by the guards, he tries so hard to explain. I was so scared they'd just hand him back to Sauron until Galadriel showed her face.

I feel like I need to mention Mirdania. She was another product of Sauron's deception. Her death was horrifying and...I just can't even. Her naivety to believe "Annatar" about Celebrimbor, a man she greatly admired, was so sad, and then for her to spend her last moments believing that Celebrimbor had killed her? Ouch.

Celebrimbor tried so hard to escape, only to do what a true lord of Eregion would do, return to the only place he could protect it from, and the place he had just escaped. His bravery really shines through, and in the end it is he who comforts Galadriel.

ps: shot on the left is fantastic.

Sauron:

Still a bitch. But now with Darth Vader powers for some reason. Probably about to destroy Alderaan. I have no more to say.

Adar:

Yea I'm expecting a full orc rebellion next episode. He doesn't care as much as he did about his children which is why they were loyal to him in the first place. Glûg stayed behind when the others went to fight so I think that says a lot. It'll be interesting to see where that goes. I also hate him now because Arondir.

Durin:

Durin's speech was so middle-earthy I loved it. And then it goes to shit. I love that he got Narvi on side. The scene where he sees Elrond again means so much to me, there has not been enough of these two in this series and I really hope ep8 rectifies that, particularly after what happened (or rather, didn't happen) on the battlefield.

I love that Durin admires Elrond's new hair, as he should, it is fabulous. ALSO WHERE IS DISA. I swear if Disa dies, then I do too.

Look at this dwarf in his element. Also eff his dad, his dad is a prick.

He's really starting to come into his own, fighting against the evil. And you can see later how much his father's actions hurt him because not only does it mean he can't aid Eregion, but his father has killed dwarves. His own kind.

Amazon, please be kind to Durin next episode.

Gil-Galad:

Not much to say except from look at this boi in all his regalia. Love it when you see a monarch actually in the fighting, makes you like them. Especially as Gil-Galad has not been the most likeable chap this series.

Arondir:

Anyone needs me, I will be crying. That's all I have to say.

Overall thoughts on episode:

Battle sequence was 10/10. The effort put into this show amazes me. Fantastic acting from everyone, namely Charles Edwards, Charlie Vickers, Robert Aramayo and Morfydd Clark (ok fine, everyone). Well done to all the stunt horses as well, such good horses. Bear McCreary's soudntrack shone this episode, including so many characters themes. Also the last ballad of Damrod in the credits!

I am both anticipating and dreading next episode. What will happen with Celebrimbor? And what of Khazad-Dum? How will Adar use the ring? And will we need a box of tissues?

#I am sorry for the long rant but I live with people who don't watch TROP and I cannot infodump #therefore the Internet is my way of releasing ep7 feels.#This was no ones day #If disa dies I die #this was not elrond's day #I nearly had a heart attack this whole episode #Can you blame me.#thank you for coming to my ted talk #the rings of power #trop season 2 #galadriel #gil galad #elrond #Ps im glad we can put the thankfully platonic kiss behind us at last.#Someone kills your horse then yeet them at a wall #Said by Elrond probably #I just had to say all this otherwise I won't sleep tonight #crappy quality strikes again #Im sorry

30 notes · View notes

thewisaaaaad · 3 days

Text

AWWW FUCK

In my sleep deprived state, I have created YET ANOTHER AU by smashing together several ideas in my head, along with being inspired by @kamodofilez bells of the dammed au. Sorry for pinging you, but CREDIT IS DUE.

When am I going to run out of these oh lamb

Anyways here's the au. I call it the Regretful Hunter AU, no idea if i am going to continue with this.

In this AU, neither the lamb nor Narinder really wanted to fight.

As soon as Narinder heard the new prophecy through Ratau, he knew exactly what would happen.

Five becomes nothing? He wasn't stupid. He was going to fall too, just like all his siblings.

Good. It was what he deserved. It was what he wanted.

Narinder did the fight because he was actually tired of being the god of death, saw that the lamb was way better at being god than any of his siblings were, and wanted to pass the mantle. Of course, due to pride and family trauma, they couldn't just hand it over, so he tried to goad the lamb into killing him. He... doesn't really consider how Aym and Baal would feel about it. He forgot they were people, honestly, until it was too late to care.

