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macravishedbymactavish · 1 year

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Hugging Headcanons (TF141 + König x GN!Reader)

Turns out, I'm better at full paragraph writing then headcanons, but we do our best in this house.

TW: Light swearing (like 2-3 words at most), little bit of cheeky adult(ish. Major ISH) behaviour, and mentions of anxiety/overthinking

Soap:

If he had it his way, he'd be hugging you constantly. Loves (and I mean LOVES) physical contact and just being close to you in general.

He is also very vocal about this. From the beginning of your relationship he's made it known that he L I V E S for physical contact.

His favourite way to hug you is from behind, especially when you're not expecting it. The little jump then relaxing when you realize it's him brings him so much joy.

100% content with holding you from behind like this, chin resting on your shoulder as you do things.

Cooking? He'll be there, likely stealing some of the food before it's served (and laughing when he gets smacked with the spoon).

Paperwork? He'll try to hold you with one arm and write with the other, until Ghost or Price gives him shit because you're both now working at half your normal pace.

Anywhere, anytime. He's going to try to hug you.

If at any point you stop and think: "does Soap want a hug" the answer is yes. Always yes.

Soap always wants a hug, please hug him.

Ghost:

Would either be 100% hesitant and unsure of what he's doing, or 100% confident and assertive. No inbetween for this.

I feel he doesn't dislike physical contact (quite the opposite actually), but rather just hasn't had any physical or emotional connections in quite a while. So long in fact that he's grown fine without it. Until you came around.

Like context pre-hug aside, he probably did the cliche "tense right up then relax once he realizes he's safe" the first time you hugged him. Now he's hooked on the warmth of your body, the way you feel pressed into him, and how automatically relaxed he gets while being hugged.

Since he strikes me as someone who isn't huge on PDA (he's a rather private person) as much as he wants to hold you 24/7, he reserves this for moments when it's just the two of you.

The exception to the rule being stressful missions or any time when he was concerned for your wellbeing. He will gladly hold you close to remind himself that you're okay. No matter where you are, just a reminder that you're still here. You're still his. He pays no mind to anyone else in that moment outside of you and him.

He would NOT be open to questions or explanations the first time this happens, especially if it's in front of the guys. Yes, he's proud of you. Yes he's happy your his. No, they don't need to know every detail of your relationship.

Price:

I can see him being the "little bit obnoxious but a lot of love bear hug" type. Like you can't breathe but that's okay, he loves you a lot.

Much like Ghost - not huge on PDA. Partially because he likes to keep his personal life and work life seperate. But also a professional thing.

He leads a team, he has to keep up appearances. He also doesn't feel like dealing with his sergeants teasing the life out of him for being a softie.

He's also not a teenager anymore, his "I need to touch you at every minute of every hour" days are over. He's perfectly content holding you when appropriate/when he can.

He tries his best to balance work and home. Hugs and loving talks before bed are a MUST in this household. Of course you'll cuddle up in bed, but he makes a point to love up on you a bit more while you're both awake and can remember it.

Like everyone on this list: long hugs before he's deployed and when he first comes home. But I feel like his are more worth mentioning? He's been in the military either the entire time or majority of the time you've been with him. So because of that, you've sacrificed so much for this relationship so he could pursue his career/what feels right. The least he can do is set aside time for just you, to let you feel even a whisper of closure before he goes/when he returns.

I just imagine in the kitchen, tight hug. Ready to say goodbye, as he whispers stuff to you. Like whether it be bits of your vows, quotes he knows you live by, or just how much he adores you for everything. He would make an absolute point to give you another piece of his soul to treasure before he leaves (we can get into this more later if wanted)

Gaz

Another very playful soul. Not outward on PDA, but won't give up a chance to hug you quick or keep a hand on the small of your back.

You rank pretty high on the better things he has in life (if not on top), of course he's going to show you off. He landed a partner who is gorgeous inside and out.

As shown in game, he is a cheeky mf. So expect this to translate into the physical contact.

Mid-hug he may grab a handful of your ass, or start peppering kisses to your neck if hugging you from behind - then pretend like nothing happened (obviously in private. Time and place for everything folks).

I can see him being big on having his arm around your shoulders quite often. Like in resuraunts, resting his arm on the back of your chair, or doing the same while sitting on the couch with you. Just casual contact, a small flex of "they're mine, crazy right?"

Expect to be pulled into a tight hug, then dipped during your first kiss at your wedding. A little bit of flair and spice on your big day. Especially considering he got so flustered after your second or third date, that instead of going in for a goodbye/goodnight kiss he chickened out and opted to hug you close instead.

You melted when he told you that one night, when recounting the many stories and memories from your relationship.

So hugs, needless to say are pretty symbolic in your relationship

König

(Side note: I live and breathe the fact that his social anxiety is canon. I've never related to a character faster)

As anyone with social anxiety knows: it's not about whether you like physical contact or not -- it's normally the overthinking about "Do I initiate? Do I not? Do I pull away first? Am I hugging them for too long? Is this weird?"

He's very sweet overall, but quite awkward and overthinks hugging you initially. But wishes so much that you'd hug him over and over again.

He almost melts the first time you do, but is another "cliche freezes then relaxes" because he's so nervous. He really enjoys your company, he doesn't want to mess this up. He wants this to feel as nice and loving for you as it does for him.

Needless to say, it takes a little while and a lot of reassurance for him to get comfortable hugging you first. But when this day comes, oh boy watch out.

He will hug you at any opportunity. From behind hugs, side hugs, bear hugs, quick hugs, hugs where you do that little sway thing, hugs where you lightly rub the other persons back. He loves them all equally.

He especially loves hugs where you rest your face against his chest, and relax into him. Letting all the stress from your day fade for even a moment (because that's how he has always felt when you hugged him)

He found it both comical and endearing when you dragged a chair from across the room to in front of him to stand on so you could either (depending on your height and the chair)

1) Press your face into his neck without him having to bend right down

2). Let him rest his head against your chest and relax.

Not that he'd ever admit it out loud, but that's the memory he finds himself thinking back to when he can't sleep during a long deployment. Or when he needs a quick pick-me-up after a long day.

Taglist: @bloodonmyhands-1221 @v1naco @bowtruckleninja

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luveline · 2 years

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I had an idea silly but wanted to share. Reader gets a call from Roanie's school for the first time because she felt sick and said she wanted her mom. It is the first time that the reader is called at school and she feels bursting with love and drops everything to save her daughter. When Eddie gets home he can only feel even more in love with his girls (and a little jealous 🥺

thank you for your request! eddie and roan ♥︎ fem!reader, 2k words (roan calls you mom and your name)

You're sitting bored in your office when the phone rings. Thankful for any saviour, you immediately drop the pen you'd been clicking and bring the receiver to your cheek.

"Hi, L/N speaking."

"Hi, Miss L/N, this is Dana Montgomery, the receptionist at Hawkins Elementary. We have a sick Roan Munson here, and Nurse Paula thinks it would be best if she was collected and taken home."

"Is she alright?" you ask, holding the receiver to your cheek with your shoulder as you stand.

The receptionist sighs sympathetically. "She chucked up in class, I'm afraid."

You assure the receptionist that you'll be there soon and gather your things in a rush, though you pause before you leave, perplexed. While you're more than okay with being called for Roan, the elementary school usually call you only if they can't get in touch with Eddie, and as far as you know he's safe and sound at work and completely contactable.

You grab the phone and dial in the mechanics number, uncertain. It takes a while to pick up.

"Hi, Hawki-"

"Hey, Wayne. Is Eddie around?"

"He's right here next to me, you wanna talk to him?"

"Please. Thank you."

There's a transference, a sound like fingers over the receiver, and then, "Hi, what's wrong?"

Very in character. "Did Roan's school call?" You barely pause between your question and the explanation, not wanting him to worry unnecessarily. "They called me asking to pick her up, said she threw up."

"They didn't call me. I'll go grab her-"

"No, I'll get her, I was just wondering," you say, familiar enough by now to make demands. He doesn't take any offence.

"Alright, babe. Call me if you need me. See you soon?"

His voice sounds sweet down the line. A mixture of things, the most important to you being the total trust and confidence. He doesn't think for a second you can't deal with this.

"Alright. Love you, handsome."

"I love you. Tell my girl I said the same."

You hang up without anymore goodbyes and quickly nip into your boss' office to plea family emergency. She's not pleased but not angry, and so you send her your biggest, most award-winning smile and are out of the building and behind the wheel of your car in minutes.

Your stomach aches in worry on the drive, for Roan and for yourself, because while you've picked her up from daycare when she was a little younger when Eddie couldn't make it, you've never been the first point of contact, and you haven't ever picked her up since she started elementary school. You barely know where it is, you don't know where to park, and it takes you five minutes too long to locate the main entrance.

The receptionist looks like she's expecting you. "Roan's mom?" she asks.

Your heart does a front flip. You can't help smiling, even worried as you are. "Yeah, that's me."

She calls the nurse and tells you to take a seat if you need one. You stay standing, hands clutching the ends of your coat. You've undergone the craziest transformation, in being Roan's stepmom (though you don't call yourself her stepmom, you just say mom, following her lead) It's a peculiar thing to suddenly love someone like this, and to be ramped with worry every time she's sick. You and Eddie had spoken about it once.

Why do I feel so terrified when she scrapes her knees? Is that normal? you'd asked.

It's normal. It fades a little, after time. He'd found your hand in the sheets and squeezed it. I mean, I've had time to get used to it. When she was a baby, I pretty much lost my mind every day thinking she'd die. It was awful.

It is awful, you'd said. When does it go away?

It doesn't, really… Do you mind?

Of course you didn't mind, and you don't now. You'll undergo the anxiety that comes with loving her if it means you get to love her — it's a no-brainer.

Roan appears down the hall in her change of clothes, shepherded by the nurse's hand behind her small shoulders. There's a bag hanging from the nurse's other hand that very likely contains the clothes Roan had puked on.

"Hey, baby," you say, enthusing your tone with as much love and affection as you can, because Roan looks like the saddest little girl in the world right now.

The instantaneous change in her expression when she looks up reaffirms everything you'd thought. If getting to love her comes with stomach churning worry every now and then, you can take it. Her smile lights up the room, and she takes a series of quick but wobbly steps until she's close enough to swing up into your chest.

She smells sick, but she's soft and small as ever in your arms. You get one arm under her butt and the other behind her back as she wraps her arms and thighs around you like a clinger, as she usually does when you get home from work.

"What happened, princess?" you ask softly.

She hadn't been crying when she appeared. She doesn't look far from it now, big brown eyes shiny with unshed tears. Her eyelashes are stuck together in triangles, evidence that she'd been crying at one point. You rub her shoulders. "Say, huh? You're not feeling well?"

"Roan hasn't thrown up since the first time in class, so I haven't administered any anti-nausea or anything," the nurse says.

You look up from Roan's heartbreaking face and offer your hand for the bag of her dirty clothes. "Thank you so much for taking care of her."

The nurse smiles. "That's my job. Bye, Roan. Feel better soon, okay?"

"Bye miss Paula," Roan says quietly.

You love her. She's an angel. And you're allowed to say that because you've seen buckets of tantrums at this point. She's an angel regardless.

You thank the receptionist and hike Roan up higher on your chest. She's at the age where you can still get away with carrying her, though your office job doesn't exactly supply you with the muscles necessary for it, and your arms are sore by the time you get to the car.

She's weirdly quiet when compared to her usual self but from what you know when she gets sick and overwhelmed, this is normal for her.

You get her in her car seat, and surprise her when you climb into the back and close the door.

"Mom?" she asks, perplexed.

Every time she calls you mom, you're unreasonably happy. Sometimes she calls you by your first name, and you wouldn't rush her into anything but you have hope that one day you'll be just mom. If you aren't, that's okay. But you still hope.

"What, baby?" you ask, reaching for the wet wipes stuffed in the chair in front of her. "How are you feeling, mm? Still sick?"

"I feel okay."

You smile and start to wipe down her face carefully with a wet wipe. Her nose is runny, and her eyes are sticky from tears.

"I'm glad…" You drop your hand into her lap. "Dad says to tell you he loves you, and he'll see you soon."

"I asked for mom."

You smile at her, and you can't resist chucking her under the chin gently. "You did?"

"They always call dad, but I wanted you to come."

"I'll always come. Whenever you want me to, I'll be there for anything, Roanie, I mean it. Even if it's something small or something really big."

Tears burn behind your eyes. You don't cry, fighting the knot in your throat and mirroring Roan's smile. She looks so reassured, her little pout pulling into a smile just like Eddie's.

You're excited to marry Eddie because he's Eddie. He's yours, your love, your baby. He's a juxtaposition if they ever made one, loud and brash and irrational, sweet and gentle and the best dad in the world. You love him for his heart, and his callused hands, and his amazingly trim waist. But honestly, sometimes, you think you could love him for making Roan alone. That one thing, this one gift, it's something you'll be grateful for and impressed by for the rest of your life.

You get to be his, and you get to be Roan's mom. It's the greatest double win in history.

—

He finds you exactly where he's expecting, in your work clothes lying on the couch with his sick Roanie curled up smack dab on top of you. Your hand pets a slow rhythm through her hair, which you've freed from her bunches. You've been raking your hands through it long enough to detangle every knot, her curls dark and silky, if a little damp.

Eddie gets home a little later than usual with a restocked kiddie pharmacy and lots of soup. He marvels at the soup stereotype, and he knows from experience that soup genuinely cures at least 40% of any sickness. The one you make from scratch probably cures upwards of 60%, but he's lazy and he's bad at making soup, so he blows some cash at Bradley's and hopes it'll do the same trick.

"Hey," he says, leaning over the couch to kiss your head. You smile in greeting.

He skirts around entirely and kneels in front of Roan, tilting his head to the side in mirror. "Hi, babe."

"Hi, daddy," she croaks.

He pouts at her dramatically. "How are you feeling? Bad?"

"She's scorching," you murmur, concerned.

"I feel okay but I threw up in the art room and I had to change into my Dolly Dotty t-shirt at school."

He raises his eyebrows to show he's listening. "Oh, no."

He presses the back of his hand to her head carefully. Roan is hot, and her forehead is damp with perspiration.

"I'll get it," you say, "we'll swap."

"D'you know where the thermometer is?" he asks you, murmuring too as he brushes hair back from Roan's face. She smiles at him. Eddie finds it hard to smile back. It's obvious she's at the beginning of a flu.

This is not going to be easy.

"No," Roan moans as soon as you start to move, hands clutching your sides, "no, stay."

Eddie sees both your delight at being wanted and your sheepishness. He knows you try not to overstep, because he's her dad, he's always going to be her dad, and he's known and loved her for a lot longer than you have. But you should know by now it doesn't matter. Roan loving you makes him love you more, and vice versa.

"It's fine," he says, putting on airs like it is not fine, drama seeping into every line of every word, "whatever, right? She's mommy's girl now, I get it."

You fluster visibly, tamping down a smile.

Roan hums her agreement and hides her face in your chest. "Yeah, I'm mommy's," she says.