The lamb, meanwhile, was totally chill with dying. They felt that they were OK at playing leader, but was ready to hand over the reins to the god that gave them the opportunity to take revenge for their people.

They were fully ready to let go, and see their family again in the afterlife. After all that had happened, they were just. So. Tired.

However, fate has ways of getting what it wants- including puppeting its victims. The lamb was conscious the whole time as they were forced to fight the person that gave them everything they had ever wanted and slay his guardians. They were just glad that they didn't have to kill him.

Narinder was less than pleased with the mercy. When the guilt of what he had done set in, he ran away from the cult before the lamb could explain what happened.

He planned on going out, finding a nice cliff with some sharp rocks at the bottom, and ending it once and for all.

Turns out, ending your life by your own hands is a lot harder than he thought. It can be pretty scary, standing at the edge.

He blames his mortality, of course.

Lamb, meanwhile, goes into a depression induced stupor, the young god just going through the motions of running a cult. ???'s arrival makes it a little easier, by giving them a goal to work towards, but they never stop hoping to find Narinder again. They know hes not dead yet.

They would feel it.

Narinder continues to survive in the forest, hunting critters using plumbata, or throwing arrows, made from stolen arrows. He goes around, surviving while cursing his cowardice, until one day he wanders through Silkcradle, looking for spiders to hunt.

Instead, he finds a panda and a skunk in mortal danger. Before, he would have let them die, for obviously if they had wanted to live then they would not have come here, doubly so for the panda who could have just never come to the lands of the old faith at all.

But now? Now he understands the fear of the end. How it can creep up on you without knowledge of its presence, how a foolish decision can seem like the best one to make in the moment.

So he saves them. They, of course, ask for his name.

He does not give it. Instead, he gives them the location of paradise, where they will be safe. When asked why he does not go there himself, he answers that "I had lost my right to that place long ago."

When Jalala and Rinor arrive at the lambs cult, they tell the lamb of the kind stranger who saved them, the cat with three red eyes.

The lamb gets excited. He's still out there. And he wishes he could be here.

They just have to talk to him.

#i really don't know what i'm doing #cotl #cult of the lamb #cotl au #cotl lamb #cotl narinder #cotl jalala #cotl rinor

43 notes · View notes

msschemmenti · 5 hours

Text

one year down, forever to go

emily prentiss x reader

monday morning guest— part two

a/n: i’m actually very surprised how much y’all enjoyed the first part of this because it was in fact a crack idea i came up with randomly !! but here’s a second part and i apologize if it sucks i really had no clue where this was going <3

a/n to the a/n: also my requests are open if y’all wanna request something :)

“you’re married?!” garcia was the first to exclaim and emily sighed in exasperation. she eyed her chosen family and knew she wasn’t getting out of answering this. at all.

“Technically i’m divorced now.” emily grimaced as she watched garcia’s face contort further in confusion.

“How can this be? How did you get married and divorced within the hour? You know I thought we were done with secrets after you faked your death but i see I was wrong and you actually don’t love me.” garcia grumbled as she threw herself on the couch in disdain.

“Uh- Penelope, this is not the same thing. I found out at the same time you did.” Emily scoffed as she ran a hand through her hair. She lowered herself behind her desk and made to pick up a file, hoping the team would take the hint. Wishful thinking.

“Oh no, none of that. Spill.” Tara grinned as she perched on the arm of the couch expectantly. Everyone follows her lead in getting comfortable.

“Aren’t there some case files out there you should all be working on?” Emily groaned, nodding toward their desks in the bullpen.

“Sure, but this is far more interesting.” JJ grinned with a shrug.

“Yeah, if I recall correctly it was only a little while ago that you were hyperbolically recounting my wives. And low and behold, you’ve got a wife of your own.” Rossi goaded.

“How many wives are you at?” Luke asked, easily distracted but ever happy to be included.

“Not the point, Newbie. Stop distracting. We’re here to learn about Emily’s secret wife, not Rossi’s 6 wives.” Garcia chastised, turning everyone’s attention back to Emily.

“God, I’m not getting out of this am I?” Emily asked, and when everyone shook their heads her shoulders slumped, and she accepted her fate.

backpacking through Europe may have been her best idea yet, or so she thought at least. y/n didn’t seem to agree. they were nearing the end of their spring break and as beautiful and adventure filled as the days had been— the younger woman was ready to get to a hotel.

“em, if we take one more turn you’ll be carrying me back to civilization.” y/n groaned.

“back to civilization? there’s like 60 people hiking the same trail we’re on.” emily rolled her eyes.

“okay and? i haven’t seen a mall in days. i’m going through serious withdrawals.” y/n sighed as they did in fact take another turn.

“oh stop your whining, we’re almost at the hotel. i told you, we could spend half the trip backpacking and the other half in the lavish luxury you dream of so often.” emily smiled over her shoulder, reaching for y/n’s hand to pull her down the trail.

“i just don’t understand. your mother damn near begged us to use her hotel and resort recommendations and you want to be outside. in nature’s home. couldn’t have gotten that from your mom.” y/n lamented, putting up very little fight as emily guided her further through the park.

emily listened to her complain for most of the days they’d been out but she really couldn’t think of any other person she’d want with her. meeting y/n had been rather serendipitous. she’d just started her mastered at yale and moved into this astronomically expensive apartment in georgetown. and she was hell bent on supporting herself. so she’d found a restaurant looking for waitresses and put in an application. on her way out the hostess had changed and she’d rather dumbly stopped at the station with the application in her hand.

“hi?” the woman chuckled, eyeing the brunette curiously.

emily’s cheeks reddened under the woman’s gaze and she cleared her throat. “uh, hi. they told me to give my application to the hostess but i don’t see her anymore.”

the woman leaned against the hostess stand with a chuckle and reached her hand out to accept the paper. “that was nina, she works mornings. i’m the evening girl.”

emily nodded disjointedly and handed the application over, “morning girl is nina. so that makes you?”

the hostess grinned and leaned a bit further toward emily, “that makes me y/n,” y/n looked at the top of the application searching for a name. “emily.”

emily smiled and rubbed the back of her neck, “nice to meet you.”

y/n smirked as she eyed emily, “you’ve never had a job before have you?”

emily’s cheeks reddened instantly and she grimaced, “is it that obvious?”

“yeah sweet. it’s real obvious. but you’re cute, so i’ll put in a good word for you.” y/n shrugged and headed back through the restaurant with the application. emily’s cheeks felt like they were on fire but it only worsened when y/n sent a flirty wave over her shoulder before disappearing behind the bar.

and from that day on they’d been inseparable. y/n was working her way through law school and even after emily had been rightfully fired from the restaurant, y/n had become her favorite person. somewhere during the first year of them knowing each other they finally gave into the ever present flirtation and got together.

that’s how they ended up in europe anyway. emily was graduating in a few months and this was set to be her last big hurrah of freedom before diving head first into work. she’d sold y/n on the beauty of europe and also her company.

“i don’t know if i ever told you. but anytime mother and i were in france, i spent most of my time with my grandfather up in his cabin in the french alps. there was a 10-year stretch where he didn't come down off the mountain. he had no electricity, no running water, and his food supplies came from the land. those were some of my fondest memories.”

at emily’s explanation, y/n quieted a bit and leaned in to kiss her lips sweetly. “well i guess it’s not that bad then. as long as i can get you drunk tonight?”

“i guess. not like i can say no to you.”

“not like you ever have before. if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”

and drunk they did get. so much so that they woke up with little to no memory of the night before. rings on fingers and heads pounding. they were married.

“So what, now you’re like Rossi? A profiler with a hot ex-wife?” Tara asked as Emily brought the story to a close. Emily glared at the woman but shrugged a little in defeat.

“well she didn’t seem too upset when she left. if anything she seemed eager for something…” spencer pointed out.

“that’s right boy genius, she thanked me. a scorned ex wife wouldn’t have done that!” garcia nodded frantically, pinning emily with a glare.