"Roan, you're breaking your old man's heart here."

"Sorry, daddy."

He kisses her ear where it's poking through her hair. "It's okay. I understand." He leans in to whisper. "I don't understand. Me and you are gonna fight as soon as you're better, and I'm gonna win. Get ready, bub."

She gives a weak giggle. "You're silly."

"I'm silly?" he asks, dad tone firmly in place, all giddy excitement and sweetness as he presses his lips to her cheek. "You better watch it, Roan, or I'm calling Uncle Wayne. You think he'd let you talk to me like that?"

She shrugs her shoulders.

You laugh and pat her back, clearly delighted at his misfortune. "Don't worry, princess, I'm on your side. Dad always loses against me."

"That's not fair," Eddie argues, "you're a cheater."

And you do cheat. Little arguments are almost always turned in your favour. You do this annoying (extremely loving) thing where you get your hands on his cheeks and stroke the skin under his eye with your thumb that makes him feel fifteen again, the rush of a new crush, and you soften your eyes and lean in and explain your half of the argument again in a tone that knows it's winning. He hates it. (He would die if you never did it again.)

"How dare you," you murmur, pulling Roan's head into the crook of your neck, eyes fluttering closed in content.

"How dare I," he says dryly.

He looks down at both of his girls and can't believe how lucky he is, how this all turned out. He wishes he could go back and tell a younger him that he doesn't have to worry — that late nights spent panicked and afraid he'd be alone forever are entirely wasted. Roan's leg drifts down your hip and lands wonky on the couch. Your hands rub mildly at the length of her back.

"I'm gonna make dinner, okay?" he asks.

You and Roan both hum.

He burns with envy, he's not too proud to say. "There better be room for me after."

You laugh under your breath. "Whatever you want, baby. Now shush, we're sleeping."

—

more eddie and roan

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oddinary4bts · 8 months

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November Sun | jjk

☆summary: whenever he breaks, the november sun shines on him. and jungkook chases you across the sky - but you've gone some place he can't reach you now.

☆pairing: Jungkook x reader (I genuinely don't think the gender is ever mentioned? please let me know if it is so I can adjust this here), mentions-ish of Namjoon x reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, it deals with heavy themes)

☆genre: grief au/funeral au?, exes au, angst

☆warnings: angst, like. Just angst. OC is dead and Jungkook is grieving her. Curses words, very light mentions of sex, flashbacks of moments when jungkook broke. mentions of christianism (the funerals are held in a church), mentions of alcohol, jealousy. Namjoon is a broken man as well

☆word count: 3.7k

☆a/n: I started writing this tonight because I was sad and then just realized I won't have the strength to look back on it ever again so I'm posting it even tho it hasn't been beta-ed, and even tho the person that makes my moodboards is unavailable rn. Idc. It needed to be out of my system, and now it is.

☆a/n pt2: I know this piece is extremely heavy. If you ever need to speak, please reach out to me. My blog is a safe space for every single one of you <3

☆☆☆☆☆

The church is a tall building. Grand, elegant in its simplicity, though it cuts against the blue sky up above in stark lines, shaped like a prison.

Jungkook thinks life has become a prison a while ago.

It’s a mystery, why your family chose this space for your funeral. You never believed, never practiced. Is it a betrayal to mark your passing in a space that feels so unlike you?

Jungkook thinks it is.

He sighs, chases the heaviness away the same way the clouds chase themselves in the sky up above. He doesn’t know how the sun is shining in the blue expanse of the sky. It’s November, yet the day is warm, the sun is blindingly glowing. It feels like a crime – how can the sun shine in a world deprived of your existence?

Jungkook doesn’t want to know.

Only knows that he’s watched from afar the people that gathered on the front steps. Chatting, heads hung low and shoulders bent forward. He heard sniffles, he heard laughs, and he just waited for everyone to go in to get closer.

Jungkook doesn’t know why he was invited. Why someone from a distant past figured he would need to be here, to share his grief with people that could understand.

Though Jungkook thinks no one can understand.

He remembers you, in all your glory. His first love, when he had been a stupid college kid who didn’t know what he wanted in life. You were two years older, and now... and now one day he’ll be older than you. Because you've stopped aging, you came and went like a moment in time, when he'll still be here for who fucking knows how long.

He chases the thought away with a long inhale, holds the air in knowing that it’s choking him up before he lets it out on a sigh.

You were beautiful. A star that walked the Earth, only to return to the night sky above far too soon. He had loved you dearly, in his own twisted way. Had tried to be what you sought, what you needed, until he had realized he was never going to be enough.

Would you still be alive today, if he had fought harder?

*****

“I’m not doing this,” you said. “I’m so fucking done with your indecision, with your fear of commitment.”

Jungkook scoffed. “Please, you graduated and now you think you’re so high above me. Get down from the fucking horse, Y/n, it’s not going to bring us anywhere.”

He’d said the words hoping that they would hurt you. And they did: he saw you physically recoil as if he’d punched you. As if the words had been a physical blow, and not just letters of the alphabets shaped into words and sound, into arrows to pierce that beautiful soul of yours.

“Maybe I don’t want us to go somewhere anymore,” you replied after a quiet moment of breaking hearts.

“I didn’t mean that.”

“I know.” You sighed, slightly shaking your head as your eyes fell to the floor between you and him. “I know, but I mean it.”

“Please,” was all Jungkook thought to reply.

“You say please all the time,” you told him. “You beg me, and for what? We always circle back to fighting, to hurting each other.” You paused, and though you were avoiding his features he could see you blinking back tears. “Maybe we aren’t supposed to be together at all.”

“Don’t say that,” Jungkook warned. “Don’t you fucking say that. I love you. Isn’t that enough for you?”

“I love you too, Jungkook,” you answered. “I’ve loved you since the first day I met you at that stupid party last year.”

Jungkook felt the tear rolling down his cheek, felt the gravity pulling on his heart until it was shattering on the ground.

“Then why stop now?” he asked. “Give me time, Y/n. I’ll graduate, and I’ll be able to move in with you, and to provide for you and give you everything that you need.”

You sighed heavily, finding courage to finally meet his gaze. At the stark finality shining behind your pupils, Jungkook’s knees weakened. His whole fucking body weakened, ready for the blow.

For the end that was coming for you and him like a car barreling down a dead-end street.

“But I’m tired of waiting,” you answered. “I don’t want to spend my life waiting around for someone.”

“I’m still in college, I just can’t move in with you right now…”

“I know, Jungkook. I know.”

He wanted to fight. Wanted to tell you to stay in his dorm tonight, and to never leave again. But he could tell that you were already gone.

So he steeled himself. Readied himself to let you go even though you were the blood in his veins.

“I’m holding you back, aren’t I?”

You wiped a tear on your cheek, blurring behind those in his gaze. “You are.”

He choked on a sob, hiding his eyes behind his hand as if that would stop the breaking. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” you reassured him. “We just aren’t at the same place in life anymore.”

An empty silence surrounded you, so loud Jungkook could hear every beat of his heart in his ears, could feel the walls pressing in.

“I don’t want you to go,” he softly said.

“I know,” you murmured. “I…” You choked on a sob, and it took you a moment before you managed to continue. “I’m sorry.”

He laughed, a sound so devoid of joy he wondered if he’d ever feel happiness again. “Please don’t be. You’re allowed to want more.”

“I wish I didn’t.”

Anger rose up on the horizon of Jungkook’s conscience, and he pushed it away. He refused to be angry at you, refused to put the blame on you when you made it clear that you wanted him to move in so long ago, and he disregarded it without even once thinking about it.

“I’ll find you again,” he promised, voice strained and heavy with emotion. “I’ll graduate and find you.”

You stepped closer to him, gently cupping his cheek. “Go find someone that loves you for what you are, Jungkook.”

“And you don’t?”

“I don’t want you to settle for someone that asks too much for you,” you explained, renewed silver lining your eyes. “Find someone that loves you for who you are, right now.”

“Fuck that,” he choked out, and he pulled you flush against his chest. “Fuck this nonsense. ”

“I’m so sorry,” you cried against him.

“Don’t be,” he reassured you, though he was crying too. “Don’t be. Give me a few years. I’ll have it all figured out in a few years.”

*****

The priest at the front of the church is going on and on about something that Jungkook doesn’t care to listen to. It’s impersonal, nothing like you, like the vibrant girl he remembers. So he lets his memory guide him to you, where you’re awaiting him. Your lips on his, your hand running through his hair. Your own hair catching in the wind that time you’d gone hiking, and he’d believed being at the top of the mountain with you felt like he had won in life.

Or that time you’d driven on the coast, windows down, screaming the lyrics to a song he can’t listen to anymore. Now the song is haunted by ghosts of a past he never learned to let go, perhaps because for months after the breakup he’d kept the conviction that he’d find his way back to you. He’d believed it the same way he believed the sun would always rise in the morning. A simple truth of nature, that nothing could ever break.

Except a car accident, apparently. Because all it took was a car accident to wipe you off the surface of the Earth, to take your light and shove it into shadows, into darkness and a void so wide he knows he’ll never find you again.

But he’d believed he’d find his way back to you. Never let anyone in after you, for the months and years it took him to graduate because he always knew he’d find his way back to you. You were his silver lining, the finish line at the end of the race. On a November day, just as sunny as today, Jungkook reached that finish line.

He did find you again, only you never knew.

*****

Jungkook had never felt so light before. Like he had grown wings, like he was soaring in the clouds up above. Though the sun was out, the weather was cold, wind running cold fingers through the lapels of his coat until he found himself shivering as he made his way to the flower store.

He’d get the biggest bouquet for you, and then he’d head to where he knew from a common friend that you lived now. It was Saturday, and he hoped to catch you unaware, to catch you in the middle of cleaning your apartment the same way that you cleaned it back when you were dating.

The image of you, with your hair pulled back in a high ponytail as you danced around instead of sweeping the floor shone in his mind, brighter than the star in the sky above.

He bought the flowers, heart beating fast in his chest. Because it was time. It was finally time to go home, to tell you that he did everything he said he would, that he changed and now had a job that could support what you both wanted. He wanted to ask you out, and in his dreams you had been answering yes every single time since he had decided to go see you.

His heart fluttered as he gently rested the flowers on his passenger seat, careful not to damage them. Memories floated to him, and a smile grew on his lips as he remembered you, screaming out the window that day you had driven along the coast. You had stopped to watch the sunset in the waves, and he’d kissed you stupid on his back seat until every single inch of your skin knew about his love.

He couldn’t wait to create new memories with you.

He drove carefully, enjoying the warmth of the sun now that he was safely hidden from the wind. You actually didn’t live too far from where he did now, and soon enough he parked his car near your building. He got out of the vehicle, almost running to the other side in his excitement to grab the bouquet on the passenger seat. When it was safely tucked in his hand, Jungkook shut the car door, locked it, and started walking to your building.

He didn’t even know which apartment was yours. He believed fate would guide him, and so he crossed the street to your building, trusting the universe for what was to come next.

He heard your laugh before he saw you. Love swelled in his chest, and he wondered if you were laughing because you’d seen him, because you’d known that he’d come back for you.

And then he saw you. The wind was ruffling your hair, which he assumed had prompted the laugh. Your eyes were closed, hands struggling to push the wild strands behind your ears.

You were more beautiful than he remembered. Shone brighter, with the same stuff that stars consisted of. He was struck for a moment, watching you with his bouquet hoping that you’d open your eyes and see him.

The world slowed down to a stop, and time halted, and Jungkook watched you, feeling at home for the first time in years.

The illusion fractured the instant someone else came into view, making him realize that you hadn’t been laughing at the wind. No, perhaps your laughter took root in the dimples gracing the man’s cheeks as he smiled at you, as he pecked your forehead before grabbing your hand.

Jungkook ducked behind a car, clutching the flower bouquet like a lifeline the moment that you turned towards him. Did you hear his heart breaking? Did you hear the mockery in the November sun rays – you’d broken up on a similar day, years ago.

Jungkook couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think around the shattering of his heart, around the blood turning to ice in his veins as he heard you speak to the man – Namjoon, he heard you call him.

He would have rather not known the name.

Still Jungkook drank in the sound of your voice, trying to shape it into the words he was so willing to hear you say today. It didn’t work, and soon enough your voice disappeared, leaving him in a deafening silence of wind and sun and the realization that after all, he had come back too late.

Perhaps he should have known that he'd be too late.

*****

When Jungkook received the call last week, he’d sat outside in the silence until he thought his eardrums would start bleeding. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t breathed, hadn’t done anything other than to stare at the fading light of the sun.

He wonders, why is it that whenever he breaks, November sun is shining high above? As if the universe takes pleasure in his torment, in undoing him until he barely counts as a human being anymore.

He got pissed out drunk that night. Last time he had been as drunk was when he had found out you were dating someone new, that day he had come to find you.

And now he wonders, if he had approached you that day, would you still be dead today? Would life still have put you on that road with its drunk driver so that you could meet your end?

Or would you be laughing at some dumb comment he’d make, telling him that he’s stupid with eyes so full of love he wouldn’t be able to do anything else but agree with you?

It’s hard to tell. So, he doesn’t try to figure it out – he has an eternity ahead of himself to figure out how to live without you anyway.

Maybe in all his misfortune Jungkook actually had some luck. He’s learned to grieve you a while ago already, and perhaps grieving someone that still lives is harder than grieving someone that’s passed. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t think he knows anything. Just that, so far back in the past he should have said fuck it and move in with you. It was such a simple request, but he had been too young and dumb, and he’d forever live with the regrets of it.

If someone from your family notices his presence at the funeral, recognizes him from your shared past, they don’t say. Especially not as the end of the ceremony comes before he’s had a chance to really take in the picture of you, smiling, over there next to the urn with your ashes.

You’re ashes now. Everything that made you – your laugh, your smile, the way you carried yourself with that simple elegance – all of it is gone to be replaced with mere ashes.

He doubts they can hold the truth of your essence, but then again he doesn’t think anything can, or anything ever will again.

He blinks away the tears as they come, leaving the ceremony like a whisper in the wind. He doesn’t want to speak to your family, doesn’t want to see them coddling the man that you loved, that survived the accident when he should have been the one to go.

Jealousy and selfishness are ugly, Jungkook realizes. But it’s easier to hate the man that took you away from him, no matter how unknowingly he did it.

And Jungkook tried to hate you once. He tried hard, in the months after that fated November day, when you’d laughed to that man’s joke, smiled when he’d smiled that soft dimpled smile of his. He had tried, because hating you felt like it was the only way he wouldn’t hurt. But he still hurt – he still hurts.

All he’s been able to do in his life since you broke up is hurt, and he highly doubts he’ll ever feel differently again.

Perhaps he’ll grow numb. Perhaps he should have grown numb a while ago.

At least that’s what he’s telling himself days later, when he’s looking at the tombstone they picked out for you. The finality of your name and the dates, the ending, is unnerving. He wishes it was fake, wishes it was a joke, and that he didn’t spend most of his life loving someone that moved on to a new love in just a few years.

It’s been over a decade and he hasn’t moved on even a little bit.