“well we are divorced. i signed the paper but while she’s in town, she’s agreed to let me make up for the twenty years of marriage i’ve missed out on.” emily replied, cheeks flushing as everyone cheered and whooped.

“when? where? what’s the plan?” garcia pestered.

“i don’t know penelope, she only just left. plus with our work load who knows when i’ll be able to actually take her out.”

garcia shook her head in determination, “mark my words, i will make sure this happens. i can smell a second wedding already.”

emily looked at the tech analyst in disbelief and jj seemed to get the hint. “alright cupid, let’s leave emily to ponder her date ideas.” emily gave jj a grateful look as she watched her corral everyone out of her office.

second wedding was a bit extreme but she really did hope between her and garcia’s wishful thinking that she’d be out with y/n very soon.

“took you long enough. i thought you might’ve changed your mind.” y/n grinned as the hostess brought her over to emily.

emily stood with a sheepish smile, it had been 3 weeks since y/n had popped back into her life and as much as she wanted to get their date on the books— serial killers really stopped at nothing. “trust me, if i’d had it my way we would’ve been doing this far sooner. but alas, serial killers don’t care about my social life.”

y/n laughed softly pulling emily into a hug, “well i’m glad you could pencil me in. between solving your murders and jetting all over the US.”

“you make it sound so glamorous.” emily chuckled, pulling the seat out for y/n and taking her own seat.

“well there is a sort of luxury involved with having a jet.” y/n replied with a shrug.

emily rolled her eyes affectionately, “sure, when you’re not on your way to a gruesome crime scene.”

“well you got me there, you always did have a stronger stomach than me when it came to all that criminal stuff.” y/n smiled as she pulled the menu open.

“you know me, compartmentalizing at its finest.” emily shrugged opening her own menu as well.

“ah ah ah, i was there when you invented that excuse. it didn’t work then and it won’t work now.” y/n tsked.

“you really haven’t changed.” emily smiled with a content sigh.

“you know what i always say, if it not broke—“ y/n started.

“don’t fix it.” emily finished just as the waitress returned to take their order. with orders placed, a bottle of wine poured they both settled into a familiar volley.

“so you seem to know everything that’s happened to me in the last twenty years but i’m a little in the dark.”

“well i only know what your mother knows, which im sure isn’t much considering it’s your mother. but i’ll bite. after you graduated, i finished out law school. i think by then you’d started you undercover work though. started working and haven’t stopped since.”

emily nodded, “right right, and you got engaged while you were married to me.”

y/n scoffed with a laugh, “hey! you’re one to talk, miss i had to be resurrected. my engagement— while short lived was a big mistake. i was young and tired of being alone. but as i said before finding out i was still married was the least of my worries then.”

emily nodded sadly, knowing the pressures of loneliness very well. “loneliness will do that. also can i just explain my whole death arc, so you’ll stop holding it against me?”

“absolutely, be my guest.”

“so there was this super evil guy, i went under and he kinda fell in love with me—“

“fell in love with my wife?”

“shh! yes unfortunately he did. well obviously he went down for his crimes but he escaped prison and came after my team. and he really wanted me dead and impaled me with a chair leg.”

“a chair leg?! you can’t be serious.”

“yes a chair leg, and he got away. so it wasn’t exactly safe for me to be living and that led to me faking my death. and spending my recovery alone in paris.” emily explained.

“well where the hell is he now?”

“dead. my team was very adamant about avenging my death.” emily smiled watching the younger woman nod in approval.

“good. nobody murders my wife and gets away with it.” y/n glared before winking over at emily.

both women talked over their food, flirting like old times, and really just enjoying each other’s company. once their plates had been cleared, a waitress brought out a slice of pie with the words “happy anniversary” drizzled across the plate.

“well well well, you weren’t kidding when you said you wanted to make up for those missed anniversaries.” y/n smiled, holding a spoonful of pie out for emily to eat. she accepted the offered sweet treat with a furious blush, but couldn’t help to think just how whipped she still was for this woman.

emily sighed happily, pulling y/n through the streets of dc. one of y/n hands was wrapped in her own while the other held a bouquet of flowers emily had purchased no their post-dinner walk. when they made it back to the parking lot, they reluctantly walked over to y/n’s car together.

y/n grinned as she leaned against the hood of her car, emily’s hand still in her own. she watched as a smile curled on emily’s lips and at the sight of that dimple y/n pulled her as close as she could out in the parking lot. “well em, i must say this was a rather enjoyable belated anniversary celebration. i can only think of one thing to make it perfect.”