He kicks the ground, mad at the leaves littering the ground where you’re buried, as if they’re sullying you. And as if laughing at him, sun rays pierce through the clouds up above, that dreaded November sun making an appearance when it should stay gone.

He allows himself to cry. To break down, to sit on the ground and curse everything and everyone that’s ever been between you and him. He curses his stupidity, curses the sun and the leaves and the etchings on the stone. He hates everything. Hates himself, hates you, hates the whole fucking universe for taking you away, for not giving him the chance to be with you.

That’s how Namjoon finds him. Jungkook’s tears have receded, and he’s just sitting there, an empty shell that once held love and laughter and your lips on his. He hears the scuffle of Namjoon’s steps, of his cane as he walks up the path.

The man’s features are grave when Jungkook can’t help but glance towards him, sees him ambling up the path with that cane, the only indication that he too was in that car accident. And Jungkook wonders if Namjoon knows about him. If Namjoon knows that he wasn’t the first man whose love for you was a bottomless ocean, one Jungkook has drowned in time and time again since you broke up.

Namjoon remains standing, and Jungkook remains sitting. Like there’s an understanding between them, and silence conveys more than words could. Jungkook doesn’t want to move, and Namjoon clearly doesn’t have anywhere to go.

Jungkook thinks the Earth has revolved around the sun at least once before Namjoon scrapes his throat.

“It’s hard to believe that she’s gone, isn’t it?” he speaks, deep voice carrying the weight of the universe.

Jungkook doesn’t deign reply as his eyes fill with tears, though he refuses to let them out right now.

Especially not in front of the man you loved after him.

“You’re Jungkook, aren’t you?”

The simple sentence makes Jungkook lose it. He hides his face in his hands, his whole soul bleeding out under the November sun.

“She told me about you,” Namjoon continues, and Jungkook is convinced he hears pain, tears and grief laced with Namjoon’s words.

What did you tell him, Jungkook wonders? Did you tell Namjoon that you should have waited for Jungkook, that you should have given him a chance to become what you needed?

“She loved you a lot,” Namjoon adds after a silence, and he chokes on a sob. “She never forgot about you.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Jungkook asks with that broken voice, raspy with disuse.

He hasn’t been able to speak since you died.

“You deserve to grieve. She loved and loved, and I wish it would have been enough for her to live…”

“Stop,” Jungkook begs. “Please.”

Namjoon falls silent, offering salvation to Jungkook, though Jungkook doesn’t know if he deserves it.

Would he have been able to offer salvation to someone in his position if the situation was reversed? He highly doubts it.

“It’s just…” he trails off when he finds words again. “You got fucking years with her. You got years of loving and-“ it breaks on a sob. “And you were fucking engaged.” Jungkook pulls at his hair. “You were engaged, and all I got was months. Not even a full year.”

“I’m sorry man,” Namjoon answers, voice so broken Jungkook wonders who’s suffering the most.

He doesn’t think it’s himself.

“Was she happy?” Jungkook eventually asks, once he can’t stand the silence hanging around. Once he can’t stand the etchings on the stone, the void in the universe that used to be filled with you.

“I made her as happy as I could,” Namjoon replies truthfully, his voice strained but not as pained anymore. As if he’s reached a conclusion, clarity filling his mind.

Not needing to hear more, Jungkook gets up, dusting himself off.

“Good talk,” he says, fighting against the next onslaught of tears, and then he’s storming off.

Storming away from you, from everything that you meant to him. And maybe the sun rays really are mocking him in that beautiful November sky, because Namjoon says, “I don’t think she ever truly was happy after you, though.”

Jungkook stops, convinced someone just stabbed him right in the heart. He doesn’t think the organ can beat anymore, doesn’t think he can live anymore. He just wants to be dust on the wind, to be forgotten, and to stop fucking feeling all the time.

“She was calling off the engagement,” Namjoon continues. “She…” Jungkook turns, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen such agony as the one that graces Namjoon’s features right now. “She said she shouldn’t get married to me when she still loved another.”

Clouds pass in front of the November sun, and Jungkook remembers the smile on your face whenever you’d catch his gaze. He remembers the way you’d lovingly cupped his cheek even when you were breaking up with him. He still feels the ghost of your fingers on his skin as he holds Namjoon’s broken gaze.

He holds Namjoon’s broken gaze, unable to offer the man salvation. It might make him a monster, might make him selfish and jealous and everything that he finds disgusting about humanity. But Jungkook doesn’t care.

Not when he realizes that perhaps, perhaps he’s the one that you’re waiting for on the other side of the veil, so that you can rest in the eternity of afterlife together.

And perhaps, perhaps there’s some sort of beauty in the thought.

☆☆☆☆☆

I am crying and in pain and I am sending everyone that read this whole thing lots of love and if you need to talk just hit me up bc grief is a bitch and we hate her and I just wish I could take everyone's grief away

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xhoneygirlxx · 10 months

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my salvation

Eddie Munson x reader

summary: when it all becomes too much, you go to one person.

warnings: established relationship, mentions of mental health issues, depression/anxiety, panic attack. pronouns not used, Eddie calls reader pet names (baby, sweetheart, honey, etc.). modern au!, current technology and movies mentioned. bad writing and not proofread, if there are any grammar mistakes pretend like it's not there. pictures used do not describe reader in anyway, only used for aesthetic purposes. 18+ Minors please go away :)

a/n: as someone who deals with panic attacks, sometimes all i want is for someone to just hold me. there's moments where i don't want any questions asked because i can become embarrassed very easily which makes it worse. if any of you guys are dealing with mental health issues, just know that you are loved, and my page is always a safe place <3

The room is shrouded in darkness, the only light is the yellow shine of the streetlamp outside your room. When you got home from work, you told Eddie that you needed to lay down, physically drained from the week you had just had. Your boyfriend being the angel he is, helped you into the bed and placed a wet kiss on your head, telling you if you needed anything just to call for him and he'd be there.

Work had been a nightmare recently, your whole department swamped with ten times the work you're used to due to an overflow of paperwork. Your boss, Doug, had been an asshole to you in particular, even though you weren't even the head of your team. It didn't matter because he made it a point to single you out, ride your ass all week, and when all was said and done he never thanked you for all the late shifts you pulled to get it all back together.

The whole way home all you could think about was your bed, curling up under the blankets, and just turning the whole world off. It was Friday night and rather than spend time with your boyfriend that you hadn't seen all week because of conflicting working schedules, you were laying in bed too exhausted to do anything else.

However you couldn't sleep, your eyes screaming to rest, yet your mind couldn't shut off. There was something happening, swarm of emotions starting in your mind, and you were trying everything to keep out of the eye of the storm.

As you stare up at the dark ceiling you could feel the burn behind your eyes, crawling it's way out to be released. Your body was sinking further and further into the bed like a cement block. The tingle of your fingers had alerted you, setting off the bells and whistles in your head.

The room that you were once in is now gone, replaced by grey skies and dark water. The waves are choppy, quick, and strong, pushing you around like a ragdoll being chewed on by a dog. Kicking your legs and pushing your arms, you try to stay afloat.

The pounding of your heart is loud, beating deafeningly in your ears like a kick drum. It's constant, it's overwhelming, and you can't control it. Your mouth won't open, refusing to cooperate like you swallowed a bunch of super glue, trapping it shut.

While you're trying to save yourself from the dark abyss you were heading into, you couldn't feel your legs anymore, like you were paralyzed by impending doom.

Here in the dark bedroom that you and your boyfriend share, you lay motionless, tears rolling down the side of your cheeks onto the pillow under your head. Your chest is moving rapidly up and down, trying to find the air that it desperately needs.

You're trying everything that you learned in your years of therapy, repeating all the street names of your childhood neighborhood, counting Mississippi's, naming every thing you see, touch, hear. Every tool, every lesson that you were taught, and nothing is working. The life preservers and rafts aren't helping you survive these tsunami like waves.

You can't do this on your own, fight this battle without any teammates. You know the minute you try to stand your legs will give out on you, so there's only one thing you can do. Reaching your hand to the nightstand next to the bed, you pat your hand around trying your last weapon.

When you feel your phone in the palm of your hand, you move it quickly to your face. The words on the bright screen are hard to see with the way your neck is craned and the tears that are blurring your vision.

With whatever strength you have, you text Eddie, praying to the gods above that he can hear his phone over his video game. Without trying to alert him, you simply tell him that you need him to come to you.

You can hear him, laughing and joking with his friends on his headset. The voice of the only person who can save you from drowning is right behind that door, yet he feels so far away.

Shutting your phone off and throwing it somewhere on the bed, you continue to sit there in the darkness, tied down by the invisible chains your mind has wrapped around you.

No matter how hard you try, you can't seem to get the oxygen to your lungs. The pounding of your heart is growing louder, the waves are getting stronger and stronger, pulling you completely under.

What you don't realize is that your salvation is right there, reaching his hand out and pulling you up from the angry sea.

Through the crashing sounds of the water you hear him, his voice brings you back to safety. When you open your eyes he's there, hovering over you, calling out to you like an angel at the pearly white gates.

"Baby," the mattress dips down beside you where he's sat, "Baby, hey, what's wrong?"

Blinking away the salty water from your eyes, you can see Eddie. His eyebrows scrunched up in worry, mouth pulled down with a frown. Because of the bright lamp he must've turned on, you can see his eyes, big chocolate pools swarming with concern, flickering back and forth trying to study your face.

The minute you register what's happening it all comes crashing down, the fear, the sadness, the worry. Your mouth that was once locked shut, has finally freed itself from it restraints. No words come out, only the loud sobbing that was trapped in your throat.

You can hear the shuffling from your boyfriend, the pressure of his full body weight next to you. He doesn't hesitate to hold you, engulfing you into a bear hug. You wish that you could feel your limbs, that the fuzziness that pulses through them would go away, so you could feel his touch.

Your whole body is shaking, releasing all the emotion that was trapped inside. The sound of your pounding heart is now replaced with your wailing that vibrates off of Eddie's chest. The cotton of his shirt is soaked with tears and snot, and you know that when you pull away you won't look pretty but you can't care, not when your lungs are burning with the sea water you swallowed while drowning.

"It's okay sweetheart, I got you." Eddie's voice rattles through his chest, right where your head lays. He repeats this mantra over and over again to you, like a prayer.

"I'm s-so sorry, Eddie. I'm so s-sorry." You don't know why you're apologizing and he doesn't question it, only rubbing his hand back and forth on the middle of your back.

"I'm so sorry, Eddie. P-please don't leave, leave me." The sentence is hiccupped through your crying. There's nothing for you to be sorry for, no reason for him to get up and leave you, but you can't help but repeat it over and over again.

Maybe you're apologizing because you hadn't seen him all week. Maybe you're sorry for interrupting his game session with the boys. Maybe you're apologizing to Doug for not being on top of your game at work. Maybe you're apologizing to the barista that made your drink wrong and having her remake it. Maybe you're sorry to yourself for putting up with every single thing and not sticking up for yourself. Maybe you're sorry for putting your body through torture everyday, not giving it the proper care and fuel that it needs to survive.

Every single little thing that's been bothering you is coming out now, the evidence on your boyfriends beloved Metallica shirt. You can feel your body deflate, like a balloon that's seeping out helium.

"Honey, I need you to take one deep breath for me. All I want is one big one, okay? Can you do that for me, love?" Eddie's tone is gentle even though he's demanding something you're not sure you can do.

With whatever strength you have in your body, you nod. With a whispered okay, he instructs you to follow him. His chest expands and then shrinks back down, your head moving with it. On autopilot you follow him, doing exactly what he did.

"There you go, baby. You're doin' such a good job for me."

The thing you once craved is now back within your body, your chest lighter than before. The muscles in your throat aren't tight anymore, allowing airflow back through. In that moment, Eddie's words and comfort is what brings you back down to your body. You can feel the warmth of his touch, his curls tickling your cheek.

Your teeth pulse with a heartbeat and your lips feel like your leg after you sat on it for too long. Everything is coming back to you now and you aren't scared anymore.

The cries that once ricocheted off the walls are now gone, the only thing that's heard is your breathing and small hiccups in between. There isn't a word spoken, not a question asked, just quietness. You push your face a little further into Eddie's chest, seeking refuge in the thing that just pulled you out from your demise.

After what feels like forever, Eddie finally breaks the comfortable silence. "You feelin' okay?" You don't respond verbally, rather nodding your head in response.

He hums, kissing the top of your head so lightly you almost miss it. He sits with you for a little bit longer before urging you up from your spot of comfort. Guiding you to the bathroom, he takes a cold wash cloth to your face, wiping away the stickiness of your tears and the mess of your snot with a light hand.

When you're all clean and your nose is blown, you follow him into the living room, where he sits you down. Turning off his game, he switched the tv to Disney plus to put on your comfort movie. Without another word, he moves into the kitchen where he opens and closes cabinets and the fridge.

Returning to the living room, he takes a seat right next to you, placing a plate with a sandwich on your legs. A cold bottle of water sits in his hand, you watch ringed fingers twist the cap off. Gently, Eddie puts his hands under your chin and lift the bottle to your lips, where you happily accept the cold water.

You eat your pb&j while watching Toy Story, taking a ragged breath every once and a while. When the sandwich is eaten, Eddie takes your plate and places it on the coffee table, and then hands you your water to take another sip.

Wrapping his arm around you, he pulls you into the side of his body, gripping onto you like his life depended on it. You don't mind it either, sinking into him with ease.

"My lovebug, so strong and brave. I'm proud of you." His hand pets the top of your head, pushing any loose hair out of your face.

Everything is right again, falling into place where it should be. Not everything is going to be like this, you remind yourself, nothing is ever bad when you have the love of your life sitting next to you. His scent calming you, the beat of his heart music to your ears, the heat of his skin comforting you.

thank you all for reading! love you all :)

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #stranger things #modern!eddie x reader

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002yb · 6 days

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More secretary au w/ dickjay + slade

It's not often that Dick is struck so utterly dumb. Blanking out isn't something someone like him can afford, yet there he is at Jason's apartment, absolutely baffled, because Slade Wilson answers the door with Damian balanced casually on his hip.

Dick's scowl is immediate. It prompts a low laugh from Slade, all smug amusement to provoke Dick's ire.

"Richard." Slade greets him. An acknowledgement. A taunt.

"Slade." Dick intones. Disdainful. Petulant.

For the life of him, Dick can't figure out what's happening. He's loathe to believe that this encounter is a coincidence. Either Deathstroke was contracted to harm Jason or the bastard is here to torment Dick. Hell, if this is another attempt to coerce Dick into working with him—

It might work.

With narrowed eyes, Dick turns his attention to Damian. Scrutinizing the tyke because Damian is suspiciously unbothered. While it means that Jason is okay, that there's no immediate danger, it's also a damning indication that Slade isn't a stranger here. He's been around long enough to earn this menacing child's tolerance and begrudging respect.

"You know each other?" Jason asks, shuffling close to Dick in the entry. Using him as a balance as he pulls on his boots. The joy Jason's casual touch and eagerness to get going gives him is severely undercut by the mercenary standing across from them. With Damian. And it occurs to him that Jason doesn't even know; not anymore.