“oh really, and what would that be? you know i’ve always strived for perfection.” emily asked, eyes flickering between y/n’s eyes and lips.

“you always were an overachiever. glad to see that’s still the same.” y/n grinned, pulled emily into a kiss that lit their bodies on fire. if there was one thing emily prentiss could do, the woman could kiss. and 20 years seemed to only add to her skills. y/n held out for as long as she could but when could feel her heartbeat in her ears she reluctantly pulled away to breathe. emily looked down at her smugly and pushed a lock of hair out of her face. boy did she miss that.

“next anniversary is on me?” y/n whispered against emily’s lips.

“well i sure like the sound of that.” emily agreed easily.

one anniversary down, only about 19 more to go.

#emily prentiss x reader #criminal minds #emily prentiss #msschemmenti #criminal minds x reader

30 notes · View notes

i-am-a-bad-influence-writes · 3 days

Text

Not Man, Nor Monster

Masterlist Word count: 1.5 k Halsin x Reader x Astarion (but he isn't really in it. just the dynamic) Read on AO3

Summary: You tried so hard, but in the end you couldn't stop Astarion's ascension. It weighs on you harder than you had imagined. Halsin helps you get through it.

Normally, camp is a place to unwind. A place where the outside world doesn't exist, except for those nights where the outside world infiltrates camp. Luckily, those nights are few and far between. Tonight is a different situation. There are two empty tents. One is permanently empty, the other temporarily abandoned to find peace in nature. The one belongs to Astarion, the other to Tav. The rest of the group thought about going after either of them to try and talk this through, but Jaheira made the wise decision to let everything cool down before starting a conversation. There's a blanket of tension and gloom thrown over the camp as everyone tries to dance around the subject at hand. Jaheira, Halsin, and Gale sit around the campfire, all three hopelessly lost while looking for something to talk about while a bottle of mermaid whiskey gets passed around in circles that seem to go a little too fast. Scratch and Honey, the owlbear Tav jokingly named after Halsin's favourite snack, scatter around but aren't playing as they usually do. It seems even the two of them can feel the tension. Scratch had to be called back multiple times while trying to go after Tav. Gale finally breaks the silence: 'So what do we do now?' Jaheira shows a pained smile as the mermaid whiskey is passed to her. The bottle is almost empty by now. 'We drink and we wait,' she speaks. Halsin shivers. Quite the sight to see someone that big shiver. 'This doesn't feel right.' As if on que, a bloodcurdling scream is heard from the forest. It is loaded with regret, pain, and heartbreak. The scream goes through bone and marrow, sending a cold shiver down the spines of everyone at camp. Shadowheart comes running towards the campfire, panic in her eyes. 'I think someone should check up on them,' she hastily says, almost getting ready to run into the woods but Halsin gets up and nods to her. She looks defeated and maybe a little annoyed. Jaheira pats the spot on the ground where Halsin was sitting as he walks calmy towards the forest. 'But I-' 'It's better if he goes,' Jaheira interrupts, 'those two are inseparable.' Shadowheart knows it to be true but still looks hesitant as she sits down. Jaheira passes her the mermaid whiskey. She toys with the bottle for a second before finishing it off.