Dick is almost tempted to throw his secrets to the wind. He'll expose what a menace to society Slade and he are if it keeps Jason and Damian safe.

"We're acquainted." Dick grumbles at the same time Slade cheekily says, "We're quiet close."

The scathing look Dick shoots Slade's way has the man smirking. Between catching Dick off guard, then messing with him - Dick is glad one of them is having a good day. It was supposed to be Dick's good day, damn it. He has a date.

Slade's words prompt Jason to startle, looking between the two of them with wide eyes and a slack jaw and no. Fuck no. Dick can see where Jason's thoughts start to wander and it has him turning on Slade with a nasty glower.

"I've been actively recruiting him for work." Slade explains, innocent as can be. A small truce that makes Dick all the more suspicious.

"Oh." Jason says, breathing a small sigh of relief. When he smiles, it's brilliant - sharp and wicked as he teases, "Keep at it, would you? He needs to get out of that pigpen."

"Been trying. Shame to see his talents wasted like that." Slade hums, bouncing Damian up on his hip. He looks at Jason with a small smirk and, to raise Dick's hackles, lightly jokes, "Sell him on me."

"Make him a worthwhile offer." Jason quips, coming to stand beside Slade to take Damian's little hand - pressing a kiss to it and snickering when Damian holds on to kiss his hand back.

"How about I make you part of the offer?" Slade taunts, gaze cutting over Jason's head to watch Dick—a wicked smile at the corner of his lips as Dick visibly bristles at the threat. "That might be a deal he can't refuse, hm?"

"Hah." Jason laughs, humorless, because, as always, Jason is oblivious to the fact Dick would never refuse him. Slade knows it, too. The mercenary knew it from the moment he opened Jason's door to find Dick standing at the doorstep. "You can't leverage me, old man."

Only Slade very much can. He will, too, depending on his mood.

The exchange puts Dick on edge. There's no way Nightwing and Deathstroke won't be having a fucking row over this later.

It's as Dick spirals that Jason throws him for a loop. Again. Because Jason starts going over house rules and expectations and schedules. Talking to Slade like the man will be looking after Damian while they're out, which—what?

"You're babysitting?" Dick asks, dumbfounded.

"It's in my contract." Slade says, looking none too pleased until Damian pats his eye patch. A begrudging, bitten back smile follows as Slade takes Damian's hand to hold and keep still, disconcertingly patient.

It's weird, but there's a familiarity that tells Dick that everything is fine. While Dick doesn't trust Deathstroke, Slade has a fondness for Jason and Damian. It leaves a bad taste in Dick's mouth if only because there's clearly history here that he's not privy to—that he wasn't a part of.

Maybe that's Slade's goal. To make Dick regret not joining him to have gotten to Jason sooner. The crafty bastard.

He laughs despite himself, caught up in the ridiculousness of it all. Slade and him will negotiate later. For now though, Dick glares daggers at the man as Jason drags him out the door.

=========

Just a silly jumble of words and thoughts. It's very rough, sorry! orz But yes, in secretary!AU, Slade is absolutely a fixture in Jason's life and Dick is lowkey high-key pissed about it lol.

Talia hired Slade as an instructor to teach Jason self-defense. Or to find out where his abilities are and to brush up on them.

This is less as a gift to Bruce and more as an assurance that Damian is protected and cared for. //3///

Can't shake the feeling that Slade and Jason fooled around.

No one will ever know if it's because Slade was genuinely charmed by Jason or if Slade was aware and playing a long con against Dick (or both)

Slade being something like an uncle to Damian. He's babysat in the past, though it was a one-off because Jason came back to see Slade teaching Damian how to handle knives or something equally as dangerous for a baby.

Cue Jason v Slade and Slade being wholly unprepared for Jason's paternal wrath. This man gets laid out flat so quick and oh, that's probably when the fooling around starts lbr

Omg also!! Slade purposefully answering the door despite Jason’s protests because it’s Slade’s intention to intimidate the guy taking Jason out hahaha. Then of course Dick answers the door and Slade’s mood goes from ornery to stupidly pleased lol.

#dickjay #jaydick #secretary au #Slade shenanigans

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cosmerelists · 2 months

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Would Cosmere Characters Drive the Speed Limit?

You know, if cars and speed limits existed for them. (Potentially necessary context: I am a USAmerican)

For a different but hilarious take on Stormlight Characters driving, please check out this @saffronique post, which I spent forever looking for because I vaguely remembered someone else doing a driving post and wanted to make sure I hadn't copied them! Anyway it's funny; go read it: https://www.tumblr.com/saffronique/719947907049127936/was-just-struck-by-the-overwhelming-urge-to-rate?source=share

But now for a much more limited question: just, do they go the speed limit?

1. Nale: Yes but also no

As Mr. Beholden-to-All-Laws-of-the-Realm, Nale would of course drive exactly the speed limit! Except that he would also go immediately to the local jurisdiction, get deputized or whatever, and then obtain permission to speed all the time so as to Apprehend Criminals. So he'd actually be almost exclusively speeding but, like, legally.

2. Vivenna: Only at first

Vivenna does drive the speed limit when she first gets her license, because she wants to Follow the Law and be a Good Example for Siri. But, like, everyone is always so mad, and eventually she starts going just like 5 miles over the speed limit, which isn't even breaking the law, really. It's going with traffic! And then maybe 10 miles over, just occasionally 15 but only on a highway when it's safe!

3. Siri: No

Like, going a bit faster is not a big deal, especially if all the other cars are doing the same thing. It's actually safer to go with the flow of traffic!

4. Elend: Depends on who's in the car

Elend drives moderately above the speed limit like most people except if his dad is in the car and then he drives under the speed limit just to piss him off.

5. Vin: No

Vroom, vroom to be honest. Vin doesn't do things slow.

6. Dalinar: Yes

As a young man, Dalinar's speed demon ways led to the deaths of many people. So now he does drive the speed limit and insists that his sons do as well, whether they're in company cars or not.

7. Kelsier: No

Kelsier? Follow a law? I don't think so. He taught Vin to drive, you know.

8. Adolin: Not anymore

When his dad was really into Car Laws, Adolin did drive the speed limit per his dad's instructions. But he's since loosened up a bit. He figures he needs to find his own way to drive!

9. Shallan: No

Shallan drives the speed she needs to drive. Veil definitely drives the fastest, and Radiant is most likely to follow the speed limit. But on average...not so much.

10. Navani: No

Adolin can still remember being in the car with his aunt for the first time and being SHOCKED that she speeds. (In my head this is related to Adolin being shocked when he sees Navani wearing a glove rather than a full sleeve. This may not make sense to anyone else but it feels right to me).

11. Moash: No

Moash always wants to get to his destination as fast as possible. Also I just can't imagine him trying to follow the speed limit.

12. Wax: Depends on the geographic location

Wax drives the speed limit in the Roughs but not in Polite Society (except in dense urban areas where he wishes to avoid, like, killing children).

13. Wayne: Does not have his driver's license

I feel this in my soul.

14. Lirin: Yes

I think Lirin would argue that "getting to your destination thirty seconds faster is no reason to speed and put everyone else on the road in danger! Drive safe - arrive safe! That's what matters!" And then he would go exactly one mile under the speed limit at all times while everyone behind him honks.

15. Kaladin: No

Kaladin spends three months driving very slowly after his dad shows him videos of horrific car crashes but eventually he just can't do it. He NEEDS to get there faster! People are DEPENDING on him! And he likes to feel the WIND in his HAIR as he cruises down the open highway!

(Kaladin and his dad cannot drive together.)

#cosmere #cosmerelists #Nale #Vivenna #Siri #Elend #Vin #Dalinar #Kelsier #Kaladin #Lirin #Adolin #Wayne #Wax #Moash #Navani

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here4kpopfics · 1 year

Text

Lose My Mind | Wonwoo

Pairing: Wonwoo x (f)reader

Genre: angst, smut

AU: established relationship, biker!au

Wordcount: 5,722

Summary: you can only deal with your fiancé’s antics for so long before you finally give up.

Warnings: Language, fighting/violence, blood, cleaning of wounds, wonwoo gets slapped, much angst, smut, oral, unprotected sex (wrap it pls), creampie, cum eating.

Rating: M/18+

AN: Happy Birthday to my soulmate @playmetheclassics! I love you so very much, I'm so happy to have met you and can't wait for the day I can hug you for real and I hope you enjoy this lovely pile of angst with a dash of smut. First time writing from someone not reader’s POV so I apologize in advance if it’s eh at all. Trying to improve my skills. Thank you to @the-boy-meets-evil for beta-reading, and @classicscreations for the banner/divider. Enjoy!!! 💜

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“I can’t do this anymore. I can’t live this life with you if this is how you’re going to be, Wonwoo.”

The memory plays back in his mind clear as day as he spins the engagement ring around on the sticky counter.

“I love you so much, I’m sorry.” Your voice breaks as the tears stream down your cheeks. He wants to wipe them away, wants to change your mind. But he can’t. He knows he can’t. So he lets you take his hand in yours, setting the engagement ring he worked so hard to find just for you in his palm and letting go.

How could he have fucked this up so badly?

He met you four years ago at some party he couldn’t remember the host of if he tried. You were in skin tight jeans, a lacy bodysuit leaving very little to the imagination, boots, and a motorcycle jacket on top.

The definition of perfection in Wonwoo’s eyes.

Alcohol brought you two together quickly, and soon after sobering up while talking to you, had you on his motorcycle as he drove through the city to his place where you two had sex into the early hours of the morning. The way you moaned his name, nails scraping down his back as you clenched around him had him seeing stars and finally believing in something, anything, because you existed.

You ghosted him for a month and he was going insane. Just one night with you was addicting enough that he needed more. He needed you around him at all times. He needs you on the back of his bike, your arms tight around his waist as you clung to him for dear life.

He finally found you at another party, cornering you in a room and demanding you explain why you ghosted him.

“Had to see if you were worth it. If you really wanted me or if you were just drunk and horny.”

He cut off any further explanation with his lips against yours, roughly fucking you against the wall when you said the word please.

Two years later, he’s hopelessly in love with you and you are with him. He had introduced you to his biker gang, which you thought was adorable at first, but soon grew to have a love/hate relationship with. You became friends with the other significant others of the gang, all of you often worrying about your men getting into trouble. The others treated it like a joke, but you genuinely worried every day and night for him.

He often came home with bruises or a cut lip. He wouldn’t tell you what happened. He couldn’t. It always led to a fight. Which would then lead to angry makeup sex. He’d promise to lessen the fighting and you’d stupidly believe him. Every. Time.

The third year, he wound up in the hospital you worked at after a car merged into him when he was in their blind spot. You told him to get rid of the bike, to just get a car and be safe. He refused. You were mad, but you loved him enough to stay home with him and help him get better.

The day he proposed, you two were at a bar, surrounded by his crew. Mingyu handed you a shot, saying congratulations, not realizing Wonwoo hadn’t proposed yet. When you looked at him, it made Wonwoo want to tear Mingyu apart for spoiling it. He took you away from the group, taking you outside where it was snowing. He stood you next to his bike, getting down on one knee and showing the ring, asking you to be his forever.

He swore he understood the entire universe when you said yes and put the ring on.

That stupid ring.

That stupid ring he can't stop playing with as he fights the urge to throw it against the wall with the liquor bottles.

“Wonwoo? It’s three in the morning, where have you been?” Your voice is laced with exhaustion, worry, fear, and anger.

He hates that tone. But it’s nothing compared to the tone that always follows next.

“I got sidetracked with the guys.”

“Sidetracked? Are you serious?” There it is.

He tries to sidestep you in the dark living room, hoping you don’t see his face. But you do.

Because you know.

You always know.

You’ve known since the beginning.

He fights. Late at night in the back room of a dirty bar. He fights.

And he wins.

Usually.

Your hand reaches for his forearm as he tries to move past you. You’re smaller than he is, but you have a control over him that he’ll never understand. He puts it down as either you being in the medical field or simply his love for you and the way he’d walk on fire for you.

He winces when you drag him to the bathroom, flicking on the light and making him sit on the edge of the tub while you acquire the first aid kit. He watches you move, you still haven’t looked at him. Your body moves around the bathroom like it’s done this a hundred times before, setting up the counter with everything needed to clean wounds and stitch up the hits he received.

When you finally turn back to him, putting on the disposable gloves, your eyes avoid his, grabbing his hands and assessing the damage. You let go of one of them, keeping his dominant hand in yours as you turn back to the counter to grab what you need.

“Y/n…”

He’s cut off by your perfectly timed and nowhere near gentle application of rubbing alcohol. He takes it as a threat to be quiet, so he does. He watches you work, cleaning his knuckles before adding medication to them and bandaging him up. You quietly repeat the action on the other hand, this time a little gentler with the alcohol.

“Jacket.” You mutter it softly, and he’s quick to obey, shedding the leather jacket that reeks of beer, liquor, and a dirty room, without making much movement. You inspect his arms, seeing only hints of bruises forming, but no blood or dislocations. Not this time at least. As if routine, he removes his shirt too, letting you access the hits he got to the chest and back. Nothing this time.

Your hands delicately hold his face, your eyes continuing to avoid his gaze. His eyes follow yours as you analyze his injuries, preparing in your mind what you need to do. All part of the routine, he thinks.

You turn back to the counter, hesitating.

“Where are your glasses?” You ask, turning back to him, pouring some alcohol on a pad.

“I…I lost them.”

You sigh, dabbing the alcohol harshly against his eyebrow, letting him wince in pain.

“Where are your glasses?” You ask again, with a hint of anger in your voice. He knows he can’t get away with lying.

“They broke.”

“How’d you get home?”

“My bike.”

He wasn’t prepared for the sharp slap across his face.

All the punches he’s received in his fights, all the hits and kicks and cuts and bruises, all felt like nothing in comparison to that slap.

But he doesn’t react. He sits and he waits for whatever’s next because this isn’t part of the routine. When he fights, his glasses are tucked away somewhere safe and he puts in his contacts, tearing them out once he’s done and the glasses go back on when he’s back on the bike so he can see on his way home.

Your eyes finally meet his, and it feels like the earth is about to swallow him whole. The betrayal and the sadness in your eyes just enhance the pain from the slap. You say nothing, and neither does he as you turn back to the counter to quickly put everything together.

You silently get back to work, cleaning up the rest of the injuries, turning back to the counter to open up the little tube of glue he knows you hate using. He’s seen you at work doing this, you’re great at it. But that’s because it’s your job and you’re good at your job. And it’s also in a perfectly clean and sanitary place. But in your bathroom, at three in the morning, patching up the man you love? It’s a complete one-eighty. And he sees the fear in the way your hands shake, the way a single tear falls from your eye as you turn back to him.

He closes his eyes as you take a deep breath, trusting you completely.

His nails dig into his knees the moment the tube makes contact, the glue seeping into the wound, forcing himself not to move or react to the pain of you pinching his skin together to help the adhesive do its job.