'Tav, are you here?' Halsin doesn't have to ask, he is one with the forest and knows every creature there. He simply does it to be polite, to give Tav a chance to tell him to piss off if they so please. He finds them curled up and sobbing, laying in the middle of a small clearing. They look up at Halsin with big, red eyes. He hates the sight and would kill Astarion for doing this to Tav but they are more important than his murderous rage right now. He sits down next to them and they lay their head in his lap. Halsin gently brushes his fingers through their hair, allowing them to let it all go, let everything slip out. 'He told me he'd make me his spawn, after everything we've been through. He tried to do to me what has been done to him. I should've never helped him with the ritual. I am so stupid.' 'No darling, you couldn't predict this. You see the good in everyone, that's what makes you so incredibly special. It is one of many reasons why I love you.' 'You know, that's the worst part. He told me he loved me before proposing to make me his spawn. How can someone be so incredibly cruel? He was healing and this just changed everything.' 'It pains me to see you like this. No one deserves that kind of treatment.' 'But I do. I am far too naïve to fight this fight. I shouldn't be leading a group of people into battle. I'm not strong enough. I make too many stupid decisions.' Halsin can feel as the pain and sadness Tav feels turns into rage and self-hatred. It's something he's never seen of them before. They're normally the sunshine smile at camp, the motivator, the helper. He must've been blind to forget they're a person with fears and insecurities too. Blinded in the light of their smile as to not see the shadows behind it. 'My heart, if not you then who? You are the only one in this camp without a clouded opinion. The only one who weighs every option evenly and thinks ahead. Sometimes I feel like you can see into the future.' 'Even so, I let someone with such a black heart cloud my judgement for so long. I can only be grateful that you saw through all of it. Not everyone at camp is as forgiving as you are.' 'My love, I am not forgiving in the slightest. I hold grudges until the end of time but you always see reason.' 'Halsin, please. I know you're trying to make it better, but I just want to wallow in my feelings until I can't feel anything anymore.' 'Are you sure?' 'No, but your words usually soothe me. Now they only piss me off. I don't want to hate you.' Their breath hitches in their throat as the sobs come up again. Halsin lays himself down in the grass and pats his chest. Tav takes the invitation and lays their head on his chest, curled into his body with his arm around them, holding them tight. It feels like a safety blanket, like a cloud numbing the feelings of before. The big feelings weighing on their chest seem to lose their weight as a spell of tiredness lifts over them. Surely, Halsin has something to do with it, as well as the protective spell they feel encasing them in their spot, but they don't mind. And slowly night becomes day.

'They're not back yet,' Shadowheart asks Jaheira while they're both suiting up. 'No, and I doubt we'll head out today.' Jaheira can tell that, while she's trying to be respectful and loving, it annoys Shadowheart that Tav can't shove their feelings to the side in favour of the greater good. 'They'll be fine soon. They're strong but you have to realize that they've been playing the part of listening ear for weeks now. Maybe even months. They've listened to everyone's troubles and tried to fix them. Astarion was a real piece of work but even I could see he was starting to regain self-worth and love for life. Besides, they were together for some time. They did everything they could to make Astarion as comfortable and happy as possible and he still stabbed them in the back. That's not something you come back from easily.' 'What do you mean?' 'You did not hear what he proposed to her last night?' 'No, it is not my business.' 'You should make it your business,' Jaheira grumbles, 'he told them he loved them and he'd make them his spawn to love forever.' 'I see. It makes more sense now.'

Morning light wakes Tav with a comforting thumping under their head. They open their eyes to see Halsin still peacefully sleeping. The protective spell he covered them with has long worn off and so has the sleeping spell he put on them. A smile spreads on their lips as they push themselves up to press the sweetest of kisses on his lips. They did not want his help yesterday but are more than glad he put them to sleep. Nothing they thought or said was rational yesterday. 'You are going to give me toothaches if you keep kissing me that sweetly.' 'I thought you liked sweet.' 'I never said I do not.' A content feeling flushes over Tav as they lose themselves in this moment. There is still good in the world. 'I've been dreaming,' Tav tells halsin, 'I dreamt about a world overgrown with lush greenery and people living in peace with each other and everything around them. There was no Astarion, no elder brain, no tadpoles. Just you and me sitting on the porch of a tiny house we built looking out onto a lake. Sometimes we would go out and roam, uncover the forests around us and finding new spots each and every time. And you told me you loved me every day and I said it back every time.' Halsin smiles and tightens his arm around Tav. 'That sounds like heaven.' 'I wish it were possible.' 'Maybe it is. Maybe we'll find a way after all of this is over.' They stay quiet for a while. 'I think we'll need to kill Astarion after all of this is over. I fear he might be worse than Cazador.' 'As much as I wish it were different, I think you are right, but we'll get there when we get there.' 'Deal.' 'Are you ready to return to camp?' 'Not yet. Let's just stay a little longer.'