When you’re done, applying a gauze pad over the adhesive stitches to keep them safe, his eyes follow you as you put everything away, throwing away your gloves and washing your hands. You don’t spare him a glance as you walk out of the bathroom, turning the light off and leaving him in the dark. He stays seated for a moment, trying to figure out how to fix this until he hears a door close.

He heads to your shared bedroom, only to find the door closed and locked, two pillows and a blanket sitting in a pile on the floor. He leans his pained forehead against the door in defeat, sighing.

“Y/n. Let me in, please?”

Silence.

“I’m sorry, baby. I know I need to end this. And I will. There’s just one more and if I win, we’ll have enough for us, for the wedding, and for our future.”

He thinks he hears a faint sob on the other side of the door and has half a mind to kick the door down to be with you. But he can’t. You have every right to be mad, every right to be hurt and to cry and to lock him out.

He grabs the pillows and blanket and heads for the couch.

The next morning, Wonwoo wakes to the sound of your medical kit being placed on the coffee table. You silently wait for him to sit up, quickly brushing his hand away when he goes to rub his eyes. You turn around, grabbing the required materials to clean up his wounds again.

His hand subconsciously grabs your thigh when you wipe an alcohol wipe across the laceration in his eyebrow. He feels the way your hands still, your body turning into a statue at the contact.

You push through, finishing it up and turning back to your bag, pulling out the things needed for a week of taking care of his wounds.

“You only need to keep the gauze over the stitches for a day or two. It’s the glue kind of stitches so there won’t be anything to remove, just keep it closed or you’ll have to go to urgent care to have them fix it. The rest are all superficial. Just don’t touch them and they should be fine.”

You speak at such a rapid pace, but still manage to sound professional like you do with your patients. But it’s nothing in comparison to how fast Wonwoo’s mind is racing.

“Y/n…?”

“I’ll leave some extra gauze, polysporin, as well as just regular bacitracin. The ice packs are all in the freezer if you feel any soreness. Drink water and electrolytes and you’ll be fine. Your backup pair of glasses are on the kitchen counter.” Your voice fails you and you try to hide the sniffle it causes.

“Fuck, I’m going to be late.” You murmur, grabbing your medical bag and heading to the front door where you have two suitcases. How did he not hear them being brought down?

“Y/n, where are you going?” He slowly moves off the couch as you stuff the bag into the suitcase.

“Ari’s for now. She can only let me stay a few days, though. I’ll figure the next place out when I get there.”

“Why?” His voice cracks and you finally turn to look at him.

“Because I give up.” You shrug, voice breaking at the admission. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t live this life with you if this is how you’re going to be, Wonwoo.”

All at once, he feels his world crashing around him.

“Baby, please. Don’t…don’t go. Just sit down and we can discuss this.”

“There’s nothing to discuss, Woo. You’re going to stay in that silly biker gang. You’re going to keep going to that bar. You’re going to keep going to that back room. You’re going to keep fighting and coming home battered and bruised with broken promises of stopping and living a better life.”

“I…I’m serious this time, though. It’s just one more fight next month and we’ll be set.”

“We’re already ‘set’! We’re more than set, Wonwoo! I don’t need designer clothing, a nice house, fancy car, or jewelry. I don’t need any of it! You are literally the only thing I need and you can’t give me that while fighting.”

You take a few steps toward him, your fingers playing with the engagement ring that he had to win three fights to be able to afford.

“I love you so much, I’m sorry.” Your voice is broken, you’re crying and he can’t do anything about it as you take his hand in yours, setting the engagement ring in his palm and letting go. You say nothing more as you drag your suitcases out the front door, refusing to look back at him.

Time stops as he sits there, the faint sounds of you getting in a car and driving away in the background as he tries to process.

You left.

You left him.

You gave him the ring back.

The pain from the wounds on his face doesn’t even come close in comparison to the way his heart shatters when he looks at the ring in his hand.

He pockets the ring in his wallet, downing his drink in one go and slamming it down on the counter, almost crushing it.

It’s been a month since you walked out. A month since he last spoke to you. A month since he heard your beautiful voice. You were gone. No longer his and he no longer was yours.

However, you never came by to get your stuff, never sent someone else to do it either. A month and you haven’t set foot in the house you shared with him. Half of that stuff is rightfully yours, so there had to be a reason for you to not come back for it, right?

There has to be.

“Wonwoo? You ready?”

He takes a deep breath, trying to steady his shaking hands before he turns to his best friend, Changkyun.

“Yeah. I just need to put my contacts in. How much time do I have?”

“Eh. You know there’s no real start time. But we’ll say like forty-five minutes? Take your time. Get focused. Seungcheol doesn’t give up easily. He’ll kill you if it’s an option.” Changkyun laughs, but Wonwoo knows his friend is serious. He’s seen the way Seungcheol fights. It’s brutal and one guy he fought was put into a coma and has been for the past eight months.

“‘Kay. I’ll be ready soon.” Wonwoo slowly gets up, walking past his best friend and towards the bathroom. He takes half a second to look around the bar. It’s become a habit the past month he’s been hiding here. Hoping and praying you’ll walk through those grimey doors. But you never did. You never will.

Except he swears he sees you sitting in the back corner with Changkyun’s girlfriend. But before he can confirm if it’s you or not, one of the newer members with the nickname Dino, is drunkenly yelling his name and wishing him good luck. By the time Seungkwan ushers him away, you’re no longer in the back corner. You’re nowhere. Just another illusion there to haunt him.

After spending a good amount of time in the dimly lit bathroom, the blue light flickering in and out. He removes his glasses and puts in his contacts that he hates wearing, he sets his jacket down on the counter, glasses sitting to the side and tucking all his important shit in the pockets, including the wallet with your ring.

Your ring.

“Fuck, why am I still doing this?” He silently questions himself, fist slamming down on the counter in anger. He looks up at his reflection in the mirror and he’s sick of himself immediately. What he’d give to punch himself in the face for driving you to leave him.

The thought to punch the mirror quickly appears and disappears in his mind when there’s a quiet knock on the door.

“I’ll be out in a minute, Changkyun. Just— I need a moment.” He states, trying to mentally prepare himself for this last fight. The knocks return, but louder.

“I said I’ll be out soon!” He shouts, trying to resist the urge to open the door and punch his best friend just for annoying him. He heavily considers it when suddenly the door opens and he feels like he has been punched in the face.

It’s you.

You’re right there.

In that fucking dress he bought you after one of his first wins.

You’re really there.

“Y/n? What…? What are you doing here?”

“I needed to talk to you.” You state calmly, fingers fidgeting with the fabric of your dress.

Did you cut your hair? Color it? It looks nice. He wants to tell you how gorgeous it is. How gorgeous you are.

God, he wants to crush you in a hug, keep your lips against his until either of you can’t breathe, have his hands everywhere on your skin and cause goosebumps. He wants to be close to you, but the growing fear that you’ll run away from him again is too much.

“You love me, right?” You ask quietly, staring at the disgusting ground. You already sound like you’re about to cry and it’s making coming closer to you even more difficult for Wonwoo.

“More than anything.” He breathes out quickly.

“More than fighting?” Your brows knit together as you slowly start to look up. “More than the money and the ‘better life’ you seem to think I need? More than your gang or your bike?” Your eyes find his gaze at the mention of his bike and he wants to scream at the world for the tears building up behind your beautiful eyes.

“Of course, more than any of that, baby. I’d give it all up for you.” He takes a small step forward and you take one back, closer to the door.

“Yet here you are, a month after I walk out, ready to fight someone Changkyun says is actually dangerous and requesting my medical assistance.”

“You’ve been talking to Changkyun?” He’s been talking to you? And Changkyun didn’t tell him he was in contact with you? All while, spending hours at the bar with him drinking himself to sleep, wondering where you were and if you were okay.

Did he tell you about him? About how much he missed you? How it felt like his soul had died without you?

“Of course I’ve been talking to him! I needed to make sure you were okay.”

His mouth opens, but he can’t speak because you’re speaking again.

“We’re supposed to get married, Wonwoo. And live a life together. Have a family some day, get a cat or something, go out and come home early because we’d rather be together than out there socializing.” Your voice falters with a small laugh, the tears silently falling.

“But I can’t marry someone who’s risking their life every night, not just with the fights, but driving a motorcycle without glasses or contacts. I can’t marry someone who causes me to be in a constant state of anxiety every time you leave the house.”

“I’ll get rid of the bike. I’ll leave the gang. Whatever it is, I’ll do it.” He steps towards you again, and you take another step back, back meeting the door.

“I don’t care about the bike, Woo!” You finally yell, throwing your hands up in frustration. “I don’t care about the gang. I don’t even care about the bar! I care about you and your safety and how little you care about it.” You pause to take a breath, hands shaking as you try to reform your thoughts.

Wonwoo’s heart cracks at the sight. He takes two steps back, giving you the space he knows you need. He wants to say something, anything, to make the tears stop falling, but you’re right and he couldn’t defend himself if he tried.

“Do you know how many people I’ve seen come into my emergency room half beaten to death? Do you know how many I’ve seen die from those injuries? Or put into induced comas because the brain injuries are so severe? I don’t want to be there one day and have them roll you in on a cart half alive. My heart would break if I did. I mean, fuck, I wanted to fall apart when you got in that hit and run and brought in.”

He looks down to the floor, memories of how upset you were when you came into the emergency room and found him lying in a bed. With a broken leg and scratches everywhere from being dragged down the road by his bike.

He kept reassuring you it was never going to happen again, as if he could predict the future, but you were still upset and pushed him to sell the bike that was trashed and get a car.

He ended up buying a better bike and you barely reacted when he brought it home. He promised to be safer and fucked you senseless after.

“I… what do you want me to do?” He hesitantly asks, “Do you want me to back out of the fight?” You scoff, crossing your arms.

“We both know you can’t do that. Joon would have your head on a spike if you lost him all that money.” You close your eyes, stepping forward and away from the door. “I want you to do two things for me. Win and never fight again. Keep the bike, hang out in the dirty bar with your friends, drink all you want. But never go in that back room again.”

Your eyes lock onto his and he feels smaller in comparison to you. Your hands reach out for his as you step closer and his gaze falls to the contact.

“I promi—”

“No.” Your hands tighten around his, “your promises mean nothing now. You’ve promised me hundreds of times. Don’t use your words, prove it with your actions.”

He doesn’t hesitate when he pushes forward, pressing you back against the wall as his lips crush into yours. His tongue easily slides past your lips when your mouth parts in shock.

Your arms snake their way around his shoulders and his hands drop to your thighs, lifting you up to wrap them around his waist, pressing you further into the door.

“I’ll do it. I’ll win for you, and I’ll never step foot back there again.” His lips leave yours, quickly finding their way down the space between your neck and shoulder. “I’ll do anything if it means never having to go a month without you again. I miss you so fucking much, y/n.”

You respond with a whimper, hands tangled in his hair as he feels your hips try to roll forward. Wonwoo pins your hips down, stopping them from moving and rolls his hips instead, eliciting another whine from you.

“Woo, baby, please.”

His lips make their way up to just under your ear when he whispers, “what is it, baby? Please what?”

“I need you.”

“Yeah?”

“Missed you. So much. Want you.”

He pulls away from your skin to look at you.

“You have me. Always and forever. Just you and me.” He places a small kiss on your forehead, a small grin forming, “and maybe a small kitten. We can name it Snuggles.”

“I like that.” You sniffle, the tears pooling in your eyes again. “But I need more right now, Woo. Please.”

“I got you, baby.” He kisses your lips once more, standing you back up momentarily to pull his jeans down to his ankles, cock springing free from his underwear. You reach down and give his cock one stroke before his fingers wrap around your wrist, placing it by your head, grinning at your pout.

“We don’t have time.” He chuckles when you’re about to complain, kissing your pout away as he wraps one of your legs around his waist. Your free hand reaches down to pull your underwear to the side while his free hand lines himself up before slowly pressing past your folds.

“So fucking tight.” Wonwoo rasps, watching his cock slowly disappear as he sinks you down on him, grabbing your other leg to wrap around his waist as well. Your ankles lock together and he grunts at the feeling of your heels poking his skin.

Wonwoo shudders when he’s fully inside, cock twitching every time you involuntarily clench around him after almost every breath you take.

His hand sneaks down between you two, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing small and slow circles, watching your face contort into that of pure pleasure.

“My girl. My beautiful baby.” The praise and pet names quietly fly past his lips as he leans forward, lips latching onto your neck, “gonna marry you and make you so damn happy. Gonna love you every fucking day and night.” You don’t respond with anything but whimpers and whines, your hands tangling back into his hair and pulling him up to kiss him.

Everything about this is sloppy and heated and neither of you can last more than a few moments as you’re both coming undone around the same time, his hips stuttering you further into the door as he fills you up.

He keeps you against the door for a minute, but before you can ask to be put down, he’s bringing you to the counter, laying his jacket out enough for you to sit on so you can avoid the grossness of the dirty bathroom. He grabs some paper towels and cleans himself up, bringing his underwear and jeans back.

He catches you just in time when you’re readjusting your underwear, moving to stand up to fix your dress. He stops you, placing his hands on both of your knees, keeping them spread apart.

“Hold on.” He whispers, getting on his knees and scooting you closer to the edge, “let me clean you up.”

“Woo…” you try to speak but he picks that as the perfect moment and licks up between your folds, collecting what he can of both his and your orgasms. His lips latch onto your clit, switching between sucking harshly and softly blowing on it. He can feel how close you are, his actions a little more chaotic until there’s a hard banging on the bathroom door.

“Wonwoo! I know I said there’s no time on this, but there’s a fucking time on it. Let’s go.”

“Two minutes, Changkyun!” Wonwoo snaps back, anger quickly taking over his voice.

“You have one minute before I come in there. Whatever you’re doing with y/n, make it fast.”

You look down at Wonwoo in horror, but that just eggs him on, “you heard the man, baby. I’ve got one minute.”

Your eyes widen at the evil smile he gives you before diving back in. Only this time, he doesn’t hold back; licking, sucking, fucking you with his tongue until your hips are bucking upwards and you’re trying desperately not to scream his name out as you come.

You have to push his face away from your center, much to his dismay, before he causes a third orgasm. He fixes your underwear, helping you stand up as his lips find yours again, hands adjusting your dress. He reaches behind you, grabbing his jacket and opening it for you to slip your arms into.

He pulls away from you, eyes locking on yours as his hand dips into a pocket, grabbing his wallet and pulling the ring out, dropping the wallet back in the pocket.

The ring fidgets in his fingers as he looks down at it before glancing back at you.

“…I give up the fighting, the money, the lack of caring about my safety. I’ll be better, I’ll do better. As long as it means this ring stays on your finger forever.”

The tears form in your eyes again as you slowly reach for the ring, delicately taking it from his fingers. You slowly put it back where it belongs on your ring finger, Wonwoo letting out a dramatically heavy breath that he didn’t think he was holding.

“Deal.” You whisper quietly, pulling him back down for a kiss that’s perfectly interrupted by the door opening.

“I gave you three minutes. Let’s go. Sorry, y/n.” Changkyun shares a look with you that Wonwoo can’t quite read, choosing to ignore it as he reaches for his glasses on the counter, placing them in your hand.

“I’ll win.” He whispers, kissing your forehead and walking out after his best friend, your ring wearing hand in back in his.

The fight is, as expected, brutal and bloody. Seungcheol never holds back, throwing punch after punch like it was his only goal in life to beat Wonwoo down to a pulp the moment the two of you stepped into the back room. Seungcheol gave you both one glance, chuckled, and looked away before the fight began.

Wonwoo was able to dodge a good amount of the punches, but the ones that did land sent him straight to the ground, trying his best to stay conscious.

He can feel the blood dripping down his face from a cut between his eyebrows. His nose feels broken. He's pretty sure his leg is bruised from Seungcheol kicking him down and kicking harder when he’s not responding.

“Get up.” Seungcheol grumbles, circling Wonwoo, “unless you want your girl to watch you get pummeled.” He shrugs, a smug grin across his face as Wonwoo lifts himself onto his hand and knees.

“I don’t mind. Maybe she can tend to my wounds after.” He smirks, watching Wonwoo try to steady himself as he stands up. “She can kiss them better. That what she do with you?”

Wonwoo’s eyes dart to you, in the corner or the room, holding Changkyun’s girlfriend’s hand tight. Your eyes are wide and you’re trying not to react to anything happening, trying to stay neutral in case either of you needs immediate attention. You can’t hear the salacious slander Seungcheol is taunting Wonwoo with, and for that, he’s thankful.

Seungcheol speaks again, but Wonwoo doesn’t bother listening, instead bringing his fist back briefly before punching Seungcheol in the jaw, sending him backwards.

He wastes no time taking advantage of Seungcheol being even slightly disoriented, knocking him to the ground and punching one after the other. It takes you shouting his name to pull him out of his mind and stop punching the man beneath him. He sits back on his feet, mindlessly watching as Changkyun checks on Seungcheol before Wonwoo is declared the winner.

He’s shoved aside by his best friend as you’re brought to the losing participant, checking his wounds and determining what needs to be done, instructing Changkyun how to do it before turning around and doing the same with Wonwoo.

“Anything feel broken?” You whisper, cradling his face in your hands, analyzing the injuries. He tries not to wince as you gently move his head side to side. The nitrile gloves feeling oddly cool against his sweaty skin. “Tilt your head up for me, baby.” He obeys your murmur, teeth gritting as he does so. His eyes find your sad ones and he finally understands it.

“I won.” He whispers, a battered hand reaching to wrap around the back of your neck, pressing your forehead to his. “Never again.”

You nod, flashing a soft smile as you pull away from him, letting go of his head, checking his hands quickly before grabbing a towel and covering his knuckles. “We should go home. I can treat you better there.”

You stand him up slowly, your name being called by Changkyun as he has someone else sitting Seungcheol up, wiping up any blood. You turn just in time to catch the keys being thrown at you.

“Here. I’ll take Wonwoo’s bike. Take the car.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Don’t let him get on that bike like that.”

Wonwoo doesn’t miss the smile that appears on your face as you nod. You’re not the only one that cares about his safety.

After you say your thanks, you help Wonwoo into the passenger seat of the car and get in the driver’s seat, taking him home.

“I mean it.” His raspy voice pierces the silence in the car after a moment, “No more fighting. No more riding without my glasses. I’ll take better care…I’ll be better…for both of us.” He unwraps his hand from the towel, wincing slightly, and moves his hand over to your thigh, giving a gentle squeeze.

“Good. Because I’ll throw an actual fit if I walk down the aisle to you in a tux with fresh cuts and bruises all over your face.”

“I think you’d kick my ass.” He jokes, but you just smirk.

“Baby, I’m medically trained and have been taking self-defense classes for years. I know how to stop the blood flow to your brain and stop you from breathing with one hit. Don’t fuck with me.”

“I love the image of you in a wedding dress just beating people up.”

“Don’t compare me to the bride in Kill Bill, Woo. Please.” You groan and he laughs.

“It’s hot. That’s all I’m saying.”

“You’re lucky I love you.”

There’s a long pause before Wonwoo finally speaks again.

“That I am…”

496 notes · View notes

noahsresources · 1 year

Text

hurt/comfort statements that hit me right in the feels.

pardon me please, i'm just having a moment. possible tw for suicidal ideation and references to death and loss. bonus points for specifying a scenario!

from those who are struggling. ❝ i never thought i'd ever make it this far. ❞ ❝ ... when were you going to tell me about this? ❞ ❝ i don't ever want you to die. please ... don't die ... ❞ ❝ we had our whole lives planned out. ❞ ❝ i just can't, it's too much. it's too fucking much. ❞ ❝ losing him/her/them was the cruelest thing i've ever experienced. ❞ ❝ people say things like, 'you're going green with envy', or 'there's smoke coming out of your ears'. you think they'd come up with a statement like that that describes someone who's in constant pain like this ... ? ❞ ❝ sometimes you need to make room for grief. make time for it. embrace it. it's all i've been doing as of late. ❞ ❝ how is it possible to hurt this much when nothing's wrong? ❞ ❝ drowning in sadness is more fulfilling than drowning in pleasure these days. ❞ ❝ it's hard to let go of the fact that i'm probably going to outlive everyone else in my life. ❞ ❝ i've already lost everything near and dear to my heart. everything except for you. ❞ ❝ i'm just so tired. i just want to go to sleep and never wake up again. ❞ ❝ i was so close to giving up once. ❞ ❝ i don't want him/her/them to die alone. i'd never forgive myself. ❞ ❝ please, don't go ... i just need to feel your arms around me ... ❞ ❝ there's a reason why i hide my emotions locked in a metal cage so deep in my heart. it's so i won't get hurt like this again. ❞ ❝ i've always had to deal with these kinds of things alone. i don't need your help. ❞ ❝ it was my fault. i did this to him/her/them ... ❞ ❝ i can't even see my future anymore. i don't want to. ❞ ❝ there's no way i could possibly be this important to you. ❞ ❝ if i lose him/her/them, then there'll be nothing else for me to live for. ❞ ❝ i don't see a point anymore. in going on, i mean. ❞ ❝ time won't slow down. it never does. i had to learn that the hard way early on. ❞ ❝ go away ... please, just go away. ❞

from those offering support. ❝ ... i'm sorry. i'm so, so fucking sorry that you had to lose him/her/them. ❞ ❝ it wasn't your fault. you did everything you could. ❞ ❝ just remember they'll always be in your heart. ❞ ❝ i don't know what to say to make you feel better, but ... i'm here for you, if that means anything. ❞ ❝ believe it or not ... i know how you feel. i've been through this exact same thing. ❞ ❝ he/she/they loved you. he/she/they loved you so much. trust me ... i know. ❞ ❝ you're not alone. i promise you, you're not alone. ❞ ❝ don't worry, i'll stay. i'm not going anywhere. ❞ ❝ you've been through so much ... be kind to yourself. please. ❞ ❝ it's okay to cry. you don't have to hide your emotions around me. ❞ ❝ you don't have to talk to me. hell, you don't even have to look at me. but, please ... give me a sign that you're hearing what i have to say. ❞ ❝ please ... don't tell me that you'd choose to spend eternity up there with him/her/them over an eternity with me ... ❞ ❝ you're grieving. it's an understandable reaction. but you should rest. you've been overexerting yourself far too much lately. ❞ ❝ the man/woman/person who you lost, who loved you ... he/she/they wouldn't want to see you doing this to yourself. ❞ ❝ crying is your body's way of telling you that you've been keeping everything in for way too long. so let it out. you're safe here. ❞ ❝ sadness is like an ocean. sometimes we drown in it, but other times, we're forced to swim in it. ❞ ❝ as long as i'm here, you'll never not have anyone ever again. ❞ ❝ i hope you know that you can talk to me about anything at all. share anything you need to get off your chest. i'm here for you. ❞ ❝ love is often felt the most in your favorite memories. honor him/her/them by remembering all the happiness he/she/they gave you. ❞ ❝ if you don't feel strong right now, then you don't have to be strong. it's okay to be vulnerable, weak, scared, and sad. ❞

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inlovewithfictionalmen7 · 11 months

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could i get a nikki sixx angst where reader thinks he’s cheating on her and they have a big fight but it ends up in fluff🙏🙏

thank you for requesting!! i hope you like it and its what you were looking for.

Misunderstanding

Nikki sixx x reader

Glancing at the clock on the wall for probably the 20th time since 11:30 pm, when Nixxi said he'd be home. It was no almost two in the morning. For the past few weeks nikki´s been getting home later and later from the times he says, he doesn't act like the guy y/n fell in love with.

A thought crosses y/n´s mind as she sits on the couch waiting for Nikki to come home. What if he's out with another girl? What if hes fucking another girl right now? What-what if he doesn't love me anymore? y/n thought to herself. She's never let the thought of Nikki cheating cross her mind before but with how he's been acting she can't help it.

She's so deep in her thought that she didn't hear the front door open and her boyfriend stumble in. Nikki stopped when she saw someone in the corner of his eye. Looking over at his girlfriend he walks over to her “hey babe why are you still up” he says slurring some of his words. The sudden voice behind y/n made her jump and look up at the obviously drunk man. “I was waiting for my boyfriend who said he'd be home almost three and a half hours ago.” as the words leave her mouth nikki rolls his eyes. “I was out and lost track of time no big deal” he says throwing his arms up.

“No big deal?!” y/n says rasing her voice “Nikki the past few weeks youve been acting diffrent, not coming home untill almost three in the fucking morning, probably out fucking some random bimbo, while im here waiting for you to come home so i know youre fucking safe!” she says standing up, looking at her boyfriend who was making an extremely confused face. “Cheating? Are you serious y/n?!” he says glaring at her. “When have I ever made it so you wouldn't trust me? Huh?” nikki says getting in her face

“Oh i don't know, not telling me where you've been, being distant, not having time for me anymore because if you're not doing drugs you're out doing god knows what!” y/n yells at nikki causing him to turn around, pick up a bottle of jack that he had left laying around one day and throw it across the room making it shatter. “y/n ive never even fucking thought about cheating on you, but you know what. Maybe I will if you already think I am” he says, looking her in the eyes.

y/n´s eyes well up with tears but before she could say anything nikki starts “oh now you're crying. Typical” rolling his eyes he goes up stairs hearing her crying behind him. Once he's upstairs and in their room, he goes into his closet and shoots up. Reality of everything that happened tonight is sinking in. Nikki wasnt out with another girl, no other girl could even compare to his y/n, and to know that she thinks that low of him hurts a lot.

While nikki is upstairs, y/n is down stairs looking at the shattered glass with teary eyes. After almost ten minutes she decided to clean up the glass carefully. Once she's all done she slowly makes her way upstairs. When she entered the room she already knew nikkis in the closet, so she walked over, opened the door and saw Nikki lying on the ground, a needle laying next to him. Her eyes start tearing up again as she picks the needle up putting it into the trash before turning her attention to nikki

“Nik? Wake up” she says rubbing his face a little until his eyes open looking at her in a daze, a big frown makes its way to his face when he remembers what happened “baby?” he asks sadly “come on nikki let's get you in bed” y/n says while trying to pull him up. “I'm so sorry y/n, i-i've never cheated on you i promise” nikki says turning to face her, putting his hands on her shoulders “please believe me sweetheart” he begs the woman in front of him. y/n smiles and leads him to the bed, and pushing him to lay down “well talk about this in the morning nikki, you need to sleep right now”

As she gets into bed next to him he lays his head on her chest. “I love you y/n, more than anything in the world. When I'm out I'm just with Tommy and the guys drinking i promise” he slurs from both the drugs and tiredness. y/n kisses him forehead before whispering “i love you too nikki, now get some sleep”

The last thing she heard before he passed out was a mumbled ‘im sorry’

#nikki sixx fanfiction #nikki sixx x reader #nikki sixx imagines #the dirt imagine #motley crue #motley crue x y/n #motley crue imagine #nikki sixx imagine #nikki sixx angst

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am-i-interrupting · 3 months

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What if toxic Vox pushed Reader to the edge and Reader made a deal with Rosie in order to lose their eyes, breaking free from the hypnosis grip Vox had on him

Or, alternatively, reader gouging their own eyes out because they can't handle Vox anymore and they rather be blind and in agony than be with them, and if Vox keeps it up, reader saying they won't hesitate to end it all, holding their own lives as a bargain chip so Vox tones it down

Yours truly,

🖍

“Are you sure you want to do this, hon?” “Please.” “I— okay.”

It’d taken a lot to get you to this point.

Vox wouldn’t stop though. He wouldn’t stop with the hypnosis no matter what you tried.

You loved him. Truly, you did but you couldn’t take the lack of control in your life.

That’s how you ended up on Rosie’s doorstep, asking her to carve out your eyes.

Rosie was a cannibal. She would know human anatomy better than anyone and she was also kind enough that you trusted her not to just kill your outright.

You screamed and cried at the pain of the process but Rosie was kind.

She took breaks you needed it. She blew your nose for you since your hands were tied down.

She had someone escort you to the tower.

“There you are! I’ve been wondering where my precious— What the fuck happened?!” “I couldn’t do it anymore, Vox! I love you but I can’t stand not having my own autonomy!” “So you mutilated it?!” “You wouldn’t listen to me!”

Vox felt horrible. He felt his stomach churning every time he looked at you.

He loved your eyes and you’d taken them from him? Along with his ability to make sure you were safe?

He’d just have to put you on a tighter leash.

#vox x reader #hazbin vox x reader

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klutzyroses · 7 months

Text

IkeVamp HCs: Their Pregnant S/O Fighting

How do they react to their s/o fighting with someone while pregnant?

Suitors: Napoleon, Arthur, Theo, Jean

Napoleon

Being four months pregnant did not mean Y/N would let anyone disrespect her emperor in her presence.

Napoleon's wife had joined him and Isaac at their little school, chatting away with a few of the children, who gazed at her with wonder- for her general beauty, and her cute round belly.

It was a bit tough for either Napoleon or Isaac to get the kids to concentrate when they kept insisting on touching Y/N and unfortunately for Isaac, he was on the receiving end of "Where do babies come from?", to the amusement of Napoleon.

However, the pleasant atmosphere didn't last as, when school was out, Napoleon was dealing with the angry mother of one of his students. He remained civil and calm, but the incensed woman kept poking him in the chest and getting in his face.

This of course, sat about as well with the emperor's wife as one would expect. Next thing anyone was aware of, Y/N was by his side, shoving the woman away from him.

"Don't put your hands on my husband! Apologize to him!"

"How dare you, who do you think you are?!"

The angry mother stepped forward again, only to get shoved back again by the expectant woman.

"I think I'm the one who's going to put you in the hospital if you don't apologize and leave right now."

Livid, the mother shoved Y/N right back, causing her to fall backwards. Napoleon moved like lightning, catching her with ease. He sent a reproachful glare to the woman, who stood frozen, as if shocked by her own actions.