#halsin x reader #halsin #bg3 halsin #halsin fanfic #halsin x tav #halsin x reader x astarion #halsin fluff #halsin angst #bg3 #halsin baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate fic #baldur's gate fanfic #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #halsin bg3 #bg3 fanfic #halsin fanfiction

30 notes · View notes

porcelainseashore · 3 days

Text

Coffee & Secrets (5)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Rookie Cop! Leon x Barista! Fem! Reader

Summary: As a cozy coffee shop owner in Raccoon City, you’re no stranger to visitors seeking comfort, quiet, and warmth. When a rookie officer named Leon finds a kindred spirit in you, it sets in motion a chain of events that forever changes the course of your lives. An alternate universe set in Resident Evil 2 Remake and inspired by the game Coffee Talk.

Content & Warnings: Canon divergence, coffee shops, romance, slow burn, strangers to lovers, idiots in love, fluff, slice of life, swearing

Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to @pickonerain! You've been an absolute star to me and seeing as you love Sherry, here's her little addition to the story 😇

AO3 Link

Chapter 5: Divergence

It was not like Claire and Leon to hide from you, but somehow they had ended up right at the other end of the room, far away from the counter, out of sight. They seemed deep in conversation, their expressions grim, and Leon was gripping his porcelain cup so tight you were afraid it would shatter to bits in his hand.

Curiosity—or rather, nosiness—got the better of you, and you scooted closer to the couple, pretending to sweep the area so you could listen in more easily.

“This was why you wanted to meet me, Claire?”

“Isn’t it important enough? I don’t get why you’re being so defensive!”

“I thought you wanted to catch up over coffee, not use me for one of your schemes!”

“Use you? Are you even listening to yourself? How does bringing down that son of a bitch count as ‘using you’?

“Chief Irons probably had a good reason, and all these rumors—”

“Rumors? There’s cold, hard evidence! We just need that one missing piece—”

“No! Forget it.”

“What?”

“I’m not getting involved.”

“So, this is it, huh? You go your way, and I go mine?”

“I…”

“I’m embarrassed I even called you a friend.”

Kicking out her chair, Claire threw down a couple of bills on the table before storming out in a fit of rage, slamming the front door behind her.

Before you could even react, Leon had beaten you to it. “Don’t look at me like that,” he chided, though he had ducked his face away, red with shame. “I know you heard everything. You weren’t exactly being very stealthy.”

“That was never really my strong suit,” you admitted. “Mind if I join you?”

“Be my guest,” he said, motioning to the seat beside him, still unable to look you in the eye.

Spying his half-finished drink on the table, now cold, you resisted the urge to get up and fix it, knowing there were other things he needed more in that moment. So, you continued to sit with him, and even though you did not exchange any words, you breathed together, content with sharing in each other’s company until he was ready to speak.

“Do you think I’m naive?”

“No, why do you ask?”

“Maybe I’m scared that I am,” he confessed, his voice small and tired. “What if I’m wrong? What if Claire’s wrong?”

Cradling his cheek in your hand, you caressed it softly. He didn’t protest, but leaned in indulgently, nuzzling his nose against your palm like a deer. Then, something clicked internally and he broke away, straightening up in his seat as though he had not just given in to his desires a moment ago. However, this time, his face was angled towards you, waiting.

“What does your gut feeling say?” you put forward. “I’d trust that.”

He hesitated, taking a deep breath as he stared off into the distance, gathering his thoughts. “A snake oil salesman—that’s one way of putting it.”

“Chief Irons,” he clarified. “Whenever I get close to something nasty, he throws me off scent.”

Another hunter—a more seasoned one, you observed.

“I guess you have your answer.”

He collapsed into the backrest of the armchair and exhaled, as though a large weight had been lifted off his shoulders. “I’ll figure it out,” he stated, mostly to himself.

“I know you will,” you said encouragingly.