"Isaac, keep an eye on Y/N."

Y/N reluctantly stayed by Isaac's side while Napoleon dealt with the woman until she left. Later, he took her in his arms, sighing as he lifted her head to lock eyes.

"Don't do that again, nunuche. You can't just get into fights with people. Not in your condition."

He felt a chill up his spine when he thought of what could've happened if she had actually fallen and he wasn't there. He instinctively pulled her closer to him, her head between his neck and shoulder.

He was touched that she had stood up for him, but the last thing he wanted was for her and his baby to be getting into any fights at all.

Arthur

Sometimes, his former flings just...didn't quit, even when he was married with a child on the way.

One such brazen woman had approached Arthur while his wife, who was 4 months along, was with him.

The sheer audacity of it- unabashed flirting with a married man in front of his pregnant wife?

Honestly...

Arthur had no time to rebuff her advances before his scandalized wife moved in front of him and confronted the little viper right there.

"Are you really so desperate you're going to pretend I'm not here, or are you stupid?"

The argument only got more heated from there, finally reaching a tipping point when the spiteful woman made mocking comments about Y/N's body, and even further by implying that she trapped Arthur using the baby.

Neither Arthur or the shameless troublemaker saw the slap coming. Y/N threw the fastest slap ever thrown and the other woman found herself suddenly looking the other direction, her cheek stinging.

Y/N for her part, was slightly red faced and teary eyed and was ready with another slap when the woman righted herself. And another. And another.

Arthur was too stunned at first to react, but he jumped into action when the former fling, infuriated, raised her hand to retaliate.

He caught her wrist in a second, his other arm coiling around his wife as he tugged her back towards him, his hand on her stomach protectively.

"Enough! You don't touch her! Y/N, come with me, darling."

Not wanting her to spend anymore energy on this, he maneuvered his upset wife out of there and somewhere more safe.

His heart ached when confronted with her pretty face flushed and streaked with tears of anger and humiliation. He gently wiped them away.

"Come on now, luv, please don't cry. It's alright..."

He pulled her into his chest as he rubbed her belly, his own pulse starting to slow. His heart had almost given out when he had seen the woman about to hit Y/N.

"Darling, please don't put yourself at risk like that. I can't stand anything happening to you...either of you."

He rubs circles on her stomach as he kisses her cheek.

Theo

Theo is used to dealing with L' Academie by now, but he was not expecting that his hondje would ever have to do so in her state.

And yet, he found himself in said position when one of them came to do their usual shenanigans, but this time, Y/N was with him.

Theo felt more exasperated than nervous, until his wife, four months pregnant with twins, stormed up to the man in the middle of whatever nonsense he was spouting and faced him head on.

"Can't you do anything other than bother him? Go find something to do!"

"It is the duty of L'Academie and he is nothing but an upstart allowing riff raff into the art world!"

Indignant, and hormonal at that, Y/N decided to put the man, and the Academie, in his place once and for all.

"How dare you, you don't get to decide what's art and what's not, my husband is better than any elitist highbrows and you know it, that's why you keep harrassing him! But I won't let you anymore, leave. My. Husband. Alone."

She punctuated her words with a slap so fast across the man's face that it makes her stumble a bit as she holds onto her stomach for balance. Theo had never moved so quick in his life, the second the man's eyes flashed with rage, the younger Van Gogh pulled Y/N to him, his hand on her stomach, both to keep her at bay and to just reassure himself that she was out of harm's way.

Y/N covered his hand with hers, both to reassure him she was alright, but also to show her solidarity to him.

"Don't even think about it. You won't like what happens if you try to hurt her."

The dark look in Theo's sky blue eyes, sends the man retreating wisely on his part.

Y/N was indeed scolded for her recklessness later, even if he thought she was the sweetest for it. She still put herself and the babies in danger. He hadn't liked the look in the man's eyes in the slightest.

"Hondje, what you just did? Never again, understand?"

He tugged her close to him, holding her from behind, resting his head against hers as he ran a hand over her swollen stomach, speaking softer.

"I don't want you in that position again, let alone while you're carrying my pups, got it?"

He wouldn't have known what he would have done if that man had dared to hurt her. Just that it wouldn't have been good.

Jean

The fact anyone had the audacity to attack or threaten a visibly pregnant woman sent a wave of distaste through him.

A customer was being difficult to Y/N who had been seated in the front of the shop while Jean was at the back of the weapon's shop so that Y/N was away from the weapons, because he was very wary of the sharp objects near his 4 month pregnant wife.

She had got up and confronted him alone before Jean could deal with him, pushing the rude man away herself, to the surprise of both men present.

"Get ahold of yourself, this is a place of business, not a schoolyard!"

"Why, I never!"

"Never what, learned proper manners? You don't come into my husband's shop and kick up a fuss, not on my watch!"

The man, galled, took a step forward threateningly, and that was all it took for Jean to immediately move from the other side of the shop to pull Y/N behind him.

His visible eye twinkled with something dangerous at the prospect that he was about to threaten Y/N.

"I suggest you keep your distance from this woman, lest I be forced to make you."

Nobody threatened his wife and child.

After the customer left with intimidation from Jean, the soldier turned to his wife, placing his hand on her stomach, searching her for any signs of distress.

Y/N placed her hands over Jean's on her round belly with a small smile, assuring him she was fine but Jean shook his head.

"If there is a problem like that again, let me handle it. That was dangerous."

Brave as it was that she faced the man alone, he would prefer that she be safe, after all, who knows what he would have done to her, regardless of her delicate state.

His gloved fingers caress her belly as he remains diligently beside her the remainder of the day, just to make sure she remained unharmed and unbothered.

🌸

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp napoleon #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp theo #ikevamp jean #ikevamp headcanons #ikemen vampire headcanons #ikevamp hcs

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lavender-romancer · 2 years

Text

Bruised

Ivar Ragnarsson x Reader

Ivar loves war more than you

CW: arguments, swearing, slight smut and submissive Ivar, anger, aggression

”*°•.˜”*°•˜”*°•.˜”*°•. .•°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜

Even though he was your betrothed, you knew that you'd always be second best in Ivar's head and you just had to accept it. Whilst you had no say over the marriage there was no use being bitter, he was obsessed with war and blood. You yourself were also a warrior but you were pregnant and couldn't risk the date of their heir in such a careless way but, Ivar didn't share your anxiety towards death. He only thought of Valhalla, his obsession with becoming a warrior and dying noble and brave was taking its toll on you and you didn't know how to tell him it was happening because of him.

"I made some beautiful kills today, my love." Ivar grinned as he came into your quarters, you were laid back on the pillows cradling your ever growing stomach bump.

He was covered in blood, hadn't even spared a moment to wipe his face and you hated how attractive you found him in this high-testosterone state. Ivar was way too excited to realise how clean your night dress was as he lay a hand over your stomach and just smiled up at you. His sweet face sending a warm feeling to your stomach because you knew he was home safe, at least for now.

"Be careful, my love. No pressing, I think she's sleeping." You put your hand on top of his gently.

"Ah, she will be a strong girl like her mother with more need for sleep than the normal person!" He joked and you slapped him on the head lightly with a laugh.

"No matter how excited you are you always find time to discuss my sleeping habits don't you, dearest?" You raised an eyebrow and Ivar giggled. He climbed up onto your bed and thrust off his tunic that was spattered with blood on the sleeves. He grabbed a cloth from beside the bed and cleaned his face, seeming to have woken up from all the excitement and realising how clean you were.

"I'll always be happy to discuss how much sleep you require, plus making a little bit of fun toward you is always my favourite pastime." Ivar leant on your breasts, holding the other in his hand as you stroked his hair.

"Someone's comfortable, hmm?" You asked and he hummed a yes into your chest, enjoying himself a bit too much.

"Pregnancy has made these bigger, I'll have to get you pregnant again so I can enjoy it once more." He kissed both your breasts and then your lips as you hit him on the head again.

"You're a dirty man, my betrothed. Not even married me and already filled me with a child." You looked down at him lovingly, your anxiety calmed as soon as he walked in the door and you knew it wasn't healthy for the baby but you didn't know what you'd do if he was seriously hurt.

"You're welcome." Ivar grinned.

"Don't leave me again, okay?" You held him close to you and squashed him against your body and closed your eyes.

"You know I can't agree to that." Ivar whispered and you sighed, not saying anything else "Y/n, you knew what I was when you accepted my proposal. I am a Ragnarsson, I am born to do this and have a right."

You still said nothing and you knew the child growing in you made your emotions go into a concentrated form whenever you felt something but you couldn't deal with it anymore. You pushed him away from you and turned over in bed, hugging yourself and staying silent.

"Y/n, please." Ivar sounded desperate but you couldn't see his blood spattered body right now, you couldn't deal with the reminder that Ivar would be gone by the morning.

Ivar sighed and turned over, back to you as he slowly went into a deep sleep. You sat up and lit a candle by your bed, you started circling your hand over your stomach.

"You're going to be perfect, and no one will ever hurt you. You're going to stay with me and learn new languages and arithmetic and how to govern. I don't know if you'll meet your father, but I will always be here to keep you safe, little one." You were whispering but Ivar heard every word and it sent a pang of pain to his stomach, he felt too unwillingly guilty.

Ivar craved war, he craved death by battle and yet he wanted you and wanted to be with you constantly. He wanted a lazy morning with you, massaging your aching back and falling asleep on your chest. Ivar wanted to kiss you, he wanted to kill, he wanted to give you love but he needed to vanquish all who dared test him and his rule.

You were smiling down at your stomach, imagining when he or she would be in your arms after however long and hard the birth would be. It would all be worth it to hold their delicate little body in your arms and feel that connection that you had felt immediately with Ivar. You missed that immediate connection you made with Ivar, you knew that you already had it with this baby even though they weren't here yet. The moment you'd met Ivar you knew you had to speak to him more, you had to find out everything about him and couldn't sleep without thinking of him. Even though he didn't seem to want you anymore you still craved him and conversations with him, your love for your betrothed was unmistakable and unmatched. Until this baby was born there was no one you loved more than Ivar.

Ivar suddenly turned over and sat up next to you, it made you jump slightly but his next movements were slow. He shuffled over and leant his head on your shoulder, laying a hand over yours on your stomach and gripping it. He kissed your shoulder and stayed quiet, just holding you and your stomach gently showing his affection through touch. Ivar had never been good with words when it came to gentleness or affection, he was so much better at physical representations of it.

"I'm sorry." Ivar whispered and you leant your head on his.

"It's okay, angel." You kissed the top of his head and he turned his face to look at yours with tears in his eyes.

The blood still clung to his cheeks and he looked so beautiful and vulnerable next to you that you struggled to not take him into your arms and never let him leave. But you knew you couldn't control him and you couldn't make him stay.

"I'm not good for you, I just cause you stress and I… I just can't fucking say what I want to and I just- fuck," he paused "I love you. I love you so much and fuck I just loose all my words when it's only you with me. I'm so enchanted by you, my love."

"We both know you're not always the best with words but you have your moments. That was lovely." You smiled softly and leant forward till you were nose to nose with Ivar.

"You're just trying to make me laugh now." Ivar smirked and you blushed, unable to hide your intentions. You loved seeing him smile.

"Yeah and so what?" You slowly kissed him and Ivar held your face with one hand and kept the other hand on your stomach.

"I will never let anything bad happen to either of you," Ivar said quietly as you drew apart and rested your foreheads together "You are my world, my night sky full of stars, my sea full of creatures, my reason for being. I have never cared for a person the way I care for you, never take my need for war as a dismissal of you and your feelings."

You closed your eyes and wiped your eyes, unable to control your emotions and how your hormones amplified everything. You missed him so much day to day that moments like these were so treasured.

"Don't cry, my love. You are brave and so am I, I will never die because the Gods do not want it. The Seer told me so." Ivar stroked your cheek.

"I do not cry for myself or for you, I cry for our unborn child. What if they never meet you? What if they never know your care or your love?" You pulled away from Ivar a bit and wiped your eyes and your nose again.

"I am Ivar the Boneless, son of Ragnar and Aslaug, I was cursed at birth to live a life of suffering and hopelessness and yet I am King. I am unmistakably the ruler of Kattegat and respected by kingdoms str thing across our great lands. Our child will be blood of my blood, they will be as battle hungry as me and as respected as I. Regardless of their troubles they will feel our love, they will know their importance in this world." Ivar held your face in both of his hands and you smiled at him before kissing his cheeks one by one.

"They will be your blood and better for it. I just long for you, it's selfish and I know it is but I can't help my need for you." You looked longingly into Ivar's eyes and another sharp pain hit Ivar's stomach as he thought about you missing him.

"I just wish you could turn your mind off whilst I am away, that you could separate your anxiety from your general thoughts because I will always come back to you." Ivar whispered, leaning the side of his head against the headboard.

"If only I could believe you." You smiled sadly and Ivar looked away from your eyeline, he was ashamed.

"I cannot give you guarantees. I know that that isn't good enough and I know that you need more than that but this is who I am. Maybe it's healthier for both of us to have more realistic opinions of each other at least for now." Ivar looked at you sympathetically and you hated it, like you were some cooped up lover who couldn't stand up for themselves.

"So I can't expect you to be better? I can't want you to be more supportive and more present in our relationship and your relationship with this baby? What about when they're born and you won't even be there? They won't even know their father!" You yelled, your face getting hot with anger and frustration.

"Oh for fuck, this is ridiculous! You knew who I fucking was! You knew and yet you still carried on. You knew you could get pregnant, you knew we'd get married and yet you just fucking expect something else from me!" Ivar screamed back and your eyes started welling up, you stood up and walked away from the bed, back facing him.

"I don't want to see you when I wake up. Don't fucking come back for all I care, if you love war more than me and your child then what the fuck are you even doing here." You said in a calm voice, not willing to let him see you cry.

"Maybe I fucking will, maybe I'll be fucking dead tommorow! You'd love that wouldn't you, fucking slut making me get you pregnant so you could hold all this shit on me!" He yelled it with so much malice you had to grit your teeth together behind your closed mouth, holding back so much aggression because you couldn't fight him and keep your baby safe.

"You're a fucking bastard, Ivar. Stop acting like I'm a whore! I'm no thrall, I'm not one of you little one night stands who doesn't deserve anything from you, my king. I'm a fucking Princess in my own right, I owe you nothing! We both knew I could get pregnant and we both knew we would be married if it happened. You said you loved me, you fucking said it first you… you fucking…" you trailed off, unable to finish because your head was so scrambled. What was he saying?

"You're not worth the breath I used to shout at you, so what if I said it first?! You fucking entrapped me! You made me love you with all your treatment of me and stupid fucking affection. Of course I had to get out and go to war because you were turning me into something I wasn't!" Ivar yelled his eyes wide open and eyebrows furrowed in an anger induced state. You turned around to face him

"Yeah that's right. I made you fall for me. Just like how I made myself love you, listen to yourself, Ivar. You're not thinking straight, I thought you loved this child? I thought you loved this relationship but God, what are we anymore?" You let a tear drop down your cheek as you held your stomach with one hand and your back with the other. You wished your baby was big enough to start kicking so you didn't feel so alone.

Ivars' expression changed, his eyebrows relaxed and his eyes softened as he realised what he'd said and what he couldn't take back. He knew what he'd done, he knew he'd disregarded your own sacrifices and disrespected you repeatedly. You were carrying his fucking child and yet he couldn't offer you even an ounce of respect. He asked too much of you, he would leave you for weeks at a time and only send letters every now and then. Before you were pregnant he would send you letters and send for you like a dog because he missed your touch and your kind words and now…now you were standing in front of him tears streaming holding your child in your hand.

Ivar crawled forward on the bed and three his legs around to be hanging off the side. He held out his hand to you and you took it with the hand holding your back. Ivar would give you the fucking moon if he had too, to win back your trust because he didn't mean any of it. He just missed your presence, your love and your affection that he had cursed you for not so long ago. As you stepped closer to him you went in-between his legs that had fallen apart, he leant his head gently on your stomach with the side of his face and stroked your stomach with his hand.

This unexpected tenderness made you well up, you had to look up to stop yourself from sobbing because you had missed this so much it hurt. Placing a hand on his head you stroked his hair gently and Ivar closed his eyes, taking in your scent and how in love with you he really was. He was so undeserving of love in his own opinion that he pushed it away without a moment's thought toward the consequences of his harsh words.

"I'm so sorry. I will be better, I will do better, I will be better." Ivar sounded like he was crying and you snaked your hand round to be under his chin, slowly lifting it up and seeing tears in his eyes.

He looked up at you with tearful puppy dog eyes and you fell in love with him all over again. You wanted to slap him, tell him he was a cunt for talking to you that way but violence wouldn't help anything so you just stroke his cheek with your thumb as you hand held his face. Ivar put his arms around your legs and hugged you close to him before kissing your bump.

"I don't understand why you treat me the way you do, but fuck…I know you love me. You have to be better, I can't take it especially when stress can impact the baby. I just can't do it anymore." You wiped your eyes with your sleeve and went back to looking at Ivar who had started sobbing and then dropped to the floor his legs apart as he dragged himself to bend his knees. You tried to help him up but he stopped you, holding your skirts he looked up at you with wet eyes.

"I beg for your forgiveness, I beg for your love, I beg for you to be my wife. I will fucking beg and keep myself in pain for as long as is necessary because I can't loose you." Ivar let out a sob and you couldn't help but let your mouth open slightly. He had never shown such vulnerability, such willingness to change. The King was on his knees begging for you to be his. You knelt down in front of him and took his face in your hands, kissing him softly and tasting salt mixed with copper and ale. It was quite a horrific mix on your tongue but you didn't care, you needed to be close to him.

Ivar put a hand on your ass and pulled you closer to him as one of your hands went round his neck and put pressure on both sides slightly. You'd learnt pretty quickly in your sexual relationship that Ivar didn't always enjoy being in control and loved submitting. It wasn't an overtly sexual interaction more of a powerplay, he knew that you were in charge and let you do whatever you wanted. You began to kiss his neck softly as he whimpered near your ear.

"I fucking love you." He whispered to you and you choked him harder, his head rolling backwards as he moaned.

"I know you do, Angel," You licked the lobe of his ear and heard his breath shudder slightly. "If you ever talk to me like that again, I will never touch you like this ever again." You withdrew your touch from him and he nodded, you slapped him and raised your eyebrow.

"Y-yes I understand." He whispered looking up at you adoringly and you smiled.

Helping him get his knees out of the uncomfortable position and be straight out in front of him you sat on his lap and kissed his forehead "I love you." He told you and you believed him, he trusted you so deeply.

"Now come here." You gently pulled his head to lean on your chest as he wrapped his arms tightly around you and started crying softly, you could tell how remorseful he felt and how much he regretted what he had done.

"I'm staying with you tomorrow." Ivar whispered against your breasts and you smiled, stroking his hair slowly.

”*°•.˜”*°•˜”*°•.˜”*°•. .•°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜

AN: I'm very happy to do more Ivar imagines if anyone wants any. I haven't written Vikings in like three years but still adore it xx

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pasta-in-the-pudding · 5 months

Note

ONGOMG I HAVE AN IDEA!!

How abouuuuut, a Creepypasta (you can choose It’s okay!!) with a reader that has DID/OSDD? Like, the Creepypasta gets to meet someone new literally everyday and get confused on who is who. YEAH‼️

I am DEVOURING, not eating, DEVOURING your writing like DAMN😦

TAKE CARE AND STAY SAFE AWWOWIWOW

-🐰

Just a heads up, I don't have DID or OSDD, but I do have a few friends who do, so i'm basing this off of what I know from them, as well as some reasearch i've done, so if anything is inaccurate please let me know!

And as always when the choice of creeps is left to me, I will be using my most popular creeps at the time of writing

Thank you so much for requesting!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ticci Toby

In the beginning, it is a bit hard for Toby to adjust in your relationship

You told him before you got serious, that way he knew to just always check in to see who was fronting at the time, but he was still a bit slow to adjust

He learns all of the names of the alters, their personalities, their interests, their role in the headspace, anything he can to accomodate them as well

While he knows that he is only dating you, and not your alters, he still wants to help them feel comfortable when they are fronting

After he gets adjusted though, it isn't really a huge deal anymore

It just becomes a part of his routine to ask each morning who is fronting, notice when you start to dissasociate, and being there for you during your hard days

He probably wouldn't have interacted with any media or people with DID/OSDD before you, so he will be asking you everything about what its like

"Where do you go when you aren't fronting? Can you hear everyone elses voices too? What does it feel like when you front?" etc etc

If you are someone who falls or goes limp when you dissasociate/switch, he is there to catch you or hold you until someone fronts

He learns all (well, as many as you can) of your alters boundaries and lets them know on your relationship, because he doesn't want it to be a whiplash kind of feeling for them to just wake up in some random dudes arms

The way he sees it, he got a partner and a bunch of new friends for the price of one!!

If one of your alters didn't like him though, he'd be ok with that

It would just be kind of awkward when you start to switch out during something like a cuddle sesh

He just hopes and prays it isn't someone who dislikes him

All around, he's kind of clueless but he is very open to learning about you and your disorder!

Eyeless Jack

Being the medical geek he is, he has read almost every psychology book he could get his claws on

And when he ran out of psychology books he started looking more into specific disorders such as Bipolar, Schizophrenia, etc

He did briefly glance over a few books about DID and OSDD, and he'd be lying if he said the topic didn't interest him

But he just gets so excited to study everything at once he kind of just gets a brief rundown of a certain disorder before going to the next thing, and someday coming back to study it more in depth

When he gets into a relationship with you though, he gathers up all his books on the topic and begins studying heavily

He wants to know everything about this disorder, especially since it is something that impacts your day to day life so heavily

He will run some questions he has by you, because some things you just can't find in a book

"So when you say you "switch"....what does that entail for you?"

"Uhhh... my mind goes blank and I kind of just drift off I guess??"

"Interesting...."

He gets very excited to meet your alters!

But he is also very nonchalant about it at the same time??

"And thats when I said-"

"Who the fuck are you"

"....My love, it's me. Your partner"

"I'm (insert alters name here)"

"Ah, very good! Now, tell me all about yourself, when did you manifest?"

Of course, if someone is uncomfortable with relaying knowledge about themselves to a complete stranger, or even just doesn't like him, he understands and won't press on the matter

Every time someone fronts he has a bottle of water in case they need something to help ground themselves

He will bombarde everyone with questions and research there's no escaping >:))

Jeff The Killer

THIS GUY OMFG

He's only heard of DID/OSDD from those shitty movie representations, and Liu who 9 times out of 10, only switches with Sully

So basically Jeff's whole perception of multiple personalities is "Damn whoever the other guy is must be an asshole"

You try to tell him that there is not a "killer" alter, and most of the time, as long as you are nice to them, they will likely be nice to you, because yk, THEY'RE PEOPLE

And while at the time he's like "got it that's super chill"

He still goes from 0-100 when you first switch out in front of him

You could be cuddling on your bed, when all of a sudden he feels your body go limp against his

At first he thinks you fell asleep, but he sees your eyes wide open

You then begin to blink, then move around and shift a bit

"The fuck happened to you?" he asks with a raised brow

Your brows furrow as you look around your environment "Who even are you???" the new person in the front of the headspace asks

It doesn't even click with him that you switched out for a second, he just thinks you're being stupid

"Damn, am I really that forgettable?" He asks, leaning over to kiss your forehead

You make a face of disgust and shove him away from you harshly

He narrows his eyes at you, seemingly trying to process what even just happened

Then it clicks, and he feels like such an asshole

But he won't let you know that obviously

"Gimmie my partner back!" he says suddenly

You raise your hands up defensively "Woah dude what are you talking about?!"

Needless to say, when you come back Jeff is pouting in his room, angry that your alter can't just ~magically~ bring you back to the front

#creepypasta #slender mansion #creepypasta x y/n #creepypasta x female reader #creepypasta x you #jeff the killer #ticci toby #jeffery woods #jeff the killer x reader #ticci toby x reader #jeff the killer creepypasta #ticci toby x y/n #ticci toby x you #ticcy toby #eyeless jack x you #eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack creepypasta #eyeless jack #🐰 anon

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megangovier · 14 days

Text

Into The Woods

Word counter: 1.1k

Pairing: Depraved! Michael Myers x fem! reader x Jason Voorhees x Ghostface

Summary: Your boyfriend dumps you after four years, leaving you in the woods. Scared you hide from the creatures of the night, as you walked and walked, three masked men follow you.

Tw: Abuse at the start

Warning: 18+ only || Smut || mmm4f || Cheating || Arguments || P in V || Dirty talk || degradation || mdni || Dub-con || depravity || throatfucking || cream pie || breeding kink || daddy!kink || handjob || BJ ||

"Get the fuck out my car bitch, you ain't worth my time anymore".. tears started to roll down your face. The man that you were sitting next to in the car, wasn't the guy you met four years ago, he's changed and you didnt like it. You missed the sweet man you got used to, the guy that would make you breakfast in the morning and looked after you when you were ill, you don't know what he had done with that guy. "You were the one cheating on me with those hoes, I've been nothing but nice to you and you treat me like this" anger rising in your chest "Boo-hoo, get the fuck out! We are done" screaming at him, you run out the door and into the woods.

Scared and frightened you think ways of surviving through the night, all sorts of creatures lurk through the darkness waiting for their next meal. "I can't fucking believe him, wasted four years of my life with him and he cheats on me, my mother was right about him but me being a dumb bitch believing in love, fairy tale fucking over". As you head through the tree's, listening to owls hooting and crickets, a calm wave washed over you, nature was always your favourite place to be when you were having a bad day.

Music also brought you escapism, one of your many favourite things to do. Slipping headphones in, you put on zen music. Smiles on your face, tears long gone. As much as you loved that man, you didn't have to deal with him again, going to feel sorry for the next girl he dates, the way he treated you, bound to happen again to someone else. The sky was pitch black, the time was 22:30. Stars shining brightly, moon as big as a rocket shining back. Passing tree's, phone in hand, torch looking for a safe place for the night, away from creatures that could eat you alive.

As you were finding your way to a safe place, three large men were hiding behind a tree, few yards away from where you were standing. Looking at you with their lustful eyes, mouths watering, ghostface looks at Michael and whispers "Can we please take her now, please I need to be inside her so bad, my balls are so fucking tight" Michael growled and rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Come on Mike, you know what happens when he doesn't get what he wants" Jason said. A sigh left his lips, looking at ghostface he nods in annoyance and ghost face, quietly heads in your direction.

Still heading north, you lost all patience trying to find a place to stay for the night. As you were about to turn back, someone came up behind you and pushed you to the floor, their strength pinning your arms above your head, his leg keeping yours open "get off of me creep" a man laughs above you. White mask, boiler suit "Oh honey, we're just getting started" unzipping his boiler suit Michael grabs you by the hair, pulling you up on your knees "Now take all of daddy's cock down your throat, while my friend here ruts himself against you". "Open your mouth baby, that's it"

As Michael slams himself into your throat, ghostface is behind you with his gloved fingers inside your dripping cunt "oh look, someone's being a little slut! you like that huh, being throat fucked by my friend here". As ghostface was finger fucking you from behind, Jason had slipped his hand down his pants, whimpering like the cute submissive boy he is "Aw look Jason, you want some of this?" Jason nodded his head and got on his knees "Good Boy, now you know what to do" as ghostface got up and walked over to your side "stroke my cock slut, while he fucks your throat" as your hand went to his cock Michael grabbed your wrist "I wanted to play with her, this little plaything is mine Michael" growls left his lips. Letting go, you looked at Michael's eyes, they were so pretty "I think she likes you Michael" heat rises up your neck, making you clench around Jason's fingers.

"Fuck, I'm so close princess!" Michael had let his cock fall from your lips. Ghost face had grabbed your face and rammed his cock into your throat "oh fuck, take it all, or I'll have to spit it back into your mouth, if I see a single drop from those pretty lips of yours" a moan left your throat and legs started to shake "faster Jason, she's close" doing what he was told, your eyes rolled back and mouth agape giving Michael the opportunity to lift up his mask and kiss you passionately, spitting the warm seed back into your throat.

After coming undone, Michael kneeled behind you, hands on hips and mouth near ear "now I ain't going slow, princess" a whimper left your lips. Jason felt invisible "Jason, fuck her mouth will you, Michael is going to make this bitch scream and we can't let people nose around here" unzipping his trousers making pants fall along with them, Jason slowly enters his cock in your mouth. Michael slammed himself inside you, making your eyes roll back "Fuck princess, you're so tight, can't wait til I breed you, shoot my babies inside you" clenching around him, Michael pulls your hair "Such a dirty slut for us, you have no idea what I'm going to do to you" a moan escaped your lips, making jason buck his hips, whining.

Jason couldn't take it a second more, he needed to be inside of you but he knew better than to make Michael angry as he was the boss, leaded the pack. "Atta girl, can you do it one more time, I know you're exhausted but I don't care! You're going to be used by all three of us, by the end of tonight and I'm going to take you back home and use you again and again, until I know you've been bred". You're so close and Michael could feel it "come on slut, you can do it, come all over daddy's cock" as his hand came down hard on your ass, your pussy clenched tightly around him and came hard on his cock, making Jason tip his head back, releasing in your throat.

As Michael slid out your wetness, juices and come was running down your thighs. Panting with exhaustion, sleep washed over you. A slap across the face woke you up "we aren't done yet princess, I'm not the only one who needed this pussy" Ghostface positions himself behind you, grabbing onto heavily bruised hips "you look so pretty with those bruises tattooed on your hips" a tired whimper left your aching throat. You couldn't do anything, your body was achy and tired. Closing your eyes, listening to the raspiness of his voice, ghost face slammed into your pussy, pounding it from behind.

@toxicanonymity 🖤 @larabiatasstuff @pinkberry1rxx ✨

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