He had chosen the more difficult path, but at least he had made peace with it and was no longer in denial about Chief Irons’ deception. That was definitely a step in the right direction.

“Thanks, that means a lot to me.”

Once again, there was a comfortable silence between the two of you. It felt nice like this, as though your very thoughts and beings were connected.

“I want to know more about you,” he professed out of the blue. “But somehow, you always manage to steer the conversation back to me.”

You gulped, fiddling with your hands. “What do you wanna know?”

“Everything,” he murmured. “Your backstory, your favorite color, what do you do outside of work…” he trailed off.

“I’m not used to talking about myself,” you spelled out.

He grinned cheekily, as if the battle had already been won. “Don’t worry, I’m a good listener.”

And so, you yielded to him, letting things unfold as they should. Hours passed while you shared tales and secrets over cups of spiced tea with sweet milk. The flavors of cardamom, cinnamon, cloves, and nutmeg swirled around your tongue, bringing to mind the warm, inviting breeze of a coastal town near the Red Sea.

“There’s many names for it,” you explained, circling the rim of the cup with your finger lazily. “But I know it as Shai Adeni.”

Leon nestled his chin in his hand, propping his elbow on the table as he gazed at you, captivated. “Incredible.”

“Hmm?” You were not sure if he had registered what you had just said.

Reaching out, he cupped the back of your neck, pulling you close. His heated breath moist against your flushed skin, and the scent of his cologne was dizzying. “You’re—”

The door chime jingled.

Both of you jolted, separating yourselves away from each other in a flash, as your eyes fell upon a little girl standing shyly by the entrance. She was dressed in a school uniform, her hair neatly swept back with a headband into a braided bun.

“Hey there,” you greeted, brushing your hands against your apron as you stood up, shuffling past Leon towards her. “Would you like something to drink?”

At this, she nodded enthusiastically, following you to the counter to grab a seat. As you infused white chocolate into milk with a good dollop of citrus, you exchanged looks with Leon, who held the same concerns as you.

Sliding over another high chair adjacent to hers, he gently opened with, “Hey, I’m Leon. You got a name, pumpkin?”

She wrinkled her nose and grimaced at the nickname. “Sherry,” she replied timidly.

“Nice to meet you, Sherry,” Leon said, shaking hands before he continued, “So, it’s really late, huh? Do your parents know where you are?”

She twiddled her thumbs, swinging her dangling legs back and forth on the chair. “They don’t care,” she said finally. “They’re busy.”

“What do your parents do?”

“They work at Umbrella. They’re making important new medicine,” she revealed proudly.

“Sounds like a tough job,” Leon empathized.

After sprinkling the glittery icing sugar on her drink, you set it before her with a flourish. “Voilà, your Yuzu Meringue, Miss Sherry.”

She giggled at your performance and slurped down the foamy surface. “Mmm!”

“Good, huh?” Leon gave her a side smile.

“Tell you what, Sherry,” you began, “when you finish your drink, my friend Leon here will take you home, okay?”

Her nose was dusted with powder and the cup was still covering half of her face as her eyes darted towards the man.

“He’s a good cop, you’ll be safe with him,” you reassured her.

Scribbling down your shop’s telephone number on a piece of scrap paper, you handed it to her. “Keep this, you can call me anytime you need to.”

Taking it, she pursed her lips and nodded reluctantly as she stuffed it away into her pocket. “Can I—” she paused, “can I come here whenever I want? You and Leon are nice.”

A pang of loneliness hit you. You sensed it from the tone of her voice and what was left unsaid. It didn’t seem like she had many friends and you wondered about it.

“Please?” she begged, interrupting your thoughts.

“Of course, sweetheart,” you said warmly. “You’re welcome here anytime.”

“Thank you!” she squealed, running over to give you a quick hug before taking Leon by the hand.

Turning to you, a rosy hue spread across his face as he smiled meekly. “So… uh, I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“See you tomorrow, as usual, Leon.”

Dividers by @cafekitsune

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy fluff #coffee shop au #re2 leon #re2 remake #resident evil 2 #resident evil #fic: coffee & secrets #porcelainscribbles

35 notes · View notes